Masked SheWolf

by Yara Gharios

  I grin. He is so predictable. "Done," I immediately agree.

  A moment later, Mason's call goes through, and he gets in touch with Marianna. "Mary, I've been calling you for hours," he states with something akin to annoyance, which is strange for those two.

  "I'm sorry, I was studying," she replies sweetly.

  We tune them out by launching into a discussion about how long it would take us to run from our place to SMP's in wolf form, and who would get there first. But we don't really get that far into it because something unprecedented happens that distracts us; Mason and Marianna start arguing on the phone.

  "You said you would come here after you graduate," Mason is objecting.

  "Yes, but I didn't say it would be permanent," Marianna points out. "You misunderstood that part on your own."

  Mason pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Mary, we talked about this before; I thought it was implied."

  "We never said that I would move immediately after I graduate, you're assuming things again," Marianna retorts.

  "Why are you being difficult about this?"

  "Mason, mon amour," she replies patiently, "you know exactly what it would take for me to permanently move. I'm not the one avoiding the subject altogether."

  "Marianna," he tries again, but she cuts him off.

  "No, Mason, I've heard enough," she says with a tired voice. "You promised that you will understand. I am not pushing you to do anything, but I wish you would do the same for me. I have to go now; I'm tired and I want to sleep. Goodnight. I love you."

  Then she hangs up on him.

  Yikes. Trouble in paradise.

  "Everything okay?" I ask Mason when he grips his phone in his hand and almost smashes it.

  "Fine," he snaps.

  I back off after that. Mason is never rude. He is rarely even remotely unpleasant. Except when he's in a seriously bad mood, like now, in which case we're better off steering clear of him altogether. We go back to the previous conversation, although it's obvious we're putting half the effort into it this time. This is the first time we've seen Mason angry at his mate. She's usually the epitome of perfection in his eyes. I can't understand why he hasn't asked her to marry him yet, which is what she was talking about on the phone.

  When we get home, my excuse to my parents is that I want to practice for a few hours. In retrospect, it's kind of a bad one. I should have at least thought of a follow-up that would explain why I'm playing basketball alone on a Friday evening. For once, though, they don't question it.

  I pick Zoey up from the spot we agreed on. She's still in the same clothes she wore to school, and I'm in my basketball uniform. I'm sure that to anyone watching, we don't look like a couple about to go on their first date. But I had to change, and Zoey couldn't very well bring some clothes with her. I still think she looks cute, though, in a long white flowing skirt, purple top and sandals. Her natural look makes her even more beautiful in my opinion.

  She's hesitant to get in the front seat, but she doesn't say anything as she climbs in. I'll admit that the proximity is another reason I wanted to drive her, but it's not the main one. Once she's in, I pull out and start driving.

  "You're looking very pretty today," I immediately tell her, hoping the compliment will make her more open during this date.

  "Thanks. You're... um." She stares up and down at me, taking in my uniform. "Please don't tell me we're going to a basketball playground and you're going to teach me how to play as some sort of attempt at comedic romance?"

  I hold back a smile. I actually hadn't thought of that. It would have been a good idea, if she didn't ruin it.

  "First of all, it's called a basketball court, not a playground," I correct her. "Second of all, no, we're not. And third, believe me, if we did that, you would love being pressed up against me." I end it with a wink.

  Her nose scrunches up like she's smelled something unpleasant. "Why do you talk like that?"

  Her question confuses me. What's wrong with the way I talk? "Like what?"

  "Like you're trying to come off arrogant."

  Caught off guard, my eyebrows shoot up high on my forehead. "That's how I come off?"

  I've been described as many things before; jerk, ass, douche, insensitive, pig, the list goes on. I don't always care, because most of the time that I behave that way, I'm not in my right mind. But no one's ever called me arrogant when I'm sober and meant it. Being narcissistic is kind of Nathan's thing. It's really a shock that she called me that.

  "You think so highly of yourself, and it's like you want to force me to feel honored that you're even talking to me," she goes on matter-of-factly.

  Huh. Well if that isn't a wake-up call, I don't know what is. I understand she's just being honest here, and I can't really be upset with that.

  "Sorry, I'm really not trying to give you that impression," I tell her. "How about whenever I'm being arrogant tonight, you slap me on the back of the head?"

  She relaxes and lets out a little chuckle. That's much better. "Okay. And if you're majorly annoying, I'll slap you on the face."

  I mock being scared and sharply turn my head in her direction. "Not the moneymaker."

  She laughs loudly. "See, now you just earned a slap to the back of the head."

  "Well you can't slap me now; I'm driving," I point out with exaggerated seriousness.

  "I'll surprise you."

  The place that I picked out is not one I usually take dates on. But seeing as we don't want to be seen in public, it's perfect. Plus, it feels wrong somehow to take Zoey out to the same places I've been to with other girls.

  This place used to be a golfing spot, but it's been abandoned when the the owner went into debt and had to sell it. Word is that it's going to be a public park now, so the fences are kept open at all times.

  The golf course is still there, because construction isn't scheduled to start for another six months. But it's not in very good condition. The grass is overgrown and uncared for, although it's still green, and weeds are growing in the sand. It's not much, but I've set up a small picnic in one of the better looking spots under a willow tree, where we will be sheltered even more.

