Chapter 11

Jamie rubbed the sleepy dust out of her eyes as she sat down at the table. She blinked groggily at the Carlyle's plates and forced herself not to gag. The family was enjoying some nice raw chicken for breakfast. It was sprinkled with some kind of spices Jamie couldn't identify.

She was glad to notice no such food was placed in front of her. Mrs. Carlyle placed a bowl and spoon on the table for her she added a box of cheerios. "I'm sorry," she apologized with a hopeful glance. "I don't really know what humans like. I saw this on a commercial one time. I've got some honey too, in case you like to stick that on top. And some strawberries and blueberries like in the picture. The next door neighbor told me she likes to pour syrup over her cereal, so I got you some."

Mrs. Carlyle handed her a bottle of vanilla as she said this. Jamie blinked at the bottle's dark contents, realizing that Amber's mother thought this was syrup. The contents sloshed around inside the bottle. She got an image in her mind of vanilla mixed in milk and tried not to swallow distastefully.

"Thanks," she smiled to the woman. "I'm sure it will be great."

Mrs. Carlyle smiled with relief and sat in her seat to eat her chicken. Jamie poured herself some cereal and added the milk. She set the vanilla aside, hoping Mrs. Carlyle wouldn't notice. It was obvious that the woman was trying too hard. She wanted to make everything perfect.

Mrs. Carlyle swallowed some of her chicken before adding. "You can wear some of Amber's clothes to school today."

Amber looked up darkly, showing off her bed hair. "What?"

"Honey," her mother said, "Jamie didn't bring any clothes with her. You can't expect her to go all the way outside of town just to find something to wear."

Amber only grumbled, "Whatever."

After breakfast, Jamie hurried back up to Amber's room to get ready. It felt wrong to go through the other girl's clothing, but she couldn't help feeling a little bit of spite. How could one sister be so sweet and the other a terror? But then, Bella was still so young, her true character unformed.

All of Amber's clothes were tight-fitting and sexy. Jamie pulled herself into a pair of snug-fitting designer jeans, feeling as if she were naked. These were just the type of clothes to go walking around in if she had wanted attention—which she didn't. She couldn't hide if half the guys in school would be staring at her butt.

Amber barged into the room, taking no consideration to the fact that Jamie was only half-clothed. She held her hair up with a towel.

"Ooh," Amber remarked. "You actually do have a figure. I was starting to wonder."

Jamie sent her a withering glare.

"Don't you have anything that doesn't say, 'look at me, I'm an easy target?'" She grumbled. Neither Amber or she were morning people, she was starting to figure out. At least they hadn't had a repeat of last night. She lifted up a tight-fitting, low-necked red shirt and tossed it aside. The next shirt was bright pink and the one after was a sunshine yellow.

"Ah," Jamie said at last as she pulled up a long, sleeveless black turtleneck. This was probably the best she was going to get out of Amber's closet. She pulled it over her head. It was also a snug fit, showing that Jamie did in fact have a chest, however tiny it was.

"We're going to school." Amber replied in a bored tone, "Not a gang fight."

"It's always good to be prepared," Jamie muttered.

Amber snorted and puffed up her chest, mimicking Jamie. You sound like a recorder. Is that something your old man taught you?"

Jamie just shrugged. Someday, this girl was going to get herself into trouble. She didn't seem to realize how dangerous it was to be a werewolf. Or how dangerous it was for Jamie to be a werewolf hunter. If she still was one.

Jamie walked down the hall, feeling like a bundle of nerves. People were actually looking at her. Not just the look up and then look away kind of glance; the you-exist-but-I-don't-know-you look that she was used to. Guys were actually looking her up and down appraisingly. She did her best just to ignore them so she wouldn't feel so naked.

She searched out one solid figure in the crowd. A blond head leaning forward as a deft hand searched through a black backpack propped up against his knee. He pulled out some textbooks and dumped the rest into his locker.

