Isaac hadn't yet figured out how to deal with dinner times. His current foster parents were an older couple who had never had children. In their retirement, they'd signed on with the Beacon County system. As one of the few foster families in Beacon Hills, Isaac counted himself lucky to have been placed with them.

However, in a lot of ways, dealing with the Acevados was like dealing with his father: there was some set of underlying rules that everyone was supposed to know and follow, from which deviation would result in punishment, except no one had bothered to tell him what they were. Unlike his father, the Acevados' punishment came only in the form of disappointment, but they seemed to spend a lot of time disappointed in him.

His foster mother, was short, with slender shoulders, wide hips, and a preference for long skirts that swayed around her ankles. "Isaac," she asked, as she set the last of the serving dishes on the table and sat down. "How was your last day?"

Isaac thought about how to answer her, thought about what she was even asking, and twisted his body against the hard wood of the dining room chair. Finally, he settled on an innocuous, "Fine."

Dinner tonight was some kind of noodle dish he didn't recognize. Its spices were pungent and much, much hotter than anything he was used to. He could feel sweat beading along his hairline just from breathing the scent, though the Acevados seemed not only unaffected, but excited about the meal. Their heartbeats thundered in his ears and their stomachs rumbled loudly. Isaac crouched lower in his seat, hoping to get through tonight's meal without too much pain.

"We haven't discussed your plans for summer vacation," Mr. Acevado began. He was the same height as his wife, coming up only to mid-chest on Isaac when they stood side-by-side, with a thick, trimmed beard of peppered hair. "Is there anything you would like to do?"

Summers for Isaac used to involve spending a lot of time in the graveyard, helping out his father. What time he could carve away from that was spent in the pool, any pool. The Laheys had had their own pool at the house, of course, but Isaac still bought a pass for the public pool down the street, though he never got as much use of it as he planned. "Swimming," Isaac mumbled into a mouthful of noodles. The first bite burned on his lips and tongue and sent flares of heat up his nasal passages. He reached quickly for his glass of milk and drowned half of it in one swallow.

"Do you and your friends like to go swimming?" Mr. Acevado asked.

Isaac blinked up at him in surprise, a new forkful of noodles stalled half-way through his mouth and still close enough to burn his sinuses. Swimming, he thought, wasn't an activity that required friends; that was the whole point. "Not really."

"You can have friends over if you want," Mrs. Acevado reminded him. Her name was Najla and she was always telling Isaac to call her that, though he hadn't yet been able to bring himself to follow through. His father never let him call adults by their first names. "There's the game room down in the basement and our pool is entirely at your disposal."

Isaac nodded and tried to take a smaller, more careful bite of noodles next. The flavor was good, just strong. He wondered briefly how the food tasted to someone without werewolf senses and if his own were why he was having so much trouble with it. His eyes began to water.

Mr. Acevado—Raul—shared a look with his wife, took a careful sip from the wine glass at his place, then leaned toward Isaac. "We're concerned about how well you're adjusting. We know you've been through a lot, but you play sports and your report card was decent-"

"Except for Chemistry," Mrs. Acevado interjected under her breath.

Isaac ignored her because Harris's class was practically impossible to pass if you weren't a red-headed genius named Lydia, and everyone knew that.

"-You just spend so much time by yourself," Mr. Acevado continued. "Coming straight home after practice, going straight to your room after dinner. You're a teenager..."

"I have friends," Isaac interjected, grip tightening on his fork. "I mean, if you want to meet them to see for yourself-" He cringed as he spoke, though, because, while he had several people on his list who might count as friends, he didn't know if any of them counted him back. It was one thing to work together with them to stop a psychotic killer, and another to invite them over for chocolate chip cookies and Halo.

Isaac knew as soon as spoke that his protest wasn't what they wanted to hear. Both their brows creased and they once again traded a significant glance. He drew a deep breath, trying to get a hint from their scents, but the burn of the spices covered everything.

Mrs. Acevado set down her fork and folded her hands on her lap. "I think what my husband means," she began, "is girls. A young man your age should be spending more time with girls."

Isaac slumped farther into his chair. His long limbs were now so far under the table that he half-expected to see his feet on the other side. He'd only been with the Acevados for a few weeks, which wasn't a lot of time for them to get to know each other—not that Isaac had been very forthcoming. This wasn't the first time they'd brought up his dating life, though. And he knew it wasn't going to be the last. As much as he didn't want to impose on them, this seemed like a point that needed addressing. "Not really into girls," he murmured.

