"I thought we agreed that it was best to keep her out of this," I say.
I follow my mom as she leads me to the living room. Adam is close behind me, and when we enter, grandma is sat there alone. "Your friends said that they would reach you later," my mom says. "I think we need to have this talk alone."
I face Adam, my chest rising and falling like the waves I tumbled into. Grandma looks up at me from the couch. She doesn't give away anything on her face, so I hesitantly sit on the adjacent loveseat. Mom joins her, and Adam—me. I feel as if I have been called to the dean's office. The only thing keeping me from dashing out the front door is Adam's presence.
I watch grandma with big, innocent eyes—the ones I used to pull when I was younger and in trouble. "They told you?" I a
I take a seat up front as my mind swims in ideas and day-dreams of my weekend with Adam. My mom came into my bedroom as I was getting ready this morning. She sat on the edge of my unmade bed and watched as I made sure I had everything necessary—and arguably unnecessary—packed in my suitcase. We talked a little. It wasn't like our usual sarcastic banters, but rather deep and blunt. Since I felt guilty about my fib regarding the status of Adam and my relationship, I decided to fill her in a little. I even told her that Adam and I haven't doneanythingyet, but the message was masked by other words yet clear from context. I told her that we were taking it steady, and this seemed to settle her nerves.Although I have stayed the night at his house before, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous myself. Last time things didn't go exactly as I planned, but worryin
Adam carries my bag inside and up the stairs. I follow as we pass many doors which I know lead to bedrooms, but unlike last time, one door is open that has always been closed. Unaware, I glance inside as we pass, but the contents of the room bring me to a stop. Adam soon realizes that I'm not with him, and he turns.My hand pushes the door further open. It's a boy's room—that's clear. Not a little boy, but what I would assume to be a teenage boy's room. "What is this?" I ask Adam."That was my brother's room," he says.My hand springs from the door as if it has suddenly become searing hot. "Oh, sorry," I mutter and quickly bring the door to its previous position.We enter the master bedroom and he places my bag down for me to un
I sit against the front door, enveloped in my blanket, waiting without a drop of patience in my being. The tile floor is hard and cold, but I've adapted to the discomfort and stopped caring about my numb toes. My mind is conjuring all sorts of things I want to shout at him. There are so many things that I can't seem to decide what to say first. Maybe how it's our first night as people that live partially together, and he's abandoned me on this special marker. Maybe how this is the second time he's done this—left with little to no explanation—and all I can do is worry until he comes back, if he does. Maybe how I'm in this house all alone and something could happen to me; he must have left for a reason.My fingernails dig unconsciously into my palms as my eyes stay fixated on the ground. Sounds come from outside then, and I perk up like a dog who's been waiting for their owner
"Hey, Kid."Glancing up from the nest of blankets and pillows and clothes that I've made myself on my bed, I see my mother walk into my shadowy room. She comes to my depressed, laying figure, urges me to scoot over, then sits beside me."Grandma told me that you aren't feeling good today. That's okay. Missing one day of school here and there; it won't hurt," she says and brushes the top of my head with her fingers. "I just wanted to check-in. Grandma said she'll make you something to eat if you're hungry."I shake my head."Maybe later then. You know, this reminds me of when you were younger. Before bed, I used to read you stories and we'd be sat like this. I would read and play with your hair and you'd be out in minutes. Remember? We
I sit in the corner of the shower and watch the tips of my fingers shift from blue as they warm. The water falls onto my legs from above like a million little punches or swift, passionate kisses. My head is clearing now. The fog has drifted and it's easier to think.I can feel Adam's presence on the other side of the bathroom door. I'm conflicted once again; half of me wants him to hold me and run his hand down my hair, but the other half wants to remain cold. Although I was falling to pieces, it was easier without him. My purpose was clear—last as long as you can. My purpose isn't clear now. I don't know what to do, so I sit here and watch my hands like a mermaid studies her new legs."Wrenley," I hear him call, his voice low and worn-down. "Will you come out of the bathroom?"H
Adam is in his office. I hear his voice and two others as I make my way down the hall. The double doors are open, and when I appear between them, Adam's eyes immediately find mine. It's Ben and Alexander. I know I must be interrupting pack business, but there is no one else I want to talk to but him."Wrenley?" Adam asks."Can we talk?"He nods slowly and leaves his seat. Ben and Alexander both smile my way; I smile back and lift my hand up in a partial wave.Adam's hand connects with the small of my back as he leads me into the family room. Before he can ask what's going on, I turn to him and say, "My Dad is here. I met him today.""Your father?" He questions. "I thought you didn't
I walk down the road with my hands warm in my jacket pockets. Sunlight filters through the forest beside me, bringing a kiss of heat to my face in the cold air around me. The cold doesn't feel so cold anymore, only a sensation that neither pleasures nor hurts me. I'm sure if it were snowing, I'd feel differently, but right now I am content. It reminds me of when I would wake up in the middle of the night, hungry. The chill from the fridge would caress me as I stood with the doors wide open. I would look over the same foods until my snack standards lowered. My problems used to be much simpler then—disappointment over the fact that my mother ate the last piece of that evening's dessert, or maybe, at the most stressful, a poor test score in one of my classes.The quiet helps me as I try to sort through my thoughts once again. Every now and then a car will pass by, or a noise will call
I struggle to recall all that was said to me as I hurry home. There's no time to see my mother, not after what John Aymon showed me. Surprisingly, my mind feels clear, yet I try to remember certain things he told me, things that I know were important but didn't seem to stick. The only thing that's in my head like a blinking neon sign is that I am able to tell Adam. God, I can't wait to show him. I can't wait to see his reaction. I know he'll be happy because I won't be a sitting duck for all the world's monsters to devour.The truth is that I am not just a human; I'm the daughter of something magical, something so very beyond my previous understanding. When Adam said that there are things out there that could hurt me, I thought of vampires and witches and trolls and ghosts—butthis? John Aymon hardly explained what he is. When Adam asks me, what will I say? That he is