Caine

Chapter 2

Picture of Charlotte on the side. You can imagine your own, that's just my image of her:)

Chapter 2

 

Charlotte POV

“Mom! I’m home!” I yelled after walking into my house.

I heard her yell something back, but I didn’t catch the words.

Most times than not, she forgot that I wasn’t a Werewolf.

I lazily made my way up the stairs, wanting to extend the walk as much as possible. I had a pile of homework that I was really not looking forward to.

“Are you running with the girls?” My mom asked, poking her head into my room.

“What for? They’re all going to shift and leave me to run alone,” I shrugged.

I was sixteen years old and my Wolf had yet to make an appearance. The runt was sure taking her sweet time to show up.

Everyone was supposed to shift when they turned thirteen, or so was the custom. My mother was a Werewolf. My father- he was a human.

I didn’t really mind not having my Wolf. I was happy with how things were and it made it a lot easier to fit in with the humans.

I didn’t have to pretend to be as weak as a human- I already was. I was a human with the Werewolf gene running around in my system.

My only problem was when I had to socialize with the pack. She-Wolves weren’t exactly the nicest people to be around. In my opinion, they had too much fun when it came to shifting and leaving me behind.

I had grown used to it. Three years of being the misfit in the pack had given me that.

“Come on Char, you know you want to run with the girls. You’re really fast,” my mom told me, trying to give me the push to join the girls who were gathering.

She was right though, I was really fast. But I didn’t compare to their speed or their strength. Not shifting made me want to be better. I didn’t want to be left behind.

I thought that if I tried really hard, practiced more, ran more laps- I’d be able to compete with the rest of the shifters.

I didn’t.

I was in great shape, but in the end- I was still a human.

“Mom, I really don’t want to go,” I whined.

“Yes you do, I know you do,” she said, smiling at me.

I really didn’t.

“I have a load of homework,” I told her, pointing at the stack of books I had in my desk.

“You’ll do it later,” she said, giving me a pleading look.

My mom was giving me that sad expression that usually got me into things I didn’t want to do… and she was going to do it yet again.

I groaned, but nodded my head in consent.

“Fine, but you owe me. I really have a lot of homework and I don’t want to go,” I stated, just to make sure it was clear that I was going unwillingly.

She clapped her hands in excitement, which I considered a slight exaggeration.

“Gosh, you act like if I’ve just been accepted to Harvard,” I told her, rolling my eyes.