by Kody Boye
But if had been her looking at me… then what exactly did she want?
Does she know something I don’t?
I know I shouldn’t assume things—especially since assumption tends to make an ass out of everyone—but now that I know the Meadows’ family secret, I can’t help but wonder:
Am I meant to play a role in their family business, especially now that I know what they are?
I don’t know.
I guess the only thing I can do is wait and find out.
I have so many questions, and need so many answers. However, I know that asking them via text message will only create a paper trail that someone else may eventually find. Because of that, I vow to face Jackson in person to unearth the truth of the matter.
The only problem?
I have to wait for my mother to leave the house.
Naturally, my need—and my utter, callous greed—for answers would have to come on a day when my mother is taking her time to run her errands.
“Don’t you have to go down to the police station?” I ask as I glance at the Meadows’ family house out the kitchen window once more.
“They’re taking their time arranging an appointment,” my mother replies. She waits a moment, then asks, “Do you want me gone?”
“No, no. It’s just… I know you’re going a bit stir crazy—“
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“—and I figured you might want to get out of the house.”
“It’s not like I want to go to the police station, Oaklynn.”
“Do you not want to find out who did this?”
My mother sighs, but nods and says, “Yes. Yes I do.”
I don’t blame her for having reservations. On one hand, it makes sense that she would want to find out who did it. On another, it’s hard to believe that anyone would be willing to do such a thing, especially someone from your own community.
Especially someone like—
I swallow.
Easton Wells.
While I know it’s cruel to place the blame on someone when they can’t defend themselves, it seems too odd, too coincidental, that this would occur after he’d received such a harsh punishment, especially with another Wells Hunting and Fishing store opening.
My mother’s phone chimes—and though I see the reservation light up her eyes, she lifts it into view.
Then, a short moment later, she says, “That’s them.”
“They’re ready to see you?” I ask with a frown.
She nods. “Yes. They are.”
After taking a moment to compose herself, she reaches for her purse, secures it under her arm, then starts toward the door, but not before she turns to face me. “Oaklynn,” she says.
“Yeah?” I reply.
“Don’t go too far from home today for me. Okay?”
“I won’t,” I reply. “Don’t worry.”
“I have to, especially given what’s just happened.”
With a nod, I follow her to the door, then say, “Bye” and watch her make her way from the house, down the porch, then out to her car.
As she pulls out of the driveway—and as the rumbling impression of her vehicle fades into the distance—I turn my head to regard the Meadows household, then lift my phone up.
The only thing I text to Jackson is: We need to talk.
Chapter Thirteen
I’m afraid he’ll have doubts. Reservations. Will be unwilling to talk. It wouldn’t be unlikely, all things considering.
You’ve got to tread lightly, I think while staring at my text message—while waiting for that simple ‘read’ notification to appear. You don’t know what this could mean for either of you.
It could mean everything. Or, it could mean nothing.
Either way, I’m not sure how to approach this, so I do the only thing I can do.
Wait.
I know he’s at home. Something, but I don’t know what, leads me to believe that he’s in that house, across that street, waiting and wondering what exactly it is he will say.
As the moments pass on—and as the unfortunate seconds stretch into ungodly minutes—I begin to wonder if he’ll ever respond to me.
Come on, I think. Just respond alread—
The ‘read’ notification appears next to my text message.
I inhale. Exhale. Inhale again.
A second later, the chat bubbles appear.
It isn’t long before his message pops up. Okay, he says. Come over.
Come over?
To his house?
“Where else would he ask you to go, dummy?” I ask, looking up at the window.
I see a flicker of movement appear across the street as the curtain is parted. Jackson is then revealed—and though normally it wouldn’t surprise me to see him looking across the street, today, it fills me with dread.
I nod.
He nods.
His curtain shifts. He disappears from view.
By the time I open my front door, he is waiting for me on his porch, and gazing across the street toward me.
Well, I think. Here goes nothing.
I shut the door behind me—and it is here that I realize my whole life is about to be upended, that my whole worldview will soon be shattered. Torn from the world of normalcy, I will soon walk in a land of wolves—of beasts and the men who wish to kill them.
Swallowing, I take a step forward, then let my feet fall to the ground beyond the wooden porch.
It is only when I begin to walk that I realize that Jackson is waiting silently—his arms crossed, his hands braced along his biceps.
As I stop at the side of the road—first to look once, then twice—I briefly consider the idea of turning back and forgetting this whole thing has occurred.
You can’t, I think. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened.
Some would have simply abandoned this mission. Some would have simply turned their backs and walked away. Insanity, they’d have claimed, caused me to see things, smoke inhalation to hallucinate. But me? I’m not that kind of person. Whether it be the roots of my reality or the result of my anxiety, I have to know what’s happened, and what’s going to happen as a result of it.
