“Third moon's the charm,” she says, her eyes behind me. “You'll change next time. But your dad can't know. That's important.”
“What?” I stumble. “Why?”
But she doesn't answer me because he's made it to the foyer. “We should let Mike go pack,” she tells him. “Michael's office faxed me the forms you need to sign. We can get a start on those while we wait for him.”
“Wait for who?” I want to know as Dad hands my box of stuff over to me.
“Micheal Atherton,” Vivianne tells me, her voice tinted with fondness. “He's the principal at North Sky and a good friend of mine. You'll like him. All the kids think he walks on water.”
Gritting my teeth, I go up the stairs without bothering to acknowledge her any further. It's rude and bratty, I know that. But she's not going to tell me anything important with Dad around, and she's not exactly acting like my best friend in this if it was her idea to ship me off. Besides, her perfume wasn't doing my churning tummy any favors.
My brain struggles to catch up with the morning's events. Just to recap, today I lost my boyfriend to an evil bitch who hates me, grew claws, was expelled for bringing a weapon I didn't have to school, exiled to Alaska, and outed as a werewolf. Or... What did she mean about me not smelling like a wolf? Are there other options?
Without care for its contents, I toss the box on my bed and collapse beside it.
What in the world am I going to do?
My phone rings and for about half a second, I feel joy to think someone is checking up on me. Despite the fact that use of phones is prohibited in school, I would have expected someone, anyone, to have at least texted me by now wanting to know what was up. I would have been hiding in a bathroom stall typing away if any of them had been dragged out of class like I was.
But the ring tone is my mom's. It's the theme song from the old TV show LA Law. To be clear: Mom doesn't work in LA. However, she is a lawyer and she does belong on a drama. She was cheating on Dad with some guy from her firm for years before the divorce. And then she cheated on that guy with the one she's marrying. Not an excellent role model, my mother.
Knowing she'll just call Dad if I ignore her, I straighten my spine and accept the call. “Hey, Mom.”
There's a silence.
“Mom? Are you there?”
“Oh, I'm here.” And clearly not pleased. “I was just wondering if that was all you have to say for yourself.”
“Yes, it is. Is that it, because I have a lot of packing to do.” I pause for a quick breath before screaming, “I'm moving to Alaska!”
The faint sound of her breathing is all I'm met with.
“I'll be sure to send you a postcard,” I assure her, preparing to jab my finger into the disconnect key.
“I'm sorry,” Mom blurts, a crack in her voice. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I knew things have been rough for you. I wish you'd felt like you could come to me instead of acting out.”
“I didn't do it, Mom.”
“I know how confusing it is to be a teenager,” she tells me, completely ignoring my side of the conversation. “And to have someone you care about treat you that way... It's no wonder you were upset. Troy should have had more respect for you than that.”
“Oh?” That's just too good to let pass. “So you're saying it isn't nice to cheat someone? I never knew you felt that way.”
“That was uncalled for.”
“Was it?”
She sighs audibly. “I know you're just attacking me because you're hurting. You're projecting the anger.” Yeah, she's spent more than her fair share of time in therapists' offices. “And I deserve anger. But I deserve it from your father, not from you.”
“Whatever.”
“Mike...” Hushed voices creep into the edge of hearing. “Just a minute, Eli,” Mom tells her assistant.
“You have an appointment,” I say for her.
“You're more important to me.”
“I know,” I lie.
“I'm going to try to be at the airport to see you off.”
Eli says something I don't catch, and Mom curses. “See if you can cancel it,” she tells him. “Sweetheart, I'm going to try. And if I can't get out of this, then I'll fly up there and see you one weekend. Okay?”
“Yeah, alright.” As if. She may mean what she says, but she's never going to follow through. That's just the way it is.
“Okay. Bye, sweetie. I love you.”
My tone is flat as I mumble back, “Yeah. Love you, too.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I stare at the floor, and try to think. There has got to be a way out of this. My parents are showing rare solidarity right this instant, but it shouldn't be too hard to find a way to get them to disagree with each other.
I could call my grandparents in. I'm not speaking to my mom's mother, but my dad's folks... They met Troy over Christmas and told my dad he shouldn't let me anywhere near “the delinquent.” They'd probably think Alaska is a great place to be. They probably think I should pick up some frontier work ethic and good old-fashioned values. Come to think of it, I probably shouldn't be speaking to them either.
My uncle told me once I could come to him if everything ever went wrong and I needed him. He meant it, too. But he's in the Navy. He's sitting on a ship somewhere in the Middle East. Not precisely somewhere I'd want to go, even if I could find a way to get there.
With a long expulsion of breath, I lay back on the bed, hoping the ceiling will give me more answers than the carpet did. Its pale face stares back unhelpfully.
Okay... My family either wants to send me away or isn't in a place to do anything about it.
