The Boy With The Wolf Necklace

I Finally Talk To Russet Head

      After another hour of weed pulling, we had finished our tasks here. Somewhere, the russet haired boy had found garbage bags to put everything into. I still didn't know his name...

     Twenty minutes later, both of us were sitting at the curb with our rakes and our garbage bags. It was a bit awkward. We barely spoke while working, and now we weren't talking at all. Suffer through the silence with a weird feeling in my gut that is always there when I see him, or when the dog I found last night showed up- or make chitchat... Let's try the second option.

     "So... How are you adjusting to this new place?" I questioned. It was literally the only question I could think to ask. He glanced over at me before returning his gaze to the cement. It seemed as if the paved road had become extremely interesting.

     "Well. There are a lot of people here," he noted and I nodded, "there is also a lot of rushing around and not being careful... Some kid on the sidewalk almost got hit by a car..."

     "That happens more often than you think," I admitted. Then the awkward silence returned. We sat there for many minutes that seemed to drag on for hours before I spoke again.

     "Where did you go during that run?" I asked abruptly. He seemed a bit taken back by the sudden question.

     "I went the wrong way," he answer quickly.
It seemed like a legitimate answer... That was until I started thinking about the trail. There was one path and one path only. There was no way that he could have taken a wrong turn.
     He was definitely lying.
     I decided to not push it any farther. Why he was lying about where he went was anyone's guess. We sat on the curb for only a few minutes before the old red truck rounded the bend. It squealed to a halt as it pulled up in front of the customer's house.
A dyed-blonde head bobbed out of the cab, followed by an unconventional dress.
Both the russet haired boy and I jumped to our feet to follow our employer up the stairs of the old Victorian home.
Before anyone had the chance to even touch the door, it creaked open to reveal the old woman once more.
The white haired lady shoved money into the waiting hand of our employer after thoroughly surveying the front yard and flower garden beside the stairs.
"You're coming back here tomorrow," our customer stated, "the house needs cleaning."
"Of course, ma'am!" high heels answered almost too perkily, "We'll get you scheduled in!"
And with that, the door closed in our faces. Our blonde boss turned and sauntered back to the truck. Only then did I see the countless cardboard boxes in the bed and cab of the pickup.
"When we get back, you two are cataloging and restocking shelves," she informed us, "you both will have to sit in the back of the truck." She added after a pause.
There were three seat belts in the back of that truck. Apparently only two worked... Several boxes where stacked on the seat that I had occupied on the drive to the client's. Since I was the smallest of the two of us, I was the one who got crammed beside the boxes. When I went to go tug on the seatbelt, a horrible metallic scratching sound erupted from in behind the strap.
"Don't use that one. It's broken." Came an explanation from the front of the truck.
I resorted to hooking my arm through the exposed belt and hoping that we didn't get into a car crash.
My working partner had yet to buckle in. I attempted to squish myself away as much as possible so I wasn't on the buckle. Even then, his knuckles barely missed my hip.
It must have been a half hour before we stopped again. This time, in front of a ginormous warehouse. The truck pulled to a halt right in front of the huge front doors. It must have taken both of us all of ten seconds to hop out of the back seat. It took longer than that for a blonde head to finally emerge from the driver's side. She grumbled something inaudible before finally strolling towards the entrance to the warehouse. Quickly, the doors were unlocked and pushed open. We were met with rows upon rows of landscape and home products; shingles, flower pots, wheelbarrows, and flooring tiles.
"Get the truck unloaded and put everything away." Our employer ordered before clacking across the cement floor.
Dollies were situated at the back of the warehouse. There had been 82 boxes of varying sizes. It has taken us 34 trips to unload everything. Now we were unpacking and putting away a box of lawn gnomes.
"Can I ask you something?" I questioned as I handed him a gnome with a green coat and red hat.
"You just did," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.
"Fine. May I ask you a question other than this one?" I tried again.
He cocked an eyebrow at me and took a blue coated lawn gnome from me.
"Who was that jock that I... Stomped on today?" I questioned.
"A... relative that I am living with. He thinks that I told some people something," the russet haired boy answered without eye contact.
I handed him the last gnome and picked up the box. I didn't realize that he was backing up until I tripped on him. I plummeted to the ground, only catching myself before I almost face planted on the cement. I turned my face to one side and laid on the cool cement floor.
"Are you okay?" My co-worker asked, the worry evident in his voice,"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to trip you! I-"
"I'm fine," I laughed, cutting off his blabbering. I flipped over onto my back so I could sit up and then stand.
He held out a hand to me and I happily allowed him to pull me up. His other arm grasped farther up my forearm and I gasped in pain. It wasn't that he had hit my arm or pulled too hard, his hand had just landed in the wrong spot on my sleeve.
He immediately let go of my arm when I gasped. I plummeted back to the floor and looked up at him. The look of pure terror and worry that painted his face was reassuring and seemed very sweet.
"I'm so sorry! Did I pull too hard? Did I hit you?" The russet haired boy asked as he crouched down to where I sat on the concrete.
"No. You just... Grabbed onto a cut," I lied and looked away, planning on standing back up.
In less than a heartbeat, he was holding my arm again, this time tenderly, as if he were afraid of hurting me again. "Can I look?" the boy asked quietly, as if it were very important that he see my wounds.
I nodded slowly. If I refused, it would look like I were trying to hide something; but of course I was...
He slowly rolled up my shirtsleeve. The higher he went, the more cuts he found. I noticed him tense up at the largest one, a deep gash that ran across the flat of my inner forearm.
"Who did this to you?" He whispered again.