That is the sole thing that compels me forward—first onto, then across the road.
By the time I come to stand at Jackson’s porch, I find myself trembling with unease.
The one thing the young man can respond with is a, “Hey.”
“Hey,” I reply, struggling to maintain my composure in light of everything I feel.
“How are you doing?”
“Okay,” I say.
“Your chest still hurt?”
“Jackson—“ I start.
He lowers his eyes.
“We… we need to talk,” I say. “About what happened.”
“I know,” he says, then lifts his eyes to look toward the window he’d just been looking out of. “Come with me.”
At first, I’m not sure where he plans on taking me. I believe that we’ll head toward the house, and as a result, enter it. But as he turns and begins to walk alongside it, I find myself frowning, but following.
He’s taking me out back, I think.
But why? Is there something there that must be seen? Silence to be offered? Privacy to be had?
In the end, it doesn’t really matter.
Soon, we are stepping around the house and into Jackson’s backyard—where an old, red metal swing stands sentinel, its two chairs hanging by twin pieces of metal.
I stare at it for several long moments—hoping to glean something, anything, from it.
When it comes time for me to speak, it’s to ask, “Jackson… why are we here?”
“Because the living room doesn’t look out into the backyard,” he replies, turning his head to face me, “and because it’ll be a little more private than if we were on the front porch.”
“Does your dad know about what happened?”
“Know?” Jackson snorts. “He almost disowned me.
”
“Because you saved me?”
“Because I revealed myself to you.”
I frown.
Jackson sighs. “It… was supposed to be kept a secret,” he says, “from everyone… and almost everything. The fact that I revealed myself to you—a plain, everyday person—would be grounds for banishment in some circles, and death in others.”
“You’re not going to be…” I swallow. “Banished. Are you?”
“No.” Jackson laughs. “I’m not. And before you ask: I’m definitely not going to be killed.”
“Then… what?” I ask.
He closes his eyes. Exhales a long breath. Turns his head up to the sky. Then, he opens his eyes, and while gazing up at the fading light of the afternoon sun, says, “The Meadows Wolf Clan is going to convene. And…”
“And… what?” I frown.
“They want you to be there.”
“Me?” I pale. “Why?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” he replies. “But, from what I can gather, it has to do with the fact that you’ve bore witness to one of our people’s powers.”
“Jackson,” I say, taking a step forward so I can better see his face. “Are you… human? Or…”
He smiles. “I’m as human as you are, Oaklynn.”
“Then how can you—“
“Change?” He waits for me to nod before continuing. “My grandmother says it’s a gift passed down from God—or, a god, if you want to be a little more accurate.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She used to tell me a story about the great Mother Wolf—who, at the beginning of time, came to the earth from a world beyond our own and shaped in her image the people that would one day become the Great Wolves. First she gave them flesh, then she gave them blood. Then, soon after, she gave them fur and teeth. This gift, my grandmother says, was meant to protect us from the savagery of the world—because the Great Mother Wolf knew that, one day, we would need to be able to stand on two legs rather than just four.”
“How do you become a wolf?”
“As far as I have always understood: the Mother Wolf shaped which families were given the gift. My grandmother had a saying,” Jackson then offers. “Through the blood of life our people will prosper.”
“So… you’re not like werewolves,” I say.
Jackson shakes his head. “No. At least… I don’t think we are. We’re not permitted to attack people, even in self defense.”
A thought occurs to me shortly thereafter. “Jackson,” I say.
“Yeah?” he replies.
“What kind of family business did you and your father come back to Red Wolf for?”
“I’m not sure I can say,” Jackson offers. “I—“
Jackson’s cell phone begins to ring.
“Who’s calling?” I ask.
“It’s my dad,” he replies, before lifting his eyes to face me. “I’m sorry, Oaklynn. I have to go.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I reply. “Thank you for telling me this.”
“Just… don’t say anything to anyone,” he says, retreating backward but still facing me as he makes his way around the edge of the house. “I don’t think many people would believe you anyway, but… it’s better people don’t go snooping where they shouldn’t.”
“Yeah,” I reply, then nod and add, “you’re right.”
“See you around, Oaklynn.”
“Yeah,” I say. “See ya.”
Jackson soon disappears from sight.
And though I am left to stand in his backyard, watching the stars and wondering just what the Mother Wolf must think of me, I begin to think back on my past interactions with Jackson, then start to wonder:
Was his mother’s accident caused by the Wells family?
And if that happens to be the case: is that stuffed wolf in the Wells Hunting and Fishing Supplies store Jackson’s—
I shake my head, then, and begin to make my way back home.
No, I think. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
But, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Horrible, horrible sense.