  Despite my obvious poor choice, Zoey seems to like it when she sees it. The only thing she had to say about it was, "And you said you weren't taking me to a playground." I took that playfully, though.

  "You know, you never really told me what's the favor you wanted," I point out when we're set up against the bulk of the tree, eating sandwiches I brought in my gym bag.

  Zoey frowns contemplatively. "I did tell you."

  "You told me how you found out, but you didn't really say how I could help you."

  She sighs. "I guess I just... wanted someone to talk to. I thought it was obvious. Evidently not."

  I feel a rush of sympathy for this girl. She's been given a bit more than she thinks she can handle. All she needed is somebody to share the weight. Suddenly, I'm glad it was me she chose out of the people at the party to tell her secret to. I know I can shoulder some of this burden for her. The very least I can do is make it easier for her to carry it.

  "That's okay," I assure her. "I'm honored you're even allowing me to be in your presence."

  She laughs again, shaking her head. "That slap is looking more appealing by the minute."

  I smile triumphantly at making her laugh, and take the last bite out of my sandwich. There's more food in my bag, obviously, but I can't bring out everything at once. Zoey doesn't eat the way I do, and she might be full, even though I'm not.

  "Can I ask you something?" she says, suddenly serious.

  "Isn't that a question on its own?" I tease. She doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at her half-eaten jam sandwich. I sober up immediately. "Sure."

  "What's it like?" she asks vaguely. "For Michael, I mean?"

  My first instinct is to deny, deny, deny. Michael's secret has been the biggest part of my whole family's life since I was born. I was raised to stick to a certai
n number of topics when it's brought up, or to avoid it altogether when I'm with them. I've never even said my opinion about it in front of my parents, or even Mickey himself.

  However, for a reason I still don't quite understand, I trust Zoey, and I want to tell her everything. I know she won't tell anyone anything she hears from me. She definitely won't shoot me down if I start, the way my parents do when I try to talk to them. And she won't judge me for my often selfish thoughts of leaving the family and living without this kind of burden on my shoulders. I stay for Mickey, because he doesn't deserve to be left to carry it alone.

  "No matter how hard it might be for me to live with this kind of secret, it's infinitely harder for him," I tell Zoey. "You know, I think he was kind of traumatized at first, when our parents told him that he was different from us, but that he couldn't let anyone find out about it. He was raised as a girl for the first few years of his life, but they dressed him up like a boy.

  "I remember when we were six, we used to go to the beach a lot in the summer, and my parents would buy him the same kind of swim shorts they got for the rest of us. One day, in public, he asked them why he didn't wear swimsuits like the other little girls. My parents laughed it off in public, but that's when they knew they needed to include him in the secret. They delayed it as much as they could, but when they finally told him, he cried. He thought they didn't like him and wanted to replace him with a boy."

  Zoey frowns with compassion. "That's so sad," she says.

  I nod. "It took a while for him to get used to behaving a certain way. By that time, we were all great at keeping our feelings bottled up, but Mickey was an expert. He went through a phase, when he hit puberty, where he wouldn't give more than one worded answers when we addressed him. It really worried my parents."

  "What happened to end that phase?" Zoey asks.

  This is where it gets uncomfortable for me. "Uh, well, his... girliness... kicked in."

  Understanding colors her features. "Gotcha."

  Thank God. "So he got 'the talk' and they told him sulking is normal, but that he shouldn't let it get him down so much. That was around the time he came up with War Day, as an outlet of sorts, although he would never admit it. Sometimes, I wish I could help him more, but I don't really think there's anything any of us can do. Makes me feel useless."

  Unexpectedly, Zoey grabs my hand. "You're not useless."

  The reassuring gesture takes me by surprise. Suddenly, it dawns on me what I just did, and more importantly that she reacted positively to it. This is the most I've ever talked about something that bothers me without cracking a joke at some point. It's encouraging that she's not laughing.

  Feeling an urge, I lean in slowly, hoping to kiss her. Out of nowhere, she slaps me upside down on the back of my head, and I reflexively duck and cover myself.

  "How was that arrogant?" I half-heartedly object.

  "That was for what you said in the car," she specifies. She wags her finger in front of my face as warning. "But try that again and you will get one on the face. I don't kiss on the first date."

  I suppress a smile. She really does look cute when she's trying to be angry. "Got it."

  Chapter 15

  Michael

  I kind of regret forcing Connor not to retaliate. It makes my week uninteresting.

  My brothers and I bicker as usual, but other than video games banters, wrestling matches and girlfriend teasing, there's not much excitement, because no one plays any pranks on anyone else.

  Luckily though, it doesn't get boring for me at school, because I spend more time with Sadie. We even get to a point where it's just the two of us and I don't need to hang out with Danny and his friends to pass the time somehow.

  I learn that her mom is a school teacher at the compound, and her dad is an attorney who acts as the pack lawyer when one is needed. It's really nice to get to know someone like that.

  I even enjoy listening to Sadie ramble about her "darling angel little brother." Don't get me wrong, I met the kid, and he's okay. But I don't normally like kids, so for me to voluntarily talk about them is a great feat.