I hadn't really ever had someone actually care for me like this, other than April, and my brother whom I hardly ever saw anymore. I wasn't sure I wanted to explain my whole life story to this boy, so I snapped and tugged my arm away. "I fell down some stairs, and what's it to you what happened to me?"
He flinched away from me as if I had just slapped him. I felt a pang of guilt for snapping like that at someone who seemed to care about me for some reason. I stood up and rolled my sleeve back down my arm.
"We should probably go finish putting everything away..." I suggested softly, walking away from him and back to where we had 47 boxes waiting to be unpacked yet.
It was 19 boxes until we spoke again.
"You know, you're a pretty bad liar," He informed me, looking up from the window cleaner he was setting on their shelf, behind all of the older products.
I glanced up at him, watching the silver pendant he wore swing as he moved, hunched over to reach a lower shelf. There was a welcome mat in my hands at the moment. "And I don't have a clue who you are." I answered, finally getting my focus back to what I was putting away.
"Chance."
"Pardon?" I asked, not understanding what he had meant.
"My name is Chance," he repeated again in the same tone as before. It was light and warm, reminding me of a tone someone would use when talking about something they loved to tell people about or when someone was talking to someone they loved to talk to.
"Well, I'm Zasha," I informed and put another mat among its duplicates.
"Well then, Zasha, you are a terrible liar," Chance smirked as he told me this again.
I finally turned to him, trying my best to look frustrated, "What exactly do you mean by that?"
The russet haired boy stood up and walked towards me. "Well for starters, you said I grabbed onto a cut, not multiples ones," he stated, "you paused before you told me what happened."
"You paused when you told me that that jock was your relative," I accused.
"Yes, but my family is a complex thing that cannot be described in terse words," Chance defended, "And then you said that you fell down the stairs. Unless you fell into a box of knives, razors and nails, a lot of those wounds cannot be justified by that."
I stared at him, trying to think of some excuse that was even remotely possible.
"So are you going to tell me who hurt you?" Chance inquired again.
"Why do you want to know who hurt me anyways?" I spat, getting agitated by his questioning of my wounds.
"Because... Because I care about people, all right?" The russet haired boy admitted, but I sensed that something else was causing his questions.
I stayed quiet for a while, wondering if I should even answer him.
"I had a bottle throw at me. It shattered and pieces hit me," I finally told him.
Chance gazed at me and I turned away from his glance.
28 boxes left...
The clock was at 9:13 when we finally unpacked and sorted everything away.
"So what do we do now?" I asked and looked around.
"Emy usually doesn't have anything other than orders that need to be filled after this... I can go check if you want..." Chance offered before treading over to the office.
Two minutes passed before he reemerged with a pile of papers and a cart of collapsed cardboard boxes.
"There are twelve orders that we need to pack up for tomorrow," the skinny boy informed me, "mostly cleaning products and ornaments... Do you want to do six and I'll do six or do you want to get one done at a time?"
"It might be easier to work on separate orders..." I replied after a few moments of silence to weigh the options.
He handed me a couple pieces of paper and walked off to fill out his orders.
I had only gotten half way through my first order before we started talking.
"So, do you have any siblings?" Chance asked as he passed me to get something for his box.
"I have an older brother that I hardly ever see. What about you??" I answered.
"I don't have any siblings... I have few relatives though..." Chance replied back, with a hint of nostalgia tinting his voice.
"What about pets?" I questioned as I picked up a dog statue with a 'welcome' sign in its mouth.
There was a pause. "A lot of dogs... And a cat. You?"
I had to pause. The dog from last night was not my dog, but he wasn't really anyone else's dog... But there was no way he wasn't someone's dog at one point. Maybe he just got lost last night or something...
"I found a dog last night..." I answered and looked down at the sheet of paper I held that indicated what I needed for this particular client.
"...By any chance was he a mess of a lot of colours, but primarily red?" Chance inquired, being very specific with his words.
"Um... Yeah. Actually, yes he was." I told him, confused with his exact description.
"We had a dog wander off last night. Maybe he somehow ended up at your house..." Chance pondered, answering my unanswered question.
"You can come and pick him up after work." I offered and he smiled.
"Anita would probably love to come and get him, but I don't think that we can get him today. Maybe tomorrow morning, before school... He usually wanders off for a couple days..." Chance was mumbling to himself, but I wanted to ask a question.
"Who's Anita?"
"The relative that I'm living with. He is her dog."
"Oh."
We mostly worked in silence from there. Chance finished his orders before me and helped get my last checklist together before he ventured back into Emy's office.
There was nothing left for them to do, so they had an entire five minutes to do anything. Apparently only I had to sit for five minutes while our boss finished up whatever she was doing and returned me home. Chance's relative-or whatever she was-, Anita drove up soon to pick up Chance.
Anita came into the warehouse to introduce herself to me. She seemed like a nice lady, if not a little commanding. She recommended that she pick up her dog tomorrow morning instead of tonight before leaving in the blue Dodge Caravan she had rolled up in.
"Let's go," Emy said gruffly as she  led me out to the truck. I hopped into the passengers side of the cab and buckled myself in.
The drive back took all of ten minutes to get to my house. I thanked Emy for driving me back before going up to the door with my key. The old Ford wasn't in the driveway, indicating that he wasn't here yet. Or maybe he wasn't coming home tonight...
The dog was waiting on my bed when I finally got downstairs. I ran a hand over his broad head before collapsing onto the mattress.
The dog snuggled closer to me and I smiled. It was nice to have someone or something care for me.
I must have somehow fallen asleep, but the dog woke me up some time after six in the morning again. He nuzzled my cheek with his wet nose and I smiled.
Something clunked outside, it was a metallic clank, probably the old garage closing. That only meant one thing.
   
