Chapter Five

I got up early the next morning. Not because I wanted to be all expeditious and studious, but because I wanted to take a nice, long shower… something next to impossible to achieve when you live with my dad, who has a special talent for doing the dishes while someone else is showering, thereby stealing all the hot water. I don't know how he does it, but unless I actively plan my showers, it happens every time.

Shampooing my hair, I once again had the thought that I might want to cut it at some point. Immediately after, though, I went all possessive again: this was my hair, which my mother had tried (and failed) to get me to cut. Which I hadn't actually cut in three years. It reached my waist now, and was a pain to wash, but I wouldn't get rid of it. Not yet.

When I finished showering, I stepped out and wrapped my green bathrobe around myself, shuddering as the fabric pressed my wet hair against my back. I slid my hands under the weight of my hair, lifting it out from beneath the back of the robe's neck and letting it flop down against my cloth-covered spine. Then, turning, I wiped a hand towel down the mirror and gazed.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" I got no answer, not that I was expecting one. Hell, even if I had a magic mirror, I sincerely doubted it would say 'you'.

I'm not saying I'm ugly, now. I'm not. I don't think. I just… well, let's just say I lack classic good looks. I have the long black hair, as I've mentioned, complete with one long streak of white down the left side. I keep my bangs cut straight across my brows, framing my eyes, which are brown. My face is very delicate, which is funny, considering I can turn into a vicious animal. I have one of those mouths that always looks just a little heavy at the corners, as if I'm very serious all the time. Except when I laugh; then, I have a surprisingly wide grin.
I'm just gonna come right out and say this: I am not model-thin. I'm not even slender. I've got what I like to call a 'healthy build'. This means I've got a strong, slightly rounded stomach and thighs that could use some thinning out. But I'm happy enough with my body. It's got all the right curves in all the right places.

To go with my freaky streaked hair, I tend to lean towards Gothic outfits. My wrists I keep covered with silver bracelets, and I never go anywhere without my combat boots. By the way, the whole silver + werewolf bad thing? Bullshit. Just so you know.

I picked up my brush and ran it through my hair, cursing when I came to a snaggle near the end.

Once I was dressed and my hair was mostly dry, I braided a green ribbon through it and put on my dark eyeliner. Couldn't ruin my image, right?

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When my dad dropped me off at Spencer Academy, I was immediately swept into the crowd of students pouring in. I let the wave carry me, relieved at the anonymity.

"Yo, Pogue, wait up!" Or not. What, were they everywhere? I fell back against a closed door and watched Reid catch the long-haired boy's arm, leaning in to talk to him over the rush of voices. In a moment, they were out of sight, and I relaxed again and continued on my way to my first class.

The day passed without incident, much to my relief.

Well, until English, that was…

I made sure to get to class early, and picked a seat in the back, towards the top of the risers. Opening my copy of The Shining, I pretended to be immersed in Jack's thoughts as he contemplated the murder of his kid. Secretly, I was watching the doors. Sure enough, the last people into the classroom were the four Sons of Ipswich, now walking in a distinct group formation. They were leaning slightly in as they walked, as if in discussion. Looking back down at my book, I turned a page.

"Hey," I heard. "Kat. Come sit with us." Was it just me, or was there a tone of mocking challenge in Tyler's voice? No, couldn't be. I ignored him, slumping back with Stephen King and pretending to listen as Professor Daly started to talk.

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Four days of avoidance later, and I was getting kind of tired. Sarah and Kate were fun, but it was hard to hang out with them without the boys getting involved somehow, and I was running out of excuses. Sure, I didn't know Caleb, Pogue, Tyler or Reid that well, and had only just met them, really, but they were the only people I knew at all here. It was hard to come up with reasons why I wouldn't want to spend time with them.

And the full moon was approaching.

Now, I don't want to sound all ominous, but being stressed out during a Change? Not good. It makes it hurt, and it really screws with your judgment. The pull in my gut was getting stronger and stronger, and the tinge of fear that wouldn't go away was not helping at all. The six days surrounding the full moon are the most powerful time for a werewolf. Heightened senses. Heightened emotions. This meant I was starting to have trouble keeping my temper, and that my nose was picking up scents much more clearly than on my first day in Ipswich. That the bud of attraction I'd felt to Reid's silvery-blond hair and lithe, swimmer's body could possibly become dangerous, as opposed to merely annoying. Oh, look. Yet another reason to stay away from him. I was ashamed to admit to myself that, after only four days, my avoidance had changed slightly: now, instead of avoiding them, I found myself thinking of it as avoiding him.

And I still didn't know what that strange, unfathomable scent was.

I was sitting in the library of Spencer Academy, a math textbook open on the table in front of me. Calculus AB. Thank God they hadn't put me in Calc BC, that's all I could say. I was barely caught up as it was. In my old school, we'd just started trig. I suppressed the urge to growl at the book. God, how I wanted to be outside right now. Not outside doing homework, but outside running. Free.

There was a sudden crash, and I almost leaped out of my chair. As it was, I jerked my head up, unable to stop the instinctive flaring of my nostrils, unable to keep my body from reacting: hands down, body arched forward slightly, legs tensed and ready to lunge from the chair to fight or flee. I pushed down the wild instinct, hating the fact that, as the moon fattened, my humanity became more and more of a passing commodity.

"Hello, Kat," Reid said. I closed my book.

"Hey. I gotta go, see you later."

"Why so soon? I just got here." He did not sit down, but placed his hands flat on the cover of the large book he'd dropped on the table to startle me. I stood.

"Sorry. My dad's coming to pick me up now. Thanks for bringing me out of my comatose state, by the way… I lost track of time." He cocked his head, a gesture that reminded me oddly of a feral thing assessing a situation. Reminded me, not so oddly at all, of myself.

"Comatose, eh? Pretty spry for a vegetable. You looked like you were about ready to attack me." The sly grin on his face gave his words a decidedly wicked slant, and I tossed off a response before I even thought.

"Oh, you couldn't handle it if I did, Mr. Garwin."

"How'd you know my last name?"

"Roll call," I admitted.

"So you pay attention after all. How come you always ignore us when we call you over?"

"I don't always ignore you. Look, I have to go now. Later." I rounded the table, but Reid reached out and caught my arm. There was no electric shock, no burning line of heat radiating from his touch. Nothing so dramatic.

I froze anyway.

"You've been avoiding us," Reid stated bluntly. His eyes, I noticed, seemed a shade darker than normal. "Why?"

"I- I'm sorry if you think that. I really haven't. Just, you know, moving to a new town is pretty hard, and I haven't had that much free time to-" I took advantage of his listening stillness and broke out of his grip, stepping back. He stared at me.

"I wasn't hurting you."

"Like you could," I snapped. "Look, Reid, I'm not avoiding you. Promise. Now, I really have to leave." As I said it, I couldn't help the wolf within. She wanted out, and she wanted… she wanted him. I inhaled, taking in the heady smell of male and… whatever it was. Suddenly, without so much as a warning, Reid stepped closer to me. So close that I could feel his chest brush against mine when I took a sharp breath in. Yes. Yes, there was a difference to his eyes. They were… they were darker, deeper, the irises larger. Something… but no, I was imagining it, and then he was backing up again, which was good considering the way my body was telling me to grab his shirt and yank him even closer.

"Weird," I heard him mutter to himself. "What the fuck is that?" And then, with one last distrustful look my way, he strode off.

Well.

That was strange.

I sighed, heading for the door, mentally cursing my stupid traitorous teenage supernaturally-enhanced hormones. Note to self: no matter what happens with the whole avoidance thing, never, ever get in a situation where you're alone anywhere with Reid Garwin.