CHAPTER TWO

You know what it’s like when you cause trouble with your friends, and right when you’re about to get punished, your friend somehow disappears or gets their ass saved by some mystery magic? Well, Aria just pulled that magicky shit on me right now and I want to cuss her out to the moon and back!

I’m left facing an enraged Andy alone, and Ansel is not far behind. Their twin green eyes staring back at me...well more like glaring down at me. Those two are so similar that it’s unnerving. Their moms are twins, but they are not. They are cousins, but they basically grew up together, and look somewhat identical, at least in their eyes. Ansel has curly sandy blond hair while Andy has buzzcut brown hair, he never lets it grow out long enough to see whether it is curly or not. They are both close in physique, but Ansel is burlier than Andy, probably because of the beta blood in his veins. Those of power tend to grow bigger than the rest somehow, especially after they shift for the first time and have their wolves, and right now, I’m staring wide-eyed at the faces of two angry shifter wolves, one of beta blood, and the other who loves to push me around for sport.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, please. I was just sitting here. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Always choose the calm path, no need to stoke the flames of anger...wise words from the moon goddess that I really want to strangle right now. Sometimes it works like I hope it would right now, other times, the parties I face are just unreasonable jocks like these two. Ansel’s eyes narrow at my words.

“How long have you been sitting here?”

“Not long, I just got here.” Not a total lie, but not the truth they want either. Ansel was trying to be reasonable, but Andy was not interested in reason, he seemed like he was seconds away from hitting me in the face with his fist.

“I don’t believe you, Snow White. Do you want a fist in your face before you tell me what you saw?” Remind me to tell you how much I hate this nickname later, but for now, I have a suspicion that he wants me to have a fist in my face whether I tell them or not. “I’m not asking more than once, at least not with my mouth, what did you see?” The threat is clear, the next time, I will indeed be punched.

“Uh...the field?” not my fault it came out as a question more than an answer. Andy raises his fisted hand, eyes ablaze with anger and intent and I almost throw up in fear. He isn’t playing around.

“What the fuck did you see on the field, Mars?!”

“Nothing, p-please. I didn’t see anything, nothing!” Hopefully, they believe me, because having bruises on my face on my birthday week is so not in my plan. I don’t want to meet my mate covered in bruises.

“Just leave her Andy, she wouldn’t want to lie to us, or she is in big fucking trouble. I have a test this morning and don’t want to be late, she’s not worth it. Let’s go.” With that, Ansel drags Andy away and I only breathe a sigh of relief and almost collapse onto the seat from sheer relief when they disappear around the corner.

I don’t stick around to see whether King will come back or not, I hurry to my first class of the day and stick to the rest of my classes for the rest of the day. I avoid everyone and everything that could bring me trouble, even though I can swear that I feel both Andy and Ansel’s eyes follow me around throughout the day.

By the time I land face-first on my bed at the end of the day, I am beat. Everything hurts and honestly, I’m not even sure why, but it is what it is, I guess. I just want to sleep, so with my shoes still on, my feet hanging off the bed and my backpack still at my back, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, it is dark and I’m fully on the bed, my backpack neatly placed on the floor by my study table, and my shoes off and on the shoe rack. My hoodie has been removed along with my jeans and folded neatly on the bed. My hair has been braided back and a duvet covers me. I sit up and look around, knowing I didn’t do any of that for myself, but I know better than to go downstairs and try to find out who did it, first of all, I learned the first time that that only makes me more of a crazy person, or it solidifies the fact that I’m crazy more and more. Second, I know who the culprit is; it’s the man in black.

I used to think he was a figment of my imagination because I’ve never really seen the guy, ever. I just seem to remember little bits and pieces about him when I wake up, like the feel of him stroking my hair while I sleep, or him standing by my bed or study table, and one time when I got sick and was bedridden, I remember him sitting by my bed and watching over me. Every time I opened my eyes, he was sitting there. I stopped trying to rationalize the whole thing a long time ago and just accepted that I had either really lost my mind, or my imagination was just too good. I just wish he left his name though, so that when I mumble my thanks into the empty room, he’ll know it’s meant for him. But I do it anyway, hoping he knows I’m thanking him.