Chapter Fourteen
I am thankful to be alone.
Thankful to not have to share my feelings.
Thankful to not have to express my emotions.
Having learned Jackson’s secret—and knowing, as a result, that there are things and forces beyond our known world—I can’t help but feel as though my reality is shattering all around me.
Like a glass chandelier, I muse, falling from the ceiling.
Only to shatter upon my head.
I want so badly to confide in someone—anyone. Yet, I know I can’t, because not only would they think I was crazy, but they would turn on Jackson for ‘filling my head with such nonsense.’
And besides, I then think. The wolves.
If they are not really, truly the wolves I think they are, then who are they? Are they members of the Meadows family? A family I do not know? Just who—or, more aptly, what—is their purpose?
And why have they been interested in me?
Do you really think they’re interested in you? I wonder, frowning as I consider the world outside my bedroom window.
It would make sense, all things considering. I’d seen the first wolf on the road, then the second out my window; and while I could have counted the first sighting as being as one-off, the second seemed a bit too close to home—both literally and metaphorically—to be seen as coincidence.
A sigh escapes me as I consider these things—as my thoughts wander, as my heart races.
In two days I’ve not only almost died, but have learned of the existence of a supernatural people.
How much crazier can my life get?
I’m just about to ask myself this question when I hear the front door being unlocked, and soon after, someone stepping in.
Standing, I make my way to the door—
But stop as I hear voices.
“He fired you?” my mother asks. “He actually fired you?”
“He thinks I’m being unduly influenced by outside sources,” my father replies.
“Did you slip up? Do something you weren’t supposed to?”
“Claire—“
“I’m just asking, Ben. We have to remember who we’re talking about.”
“I didn’t slip up.”
“Are you sure you—“
The whispered tones that follow inspire me to lean my head against the door to listen, though their voices are so soft, so quiet, that I can’t even hear anything they’re saying.
Come on, I think. Just talk a little bit louder. Just a little bit—
A knock comes at the door.
I jump backward and fall onto bed.
Belle yowls.
I scream.
The door bursts open. My mother looks in. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“I—“ I start, breathless as I shuffle off the cat’s tail. “I fell on Belle.”
“Is she okay?”
The cat peeks out from beneath the blanket and offers me a surly look.
“Sorry,” I say, extending a hand toward her, only to receive a growl in response.
My mother frowns as she considers the two of us, but sighs as she closes the door and says, “I just got back from the police station.”
“And? Did they find out who did it?”
“They have three kids in custody.”
“Who are—“
“And one of them is Easton Wells.”
I blink, stunned. “Oh God,” I say, the breath escaping from my throat. “How did they—“
“Someone at school busted a few of the kids on the football team for talking about it. Naturally, they ratted themselves out back to back.”
“Jesus, Mom.”
“Oaklynn—“
“I know, I know,” I offer. “Sorry.” I wait a moment for her expression to fade before I lean forward to ask, “Are you all right?”
“Other
than your dad losing his job and the reality of a court case coming up? Yeah. I… I think I’m fine.”
“A court case?” I frown. “I thought you just said they caught who did it?”
“They did. But, naturally, they’re not telling me everything—at least, not yet. Your dad and I were out at the site looking around, and we noticed that there were security cameras on the gas station across the street.”
“So they have footage,” I offer. “Right?”
“We don’t know.”
A trickle of unease filters through my veins, and upon reaching my lungs, causes my chest to cramp. I reach up to press a hand over my heart and exhale a long, hard breath before inhaling another one.
My mother, in response, merely settles down on the bed beside me, and asks, “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I say.
“Your chest feels okay?”
“It’s still a bit sore, but… other than that, it’s fine.”
“Good, good.” My mother sets a hand on my upper back. “Are you ready to go back to school tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure I want to go back to school,” I reply.
“Is it because you’re worried about what your schoolmates will think?”
“It’s because I know what they’ll be thinking,” I offer. “That it’s my fault that Easton did what he did. That it’s because of me that he got driven over the edge.”
“Oaklynn—“
I shake my head and stand. “I know I can’t let it get to me,” I say, “and I know I can’t let it get me down. It’s just… I’m scared, Mom.”
“Of what?”
“Of what they’ll say. Of what some of them might do.”
“You’re safer at school than almost anywhere,” my mother offers.
But I shake my head, then; and though I want to say how untrue that is, I keep my mouth shut—not only because I’m still reeling from what Jackson has told me, but because of what Easton has done.
All of this, I think, because of the wolves. Because they came back. Because I dared speak out about them.
I swallow the lump in my throat, then, and turn to look out the window—where, no more than a few days ago, I’d witnessed a wolf in all its carnal beauty, looking in on and judging me with the eyes only a supreme being could have.