My friends...
I laugh. What friends? The people who knew my boyfriend was cheating and didn't say anything? The ones who haven't bothered to message me since I was dragged out of homeroom, even though they've had plenty of chances to pull out their phones and type something? It's lunch time by now, isn't it? How can no one I know have sneaked somewhere to make a call?
They don't care, do they?
They don't even care enough to be curious, let alone concerned or worried about me.
Maybe going to another state isn't such a bad idea.
Yeah.
With one swift motion motion, I jump up onto my feet.
Screw my friends. Screw Troy. Screw my parents, and my grandparents, and the jerk across the street who keeps complaining about how I back into his driveway when trying to get out of mine. Screw the whole state of Washington.
Bring it on, Alaska.
Chapter Three
Almost before I know it, I'm standing on a runway at a tiny little airfield, looking at a plane not all that much bigger than Viv's SUV. The setting sun glints off the plane's wing like light on the edge of Death's scythe.
Vivian, AKA the party responsible for my sudden endangerment, gives me an encouraging smile. I used to think she was sweet. “He makes this run all the time. You're fine.”
The “he” in question would be Mr. Micheal Atherton, who, in addition to being the principal of a school for were-kids whose parents don't want them around, is also a pilot. Alaska has more pilots per capita than any other state. And they brag about it on their official website. They also claim it isn't as cold as everyone thinks, but they're lying about that one. It's thirty degrees cooler there today than it is here in Washington, which is hardly a balmy state.
My dad is looking at the winged contraption in front of us, which doesn't look like it could fly the forty-odd miles to Canada, let alone the thousand and something miles to Anchorage. A sensible person would be objecting to his daughter being shoved into something so questionable – it has propellers, for crying out loud! But not my dad. He's looking at the death trap with an excited form of envy.
Disgusted, I grab the handle of my suitcase and yank it from him. “Nice knowing you,” I mutter.
The man has the audacity to laugh. “I'll be joining you before you know it,” he tells me.
Unlike my mom, my dad h
as always seemed to honestly want to be around me, so I believe he'll be up as soon as soon as he can sell the house. However, since I won't be living long enough to see the school in the first place, due to my tragic death in transit, this is of limited comfort.
Ignoring my glower, Dad pulls me into a long hug. “Call me as soon you get there.” His voice chokes up, and there are tears in his eyes when he pulls away.
“Okay.” I try to give him a brave smile, like a good little soldier heading to the front lines. “Love you.”
His lips quiver as he nods. “I love you too, sweetie.”
Vivianne is there at his elbow, touching it lightly. Maybe I wasn't so far off on my theory about her trying to get me out of the way. Except, before today I liked her enough I wouldn't have objected to her going out with Dad. “I just talked to my kids.” She smiles again, giving me an urge to slap her. Luckily for her, I channel it into tightening my grip on my luggage. The plastic bends, evidence of my recently increased strength. “They're really looking forward to meeting you.”
Somehow, I manage not to snort at her. I am so sure her kids are all excited to know I'm coming. Because we all know teenagers just adore it when their parents pick out new playmates for them. (I swear I never used to be this sarcastic. It must be a were-whatever thing.)
Her eyes go to Mr. Atherton, her expression shifting just a tad. There's a softness under the forced cheer now. Hmmm... Maybe it isn't Dad she's using me to get closer to. “You'll be back at break, Michael?”
His charming smile is perfect, making it less appealing than the smiles I've seen from him so far. Still, if I thought he had any interest in me, he'd be someone well worth moving onto a frozen wasteland for. Simply put, the man is gorgeous. If my mood were just an ounce less sour, I'd be thrilled at the prospect of spending the next several hours staring at him. Well, if I were in a better mood and if he wasn't escorting me to my death in Charon's airplane...
“Unless someone calls to tell me different.” Something in his voice sounds off, but since I only met him few minutes ago, I can't make a guess about what it means.
Swallowing, Viv nods. With a gasp, her eyes widen. “I almost forgot.” She digs into her purse. “This came for Tod yesterday, and I haven't forwarded it yet. Can you give it to him?”
The envelope she holds out is thin, pristine except for a corner that must have crumpled from being carried in her bag. The writing on it is sharp and scrawled, impossible to read from here. From his frown, I would say Mr. Atherton reads it just fine. And doesn't like what he sees much.
Plastering a smile that is even more artificial than the last one on his face, he stuffs the envelope into a back pocket. “His father doesn't have the school address?” Compared to his previous ease, the question is downright surly.
Vivianne shrugs. “You know him.”
Mr. Atherton doesn't say anything. I get the impression that if he did say something, it wouldn't be polite.
“Bye, Dad,” I interrupt, not knowing what's going on exactly, but not wanting to see my pilot get distracted. I might need his help when we plummet into the ocean.