"Hey," she began almost shyly. She nearly started as someone bumped her in the shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so inwardly focused that she hadn't been able to pay attention. This nervousness was doing bad things to her. She needed to keep her focus.

Porter turned and looked with a half smile and froze. He gave her the once over and repeated it all over again. "Wow," he managed. "You look…"

"Watched," she finished, wrapping her arms around herself.

He nodded and added in a half-whisper. "Yes. I've seen your mind. You're not enjoying this."

"Listen," she said, taking a furtive glance around. No one was watching. As usual, the humans were spending their time caught up in their own little worlds. She still had a hard time thinking she was one of them. She had always distinguished herself as something different. "I wanted to go back to the house tonight. To pick up some of my clothes and to see if there were any clues that I'd missed."

She waited hopefully.

"I'll come with you."

Bingo.

"Great," she said. "So I'll see you after school."

"Yeah," He replied, clearing his tanned throat slowly, almost nervously. "Jamie, I was—"

There was a loud crash. Jamie spun, in panic mode. She moved into fighting stance. Amber had as well as said bad things couldn't happen at school. Well, now she had proof—

Lacey, the girl with the glasses, was sprawled on the floor. Her books were scattered and her pencil crayons scattered even farther. Students looked on in surprise as the noise shattered their conversations. Not a person budged to help her.

Jamie was letting out a sigh of relief. No disaster after all.

Amber's words lit up in her mind, searing her guilty conscious. Now, let me ask you something. Does it feel good to intimidate people?

"I'll see you later," Jamie said with a quick glance to Porter.

Does it give you any pleasure to rip apart their frail self –esteems? You're scarring them, Jamie.

She knelt on the floor and began to pick up the colored crayons. She snatched a purple one away just before a booted shoe nearly crushed it. Porter knelt beside her and whispered in her ear with a significant glance in Lacey's direction. "I'd help you, but I do think she'd let me."

With that, he disappeared into the crowd. The warning bell rang and the students began to leave.

Lacey looked up at Jamie with a nervous glance through her glasses. "Oh. Hi," she managed in a deflated tone.

"Hey," Jamie said, placing the crayons back inside the case with a curious glance. Porter's words had sent her mind whirring. A piece seemed to clunk into place as she made the connection. She instinctively searched out Lacey's neck, although the werewolf poison—formula, she amended—should have cleared it long ago. Jamie's own bite marks had disappeared during the night, thanks to her temporarily lycanthropic cells.

But there they were. Faint, little pink scars sat just below her throat, half hidden by her shirt. She realized that Porter probably hadn't given her the formula. At seven, he had probably been too distraught to think about what needed to be done.

The hall was nearly empty by now. Almost all the students had gone to class. Lacey was frantically lifting all her books into her arms as the last bell rang. She probably wasn't used to being late for class. Jamie handed her the pencil crayon case.

"Hey," she said, feeling her cheeks heat up. She wasn't used to apologizing to anyone. "I'm really sorry about the other day. I was being a real jerk. I shouldn't have treated you like that."

Jamie smiled hopefully. If she knew she hadn't scarred the girl's self-esteem, then maybe the weight would finally fall off her shoulders. There was no guarantee, but she was certain that it make her feel a lot better.

Lacey nodded curtly and turned to go. She stopped and turned, muttering, "I'm already late anyway."

"Look," she said with a furtive glance down the hallway. "I wouldn't hang out with them. They're not what they seem."

"You mean Porter and Amber and…"

The girl nodded vigorously.

"Yeah," Jamie replied. "I know."

"No, you don't know," The girl said insistently. She shuddered. "They're…ughh…they're not human. They're evil."

Not being human didn't always equate to evil. She sent Lacey a sympathetic glance. The girl's self-esteem was probably more scarred than she had first assumed, but it wasn't her doing. Maybe Porter should talk to her.

"So why," Jamie began, "if you knew all this time…Why didn't you tell the police that he'd bitten you."

Lacey's eyes widened in surprise. The girl probably hadn't expected Jamie to know.

She answered finally, worriedly. "Because then he would have killed me."