His confession was lost in the loud chiming of the doorbell that reverberated through the house. Isaac rubbed his ears and tried to squirm away from the echoes without any success.

"I'll get it," Mr. Acevado said, pushing himself away from the table.

Mrs. Acevado leaned back in her chair and picked up her wine glass, though she didn't bring it to her lips, while she waited for her husband to return. She had an expression on her face like she was hovering between asking a question and demanding an explanation. Surrounded by kitchen walls that were painted a bright red and trimmed with brighter yellow, Isaac felt like he'd landed in the belly of some giant beast.

His ears cleared and he heard the distinctive patter of Erica's heartbeat a second before Mr. Acevado called out in a tone that was almost fervently happy, "Issac, someone's here for you. A young lady."

He took a moment to breathe and will his claws away, unaware until just then that they'd been digging into the fabric of his jean shorts at all. Without meeting Mrs. Acevado's eyes, he stood up—scooting his chair the minimum distance from the table required for him to escape from its confines—and slipped down the hall.

Erica was standing in the doorway with her hands clasped loosely in front of her and her eyes down, a pose that was so not her that, for a moment, Isaac suspected that his ears and nose were lying about identifying the person in front of him. But her smell was too distinctive, especially the thread that marked her as belonging to the same pack as him, and the wicked glimmer she allowed when she looked at him dispelled any doubts. Her long blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders, covering a simple black t-shirt. She brushed one side out of the way and asked, "Can you come out and play?"

Next to him, Mr. Acevado cleared his throat.

Isaac rubbed at the back of his neck, deliberating about what Erica's real intentions were and why she'd shown up at the house like this. To buy time, he made a cursory introduction, concluding with a gesture to the Camero parked in the driveway and Boyd seated behind the wheel with, "...and that's her boyfriend." From his seat, Boyd waved a hand in greeting.

Mr. Acevado's face fell.

"I'm busy. We're eating dinner," Isaac explained to Erica, with a glance at his foster father to try to gauge how much trouble he was going to get into for what he was going to say next. "And I already have plans for after."

Now that he'd said it, Isaac scrambled to come up with a reason that he couldn't go off with Erica and Boyd. His real reasons involved a complicated combination of being miffed that they had run off and missed the big showdown with Jackson and Gerard, a notion that they'd left him behind on purpose, and discomfort at being their third wheel.

"What kind of plans?" Erica asked, pursing her lips in a moue of disbelief. "Are you headed out to the woods?" By which she was really asking if Isaac planned to go see Derek. At least she had the sense to be discreet. "Because we haven't been there in awhile, either."

"Uh. No," Isaac answered. While Isaac had no reason to avoid Derek, he hadn't felt real compelled to visit him either. Without a common enemy, they didn't have much in common.

"I'm certain that Isaac can find some time to go out tonight," Mr. Acevado answered for him.

Isaac bristled, but bit his tongue. He didn't want to make them angry, even if he was fairly sure that they wouldn't kick him out for not being social enough. "I can't," he repeated. "I mean, it's not just my decision."

Tilting her head, Erica regarded him. Isaac could almost hear her thinking "This better be good."

"Scott," he blurted out. It wasn't a lie, exactly, so his heartbeat didn't give it away. He didn't officially have plans with Scott, but that was only because he hadn't made them yet. He thought that Scott would be open to hanging out. He hoped?

Erica brightened, all the defensiveness that had been building in her posture dissipating in an instant. "Double date!" she suggested, like she'd been aching for an opening to say that. Isaac spared a glance at his foster father, who showed no reaction to the entendre. Erica straightened up, dropping the innocent act. "We have that thing next week, remember? There are still some details that need to be ironed out. Let's go grab some ice cream and, you know."

"Maybe," Isaac replied, noncommittally.

"I'll let Scott know, too. He won't dare miss it," Erica countered.

And that sounded like a threat, Isaac thought. He barred his teeth at her briefly. "I'll talk to you later, Erica."

She hesitated, unfazed by his gesture. When it became clear that Isaac wasn't going to invite her in, she grabbed his arm and yanked him outside. "I'm just borrowing him for a sec," she explained, as she dug her nails into Isaac's forearm and pulled him around the corner of the house. "I'll try not to damage him too much."

Isaac hissed, eyes narrowing. "What are you trying to do? I don't need them asking questions."

