We collapsed on our backs breathing heavy and laughing.
“Is that why you brought me out here? To throw a snow ball at me?” I asked.
“Yeah, and to tell you I love you,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he looked at me.
We had never said that before. When I heard him say those three words, I felt so light I could float away into the grey sky above. I told him how I felt as well, but when he leaned forward to kiss me I picked up a handful of snow and dropped it down the back of shirt and pushed myself off the ground and ran down the field with him chasing behind me. I was much faster though, so I had to force myself to run at a slow enough pace that he could keep up.
We were almost to the end zone of the field when he we heard a sharp whistle blowing. We came to a stop and looked up toward the school were we saw an overweight balding man with a full mustache blowing on a silver metal whistle. His face was red and he was charging toward us at a quick pace. He almost lost his balance and tumbled forward a couple times as he made his way down the sloped hill to the field.
For a split second Reign and I exchanged looks and then we were off in a blur. We picked up our bags in the middle of the field and ran through the open gates and toward the courtyard which was near the front of the school. Once we had made it safely to the courtyard we slowed our pace to walk and entered the cafeteria through the side doors. The cafeteria was busy. Lunch had started minutes before and we sauntered right up to the lunch line as if we had just come from class like everybody else. We were pretty certain Principle Weaver didn’t know who it was playing in the field, and when he made an appearance in the cafeteria, his coat and mustache dotted with snowflakes, he scanned all the tables. His eyes rolled right over Reign and I at our table in the back. Principle Weaver played with a gold band on his left hand ring finger and then huffing a little, he turned on his loafer and left the cafeteria.
I sighed. We laughed with relief and settled comfortably into the green chairs. We ate our lunch while playfully kicking each other under the table. We spoke to one another in a new way. Our words held more meaning and our touches were more delicate and sweet. When I looked at him across from me we were back in that place that we had entered when we first kissed. All the other students in the room and the sounds melted away, so that all that existed was me and him at our table.
I loved his golden hair and how it fell over his warm ember eyes. I loved the cluster of freckles under his left eye, and the bump in the middle of the bridge of his nose from when he broke it as a child, and I loved his rosy cheeks, and pouty lips, and sweet molasses accent. The way his voice carried each syllable of my name with graceful vulnerability, and I loved the humorous, adventure stories he told about Arkansas. I loved everything about him and admitting this to not only him, but also to myself I realized why what Mom wanted for me was right and so important. She wanted me to have a normal life, as much as possible, so that I could experience normal things like being in love with Reign and only having to worry about him not about the risk of losing my soul or the burden of caring on my ancestry.
Suddenly my mind was changing again. Reign reached across the table and pulled gently on my hair to retrieve a piece of paper that had clung to the strands, and then he split the hostess cupcake in front of him in half and handed me to the top. That’s what I wanted. I wanted to split cupcakes with him and play in the snow. I wanted him and that’s what I’d tell Phoenix.
“I want you to come over sometime,” Reign said.
“What about your dad?” I asked with a frown.
“I don’t care. I want you to come over and my dad can just deal with it,” Reign said with a shrug.
I nodded in agreement. I felt the same way about Mom, but Mom didn’t scare me like Reign’s dad did. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I remembered how his dad had looked at me twice before. I didn’t tell him though. It was bad enough our parents weren’t that supportive of us without giving a reason, and if I told Reign that his dad scared me then that would add more to the problem than resolve it, so I smiled and accepted the invitation to one day go over to his house.
.
He was waiting for me when I got home from school. As soon as I reached the front door of the cabin and Reign’s truck had disappeared down the lane, I felt Phoenix’s looming presence behind me. I turned to face him. He stood with one leg the front step and rested his arms on his knee as he stared up at me waiting for me to make my announcement. He seemed confident that I was going to pick him. I knew that was my fault because earlier that morning I had given him that impression.
He noticed me dodging his eyes. My hesitation and silence provided an answer to his question. He straightened up as his lips formed a tense line, his jaw locked, and his yellow eyes narrowed.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said, coldly.
“I’m not,” I protested.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I have a lot going on. I don’t want to deal with this.”
“This isn’t something you can ignore. Whether you want to or not you will have to face this. By not giving it the attention it deserves, you’re putting yourself and your loved ones in danger,” he said.
“I can handle it,” I snapped back at him. I believed, like Mom, that if I continue to drink the tea and be knocked out at night then I couldn’t harm anyone if I was asleep. I didn’t love the circumstance, but I would do it to continue holding on to some semblance of a normal life and according to Mom it was temporary just until she could find something that would wipe out the gene from my DNA. I wanted Phoenix to leave me alone.
“You have a responsibility. Don’t be ignorant,” he said.
“I’m only sixteen,” I whined. I didn’t want responsibility. I was still kid. I had enough trouble finishing my homework on time.
“You’re right. I was wrong about you. I thought you were going to be mature and smart enough to embrace your calling, but all your doing is running away from your potential for what? Or should I say who.”
“This has nothing to do with Reign. He didn’t ask me to—he doesn’t even know about that,” I said.