     He was home.

The dog seemed to know exactly who was coming into the house right then. He stood up and positioned himself in front of me. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight upwards. He was trying to protect me for some reason...
The front door slammed closed and was followed by a lot of stomping upstairs. Luckily, I heard the stairs leading to the second floor creak under his weight. That meant that he wasn't coming downstairs now.
The dog seemed to relax when he went upstairs instead of down. He curled up and set his head on my leg, wanting me to pet him.
I obliged.
We must have sat there for an hour before he stirred again. This time, the dog got up and padded over to my door.
It hadn't occurred to me that he probably had to go do his business last night...
I crept over to my window and quietly unlatched the window.
He must have understood, because he started climbing towards the opening. First he jumped onto my bed, then somehow landed on top of my dresser before exiting out of the window.
I followed close behind him and was surprised when I saw that a Dodge Caravan had pulled up in front of the wreak we called a house.
      Anita stood, leaning against the passenger door.
      When the dog saw her, he looked back at me before padding over to her. I followed and smiled at how they embraced.
He planted both feet on her abdomen and stood on his back paws.
I noticed that one of his feet were splashed with a white spot. It reminded me of the wolf I had seen yesterday...
Anita smiled up at me, "Thanks for watching him! He can be a bit mischievous. I hope he didn't make a mess of anything for you!" She definitely seemed like a nice lady why cared a whole lot for her family.
I wished that she was part of my family...
"Oh no! He was no problem! But I didn't feed him. Sorry." I apologized and looked at the dog as he sat at his owner's feet.
"Oh! Don't worry about it!" Anita assured and went to open the side door to the van.
A little boy who couldn't be more than two years old was sitting in a car seat. He had raven black hair that blended in with his black car seat. "Sance!" He exclaimed when he saw the dog.
Both dog and owner slightly tensed at his outburst before the huge dog jumped into the seat beside the little kid and proceeded to lick his face, making him giggle.
"All right. We had better get going! Thank you for taking care of my dog for me!" Anita added. Something silver glittered on her collarbone. It looked suspiciously like the necklace that Chance had worn. Maybe it was a family emblem or something...
Anita thanked me again before she got back in her van and drove off. I watched the van until it disappeared past the corner of the street and turned back to the house I called home to get ready for school.