My Mother Runs With Wolves

Chapter 8

Mom leaves around midnight. I'm supposed to be in bed, it being a school night and all, but I'm still wide awake. I hear her talking to Dad, hear her kiss him goodbye, and then the front door opens and shuts.

I decide to come out. Dad is stirring a cup of coffee when I find him. He just keeps stirring and stirring.

Poor Dad. Always worrying.

"Hey Dad," I say as I enter the kitchen.

He looks at me in my pajamas and smiles. "Couldn't sleep?"

I shake my head.

"I can never sleep when your mother is running," he murmurs.

"I know."

He sits down with his coffee and I join him at the table.

I pause before asking. "Have you ever been tempted to follow her?"

He smiles again, a look in his dark eyes hinting of mischief. "Many times."

"Did you?"

A long, slow sigh. "She made me promise not to. It's... a private thing. Only to be shared with other Shifters."

I drop my eyes to his mug, watch the steam curling up and disappearing in wispy swirls. "Do you wish you were a Shifter?"

My dad is quiet for a while. He shifts in his chair. "If I wasn't a Stalker, your mother would be dead."

His words shock me. I mean, I know they're true, but... to hear them said aloud. If my dad had been anyone else, my mother wouldn't be here today. Neither would I for that matter. It kind of puts things into perspective for me. Just a little. Maybe we're all who we are for a reason? That still doesn't say anything about what my purpose is.

Dad stares into his coffee, lost in thought. He's always so solid. So strong. I never think anything could bother him. But sitting here at the kitchen table, waiting for Mom to come home... he looks so vulnerable.

I want to tell him. That I wish I was a Shifter. Or even just plain human. How nice it would be if we were just normal people living normal lives, doing normal things together as a family. We could all be watching a movie together instead of the two of us waiting in the kitchen while Mom runs with wolves. Wishful thinking.

I say nothing. Dad already thinks I'm crazy for even thinking about trying out for a team. Voicing these thoughts while he's pining for Mom would just be cruel.

I sit with him for a little while longer before returning to bed.

***

In the morning, I have a realization. I don't have my own "thing." Mom has her pack runs. Dad has his daily Stalker training. What do I have? School is not a thing. Training three times a week with Dad is not my thing. Maybe I just need to find it, whatever it is. Maybe then I'll stop feeling like such a lost puppy.

I creep to my parents' bedroom and peek in. They're asleep, Dad's arms wrapped around Mom. Safe and sound. I smile and close the door again.

I quietly eat a bowl of cereal, pull the black beanie onto my head, and begin the long walk to school. It's about four miles away and one of my parents usually drives me, but I always let them sleep in the day after a pack run. My previous schools never used to be so far away though. Maybe I should start lobbying for a car again.

I decide to sprint to the edge of our property, which is about a mile and a half. I cinch my backpack tight and dig my feet into the ground. I make pretty good time. Maybe next time I'll set a stopwatch.

When I reach the property line, I slow to a walk. I'm barely winded, but people might find it odd that a girl is running full tilt down the street in jeans and a backpack. Like I'm being chased by wolves or something. I smile to myself. Maybe I was imagining I was running with wolves.

I'm about halfway to school when a noisy, old Mustang rolls past me. Slowly. It's a faded blue color with dents and scrapes. It's not one of those cool classic Mustangs from the sixties either. It's a hideous rust-bucket from the eighties. Its engine makes that deep klung klung klung sound, punctuated by an occasional clank. It's going so slowly that I can't help peeking in.

I bristle.

Trevor's driving it.

Two other friends are inside with him. Dread spreads through my gut when it stops a short distance ahead of me. I stop walking. Just go. Keep driving.

They don't.

Uh oh. Boys with issues are bad news. What's she going to do, throw votes at them?

---

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