“Get your head out of the clouds,” he said as he started to walk away then he came to a stop and said, “You’ll need a stronger door, better locks, and more chains to keep you from hurting them. Tell your Mom that for me.”
I was so annoyed and mad at him that I nearly ripped the front door off the hinges and when I slammed it behind me the figurines on the shelves next to the door quivered. I growled loudly and then remembering how my transformation was tied more to my emotions than the moon, I closed my eyes tightly and calmed my heart rate with deep breathing and cleared my mind by thinking of how it made me feel when Reign pulled me to the snowy ground beside him and told me he loved me. The figurines and I stopped trembling. I kicked off my shoes then walked through the house in pursuit of Mom. I knew she would receive my news much better than Phoenix.
23
I didn’t ask for my life to change. Well, that’s a lie. I used to lie awake at night wishing my life would change. That there would be more excitement but in wishing this I was referring to popularity which I did get to experience for a few months, but I didn’t want it to change like this. To change so dramatically. Mostly, I was afraid. Afraid that I was no longer who I thought I was. Afraid I was dangerous and afraid that whatever this was that now coursed through my blood was too powerful for me to tame.
For the first weeks I went through life in a daze. I didn’t see Phoenix again. I followed Mom’s routine. Every night I would have my dinner as soon as I returned home from school, and then I would drink a cup of tea and Mom and I would put me to bed in the attic. I was, however, able to maintain some sense of normalcy like Mom had hoped for me. The tea always put me to sleep, so for the most part I didn’t have to deal with effect of spending nearly twelve hours in that little room, but Phoenix’s words were always at the front of my mind and sat heavy within me; often distracting me from conversation
s and activities. I was afraid I was growing stronger; I was afraid the chains and door wouldn’t hold; and I was afraid I was going to hurt something. Then one Saturday night my fears became reality when I had to face the possibility that I, Mickey White, really was a dangerous beast.
It was the second weekend in November and Mom was flying to Peru to meet with someone she had found on Craigslist who swore they had the cure she was searching for. Grandma and Grandpa came and got the boys for the weekend and took them back home with them to Saginaw. When Mom left we were both giddy with excitement. She hugged me goodbye and she said in a firm tone that this was going to be the one that did the trick.
“It’s gonna dissolve it right out of your system,” she explained. “Then you can get back to your life.”
“Get back to my bed,” I said. “But Mom, you’ve been all around the world. I’ve tried so much tea and nothing has worked.”
“This time it’s going to.”
“And if it doesn’t?” I frowned.
“I keep looking.” She squeezed my hand and walked out the door.
I waved goodbye to her from the front stoop as she drove away in the green Yaris that she rented for her drive to the airport in Detroit. She left me with her Toyota so that I wasn’t stranded all weekend, but once she left, I felt stranded anyway. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so alone in the house for so long. In the past, I’d call Kristen to come over and not being able to do that made me realize how different things were. I felt a pain of sadness, but remembering that jolt of love that I felt when I walked past Kristen a few weeks previous, I told myself that she’d come back when she was ready and I would forgive her because I missed her. I held on to that snap shot of how she felt because it comforted me that she was still my friend in some little way.
The house was so quiet. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Finally, after watching a few hours of mindless reality TV, I texted Reign and he suggested I come over to his house. He had been pestering me to come over for some time now, but I kept making excuses. Despite how much I wanted to take him up on the offer, I kept putting it off because of his dad, but with being home alone and nothing to do I wanted to see Reign, so I set out in the Toyota toward his house. Normally, I’d cut through the woods, but I didn’t want to take my chances of seeing Phoenix though he seemed to be ignoring me as much as I was ignoring him.
It took longer driving around the woods to his house than if I had cut through, especially with how fast I was on foot. I could’ve ran in the distance in five minutes, but eventually I pulled into the long, wide snowy lane that led to the restored house. The house resembled that of a gothic farmhouse with its fresh white paint and black shutters and thin railed porch. It was two story and had a black roof, but the roof was covered with snow at that moment. Even though the house was restored, it gave me the creeps more than it had when it was abandoned and falling down.
I shook slightly as if I was cold, but my trembling was due to nervousness and the creepy vibe the house gave off. I shiver ran down my spine. Not wanting to arrive unannounced, I texted Reign that I had just pulled up so that he could meet me at the door and when I saw him lift a few of the blinds at the front window and wave at me, I left the security of the Toyota and trudged through the snow to the house.
As soon as I stepped on to the porch and the wood creaked slightly under my weight, the front door opened releasing a bust of warm air and a strong scent of wood smoke. Reign stood, smiling, waiting for me to enter the house. I came to a stop when I noticed that he held an axe in his left hand.
“Um, planning on murdering me?” I asked, pointing to the axe.
Reign looked at me confused then followed my gaze to his hand. He laughed and set the axe down, propping it against the wall. “I was chopping wood for the furnace. Come in,” he said, smiling.
Stomping my boots on the mat in front of the door so as not to rack in wet snow, I reached my arms toward him to give him a quick hug. He was ecstatic that I had finally come over to his house. He pulled me through the threshold of the doorway, and suddenly I found myself standing in the front entry way of the dimly lit house that I had broken into months before.
