Chapter 3: A human in humans clothing
I looked around with human eyes like I was squinting through water. My body was worse for wear, sallow and thin, with bones poking against the skin. Here and there were scrapes from the brush or cuts from thornbushes. My feet were stiff and brown on the bottom, covered in mud and thick callouses.
I was in the thick forest growing on the edge of a riverbank. Without thinking, I jumped to my feet and hopped into the water. It felt cool and smooth against my skin, easing off the months of dirt and grime I'd accumulated. For a moment, I let myself float in the water, my ears covered by the whoosh of the waves beneath me.
Finally, when my fingers and toes had wrinkled up into little prunes, I sighed and stood in the water, wading up until I was covered from the waist down. It was a lot colder without fur. I shivered, wrapping my arms across my chest.
"C'mon!" I heard a voice yell in the distance. My head snapped in its direction too fast, and I groaned, grabbing the muscle with my hand.
"I can't believe we're doing this," another voice giggled.
I ran back to the trees and safety and considered shifting again. The thought sent another shiver down my spine, but not from the cold. I crouched in the bushes and watched two humans bound onto the riverbank.
One was a boy, about my height, with a strong jaw and cropped hair. He unbuttoned one of the straps on his overalls before gesturing to the girl with him. She giggled again and started pulling her arms into her sundress.
I smiled and crept closer as they stripped down to their underwear. I almost licked my lips as my eyes locked on their clothes strewn over the ground.
When the two of them were thoroughly distracted—splashing at each other and laughing like a scene in a movie—I darted out, stole the clothes, and was back into the safety of the trees before they could say, "Huh?"
I cackled to myself, imagining the looks on their faces.
I started trying on the clothes when I was a safe distance away. I quickly realized the girl's dress was more of a shirt on me, so I threw the boy's overalls on top of it. The pants ended about two inches above my ankles. I didn't even bother with the girl's strappy-looking flip-flops, opting instead for the boy's heavy work boots.
I started walking, headed towards where the carnival had been. I figured there would be a road or a parking lot. I tried to remember the time Jake explained how to hot-wire a car.
With my thoughts to myself, I allowed myself to think about Bella being pregnant. Was I going to be an aunt?
Of course, I would be their baby's aunt. Obviously. I was surprised and thrilled by the certainty that I knew this would happen. If only I could find them, wherever they were...
But if I phased to find Jake, there was no certainty he would be in wolf form, and I would risk having to talk to all the others in the pack—which, after the last onslaught, I was not eager to do.
So, I walked on two legs, trying to get used to it again. I kept falling into a crouch at slight noises, wound up from losing my heightened wolf senses. I forged on until the carnival lights appeared, then made a beeline for the parking lot.
In the end, I couldn't hotwire any of the cars. Luckily enough, a bowl of keys was sitting at one of the stands selling beer, which was conveniently left unattended. I fished out a key fob, pressed the red panic button at the bottom, and followed the honking.
Like almost every other car in the lot, the vehicle was a pickup with muddy tires and a dingy, rusty fender. The engine was so loud that I jumped when I turned the ignition and stalled it, having to start over again with shaky hands.
Finally, the car rumbled to a start, and I pulled out of the parking lot with no trouble. I drove down a dirt road until I came to a small town. I didn't care about the haggard buildings, the fact that the road wasn't paved, or the decrepit look of the abandoned parking lots. All I saw was the red sign flashing BAR above one of the shacks.
A wallet was in one of the pockets of the overalls I wore, but it was empty of any cash. There was a school ID, a milk card from a local grocery store with three holes punched in it, a mechanic's business card, and forty-three cents, all of little use to me.
Though it seemed impossible, the bar was even smaller on the inside. As I entered, a bell rang above my head, and several heads of white hair turned to look at the new arrival. The three barflies sitting on the long counter were all dressed in overalls, like me, and heavy work boots. Across from the bar were three empty booths set up against a large windowpane, revealing a view of the empty, dusty street outside.
