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THE WOLF CAME BACK EACH NIGHT. In a life in which she hardly knew who she was, in a life where chaos reigned, the wolf brought a semblance of a routine. The wolf brought her comfort. The animal never breached the treeline, never set foot in the Ashwood's backyard, but it was as if it were watching over her. There was an air of safety when she was in the animal's presence. A guardian. Her guardian.
She never said anything to anyone, though. After her accident and being in the hospital for so long, she learnt it didn't take much for someone to rule you as loco for coco puffs when you've had a traumatic brain injury. If she told someone she had a guardian watching over her, they would call her crazy. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't.
It became a routine. Each night, Celeste would watch outside her window and stare into the treeline before slipping into bed. And, like clockwork, the wolf was there staring back at her every time with those glowing yellow eyes. She bid it goodnight.
A week after being released from the hospital, Celeste returned to school. It wasn't that people weren't expecting Celeste to return to school, for she had to at some point, but her return was a shock nonetheless.
She didn't like it.
She didn't like the hushed whispers when she entered Forks High School. She didn't like the eyes that followed her step, darting from her cast to her face to their friends to gossip. The rumours circulated like wildfire and she heard them all. From a cliff jump gone wrong to being a satanic cult's sacrifice, the rumours were ridiculous. Celeste didn't like the attention. Everyone either walked on eggshells around her or they were just plain disrespectful.
Her friends were the only normal ones at Forks High School. At least they were a breath of fresh air at lunch.
That afternoon in calculus, Celeste wished she was home-schooled. She was already struggling enough trying to catch up on the missed material and she just wasn't understanding what the teacher, Mr. Smith, as she read on the classroom door, was going on about. The more she focused the less she understood. It was an endless cycle of doom. He was discussing identities and how was Celeste supposed to understand when she didn't even know her own identity?
"So, you basically got a lobotomy, right?" The boy behind her leaned forward in his seat and whispered, stifling his laughter. "That's why you're so fucked in the head? I'm surprised you're not drooling and slurring your words."
The boy seated at the desk beside her heard the comments and choked out a laugh.
Celeste's hand stilled, no longer rapidly taking notes. Every muscle in her body tensed and she wanted so badly to defend herself, but she couldn't find the words. She was frozen, a defenceless victim to his words. A meek deer preyed upon by a wolf. Is that what everyone thought? That she was fucked in the head? Was this how they saw her? As a broken shell of her former self, irreparably damaged by the cruel hand of fate?
And, she's pretty sure they're right.
She knew it was foolish, but a part of her wished for her guardian, the wolf. If only the wolf watched over her beyond the hours of the moon and into the hours of the sun's reign. Celeste shook the thought from her head. She was being irrational and she was being foolish. A wild predator was not her guardian - she was its prey.
Her peers are right.
The rest of the class, Celeste stared blankly at the board, not absorbing a single word Mr. Smith was saying. She just wanted to leave. When the final bell of the day rang, Celeste quickly gathered up her things and rushed out of the classroom. She could not cope with spending a minute longer in that damned classroom.
. . .
"I will skin that kid alive - who was it?" Eddie spat later that afternoon, his normally soft features hardening.
Celeste couldn't bring herself to go home after school. As soon as her dad pulled up in the parking lot, Celeste jumped in the car and begged him to drive her to her cousin Eddie's house. Her father's brows narrowed and the corners of his lips tugged downwards as concern became written on his face. 'Celeste, are you okay?' He had asked once they had left the busy parking lot of Forks High School. Celeste just nodded her head and stared out the passenger window, watching as raindroplets raced on the glass. The drive to the Quileute Reservation wasn't that long, but for Celeste, it felt like forever.
The pair sat on the front patio of Eddie's house, protected from the drizzle of rain. Celeste loved the smell of rain, especially when she was on the reservation. She felt so much more connected to nature, to her roots. A wool blanket was draped over her shoulders, the fabric itching at the exposed skin on her neck, but she would take that over being cold any day. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, finding solace in its familiar warmth amidst the chill of the late afternoon air.
Eddie sat in the rocking chair, his posture slumped, and he wore a Seattle Kracken hoodie damp from the rain. The hood was up and covering his curly black hair, only a few wisps escaped the hood and brushed against his forehead.
Celeste fiddled with the hem of her sweater. She mumbled in shame, "I don't know his name. Just some kid in my calculus class."
Eddie noticed the defeated tone and punched her uninjured shoulder playfully. "Hey, cuz, don't lose hope, the memories will come back. Anyway, I bet that loser isn't even worth remembering."
Celeste tried to find comfort in Eddie's words but she couldn't. Even the doctors aren't sure if the memories will return. They had prepared her that this could be her new reality forever. The rhythmic pitter-patter of raindrops against the roof provided a soothing backdrop to the turmoil gnawing within her.
Looking up from the hem of her sweater, her eyes caught a figure moving in the treeline further away. A tall boy with cropped ink-black hair emerged from the trees, shirtless. He was too far away for Celeste to determine any other features, but she was intrigued upon seeing the teen. She was shivering wrapped in a wool blanket, but this teen was unbothered in just a pair of jean shorts. The sight of him sent a shiver down her spine.
"Isn't it a bit cold to be wearing just shorts?" Celeste asked, her gaze locked on the teen in the distance.
Eddie followed her gaze to the treeline and shook his head, unsurprised at the sight. "Oh, yeah, that's Paul. He's been weird for the last month and a bit."
"Paul?" Celeste repeated, her curiosity growing tenfold from Eddie's nonchalant dismissal of the boy.
Eddie nodded. "Paul Lahote."
"Paul Lahote," she whispered. The name was like syrup on her tongue, sweet and welcoming - familiar even.
As if the teen, Paul, heard his name topple from her lips, he froze midstep for a moment before running into the house. He never looked in her direction, but Celeste could have sworn his attention was on her, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. The screen door slammed behind him, the noise muffled by the rain.
He caused an uneasiness to flutter in her stomach. She didn't know why, but she wanted to know more about him. There was something about him, something that stirred a strange familiarity within her, like the echo of a half-remembered dream.