The interior had a southern, rustic appeal as if I had just stepped into a clean and organized barn. The coffee table, dining table, and end tables beside the brown couches were made of old wood: stained and weather beaten. The floors were a rustic wood as well and the walls, painted a beige white, hung multitudes of hunting supplies: guns, machetes, arrowheads, and even the heads of animals. A dear’s head was planted on the wall above a brick fire place and above the couch was the skeletal jaw of what I guessed was a crocodile.
On the floor under the coffee table was a red and white hand woven rug and beside the couch was a huge dog bed covered with dog hair, but Phoebe slept on the arm chair in the corner of the room. She lifted her head when I entered and then placed her paw over her eyes and continued sleeping.
After the living room he led me into the kitchen: a small room with blue walls and new appliances. In the sink was a stack of dishes and on the granite counter was a box of open pancake mix. The kitchen table was tiny. A stained linen covered the top of the table.
From the kitchen, I followed him into what he called the mud room. The back door of the house was along the far wall. The room wasn’t large. Along the wall was a cubby for shoes and a rack for coats. There was another fire place which was currently being tended to by a man in a dark flannel shirt and brown denim pants. His pant legs were tucked into high brown boots and he wore a red cap on his head which he removed and fanned the flames of the fire with. He whistled a low whistle as the fire grew.
Beside the fire place was an old burnt orange arm chair which he sat in once Reign called attention to us standing in the doorway.
“Whose this lil’ lady?”
“Mickey,” I said, laughing a little due to a nervous habit. I stepped forward and extended my sweaty hand.
He stared at me then my hand then back at me. His eyes were grey like Reign’s, but unlike Reign’s, they lacked warmth. His face was much fuller and his head rounder than his son’s. His hair was cut short, but it was a light grey shade and so were his thick eye brows that stretched in almost one long eyebrow above his eyes and across the bridge of his large nose that resembled the beak of a hawk. The lower portion of his face was covered in a dark beard which was so outgrown that the hair hid his lips which meant it was nearly impossible to determine how he was receiving me at the moment, but from the hard look of his eyes and the way he lifted his head and rubbed his jaw with his hand covered in ash from the fire, I could tell he was unsure about me. He continued to inspect me for a couple more seconds as I stood waiting for him to respond to my outstretched hand.
Finally, just as I was about to retract my hand and run back toward Reign to cower behind, the unfriendly man changed in demeanor. He sat up some in the arm chair and slapped his knees as a smile broke out onto his face.
“I’m Orgon. It’s nice to meet ya,” he said in a boisterous tone which caused me to relax a little. He seized hold of my hand it shook it firmly.
“She’s pretty.” He winked at Reign. “You look like you could be Little Red riding hood straight out of a fairy tale,” he added staring me up and down.
I crossed my chest with my arms not liking the way his rolling eyes made me feel exposed. Reign and he exchanged a couple words and I stood thankful that my appearance was no longer the topic of conversation, but still I stood a little behind Reign and made sure he stood in the middle of me and his father. Despite the change in Orgon’s tone toward me, his eyes conveyed something different.
“I see you’re looking at my necklace,” Orgon said.
Reign turned his head to see if I had indeed been staring at the necklace around Orgon’s thick neck which I had not noticed at all and still did not notice, but once Orgon said something and I examined his neck he pulled a leather necklace out of the collar of his flannel shirt. I pr
etended to take interest in the piece of jewelry. The leather band was thin and tied in a tight double knot and around the band were a series of different sizes of what I guessed were sharp teeth.
“Cool,” I said, not really sure what I was supposed to say. “Are they real?”
“Heck yeah they’re real,” Orgon said with a proud smile.
“They’re fangs from dad’s greatest kills,” Reign explained.
“This one,” he pointed to a broken discolored fang in the center of the band, “I pulled right outta my leg. Bit right into me, but I got my hands around that puppy’s neck and . . .” He made a snapping gesture with his hands.
“Wow, why teeth?” I asked.
“Because having a necklace of ears would be strange,” Orgon replied with a chuckle. “I have a jar for that,” he added with a wink.
Reign, embarrassed, took my hand and led me out of the mud room joking with Orgon as we walked away that he didn’t want him to scare me. Orgon laughed. Reign laughed and I tensed up.
We walked up the staircase in the back of the kitchen to the second story. I followed him into his room. His bedroom was situated in the back of the house like I had guessed. He had two windows. One overlooked the water and my house was visible. The other looked into the woods.
To my surprise, his room didn’t fit with the rest of the house. The colors were bright and inviting; the blankets on his bed were thick and fluffy; the décor on his walls were smiling pictures of him in various outdoor locations with different groups of happy people. There was nothing gothic or grotesque hanging from his walls or from around his neck.
While he turned on his television and flipped through the Netflix choices, I took a seat on the end of his bed and then feeling uncomfortable and nervous. I slipped off the bed and onto the floor where I sat with my knees pulled to my chest.
Memoirs of a Girl Wolf Page 18