"I can't believe I'm saying this," Finn starts, glaring over me as I sit under my usual tree during lunch. "Could you just get over yourself, and forgive Elijah already?" He angrily kicks at the grass.
"He's been moping around for weeks. He isn't the same anymore." Finn adds in a grumble. Peering up at him, I catch the unexpected concern in his blue eyes and nearly say something. I'm not sure what I would have said, but the urge to actually speak is sudden.
"Look," Finn sighs, dropping down in front of me on the grass. "I know you and I aren't friends," we exchange a pointed look. Friends? Ha. We're the farthest things from friends. "Like I said, you and I have never been friends, but as much as I hate to admit it, you and Elijah are friends."
I fight to be emotionless. Desperately clinging onto the indifference I use to persevere through everyday. But I can't keep the blank expression on my face. I can feel the straight look on my face slipping off. I can feel the emotions pulling on my features- even worse I can feel my heart pound into a irregular beat in my chest, making it harder to be indifferent.
"Well, maybe not friends anymore," I press my hand over my heart to muffle the nervous beating in my chest so Finn won't hear with his werewolf hearing. But I can tell it by the look on his face it barely does a difference. "Well, you two are definitely something."
"I hated saying that." Finn grimaces like there's a bad taste in his mouth.
I hated hearing that from Finn too.
Later
I don't know why, but I'm delaying rather than my usual hasty escape after school. Maybe it's Finn's words. Maybe it's guilt. But I falter in the halls after school, feeling uneasy among the slamming lockers and the laughing hoards of friends. This why I always go straight home, because I hate feeling alone in a sea of people.
Elijah's honey blonde hair sticks out in the crowd. Before I know it, my feet move on their own in his direction. I don't know what I'm going to do. Not the surest idea.
I'm not sure if I'll say anything to him, mostly because I don't really have anything to say yet.
I hit the breaks. Elijah is in the middle of a crowd of his friends. My mouth runs dry. I recognize the faces among his group, picking them out from a memory of the crowd of the werewolf ceremony. He's surrounded by his fellow pack members.
They look like ordinary teenagers. One or two have skateboards tucked under their arms. A few others have beanies on, or trendy patches on their backpacks. You'd never know underneath their boyish exterior that there is heaps of fur and claws.
Maybe they smell me or maybe they can hear me, or some other kind of werewolf sense, they all go stiff and turn in my direction. I backtrack it, focusing on not tripping over my own feet.
Ducking my red head down, I try to ignore the rush of hot, bitter feelings worsening my nerves.
I'm never staying after school again.
Later
The sun makes my face even hotter as I trudge through the crowd waiting by the school buses. I keep my freckled face down, wondering which one among the body of students are werewolves and which are normal humans.
School has gotten harder since my discovery that werewolves are real. I feel surrounded now. I feel surrounded, yet bluntly ignored by the masses.
Rushing off campus, I hurry home to find comfort in Death's company. The one person who doesn't shun me or hate me or think I'm weird.
Maybe if I try hard enough, I can convince my mom to let me stay home tomorrow instead of going to school. Though I know fully well that will trigger an appointment to intense family therapy.
