Disclaimer: I own only Amaya Woolfe and Shauna Clarke. And Lupo. The rest all belong to the wonderful JKR.
thankyou to those that reviewed.
Well, on with the story. Thought's are in italics
Hearing her alarm waking her up at 6:30, she groaned and head still tucked into the indentation on her pillow, she groped for her alarm clock, and switched it off. Thank god it's summer. I hate having to get up early in winter. Why is it always ten times harder in winter than summer? Dressing quietly, she set off for her paper-round. Being sixteen year old girl, she loved clothes. Jeans, especially. She practically lived in jeans. And despite Remus' protestations that he enjoyed buying the clothes for her, Amaya liked the independence that earning her own money gave her. So as well as the paper round, she worked as a waitress in a French restaurant. Furthermore, she liked to buy gifts for her papa, just because she felt like it, often using the excuse 'Some unknown force or being greater than I compelled my brain into buying for you', coupled with her puppy dog eyes, which caused him to forgive her instantly.
Upon returning, she called Lupo and was practically dragged up the street as she walked him. Even though it was summer, the air had faint traces of a frosty cold in them, which revived her. She walked through the dewy grass, leaving a trail behind her as Lupo raced past on the path of a ball. She felt glad of her inherited lycanthropic abilities, including inhuman strength, which meant that Lupo always received proper exercise as he chased the ball as she threw it over thirty feet from her. 'Good Boy Lupo'. She dug in her pocket for the other ball that she carried as a requirement to Lupo's disinclination to return the ball after he had caught it. Pulling her arm back she flung the ball as hard and far as she could, and acerbic bitterness filled her as she remembered the sports day of year 9, that last sports day she had ever participated in.
Flashback.
'And here we have Amaya Woolfe, as she steps up for the shot-put.' The commentator's voice rang out throughout the playing field, as Amaya hefted the heavy ball, and crouched as she prepared for her throw. At the sound of the whistle, she whirled, took a step and hurled the ball as far as she could.
'Good Lord. What a throw. Woolfe has thrown the shot-put an amazing 13 feet, six inches.' Amaya jumped up and down, overjoyed at the distance. That has to be some kind of record. 'And Woolfe wins the Shot-put event for the form T'. Returning to her seat, she expected congratulations and thanks for winning the event, but she received none.
'Freak'. It was Shauna Clarke. 'How did you manage to throw it that far?'
'Because I'm good at throwing' came the snapped reply. The enmity between Amaya and Shauna ran deep. Shauna had mousy blonde hair, watery blue eyes, very pink cheeks, a thick dusting of freckles on her nose and a sickeningly sweet, high pitched voice that made all in the vicinity of her to wince unless used to it. Amaya had rich golden hair with hints of black and cinnamon interwoven, a clear complexion and slivery blue eyes. Where Shauna had to pile on pounds of make up to look attractive, Amaya could be dressed in rags and dragged through a muddy hedge backwards and still outshine all. Although Shauna was daughter to the richest and most successful business men in the town, she didn't have the warm love that was evident between Remus and Amaya. And she didn't have boys flocking after her. And so, Shauna had made it her personal mission to make Amaya's life hell. Something she had succeeded at until Amaya mastered her emotions and temper.
'Cos I'm good at fwowing.' Was the mocking response.
'You know Shauna, the way to measure someone's intelligence in an argument is to see their response. The really stupid ones always repeat what the other person said previously in a pathetically immature voice.'
'The weally stupid ones wepeat what the other has said in a stupid voice'.
Amaya smirked 'My point exactly'. Inside she was screaming. I don't have to take this crap. Over Amaya's shoulder she could see that Shauna's gang had formed a semi-circle around them. Oh well. I can out-run all of them.
'You think you're really clever don't you freak.'
'I don't think, I know'.
'You and your poof father' At this Amaya felt her hackles rise, and the dormant wolf inside begin to waken.
'God, what your mother must have been like, to drive your father to men.'
Amaya laughed inwardly. Shows how much you know about me.
'I'm speaking to you whore. Listen when your betters are speaking to you'.
The wolf was fully awake now and was snarling. How dare this pathetic human insult us. And our alpha. 'Better? I thought that it was you speaking to me.' Amaya was having difficulty in suppressing the wolfs urges to attack the girl who was tormenting it. Being a therianthrope, she was governed by her emotions, and it was rage, rather than the full moon, which caused her to transform. When faced by people like Shauna, this proved to be a problem.
'Why you little bitch.' Shauna was mad now, and began shouting. 'AT LEAST I HAVE DECENT PARENTS FREAK. NOT SOME QUEER.'
Amaya was reaching breaking point. No.No don't lose your temper. Keep calm. Just ignore her. But this was becoming increasingly difficult, as she wanted nothing more than to dive at her and beat her bloody. But Shauna wasn't finished. 'SODOMITE'S BASTARD. FREAK OF NATURE. YOUR PROBABLY WHY YOUR MOTHER LEFT. SHE REALISED WHAT SHE HAD DONE AND LEFT.'
'SHUT UP. YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME! NOTHING!' Amaya's voice had attracted the attention of the teacher's, including Mr Page who noticed the head of cinnamon and gold, faced by mousey brown, semi-surrounded by roughly a dozen other students. Oh no. Not again. And he hastened over to the group.
