Wolf #2: The Beast Within [COMPLETED]

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

There is a stark contrast between the Old Diner at night versus the day. During the night, the teens and young adults and dancers take it over. Most of the time, it seems something straight out of a Grease musical—with people dancing on counters and tables, and girls being thrown up and around by boys. There's a jukebox that plays records but also can be plugged up to an auxiliary chord for people to play the hot tracks of today.

Though, during the daytime it's tamer. The cool, white light of the Pacific Northwest bled through the windows. It's filled with mellow jazz and blues, the sounds of the milkshake machine and eggs sizzling on a pan, and students working on homework.

As I walk in with my parents, my gaze dances over to the corner booth that I know all too well. I can almost see the memory of Steph sitting there, waiting for me to join her for a hot chocolate. This diner used to be filled with our laughs and bickering.

"I'm so hungry," My mom wraps her arm around me, "You look like you could use a stack of pancakes too, nena. Maybe one of Steph's hot chocolate specials."

I smile, "I was feeling something like bacon and eggs, Ma."

"That's my girl," My dad chuckles as he waves at the waitress as we pass by.

"Silencio," She tuts at him and pulls at his sleeve to sit next to her.

He only winks, "Nunca, mi mariposa."

I look away when they won't stop smirking at one another. My parents are the kind of couple that never detaches from the hip. It's endearing, but sometimes it feels so awkward to watch them.

"What can I get you?" One of the veteran waitresses, Beth, asks me. She's also used to turning a blind eye to couples like my parents.

"Eggs and bacon—with hot chocolate, please," I tap the table in front of Dad to grab his attention.

"Any marshmallows?"

"Always."

After we order and are happily tucking into our food, our conversation picks up again to what I dread most. My plans after graduation.

"I just don't understand why you haven't applied to any colleges," My dad begins, but quickly fixes the scowl on his face when my Mom elbows him, "I...I understand that this year has been rough with your sister dying. But you can't neglect your future, honey."

"I'm not," I mumble as I pop a chunk of crunchy bacon into my mouth.

"You need to do something, baby," My mom reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze, "Have you thought of looking at any of the local theatres? Working there as a tech, or joining a dance company?"

I shrug, "Yeah, I can give it a go. I just...I don't know if it'll be possible."

"Why's that?"

I'm about to tell them that it'll be pointless to join something if I'm going to train at The Order in a couple years—and probably work within the packs in the years to come. But they know nothing about what we are; about what Steph and I are. So I just stuff my mouth with toast and bought myself some more time to answer.

"Amelia," My dad says in a tone that's meant to stop dodging their questions.

Finally, I swallow and hesitantly say, "I just don't think they'll accept me after seeing my record from this past year. But...I'll give it a shot."

They smile, seemingly satisfied with the answer. I smile too and we go back to the light-hearted conversation we had on the way to the diner. We're all laughing and joking around when the door to the diner opens. The smell of cigarettes, gun powder, and coffee fill my senses.