I try to go back to sleep, but my stomach has other plans and growls out of hunger, and even though I try to ignore it, I know it’s no use by the time it growls a third time, this time loudly. I look round and find my phone on the bedside table, so I take it to check the time, and it is almost eleven pm... that’s just...I can swear I fell face-first on this bed at four pm. I didn’t do anything extraneous, I didn’t do anything that can be considered hard work, and I definitely didn’t get beaten up, so what is the reason for this fatigue and these terribly long hours of sleep?

I get up though, put on some slippers, tug my shirt down hoping it will cover me enough to get some food, but it only comes back up again and barely covers my assets, and I know it’s risky and I can run into just about anyone, but I mean it’s late and everyone should be sleeping by now, and honestly, I’m too tired to go searching for decent clothes. I can do that when I’m satisfied and back in my room. I open my door and start to make my way downstairs when I hear voices, angry voices coming from the room next door.... Penelope’s door. Well, there’s no way I’m going out there in this anymore. I go over to the bed, take my neatly folded jeans, and pull them over my bare legs begrudgingly, then when I’m done, I head out and beeline for the kitchen. Solely led by my stomach at this point, I throw open the fridge and begin looking for ingredients for a sandwich when I spot something wrapped in foil, before I can let my curiosity get the better of me, my stomach protests loudly and with a pang of pain that almost sends me to my knees.

“Okay fine, I get it. No distractions, got it. Now will you chill before you send me to an early grave right here on this damned kitchen floor?!” I whisper yell to my stomach in the silence of the room who answers with a growl accompanied by a little pain, not enough to send me to my knees, but enough to be considered a threat. “Oh, shut up! It’s not my fault that I slept for so many freaking hours and missed dinner. If you wanted food so badly, you could have crawled out of my body and gotten your own food!” I snap, then pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “Can’t believe I’m standing here and arguing with my stomach” I mutter as I start gathering ingredients again.

“Thank God it’s just your stomach you’re talking to, and not some creature only you can see.” I shriek and jump out of my skin at the voice. Spinning round, I see King standing in the kitchen doorway and staring at me. His arms are folded and he is leaning on the frame, looking at me with amusement and a small smile on his lips. Thank God I wore the jeans!

“Uhm...I-I... what are you doing here?” King’s smile grows wider and he pushes off the doorframe and starts walking towards me. My eyes grow wide and I start backing up, there’s no way I’m going to be a punching bag this late at night when I’m already hungry. At the thought of hunger, my stomach growls. I mentally facepalm but otherwise ignore it, we have bigger fish to fry, and at the thought of frying fish, it growls loudly again.

I’ve never wanted to stab myself in the stomach as much as I do now.

King keeps coming though, and I’m already pressed to the fridge so much that if it could leave an imprint, it will. He stops right in front of me and leans down until his lips are to my ear.

“Why don’t you move out of the way so I can get your food ready for you.” His voice so low and directly in my ear sent shivers down my spine and goosebumps over my skin. My throat went dry and my knees went weak, and don’t get me started on how my heart was galloping away, I gulped.

“M-my...” I cleared my throat before speaking because just weren’t coming out, and they were just two words. “My food?” He straightened, took a small step back, and spoke again, but much less low and seductive than a few seconds ago.

“Yeah, your food.” He pushed me aside gently and opened the fridge then took out the foil wrapping I was looking at earlier. “Your mom packed some lasagna from tonight’s dinner for you, so that when you woke up, well...” I eye him suspiciously as he begins to put it in the microwave.

“And you know this, how?” He turned to look at me and shrugged.

“I was here for dinner, Penn invited me and I was just about leaving when I overheard you here.” Okay, that seems...yeah, comments reserved.

“Well, you guys could have simply woken me up for dinner, I mean they always did before.”

“Do you know why you slept for long, and you’re so hungry now?” He asks and I shrug and move out of his way when he takes a glass and plate from the dishwasher and opens the fridge to pull out some milk.

“Um because I was tired?”

“And why were you tired, tired enough to need that much sleep, because we both know you just went to school and came back, so why?”

“I... Uh...I don’t know.” I really don’t, and it kind of bothers me because he knows, and they know, and it seems important.

“It’s because of the shift. Your birthday is soon, and you’ll be shifting for the first time then. Your body stores up enough rest and food to help you through your shift. You’ll need it through the shift.” The microwave pings and he leaves to plate my lasagna. My mind runs with the information. Even though it makes sense and feeds my curiosity, it still hits me with a fear I won’t be able to shake off until after the shift.

“Will I be able to survive the shift?