'WHAT'S THERE TO KNOW? YOU'RE A WEIRD LITTLE BOOK WORM FREAK. YOUR MOTHER'S SODDED OFF SOMEWHERE AND YOUR DAD'S A POOF.'
'AT LEAST I KNOW THAT HE LOVES ME'
'COURSE. HOW LONG UNTIL HE LEAVES. FREAK.'
At this Shauna stopped cold. The look in Amaya's eyes was terrifying. Amaya grabbed her bag, pulling her hair out of it's pony-tail as she did so, so that the long strands hid her face. Hid her lachrymose eyes. She turned, barged her way through the group, and ran. Ran all the way home. Ran to her papa.
End Flashback.
Seeing Lupo chase the ball, she was filled with a sudden urge to run. And run she did. Through fields, doubling back on her self, through thickets and over a brook, until she slumped out of breath in a little copse near to her house. She had come so close to losing her temper that day. Sometimes, the strength of her rage, the triggering factor to the wolf within, scared her. What will happen if one day I don't manage to control it. Glancing at her watch she saw that it was 8:15. Damn. I'm going to be late. Swearing, she called Lupo and ran for home.
After quickly dressing for school, and being ushered out of the door by Remus, Amaya made it to school only five minutes late, to find that her year was in assembly. The new students must be in our year then, she thought as she crept into the hall. She moved silently, yet the creak of the un-oiled door gave her away, and virtually two hundred pairs of eyes came to rest upon her. Gulping, she ran for a chair at the back, and stumbled in her haste. Amid the sniggers and whispers of 'Freak' the Headmaster spoke up. 'Now that Miss Woolfe has decided to grace us with her presence, perhaps she will wait outside my office after the assembly…' she sank further into her seat, and twitched the corner of her mouth in reply to Mr Page's consoling smile. Sitting on the stage, she saw roughly twenty people on stage. '…We a proud to host twenty students from "West Glen Highlands Boarding College", and for the time that they are here, I wish for you to make them feel as welcome as possible. Each form will have the minimum of three students joining them, two forms will have four. The pupils are placed into the following forms:
In 11S there will be Parvati Patil, Padma Patil and Lavender Brown.' 11S gave a cheer.
'In 11T there will be Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Seamus Finnigan'. 11T gave a cheer, and one Messy haired boy on the stage gave a wave. Amaya, interest sparked, leaned forward to get a better look. He looked like an average person, yet the most interesting thing about his appearance was what appeared to be a lightening bolt scar on his forehead, half covered by his thick fringe. Then the clatter of the hall alerted her to the end of the assembly, and sighing, she stacked her chair at the rear of the hall before resigning to whatever fate lay ahead of her, and went to stand outside the headmaster's office.
After an intimidating meeting with the headmaster, which resulted in a detention, and a gruelling physics class, Amaya was glad to reach the dining hall for the mid-morning break. Although it was filled with the usual hubbub of students, she found peace there, and she sat down with a sigh of contentment, opened 'Much Ado About Nothing' and began to read. Her preternatural hearing detected the vicious whisper of 'Damn Bookworm. Aim it at her head'. And the sound of air rushing past the missile in flight, and almost nonchalantly, she leaned back. The bacon hit the wall with a dull smack. Sighing and shaking her head, she turned to the book-marked page and began to read. Soon she became engrossed, so engrossed that she didn't notice anyone approach, until the book was yanked out of her hands.
With lightening speed she leapt to her feet, to challenge her thief, and was met with emerald eyes that sparkled with mischief.
'Can I have that back please?'
The stranger smirked, 'No.' He was the messy haired boy from on the stage. With that he turned and walked back to his friends; and began to flick through the pages insolently. With annoyance, Amaya noticed that the boy and his friends had been joined by Shauna and her gang. Collecting her bag from her side, she marched over to the group.
'I would like my book back please.'
'Would you?' The insolent manner with which he thumbed through the pages was getting on Amaya's nerves. It would be so easy to crush him. But the memory of her father walking into the Head's office, face lined with shame and dismay, the last time that she had let her temper get the better of her and the fight that had resulted was enough motive to repress the urge. Tamping down on the her aggression she retorted 'Obviously or I wouldn't have asked'
'O.k. catch.' But he threw the book over her head to a gangly red-head that had moved to stand behind her. She turned to face him, to have him casually throw the book back.
Back and forth. Back and forth. The book travelled between the boys in a reciprocal flight, like a swinging pendulum turned upside down. Amaya felt tears of rage and humiliation prickle the corners of her eyes. I will not cry. I won't. I won't. 'Just give me the damned book back.'
'Oooh. Such a foul word to come from such a beautiful girl. Don't you think Ron?'
'Definitely Harry. It's such a shame. Well with a freak father what do you expect? At the insult to her papa, Amaya couldn't suppress a snarl, much to the hilarity of those watching. A new boy spoke 'Wow, did you hear her snarl. Freak. Wonder what else you are carrying?' He snatched her bag. Amaya had a good hold of it, and refused to let go. So the boy did. Amaya stumbled back and fell, to the raucous laughter of all watching. And the boy high-fived the one called Ron. Shauna was doubled up in ear-splitting giggles. Yet Amaya didn't notice this, for when she fell, her bag opened and spilled out it's contents., including her wand. In horror, she stuffed it bag; Please let no one have seen, slapped away the hand extended to her by Harry, at the sight of the tears of humiliation that glazed her eyes and moistened her lashes before storming out of the hall, peals of laughter ringing in her ears.
