STORM CHILD 7
When Isaac turns back to the counter to finish his meal he finds Samantha watching him. He slumps down onto his stool.
"The girl was right."
"What?" Isaac eyes the waitress warily.
"She was right; it was amazing how you lifted her brother right out of that booth."
"Adrenalin," He explains with an innocent, awe-shucks-mam smile that he hopes will deflect her away from this line of questioning. "It can let you do amazing things. Things that you wouldn't ordinarily be able to do."
Her eyes narrow as she studies him. "Yeah, I might agree except I've seen someone else do almost the same thing recently."
"Really?" Isaac asks casually.
The diner is still empty except for Isaac and the two kids waiting for their parents; so Samantha seems prepared to pursue this further than Isaac would like.
She elaborates. "There's a guy who's been coming in for about a year, usually around the same time of the month – the full moon." The waitress sees the young man's frown. "You've never worked night shifts have you?" As he shakes his head he thinks to himself, Not unless you count grave digging.
"Well, people who work nights know that weird stuff happens around the full moon and it gets so that you're always aware of when the moon is full each month. So any odd things that happen around that time of the month just stick with you."
Isaac nods slowly. "And this guy always comes in on the full moon?"
"Around the full moon," she corrects staring thoughtfully into the night. "But, never on the full moon." The young werewolf hears her hum of puzzlement before she looks back at him. Samantha gives Isaac a sheepish grin. "Look I'm not superstitious and I'm not some Team Jacob groupie. I don't expect a handsome shape shifter to walk through the door just because it's the full of the moon; but, like I said, when stuff happens at that time of the month, you remember it." Isaac nods that he understands and she continues. "One night, a couple of months ago, this big guy, and I mean really big – linebacker big, comes into the diner. You can tell he's had way too much to drink. This jerk starts hassling one of the women customers, being very obnoxious, and the guy, the one who's..."
"Here around the full moon," Isaac supplies.
She nods, "Yeah. Derek. That's his name." Samantha is leaning back against the counter, staring up at the ceiling. She is so focused on getting the details of her story right that she misses the start that Isaac gives at the name of the man in her story. Isaac recovers quickly but seems to shrink in on himself. The waitress continues, oblivious to the young werewolf's reaction.
"He got up from the counter and went over to "talk" to the big ape. Now Derek is not a small man but the other guy tops him by a couple of inches and outweighs him by maybe a hundred pounds." She gives a little shrug to indicate that she's just guessing.
"Derek asked him politely enough to leave the lady alone; but the big jerk ignored his request. So Derek grabbed him by the shoulders and picked him straight up off the floor. I swear, I could see that much air between the dude's feet and the floor."
The waitress indicates with her hands the impossibly large distance that Derek lifted the guy off the floor. Isaac thinks to himself, Way to keep a low profile, Derek. With a sinking feeling he guesses from Samantha's excited expression that there is more to the story.
"Derek carried this big dude across the diner like he didn't weigh anything. Me, I ran and opened the door so Derek could toss him out. Afterward, Derek just stood waiting in the doorway, his arms crossed. And you know, it was the strangest thing. That big guy picked himself up off the sidewalk and started back toward the diner. He brushed angrily at the mud and leaves on his clothes and had this furious scowl on his face like he intended to crush Derek. You could see that he was ready for a fight and out for blood. But, that guy, he didn't come in. He stopped and his face went all funny and the anger just vanished. The jerk wasn't angry anymore. He looked frightened! Instead of confronting Derek he started backing down the sidewalk, slowly at first and then faster and faster. I don't think he took his eyes off Derek until he got to the corner."
Samantha searches the face of the young man seated in front of her. The waitress has been serving the public enough years to have gotten good at reading the body language of her customers. It is a necessary survival skill to have on the night shift. This ability has enabled her to avoid a lot of trouble over the years. What Isaac's body tells her is that her story has disturbed the boy. This makes her very curious.
"And you know, when I asked Derek about how he'd been able to handle that giant so easily, he gave me that same adrenalin story you just tried on me. He didn't try the smile though which is a pity. I'd have liked to have seen one of his smiles. But I didn't believe him; and, kid, I don't believe you either."
Isaac can see the moment when she puts two and two together. "You know my Derek." It is a statement and not a question.
Isaac chokes back a laugh at the waitress's characterization of Derek as "my Derek." His amusement disappears quickly. He is not smiling when he meets her eyes but is relieved to see that the expression on her face is only one of curiosity and not suspicion.