Behind the bar was a large kitchen door with a grimy, circular window. It swung open to reveal a man with skin dark as night, fuzzy gray hair receding off his forehead, horn-rimmed glasses, and a kind, buck-toothed smile.
"Hey there, stranger," he called, waving me to the bar. "What can I do ya for?"
With slow, cautious movements, I sat on a stool across the counter from the man. "A beer, please," I answered, my voice too low and rumbly to be anything but a growl.
His eyes narrowed. His kind smile became sly as he looked me up and down. "How old are you?" He asked, picking up a glass from under the bar and wiping it down with a rag.
"Old enough." I snapped my teeth impatiently.
The man shrugged and turned around with the glass to the tap behind him. "I'll need a name if you're going to start a tab."
"Leah," I answered automatically.
He turned around and placed a frothy mug on the counter before me. "One beer, then. Anything else for you, Miss Leah?"
I fidgeted uncomfortably, my eyes darting around. The silence in the bar was deafening as they all waited for my response.
"Do you sell food?" I wondered, my eyebrows coming together at the top of my forehead.
"Mel's got some chili on the stove," the man replied breezily, picking up another glass and wiping it off in a practiced way. "Should be ready soon."
I nodded and took a sip of my drink. It was more cool and refreshing than expected, sliding down my throat like a soothing balm on a burn. Before I could stop myself, I chugged the whole thing down in three gulps.
The man raised his eyebrows and eyed me speculatively. "Another beer?"
"Yes," I gasped, setting the glass down between us.
As the man returned to the tap, I noticed a small hole in the wall behind the bar, with two warm brown eyes peeking over it. A woman's smiling face appeared when they saw me staring, peering out the window curiously.
"My name's Jack," the man said as he turned around and placed the glass back in front of me. "I own this place." His eyes narrowed as I took another sip of beer. "I ain't seen you around here before," he noted.
I nodded and took another sip, then placed the mug on the counter between us to stop myself from downing the whole thing immediately.
"We don't get a lotta strangers 'round these parts," he added, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows expectantly.
My lips thinned out into a straight line.
When it was clear I wasn't going to respond, Jack continued. "Especially not strangers driving John Laramie's truck."
I froze in my seat, glancing up at Jack's knowing smile. He looked up at me over his glasses, his eyes appraising.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open again, and the woman I'd seen peering through the window behind the bar came barging out with a tray of steaming bowls. She was short and stocky, with skin as dark as Jack's and a smile cutting her face in two, revealing high cheekbones and deep dimples. She didn't look at the other patrons, her eyes fixed on me.
She waddled over to us and placed one of the bowls before me with an encouraging smile. "Here you go, dear," she said, grabbing a spoon from her apron pocket and placing it in my hand.
My eyes widened as the smell reached my nostrils, and before I could thank the woman, I was shoving the hot food down my throat with reckless abandon. I was done before she'd finished serving the other patrons.
Jack, in his defense, wasn't prepared for a werewolf's appetite. He watched with wide eyes as I downed bowl after bowl of chili until, finally, the woman shrugged and said, "We're all out now, honey. But I can fix ya some eggs real quick if you're still hungry—"
"I think she's done, Mel," Jack interjected. "She still needs to return Mr. Laramie's truck."
The woman—Mel—scoffed. "As if John's gonna be lookin' for his truck tonight," she replied dubiously, taking the bowl and shuffling back to the kitchen. "The man's probably already passed out on Wanda's couch by now."
Jack raised his eyebrows but nodded in agreement. "True enough," he allowed. "Where're you from, anyway, Miss Leah?" He asked, passing me another beer over the counter.
I grabbed the glass with both hands, staring into the drink like it was trying to pull me in. "I'm not from anywhere," I sighed, folding my forearms on the table and resting my head on them as I would've done in wolf form. Quickly, I realized it wasn't ordinary human body language and sat up with my spine erect, like a soldier at attention.
"How'd you get here, then?" Jack wondered.
"I don't know," I lied.
