Wolfblood
Chapter 1
I wait impatiently by the heavy metal door, and when it slides open, I make a show of rubbing my jaw.
"Damn, little brother, did you really have to kick me?"
My thirteen-year-old brother grins unrepentantly at me, and I gratefully push my way out of the underground cellar to make my way up the stairs.
"You heal fast," he shrugs. "Besides, you're the one who decided to try and escape just to go sniffing around the bins."
I roll my eyes at him as I come to the Livingroom, seeing a pile of empty wrappers. I quickly collect them and shove them deep into the trash bin. Three layers of dust still coats everything except the couch and the refrigerator.
"Today we need to do a deep clean and get everything set up," I say absently looking around the unlived in residence and making a list of things I need to do in my head. We've only been here for three days so the list is relatively short. The only time consuming one would be cleaning. "After school I need to call someone about setting up the internet, and then before the next full moon I need to do a walk-around in the woods to see if it's safe."
"Are you sure you can't just stay in the den every full moon?" my brother asks worriedly, shuffling his new school supplies into his knapsack. My own is already properly assembled and waiting by the front door. I did it yesterday evening.
"Noah," I sigh, "I can't keep locked up every time, I just can't. You'll understand once you start changing. But I promise I'll be careful. I'll go so deep, no hunter will ever find me."
"Alright," he mumbles sourly, and I feel helpless as he jams a pop tart into his mouth. "What ever."
"Noah," I grip both of his shoulders, forcing him to stand still and face me, though he refuses to meet my eyes. "I promise what happened to mom and dad will not happen to me."
"I said what ever, Ryan," he says again and jerks out of my hold, making his way to the front door.
I groan miserably before snatching up a pop tart to-go and chasing after him, appropriating up my knapsack on the way. Our parents being killed is still rather fresh. It's only been a month. And at sixteen years of age, I became sole guardian of my thirteen-year old brother.
"Come on, let's run," I say, taking off into the damp woods. He instantly follows me, and soon, a giant grin lights up his face as we chase each other and dodge trees.
All too soon, the sounds of teenagers force us to slow down before the reach the edge of a tree line.
"Are you ready for high school, little brother?" I ask, plucking a leaf that had been caught in his hair.
He scoffs at me, but there is still a smile on his face, which relieves me. Hopefully we can start fresh here. There will be whispers, but not the kind that had started back home when our parents seemingly vanished into thin air in the middle of the night.
"Please, Americans are stupid." I laugh a little and habitually reach out to give his hair a good muse. I have to reach up. Another year or so and he will be as tall as me.
"Don't go around saying that or you won't make any friends."
"I won't make any friends if you keep treating me like a cub," he growls, going about fixing his hair even though I hadn't messed it up too badly.
"You'll always be a cub to me," I coo at him as I lead the way to the office. I had taken the trip twice before: to register the first day we got here, and the day after to take a placement test. My genius of a brother scored so high at the middle school that they allowed him to go ahead and skip a grade.
"Hello," the lady at the front desk greets us as soon as we walk through the front door. "I have both of your schedules right here, all ready for you."
I smile at the kind woman, feeling much better about starting new here if everyone is as cordial. I've always heard that American were rude.
"Thank you very much Mrs. Cope. You've been a huge help getting everything prepared."
"It's no problem at all, dear. This must be your younger brother?"
"Yes ma'am. This is Noah," I smile proudly, nudging him forward as if I'm showing off my own pup. In a way, I am. He's mine now.
"Well, I hope you both have an easy transition. If either of you need anything, please ask."
"We will, thank you," I smile at her, collecting both of our schedules and the maps. I pass Noah's to him as we exit back outside into the cool air.
"Why were you acting all weird?" the boy beside my asks, eyeing me funny.
"I was being nice," I scowl at him.
"Yeah," he agrees. "Like I said; weird."
"When people are nice to me, I can be nice back." I dismiss him, tugging the zipper of my hoodie up closer towards my throat. I'm not actually cold- it's a lot chillier back home in Canada- but I suddenly feel a lot of eyes on me and that small motion is the only outlet I will allow my nervousness show.
"So," I stop suddenly in the middle of the parking lot and turn to face the only family I have left. At least the only one I can easily find. "I assume you don't want me walking you to your classes?"
"Nah," he shrugs. "I'd probably make more friends if you weren't hanging around like a shadow. Same goes for you. Maybe you'll find a girlfriend if you aren't hanging about and acting like my mom."
"Right then, little Christer," I roll my eyes, "see you after school. And don't forget that we have some cleaning to do today, so don't go making any plans!" I call over my shoulder as I start towards building three.
I sigh as I find my first classroom, dropping my knapsack by my chair and running a hand through my short hair. It stands on end as I muse it, but I don't bother fixing it. I actually like the way it looks like that.
As people file into the room, it starts to get more and more warm with the combination of bodies and a well-working thermostat. I shrug out of my jacket, ignoring the whispers that get louder when I do.
"Nice tattoos," someone says loudly, sliding the chair out beside me and plopping into it.
I reluctantly turn my attention from the window to look at the grinning boy brave enough to approach.
His hair is similar to mine, except my brown is slightly darker with a reddish tinge, and his flops in front of his eyes slightly.
"I'm gay," I deadpan, and then wait for him to become uncomfortable enough to walk away. Instead, his smile only seems to widen.
"I figured. You kind of give off that vibe. Even someone severely lacking in gaydar might suspect. I'm Joshua Webber," he introduces, holding out his hand.
My lips can't help ticking up in a small smile. "Ryan Mason." I willingly take his hand.
"So why wolves?" he asks, nodding to my arms which are more ink than skin. Trees, roots, caves, and mountains paint a picture. Wolves paint a mosaic- running, howling, snarling, glowing eyes shining from shadows.
"It's a family thing," I shrug.
"That's cool, we have a lot of wolves around here. You can hear them howling all the time," he says. "Mom won't let me get a tattoo. Said I'll have to wait until I turn eighteen. It's cool that your parents let you get them being so young, or are the laws different in Canada?"
"Yeah they were cool with it," I laugh. "Or they were once I bought a tattoo gun and had my friend give me one without them knowing. After that, they let me get whatever I want just so I wouldn't do it behind their backs by someone who's never given a tattoo to anyone before."
"I wonder if that would work for me?" Joshua muses, and I actually smile as I come to the conclusion that I like this boy. He reminds me of my friends back home.
"I'd be careful testing that," I advise. "Even though she let me get it done professionally, I was grounded for months. Worth it though." I affectionately trace the vines going down the back of my hand and curling around my fingers.
Before he gets a chance to respond, the teacher calls the class to attention, and I reluctantly give it to her.
A/N: Here's the first real chapter for you; thanks for reading.
Knapsack- backpack
Little Christer- meaning little devil; what you might call a mischievous child
Please review!
~Silver~
