I was running, that's all I had ever done, ran. I ran from the truth, I ran from the lies, I ran from myself. My name, Brooke, is nothing special because I'm a not so special person... or at least I was? Now I'm not so sure as to what I am. Ugh, I wish I was still normal, I liked being normal, normal worked for me for sixteen years of my life! So the real question now is, why am I running this time? It was simple. I just found out who I really am, what I really am. Lemme take you back to what exactly I am talking about. And queue the flashback!
Flashback music.
It was just like any other day. My car, being the piece of crap it was, wouldn't start, my sister wouldn't stop nagging about her latest fling, and the ongoing stress of keeping my grades up was eating at my insides.
"Ya know what Samantha?, you should probably head back in and have mom take you to the bus stop, this might take a while" I said to my younger sister, who was still talking about Ryan, Bryan, what ever his name was. Sam looked up, shrugged, and got out of the car.
"Come on damn it, I have a math test today!" I yelled, turning the key one more time. Thankfully my baby purred to life, leaving a smile on my face, sadly, it took me fifteen minutes from the time Sam got out of the car to just now for the car to finally turn on...which left me about five minutes to get to my school that was fifteen minutes away.
"Shit." I muttered, buckling myself in, throwing my bag in the backseat. With a quick stop to dunkin on the way, I was now happily sipping on a delicious coffee coolata, completely unaware that I was now five minutes late to first period. It was only when I pulled into the school parking lot that I realized my first block was a study, which meant I didn't have to be at school until second period. It was then that I realized, I had never seen my moms car leave our driveway, which confused me for all of four seconds when I remembered that it was Saturday.
"Cool. COOL." I yelled pulling out of the empty parking lot angrily. When I got home I slammed the door to my car, leaving my bag in the car.
"MOM WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME IT WAS SATURDAY!" I yelled when I got into the house. It wasn't even a big deal, nor was it the first time this had happened, so why was I so angry?
" I thought Sam came out and told you?" she yelled back from the kitchen.
"SHE MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT!" I yelled back, my whole body vibrating. She peeked out from the kitchen and paled, calling my father who was sleeping up stair.
"What is so god damn important that you need to wake me up?" my dad yelled from the top of the stairs. I whipped around and full out growled at him.
"Shit" he cursed running down the stairs, grabbing my arm, and yanking me out the door. I was still shaking, still growling when the searing pain ripped the my body. Then before I knew it I was on all fours, in my backyard, howling to the sky. I didn't understand what had just happened until I saw my reflection in the window of the backdoor.
I was a wolf.
End flashback!
And now here we are, back to me running from who I am. The funny thing is, I turned into a wolf a week ago, have since learned to turn back, and now I run every morning to let out the frustrations. I stopped and looked around. Everything in my small Vermont town looked the same. It was almost always cold to everybody who didn't have a regular body temperature of 108.9 degrees. The leave's were green and full on the tree's around me, and the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon as I made my way back to my home. One week since my first phasing and the only way I could keep my temper in check was with running in the morning. My parents had explained to me that this.. new lifestyle as they put it...was from my father, who had this gene in him that was passed down from all the male generations in his family from the miniscule amount of Quileute blood we had in the family. Quileute blood was from this weird Native American tribe all the way on the other side of the country where my ancestors were from. To top it all off I found out that my father had gone to visit this reservation once when he was twenty two and I had this brother who lived there who was also a wolf thing. So you see how my life isn't so normal anymore.. so now here I am, sixteen years old living in nowheresville Vermont, about to be shipped off to la push ( the name of the place where my half brother lives..) so I can " protect my people" as my father put it. Protect them from what? No clue, but I'm sure if it wasn't important, I wouldn't have to fly all the way to Washington. So this is where my story really begins I suppose, and to lighten the mood of this dreary subject, I throw in a little stereotypical teenage motto before we get to the good stuff.
Hi my name is Brooke Meraz, I'm sixteen years old, and I hate my life.