His forehead wrinkled with doubt. "You at least know where you're headed?"
I stared at him, my face blank. I hadn't thought too much about where I was going. As a wolf, my only thought about the future was where my next meal would be coming from. Now that I was human, I'd have to think a little further ahead.
"Jack!" Mel called from the kitchen. "Get back here; I need to talk to you."
Jack obediently turned on his heel and disappeared behind the kitchen door.
"Jack," the woman hissed, keeping her voice low, unaware I could hear everything. "Does she have somewhere to stay tonight?"
"I don't think so," he answered.
"What about here?" She suggested. "We can fold out the futon."
There was a pause before Jack replied. "Are you sure, Mel? We barely know the girl."
"Look at her!" Mel insisted, her voice creeping higher. "She's skin and bones. Looks like she ain't slept under a roof in God knows how long. What kind of a Christian are you? Don't you remember— 'whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me'?"
"Yes, but—"
"No buts, Jack." Mel's voice was stern. "She's staying with us tonight, and that's the end of it. We can get the details from her in the morning."
"And if she steals the good copper pot?" Jack asked.
"Then she'll make herself some good gumbo out of it," Mel replied with a matter-of-fact tone.
With that, I finished the rest of my drink in one sip and stood up from the bar, taking all the coins from my stolen wallet and placing them on the counter next to the empty glass, then turned to leave.
Before I could reach the door, Mel was bustling out of the kitchen, running to catch up to me on her stumpy little legs. "Wait!" She called, waving her hands in the air.
My eyes darted to the other patrons, who gazed back at me with curious expressions. I didn't want to make more of a scene than I already had, so I paused halfway through the threshold, letting the woman catch up.
"How would you like to stay with us tonight?" Mel panted as she stopped before me, blowing a curly strand of wiry hair out of her face. "We live upstairs, above the bar." She took me by the hand and led me over to a wooden door on the left of the counter that blended in with the rest of the walls. "C'mon, we'll set out some linens," she insisted, pulling on my wrist.
My feet were planted firmly on the floor. "I can't do that," I argued.
Mel scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Honey, you can't not stay with us," she replied. "John is gonna be lookin' for his truck in the morning, anyway, and we can't let you drive off with it."
I glanced out the window at the truck parked outside, my fastest form of escape as a human. Finally, I sighed and let her pull me towards the door.
She led me up a steep set of squeaky stairs that groaned with every step. The door at the top opened up to a small apartment above the bar. It was simple but cozy, smelling of sweet spices and cinnamon. The front room was divided from the kitchen by a long counter with a futon pushed up against it. Across from the couch was an old, square television set on a TV dinner tray. An antique carpet was spread out on the scuffed, hardwood floors without a speck of dust. Along the right wall was a door leading into a linoleum-lined bathroom.
Mel sat me down at the kitchen table and bustled down the hallway into the linen closet. I could smell the familiar scent of clean laundry wafting down the hall. She must've used the same brand of detergent as my mother.
Without my permission, my shoulders relaxed, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Mel returned with sheets and showed me which lever to pull on the futon to make it into a bed, then instructed me on which end of the linen to grab and tuck under the mattress. Mel did most of the talking, keeping up a stream of consciousness throughout the whole thing.
"Of course, I'd offer you our bed, but Jack gets grumbly about his back when I make him sleep out here." Mel laughed. "It's how I keep him in line. I'll need to find a new strategy now that you're here."
I offered her a small smile, encouraging her to continue.
"But I shouldn't be needing it tonight, at least. I think he knows it's best for you to stay with us for now. Tomorrow we can decide what to do with you."
I nodded, not paying much attention to her chatter. The beer was kicking in, making my body heavier. My eyelids drooped as we finished setting up the bed, and I wavered on my feet.
"Lie down, honey," Mel said, reaching up to place one of her hands on my shoulder and push me down onto the futon. I let her, surrendering to the woman's kindness.
As my eyes closed, my mother's voice echoed in my ears.
"We'll work it all out in the morning."