"Yeah, I know him." He says carefully hoping, but not really believing, she will let the whole thing drop. Isaac can tell that she is not going to let him get away with such a bland and uninformative admission.
Samantha taps a pen against her chin as the young man seated in front of her squirms uncomfortably. As she considers his discomfort she realizes, belatedly, that she has not really looked at him before. Her initial impression of him had been distorted by his sodden and woebegone appearance when he had first entered the diner. Later she had noticed the superficial stuff, of course: his youthful good looks, charming smile and blue eyes. But now that all her attention is focused on him details about him that had not registered before jump out at her. The sleeves of his sweatshirt are pushed up past his elbows and the well-defined muscles of his arms are on display in front of her. And the breadth of his shoulders and the way his chest fills out the sweatshirt both indicate great strength. This is no scrawny, underfed street kid sitting across from her. He may have slunk into her diner like a whipped dog but she now realizes that the young man in front of her has the body of a fighter. He is a lot like Derek, she thinks, only more verbal and without the tight clothes.
Isaac sees the spark in her eyes. He had tried to answer her question casually, to be offhand about the whole thing. She has, however, picked up on the undertone of bitterness in his voice that he had not been able to disguise.
"But you're not friends, I take it?" She watches him with shrewd eyes.
Isaac frowns and looks down at his empty coffee cup. It buys him a couple of minutes as the waitress retrieves the coffee pot to refill his cup.
"It's complicated."
"Hmmm. Was he your sensei?" She guesses.
Isaac starts to disagree with this suggestion but pauses and his face becomes thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess you could call him that." Samantha is waiting expectantly and Isaac realizes that he will have to say more. "He was teaching me how to fight, to control and channel my anger and move beyond my... personal issues."
Isaac flashes her a crooked grin. "But, I guess I wasn't a very good student. He told me to get out." That last comes out with more bitterness than he had intended but he cannot take back the words.
The woman's eyes widen as she looks past him out the windows of the diner. Beacon is in a trough between storm systems and a slow, steady rain is now giving the city a temporary reprieve from the furious, wind driven downpours that have pounded it all night. Frowning, she asks incredulously, "He kicked you out tonight?"
Isaac picks up his coffee cup and takes a swallow. He watches Samantha over the lip of the cup as he nods. The woman seems unsure how to respond to this information. She seems torn between angry indignation and pity. Isaac has felt lots of anger himself tonight but thinks he is too old to be the object of her pity.
Yeah, he is out on the street with only a backpack worth of possessions to his name; but he is not some throw-away kid who has been kicked out of his home. He has resources. There's money in the bank from his dad's estate. He could check into the best hotel in town if he could meet their expectations for a guest his age. A quick glance into the mirror shows why that is not going to happen. He would not do that anyway. A warm, dry place to spend the night sounds good but it is not the goal of his wanderings. He needs to find someplace he can feel welcome and wanted.
"So where are you headed?" His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that angers her. "What does that mean? You're just going to wander the streets in the middle of this until you catch pneumonia?" A gust of wind rattles the windows of the diner.
"What about your family?"
"Don't have any." He says matter-of-factly. "Everyone's dead." He has gotten used to that reality and the flash of concern he sees on her face embarrasses him.
"Well then, what about friends? I don't believe that you don't have any friends."
"You mean people who'd let me crash on their couch tonight or that I could stay with long term?" Isaac asks. "That's two different things."
Samantha shakes her head. "I saw what you did for that kid tonight. You could have let me call 911. You didn't have to get involved. Isaac, you can't tell me that no-one else knows that you're one of the good guys."
He can feel the heat rise in his cheeks. Isaac Lahey is unfamiliar with compliments. His father never gave him any and his Alpha, Derek, had been only a little better in bestowing them.
"No one sees me that way." He declares, his tone lifeless.
He flashes back to the panic and fear he had seen in Allison's eyes in the storeroom at school and Scott's red-eyed, Alpha fury. Isaac does not believe that he is a good guy but he can recognize it in others and saw it in Scott McCall today. It is amazing, really, that Scott hadn't thrown him through a wall, or worse, for threatening her. Scott takes his responsibilities as an Alpha seriously. But that he would exercise restraint with Isaac, a member of another Pack, seems like he is rewriting the werewolf code that Derek has explained to him. Isaac has little doubt that, if he had angered Derek that badly, his former Alpha would have torn out his throat.
Samantha scoffs. "Maybe you do need to do some more walking tonight, kid. You need to get your head on straight." Her face becomes thoughtful. "Hey, what about the sheriff? He sounded like a good person."
