War of the Wolves

Chapter 1

The morning greeted me with warm, dry air. I grinned as I saw the date on the calendar. Today was my dad’s interview for his new job.

I rushed to his bedroom right down the hall. After waiting a few seconds, I knocked on the door.

“Go away,” he moaned sleepily as I entered.

“Wake up, you have to start getting ready if you ever want to make it on time to the interview!” I laughed throwing a pillow at his face.

Grouchily, he sat up and started to move around the room. I grabbed a nice outift from his closet and folded it neatly on his bed. He closed his bathroom door, and I could hear the shower begin to run.

My mind raced with all of the possibilities if Dad got this job. We would have to move all the way to Denver. Colorado seemed way better than sweaty old Texas. I loved this state, but I was ready for a change of scenery. I found my way back to my bedroom and started to work on my appearance in the mirror.

My light brown hair was as straight as it ever was, with the slight ‘poof’ that came from being blow-dried. My eyes were brown as well, matching almost exactly with my hair. I wasn’t as tan as I should have been from living in Texas all my life, but I wasn’t that pale, either. I ran a hand through my hair and stood up. 

My day was going to consist of cleaning, cooking, and eating- my favorite of the three. I sighed as I thought about the contents of the kitchen. The only food we had was moldy bread and frozen dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. I walked through the short hallway until the apartment opened up into a living room/kitchen. I sorted through the cabinets for any kind of meal to put together and came back with dust and chicken broth, not much of anything, really. The fridge was almost as empty. I picked up the milk to pour a glass and saw four juicy red steaks marinating in a glass container. A grin lit up my face but quickly vanished. 

Where in the world did my dad get the money for steak? We barely had enough money for soup! Boy, was he going to get a mouthful when he came downstairs! I did not need him wasting our money on ‘fancy eating’.

Before I could finish thinking, my father walked into the kitchen.

“Hello, sweetie!” He said, kissing my forehead.

“How did you get the money to buy steak?” I asked, cutting right to the chase.

“We’re not poor, Alex. But lucky you, I used food stamps.”

“Oh…well…good.”

Food stamps. I hadn’t thought about that. My dad had been unemployed for the last year, and I had no idea how we managed to live in an apartment so long without any income. I didn’t dare question it, though. I was afraid of the answer. Last thing that I wanted to find out was that my dad was some kind of drug dealer.

“I see you made me breakfast,” my dad started.

“Don’t be sarcastic with me! You’re the one that hasn’t bought food in forever, except your steaks,” I bit back.

 “Geez, I was kidding.”

I rolled my eyes. Not only did I do all of the cooking in this house, but I also did all of the cleaning. I had to play the roll of mother and daughter, since my mother was long gone. I tried not to think about her much. It hurt to think about someone that was such a big part of my life at the time and not be able to remember even a moment of it. She passed away when I was only two. My dad never really moved on. I can still tell, from time to time, that he really misses her. He’ll have a few days every four or five months that he just mopes around looking blankly at the walls. It must hurt so much to have the person you love die, especially when he'd had a child as young as I was.