Taking his cue, Mr. Atherton hauls my stuff onto the plane and stows it between the seats in the back.
I only have two bags with me, and they aren't even full. It's sort of sad that my life fit into so little space, but I couldn't stand the thought of even looking at most of my clothes, which are too cheerful and happy and pretty. I grabbed everything black or dark gray and left the rest. And I didn't bring a single skirt. I prefer my refer my rear-end in a non-frozen condition.
Dad gives me one last hug, then hurries away before he starts crying. He goes all the way to the parking lot, but stands by his car instead of getting into it, waiting to watch the plane take off. He looks very, very alone.
Mom hasn't shown, of course. Not exactly a big shocker.
“Mike,” Vivianne calls around me, addressing the elder Mike.
He looks down at her, waiting without saying anything.
She takes a nervous breath. “You are staying up there, right?”
His lips turn up ever so slightly as he nods. “Yeah. The bears can figure this out.”
“Bears?” I blurt.
“You were attacked in territory claimed by a bear family,” Atherton explains quickly, his first direct mention of anything not freakishly mundane.
“What, werebears?” Huh. No reason people can't turn into bears. You know, once you accept that people can turn into other animals. “I'm a werebear?”
“No.” Vivianne shakes her head, adamant. “You don't smell at all like a bear.”
The other Mike puts his hand on my shoulder. “We don't know what you are yet. Usually, we can tell by scent, but yours is tricky.”
I don't like the sound of that. “Tricky how?”
“I think you smell like a healthy young wolf,” he tells me. Which doesn't seem very tricky to me.
But there's a loud sigh from Vivianne. “And you don't smell even slightly like a wolf to me. You don't smell like anything I've ever smelled before.”
“You sniff a lot of people?” I have to ask.
She smiles faintly. “Enough to know how rare you are.”
Removing his hand, Mr. Atherton clears his throat. “We'll have plenty of time to talk about this when we're airborne.”
“Right.” With a nod, Vivianne takes a step backward. She looks at Mr. Atherton like she wants to say something else, but in the end, she just waves and tells us, “Have a good flight.”
As she goes to talk to Dad, I raise a hand toward him. Pretending I don't notice him wiping at his cheek before he waves back, I duck into the plane and climb to the front, hesitating a second before deciding to sit in what would be the passenger seat if this were a car.
I buckle myself in and take deep breaths of air that smells somewhat like a dog while Mr. Atherton flips a bunch of switches, grabs the wheel, and tells the tower he'd like to leave now. Closing my eyes, I wish I had more faith in God, because then I would have someone to pray to.
Humming to myself, I try not to notice the sounds around me or the acceleration that whips me back in the seat.
“You can open your eyes now,” Mr. Atherton tells me eventually, his voice rife with amusement. “Unless you plan to keep them closed the entire flight.”
The idea doesn't seem like a bad one, but he's already laughing at me. How much more ridiculous would I seem if I really did spend the whole trip refusing to open my eyes?
My breath takes when I see the view. On the left, the Puget Sound lies at the feet of the sun, dotted with tree-coated islands and sea traffic of all descriptions. To the right, the Cascade Mountains reign, green and white and majestic. Mount Baker stretches up, higher than we are and even more impressive than it is from the ground. It's smaller than Mount Rainier, but when I've seen the more famous volcano from the sky, I was always in the coach section of a huge jet. The effect isn't the same.
“It's beautiful,” Mr. Atherton agrees with my unspoken words. “I love it up here.”
“So you're a werebird or something?” I ask, my eyes locked in awe on the scenery.
My companion laughs. “Hardly. I'm a wolf. Painfully traditional of me, I know, but we can't all be new species.”
Dragging my eyes back inside the cockpit, I frown. “Is that what I am?”
“Maybe.” He makes some adjustments while I think about that.
I don't think I want to be something new. I want to be something old. If I can't be human anymore, I want to at least have a new name for what I am, a new community....
“You're a were,” Mr. Atherton tells me, firm but not aggressive. “We don't know what you change into, that's all.” His smile is probably meant to be reassuring. “We'll know next full moon. It will be your third, right?”
“Including the one I was attacked on,” I confirm.
A mummer of acknowledgment accompanies his nod. “Three moons is the waiting period. Next moon, you'll change. So, we'll h
ave it all figured out in three weeks,” he assures me, as if three weeks isn't an awfully long time to wait on knowing ones species. “And, really, it doesn't matter. I think you'll find North Sky is free of that sort of prejudice.”
Why is it I don't believe him?
“So, what do the other students change into?” I wonder aloud, in the hopes of figuring out what I'm not will help me figure out what I am through the process of elimination.
“We have a lot of wolves, like myself,” he says. “The Fox children are foxes, of course....”
Of Fur and Ice Page 2