With her fingernails gouging into his forearm, Erica dragged him around to the side of the house. As soon as they were out of human earshot, she let go and planted herself in front of him on the meticulously cut grass so that he would have to push her out of the way to pass. "It's summer!" she announced, throwing her arms wide as if to encompass the three months.

"Yeah, I've figured that out. The big clue was today being the last day of school. Did you even go? I bet you cut classes again." He covered his mouth with his hand as if scandalized. "Or are you officially a dropout now? Your parents must be so proud."

"My parents are so thrilled with me coming home that they don't give a shit what I do." Erica's tone soured. "Not like they cared all that much before, or anything."

"And Derek?"

"Derek's not my boss," she shot back.

Isaac conceded that with a half shrug. "He is your Alpha, though. Last I checked, that means something."

"He's also yours. And last I checked, that didn't mean much to you at all."

Isaac ignored the dig. He didn't need to explain himself to her, especially when he didn't know if there was anything to explain. Things changed. People left, people lost interest. Wasn't that how life worked? "Did Derek let you borrow his car, or did you steal it?" he asked, instead.

"Does it matter?" she countered. "He wasn't using it, and he's so desperate to keep any of us on his good side that I don't think he'd care as long as we don't scratch the paint."

"So, that's your plan? You're going to drive around Beacon Hills all night in Derek's Camero and make a point of not scratching the paint? Sounds like a can't miss."

Erica laughed, the sound loud and bright against the still neighborhood backdrop. "Don't be stupid. We're young. We're powerful." She threw her head back; the sunlight limned her skin. "We can do anything we want."

Not too long ago he would have completely agreed with her. Today? From around the corner, he could hear the tapping of Mr. Acevado's fingers on the doorframe while he waited. The rhythm carried a distinct tempo of irritation and impatience. "Yeah, that's been working out pretty well for us. I don't remember signing up to nearly get cut in half or to be skewered on knives. Sharp knives."

"That's in the past," Erica responded with a sweep of her hands as if to brush away all the bad things that had happened to them. We need to live in the now." Growing more serious, she continued, "Me? I thought I'd start with getting my driver's license. While I'm working on that, I'm going to go Cosmic Bowling and then I think I'm going to head down to the pier and ride every single roller coaster they have over and over. Maybe I'll squeeze in some scuba diving lessons in my spare time. I have a long list of things that I've never been able to do before, and I'm going to do them all this summer."

The bushes that sketched the boundary between the Acevados' property and the neighbors rustled in the silence as Isaac stared at Erica, waiting for her to get to a point that he could actually comment on.

She leaned forward. Her breath gusted out over his face when she added, "You know what else I'm going to do? I'm going to have tons of great sex."

With a blush, Isaac glanced away. The perimeter of the house was landscaped with rock gardens featuring small statues and fountains. His gaze landed on a granite obelisk. He bit his lip and jerked his eyes to the right, only to have them land on a large pair of rocks that happened to be nestled up against each other. He could feel more heat gathering within him, and no doubt Erica could sense it too, which just made it worse.

"What do you want to do, Isaac? That's what this summer is about. What have you always wanted to do that you never could before?" She said the last with so much emphasis that he knew she meant the Bite.

It was a good question, and one he would have once had a long list to give as an answer. So much has changed, though. How many times had he wished his father would die? Then he had, and with him went the home that Isaac had known since he was a baby. Gone were the constant reminders of his mother and Camden written in scuff marks and scratches, pictures hung just so, and the tinkle of windchimes over the kitchen window. Gone was the room he'd had that was stuffed with clothes, books, and half-remembered toys—a lifetime of achievements and accumulations—that all belonged to him. Gone was the solidity of knowing his address and phone number and being able to recite them without thinking.

Sometimes he wondered if the abuse had been worth having a home. Even if it had been years since he felt safe bringing anyone to it.

"I dunno," he answered, gaze flicking around the yard now as if to find inspiration in some other part of the landscaping. "What difference does it make? It's not like I can go running off whenever I want. Even if they let me, I don't have my job at the cemetery anymore, which means no money."

Erica tapped a long fingernail against her lip in thought. "You're over-thinking this," she stated. "Taking a risk doesn't need to be expensive. You liked dancing with me and Jackson at that rave; that was taking a risk. What's another one?" Hardly had the question left her mouth when she snapped her fingers like the idea had just come to her. "Just ask him out already!"

Isaac blinked. "Jackson?" Jackson was gone. His whole family had abruptly picked up and left the country and not even Danny had had contact with him since.