  She also tells me that Zoey is going through a phase and has been very cynical since they left. Sadie and her parents chalk it up to an identity crisis, because that was when she visited their biological father's grave for the first time. She'd always known about him but there wasn't anything concrete to remind her of that until she went to that graveyard.

  When I ask Sadie how she felt when she first heard about him, she tells me that it was different for her.

  "I have some memories of him," she says. "I was three when he died. Even as a kid, I always knew who he was. My parents didn't have to explain to me like with Zoey, because I felt the transition when I suddenly had a new dad, and they were always honest about it with me."

  "Your parents are really sweet," I comment without thinking, and then backtrack. "I mean, it's cool that's they're open-minded like that."

  Sadie chuckles. "You don't have to do that."

  I blink at her. "Do what?"

  "Be so tough all the time just because you think that's how you should act," she specifies. "You don't have to hide your emotions, not with me."

  "I'm not," I defensively say.

  She rolls her eyes and just says and unconvinced, "Sure."

  I've come to learn a few things about Sadie herself, and this is the first; she's very observant. Sometimes a little too much. She's also very open-minded and headstrong. I get the feeling there's nothing I can tell her that she wouldn't be okay with.

  Well except for the whole 'hiding my gender' debacle. I'm not too sure how she might react to that if she ever found out, which I'm counting on never happening.

  "Do you want to hang out at the pack house after school this Friday, maybe play some video games?" she suggests.

  My eyebrows shoot up and I fight a grin. "You play video games?"

  "Of course I do," she proudly confirms.

  Now, this is another thing about Sadie I'm grateful for; we have a lot of shared interests. She's not really into stuff that are way too girly, like squealing about boys, and shopping till you drop, and getting manises and pedises, or whatever the hell they call getting their nails done. She's down to earth, and... real. Under such circumstances, how can we not become friends?

  "Wait, don't you have a date with Cade?" I check.

  Those two always have something planned. It's like they can't survive the day without seeing each other, although that sounds cheesy, and frankly a little sappy.

  "Not until later in the evening," she tells me. "We can do something in the afternoon."

  I shrug. "Okay."

  The invitation is basically the highlight of my day on Wednesday, because it finally brings something new and exciting since the camping trip.

  On Thursday, Marianna and I have a video chat for like half an hour before we're interrupted by Mason. That's about twenty minutes longer than we've ever lasted before.

  Then it's Friday afternoon, and Sadie and I are standing in the school parking lot waiting for Cade to come pick us up. Zoey went on a study group, and Connor has already left with Danny. I have to stiffly stand in one spot, with Sadie barely containing her excitement at seeing her mate again, and other kids staring oddly at us -our friendship is still weird for the entire school.

  On the inside, I'm dreading facing Cade. I just know there's a 'talk' coming up sometime soon, and I am not looking forward to being threatened. It's not that I'm afraid of the guy, I'm just familiar with this kind of behavior from possessive boyfriends, which -lucky for me- is heightened in werewolves. It really pisses me off when I can't defend myself with the best argument I have; the truth.

  "So where are you guys going tonight?" I ask, just to avoid feeling uncomfortable over being stared at by other kids.

  "He's taking me stargazing," she sighs. "He has this thing for astronomy. It's kind of romantic actually."

  She goes into detail about past dates that have been simi
lar, and I keep my ears focused on listening to her while my eyes scan the parking lot. So far, I've counted seventeen cars coming and going since my brothers went home, and there's still no sign of Cade. Where the hell is he? If he's as dedicated to her as I've gotten the impression that he is, he would have been here the moment she stepped out of the main entrance.

  "There was also this one time, we went to a planetarium, and it was seriously the best day," Sadie gushes. "I think that was the last date we had before we moved here."

  The wheels start turning in my mind. "So where did you move from?"

  "The pack lived in Maine for twenty years," she tells me. "It's also where I grew up."

  "Twenty years?" I repeat, surprised. "Wow, that's a long time. Why did everyone suddenly decide to move back here?"

  "Actually, moving away from here was supposed to be temporary," she admits. "They weren't planning on staying for twenty years. I guess the move wasn't so sudden because everyone's always known they would come back here one day."

  I frown, confused. "Temporary? Why did they leave in the first place? And why did it take so long to come back?"

  Sadie shrugs. "I don't know the whole story, but I'm still not at liberty to talk about pack business," she simply says.

  Her honesty surprises me, but in a good way, and I know better than to stick my nose where it doesn't belong.

  "So is that where they're going when they take trips away?" I ask after a moment of comfortable silence.

  She blinks. "What do you mean?"

  "I just noticed that some of the guys are frequently busy somewhere, like the night of the party, and the morning after camp," I explain. "Even now. Are they going back to Maine for some unfinished business?"

  Sadie seems a bit taken aback by my question and pauses, either because I guessed something right or she didn't think I noticed these sort of things. "No, that's not where they're going," she finally tells me. "It's too long a drive. They're not leaving Massachusetts; they're just keeping an eye on things and protecting the pack."

  "From what?" I wonder, to which she simply shrugs.