Chapter 2 Cracks in the ceiling
When I got home, I scurried up to my room, trying to make as little noise as possible. Gwen was scrubby dishes in the sink with ferocity and determination. I know she hears me though, her back tenses slightly and she leans farther into the work. A flicker of guilt makes my stomach feel queasy but I push the feeling far out of my mind. I let anger take its place. I stomp slightly on the stairs to let her know that she is not forgiven.
Lying on my navy blue comforter in my room, my eyes trace the patterns on the ceiling. I am reminded of Madeline, in those children books my mother insisted on reading to me when I was young. She had a rabbit on the ceiling in her hospital room. I have a tiger, a dragon and, if you squinted and tilted your head, a wolf. Or maybe I just wanted to see a wolf.
When I had first started school, the second grade, my teacher was worried about how obsessed I was about wolves. At conference's with my parents she expressed this concern. They had insisted that it was 'just a phase'. Later, however they gave me a strict talk about the secrecy our tribe had to maintain. They said it was 'too dangerous to think about our other halves while there are humans around'. I had to wait for the moon phases to change.
I knew the stories about our changing but I still thought it was glorious. Wolves, in my opinion, are the most amazing of animals.
Suddenly, I was broken out of my reverie by the creaking of the door downstairs and the low growls of my parents speaking to each other. Footsteps sounded up the stairs and my father, Richard, poked his head into my room. He is tall and lean, with a handsome face and sparkling eyes. A scar from one of his fights before he met my mother stretches across one cheek. He claims to the human world that it was from a car accident.
"Hey Jules," he says, trying to sound light-hearted. He doesn't fool me. His face is serious, "I heard you got kicked out of a restaurant and fought with your mother."
"That's about it," I say, nonchalantly.
He comes in and perches next to me on my mattress. "Julia…" he began and then changed his mind. "We're worried about you."
I start in surprise. "Me?" I ask, flabbergasted, "Why?"
"You seem to be getting in a lot more fights lately, for starters." Richard clutches his knees and stares off into the clutter of my room.
Standing, I feel anger boil up inside of me and the argument left unsettled with Gwen comes back. "Why are you staging like some meatie?" I growl. "You and Gwen, you are not a human so why do you act like one? I act like every young wolf is supposed to and you don't."
I glare at him, wanting to go on but waiting for a reaction. Richard just shakes his head and asks calmly, "How do you want us to act? What is wrong with being who we are?"
Grabbing a pillow, I begin to tear at it with my fingernails. "You are a werewolf! You are supposed to act like a killer not some peace-making, humble pie lamb!" My father just stares at me and I scream. It's one of those mixed between a pup's wail, a desperate howl and metal screeching against metal. I see him flinch slightly and I wail again. "Get out of my room," I hiss when I am finished. "I never wish to see you again, even if you are my parent." I give him a sharp push towards the door.
He leaves. I feel ashamed. I am almost fifteen seasons, not some fifteenth moon pup. I am too old for temper tantrums. Wretched, I sneak out of my second story window and drop to the grass below. I have no idea where I am going but I start walking, trying to make the conflicting feelings of rage and guilt subside. They will not. It is now fully dark, and I feel the half-moon staring at me with silvery perfection.
Arching my back, I drop to all fours. Before I reach the ground I am a wolf. I am still small, even in wolf form but I feel beautiful. Silvery gray with dappled colors marks my pelt. It is a dark color with tips of white on my tail, snout and ears. Enjoying the feel of the incredibly strong muscles I possess and the acute senses I set off down the cement and dirt street of the pathetic town I refuse to call home.
Suddenly I am overcome with the blood lust, the need to kill. I need fresh meat and I zero in on some prey. Even though I cannot see it, I can smell it and I start to stalk my meal. I can feel the blood rushing through its veins and arteries flowing through and out of the heart. They will never be expecting me. Pure exhilaration powers through me as I move in for the kill.
Wow, that was a short and extremely lame chapter but I promise it'll get better. I feel like this is just a repeat of the first chapter and if you agree with me, I might change it. Please review, I have no idea how I'm doing and it can be very discouraging when you think nobodies sees your work. I don't want to have to beg (what a disgusting thought!)
Thanks though for all those who supported the first chapter. You don't know how much it means to me. So, I promise to get better if you promise to review. Now I'm rambling. Anyway...on with the story!