Chapter 17

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Peter walked into the crowded school hall, one hand clutching the strap of his schoolbag. It was a new one; one that he had quite recently stolen from a shop downtown. It was made of leather and was a chestnut brown colour- overall, it was not something that many boys owned in this town. It was far too expensive for many of them to even consider buying, and henceforth it was fairly obvious that he had stolen it. Usually at any hint of trouble he and his mom would just leave town- but seeing as they had to stick around to take out the vargalf, Peter knew he would have to be extra careful from now on. That meant no more stealing, and no more trouble with the local boys-

Suddenly Peter felt a hand grab the shoulder of his black leather jacket and push him roughly into the corridor wall. Peter's bag fell off his shoulder and landed with a thump on the white linoleum floor as he composed himself. "What do you want?" he asked the huddle of angry boys standing around him.

One of the boys, a tall, well-built blonde guy grabbed Peter by the collar and pushed him into the wall again. "We know you killed Tyler," he growled.

"What?! That's ridiculous," Peter looked around the boys and into their eyes, searching for any signs of sanity. None were to be found. "Anyway, what are you talking about? Tyler's alive."

Peter noticed a few of the boys exchange uncertain glances, but the ringleader just gripped his jacket harder. He must have been in the younger year yet looked old for his age, and his mouth was set into a grim line of determination. "Shut the fuck up, psycho- werewolf," he snarled.

"I should have known this was about the werewolf thing," Peter sighed. Just as he was about to continue, he felt his nose break and a spurt of pain spread across his face. On Nicolae's bones, the guy had just punched him!

Peter reeled back in surprise as another attack came- this one to the chest. He coughed violently as the guy kicked him in the ribs. "Admit it! You-killed-him!" The blonde guy's words were to the beat of his punches.

"No!" Peter's voice was choked. "I swear, I thought he was still alive-"

"You're a fucking liar!" the blonde shouted. Peter could hear a few of the other guys agreeing.

Suddenly the blonde guy was knocked to the floor by a great Frankenstein's monster all clothed in black, with a curtain of black hair hiding away half of her face- Shelley! She looked intensely angry as she pushed a second guy to the floor; the others had run away. Peter backed up against the wall as Shelley turned to him. He hadn't realised quite how much damage she could do...

Shelley held up her phone and tapped words into it. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, don't worry," Peter said. He narrowed his eyes in concern. "Hey, you're bleeding!" Shelley's gloves were spotted with red.

Shelley looked down at her hands, seemingly surprised. "It is not my blood," the voice from her phone explained. "Let me help you clean your wounds."

"Oh, you want to be my knight-in-shining-armour, that's what this is?" Peter flirted casually, raising his eyebrows.

Shelley's cheeks began to glow blue- she was blushing- and looked down at the floor. "Come on then," Peter continued. "I'm sure we can find an unused storeroom."

Wolf Got Your Tongue? (A Hemlock Grove fanfiction #JustWriteIt.)Where stories live. Discover now