"Yeah, Sheriff Stilinski is a good guy." Isaac considers her suggestion before slowly shaking his head. As good a man as the sheriff is, Isaac does not see him sharing his home with a werewolf. He is not, of course, going to tell her that. "I don't think he'd want to have someone he had arrested staying with him though."
This explanation earns him a raised eyebrow. "I guess you're the only one who knows where you would be welcome, Isaac." The young wolf can hear the doubt in her voice.
Samantha's attention is drawn away from him by the ringing of the bell over the door and the entry of new customers. The ring tone on Katie's phone goes off at the same moment in the kids' booth and Isaac hears that their parents will be arriving soon. Katie and Dylan begin to gather up their stuff. Their glum expressions cause him to smile.
Isaac looks down at the counter for the check for his meal. It is time for him to be on the way again. He had seen Samantha set it down earlier in the evening but he can no longer find it. Frowning, he looks up and catches Samantha's eye. He holds up the twenty dollar bill he had placed on the counter earlier. The waitress smiles slyly and gives a tiny shrug before returning her attention to the new customers. He sets the twenty back on the counter. If she will not let him pay for his meal he will leave the money as a tip. She cannot stop him from doing that. He does not want an argument from her so he slips the bill under his empty plate. She will not find it until after he is gone.
Looking up he sees the waitress heading his way again with her ever present coffee pot. Isaac gives her a look of mock horror and places both hands over the top of his cup. She smiles and walks past him to the pass through window to turn in the order for her new customers.
Swiveling around on the stool, Isaac stands up and stretches. He walks back to make use of the facilities and when he returns pulls out his duffel. His dirty dishes have been cleared. The twenty is no longer on the counter. Pleased with himself, he zips up his hoodie. Dylan and Katie rouse themselves from their parent induced misery and look up. They wave at him as he starts toward the door. Isaac sees Samantha moving to intercept him. He groans at the determined set to her jaw but stops to hear what she has to say.
Pitching her voice softly so that only he will hear, Samantha offers him one last bit of advice. "Don't sell yourself short, Isaac. You are a good guy. I figured that out and I've only known you a couple of hours. If you haven't realized it yet, you haven't been asking yourself the right questions. I know that there are people out there, people who know you and recognize this about you, who would help you if you only give them the chance. I don't know. Maybe it's some stupid male pride thing or fear of rejection that keeps you from considering all your options. But a man like you, Isaac, you do have options."
"Thanks, Samantha." He gives her a doubtful smile as he pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. "I'll think about it. I've got nothing but time on my hands."
He is astonished when the waitress reaches out and pulls him into a quick hug. When she is finished she holds him at arm's length. "Okay, get out of here you young idiot. If you don't die of pneumonia, come back and see me when you're a few years older." She winks at him and then hurries off to answer the order-up bell that has rung several times while she talked with him.
Isaac can feel the blush fading as the door closes behind him. Stars peek through the broken clouds overhead. Only a light mist fills the night air creating halos of golden light around the street lights. However, the young wolf can hear a rumble of thunder coming from the direction of the ocean. Another of the back-to-back storms is approaching from the west. As it has all evening, his heart pulls him east - toward the hills. He looks over his shoulder and can see Samantha hustling around the diner as more customers arrive. He waves to her and the fleeting smile that flashes across her face makes him think she saw him.
The young werewolf turns his conversation with Samantha over in his mind as he walks into the night. The only period in his life when he has felt wanted and confident in himself has been the months since Derek turned him. What is he to think now when Derek, who chose him, has judged him a failure, rejected him and tossed him out into the night to sink or swim on his own. He wonders if she can really be right: that he is "one of the good guys" and not the monumental screwup Derek accused him of being.
Isaac realizes that he has only one real choice if he wants to avoid being a packless Omega. It is a conclusion that his subconscious must have come to hours ago. He gives an eye roll. The young werewolf walks on through the night shaking his head. He knows what his destination is now. This solution to his problem does not, he thinks, have a very high probability of success though. Even if Scott McCall would consider having him stay with him, why would Melissa McCall want to have two teenage boys, much less two teenage werewolves, living under her roof?
Samantha seems positive that he is one of the good guys and he needs to ignore all his doubts and focus on that. Maybe, if he is really lucky, Scott's mom will see something in him that causes her to agree with this opinion.
Isaac Lahey trudges on amidst a swirl of leaves. The west wind has quickened at his back pushing him on as though showing its approval of his decision.