"You have to text me everyday," Grace sniffs at me as she hugs me tightly for the fourth time. "And call. You know I can't survive junior and senior year in that hellhole alone."
I laugh as I pat her back softly, trying not to cry myself. I pull back and look down at her, towering over her. "I will! And I will Skype, and tweet, and send letters by pigeons, and smoke signals..."
She groans and rolls her eyes, grinning despite herself. "Okay, I get the point," she laughs before getting serious and sighing. "Promise me you won't forget me?"
"I won't," I say, smiling sadly. I sling my backpack full of magazines and books over my shoulder and turn to get in my mom's van.
As we pull away from the curb and I look up at our now empty house, I feel a pang of sadness realizing that I'll never live here again. I know I'll miss the cracked blue paint and the jungle of weeds that makes up the backyard, and I'll even miss the creaking and groaning of the house at night. The two-story, three-bedroom and two-bathroom house that my mom and I shared since I was a baby is the only place I know, and now it's gone. Suddenly feeling myself getting melancholy, I quickly look away and see Grace calling my name.
"Scarlett!" she yells as she runs alongside us, trying to keep pace with the van as it gains speed. "Your copy of A Tale of Two Cities! It's at my house!"
"Keep it!" I yell back, and she smiles and stops running, saying a silent 'thank you' with her eyes. I watch her fade away in the side view mirror and when she's long gone and our house and neighborhood and her have faded away I roll up my window, the invisible string tying us to home becoming weaker.
***
When I was a baby, my mother moved us into our house after my dad died on the job as a firefighter the night I was born. She doesn't talk about him much, but when she does she always says I'm just like him: reserved, tall, blonde. But to me and to people at school, that translates to shy, gangly, and straw-headed. I despise almost the entire student body, so reading has become my refuge. I had a pretty impressive book collection built up until I had to sell most of it for the move. My nose is always in a good book or a great cup of coffee.
I've always been a little awkward around people. I stutter or choke on my words, and usually I turn so red that people ask me if I'm ill. Grace and I met during one such occasion in middle school when I was too nervous to answer a question so she answered for me.
"Thanks," I'd whispered afterwards, giving her a shy smile.
"No problem, it's the first week. We all get nervous," she'd responded, grinning before sticking a hand out. "I'm Grace."
"Scarlett." I shook her hand and from that moment on she became my voice for when I was too shy to say what was on my mind.
My mom is the exact opposite of me. She's stubborn and passionate and is very opinionated. She loves to talk endlessly about politics and has no problem letting you know her stance on any and all issues. She's worked a corporate job for most of my life. I've never thought to ask her about it because I've never had a reason to. We've always had enough money, so I haven't made it my business to know. Sometimes she stays up after hours, tapping away on her laptop and making late-night phone calls. All I know is that now this company is deciding to move us all the way up to Jasper*, Michigan in the middle of nowhere with a population of 4,024 so she can go to work in Detroit. I'm leaving hot, colorful Florida for cold, boring Michigan, leaving my friends and favorite places behind. I have to go to a new town and a new school and say, "Hi, I'm Scarlett, please be my friend." Despite being shy, the school and surrounding town were always familiar, and now I have to be Scarlett the New Girl from Florida.
YOU ARE READING
Wolf Country
Hombres LoboJasper, Michigan is wolf country. Many of the inhabitants can turn, and the pack works almost hand-in-hand with the local government. Despite their coexistence, humans and werewolves are forbidden to love each other, and those who turn are still for...