"Scott!" Erica replied. "I've seen the way you look at him." She grinned, a gleam shining in her eyes. "Everyone's seen the way you look at him. Stop pining and ask him out."

Isaac took a moment to count the blades of grass around his shoes; his mouth had gone so dry that his tongue stuck to his palate. When he finally summoned enough moisture to speak, he could only manage a sticky, "He's straight."

Erica scoffed and rolled her eyes. The heavy eyeliner she'd used only served to add extra weight to her scorn. "You don't know that. He could be bi."

"He's in love with Allison," Isaac protested. About nothing else was he so unhappy to be so certain. Hunching his shoulders, he drew in on himself like each reason for Scott being out of reach was physically diminishing him.

"And she's also left the country. Good riddance. Trust me on this, neither of them are ever coming back. Seriously, at this point you're just making excuses. What's the worst he can say? 'No?'"

"He could say 'no,'" Isaac agreed, slouching a few millimeters more. "He'd probably say 'no.' They just broke up."

Erica cuffed him on the back of the head. It didn't hurt, didn't spark any of the fear that he felt when his father hit him. All he could do was rub the spot and start his grass-blade count over. "Go finish your dinner," she told him, the exasperation so strong in her voice that he could smell it. "We'll come back after my driving lesson and pick the two of you up for ice cream. Don't even try to argue." She opened her mouth as if to say something else, stopped. The expression turned into a slow grin which she held, her eyes sweeping up and down Isaac's body. Then she turned and sauntered back to the car.

Isaac watched her go, watched her the bounce spring into her step and the self-assured flip of her hair as she tossed her head and took another step closer to living her dreams. That, he thought, was what he wanted. He'd thought he'd had it for a few days after the bite took, and then everything became so complicated so fast and the illusion shattered.

When Isaac got back to the house, his foster father was still waiting at the door, his mouth bowed in an impatient frown. Isaac slunk into the hallway, taking care to stay out of reach, just in case returning to a cold dinner would make him testy.

"Erica seems like a lovely young woman," Mr. Acevado stated, without leaving his post at the door.

Isaac nodded, but didn't offer any correction.

"You have plans with her next week…?" he asked next, his tone leaving the question so open-ended that he clearly expected Isaac to fill him in on the details of those plans.

"Yes."

Mr. Acevado stopped, drawing Isaac to a stop with him. He stroked his short beard and inspected the sconce that hung on the wall behind Isaac. Isaac could feel him baiting the hook of his next question, trying to find the one that would entice him to talk about all the things he really didn't want to talk about with them. "Have you ever thought about seeing someone?"

Isaac scowled, certain that they'd always had this conversation. "Erica's dating Boyd," he repeated.

Mrs. Acevado stepped out of the kitchen then, her wan smile barely a crease on her face. She clasped her hands in front of her and didn't try to close the distance between them. "Sorry," she answered slowly. "We weren't referring to a girlfriend. I have a good friend, Dr. Olsen. She's a psychiatrist."

"A shrink?"

"A psychiatrist," she corrected. "She specializes in teenagers. With everything that you've been through..." She trailed off, a long gust of breath finishing the thought for her.

Isaac closed his eyes, concentrated on his heartrate, working to keep himself calm. "I've talked to the counselor at school a couple times," he answered. It was partially true. He hadn't really talked to the counselor about anything except what classes he needed to take next and what he needed to do to keep his eligibility on the lacrosse team, but wasn't that what the counselors were there to help him with?

Mr. Acevado nodded once, sharply, as if Isaac's statement confirmed all his worst fears. "That's a good start, though not an option we'll be able to take advantage of with the schools not in session." He started back toward the kitchen, extending an arm to usher Isaac in front of him. "Give it some thought. Maybe you could talk it over with your friend if you don't feel comfortable talking to us?"

"Maybe," Isaac agreed, though he doubted that Scott would be at all interested in that conversation.

Mrs. Acevado turned before the boys could reach her and led the way back to the table. "I spoke with Emily—Dr. Olsen—today and she has an opening tomorrow afternoon. I know she's looking forward to getting to know you."

Isaac's head dropped. Though he allowed himself to be guided back to the table, each step was heavy against the hardwood floor; the sharp tips of his claws bit into his palms. This was it. This was the start of his inevitable slide into being ejected from this foster home. No one wanted to put up with a person who couldn't live up their expectations. Already he was dreading this summer vacation more than any other time in his life.