Mythfits

15-Ella

When I ease the front door open with a drawn out squeal of protest from the hinges, I wince, crossing my fingers that my entrance went unnoticed.

"Ella, wait." Dad calls out from the kitchen where he was working on his laptop. Mentally cursing myself for being so loud, I pause, wondering if I can still sneak up to my room without him noticing. "Ella, I know you're right outside the door- heard you come in." Yeah, no.

Forcing a casual expression onto my face, I walk calmly into the kitchen where dad awaits, his thoughtful, concerned, expression not helping to to calm my jittery mood.

"Yes, Dad?" I ask, positioning myself across the table from him but don't sit down, wanting to be able to escape as soon as possible so I could call Christine.

"Have a seat." Dad motions to the chair, "We haven't talked about how school is going." Gritting my teeth, I pull out the chair and sit down on the smooth blue plastic seat, my hopes of a quick escape dashed to pieces on the floor. "So, Ella." He begins, "How has school been? Are you enjoying your classes?"

Trying really hard not to roll my eyes, I use about the same response to this question that I've been using for the past three years, "It's fine. The classes are good and so are the teachers."

Dad nods, "That's good." He shifts, talking about school was usually Mom's job and even after a significant amount of time has past, Dad still acts uncomfortable. "So, have you made any new friends?"

I start to respond, no, but pause, "Well, actually, I wouldn't call her a friend, but I have a compatriot named Christine. Does that count?" I ponder this; I am fairly sure Christine would consider herself my friend, but then again, she's friends with people she met five minutes prior. So I am unclear whether or not she counts.

"I suppose so." Dad admits with a relieved smile, happy that his anti-social, wayward, overprotective daughter is finally branching out. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Yeah..." I trail off, not knowing what the correct response to that would be. "So, can I go finish my homework now?" I ask, knowing that the h-word will probably be enough leverage to get me out of the conversation.

And I was correct, "Of course, sweetie." Dad turns back to his computer, most likely just as relieved as I am to go back to business as usual.

"Thanks." I mutter and exit as fast as I can without looking like I'm actually running away.

------

After completing my essay on family history for english using the family tree that was in the book (I do still have to keep my grades up), I try to learn more about the creatures that Steve mentioned. Spreading the photocopied sketches out along with printed images that I found online (I know, reliable, right?) I compare them.

One weird looking lizard with three sets of legs- basilisk. Normal enough looking fox, but with seven tails and balls of fire floating around it head- kitsune. Humanoid with the torso and head of a person but forelegs and body of a horse- Centaur. And then the lizard/dragon with five heads- Hydra, among others.

While all of this is wonderful and all, I still don't understand why Steve, or Christine for that matter considered this useful information, or at least pertinent to helping Abby. As if in answer to my question, my phone buzzes with a text from Christine;

What info did you get from steve?

Which is followed by a rapid succession of more texts.

Was his mom there?

What did she say?

Did she freak?
Do you want me to come over?

Frowning, I respond, punching at the screen as if potentially causing damage to my phone's screen will somehow fix my problems.

Yes, I went over. His mom was not there. Why would she freak out? Why do you care? You can come over if you want, but I didn't get much useful information and my dad's home, so enter at your own risk.

Thanks a lot Christine. It was SUPER helpful. I'm not sure how sarcasm is conveyed via text, but I'm willing to try my hardest to find out.

She responds immediately,

Why? Is something wrong? Do you need me to come get you?

I sigh, No, I type, Nothing like that, Dad's just trying to make up for Mom being gone by inquiring about my school life. He's so happy about me having 'close acquaintances' which in dad-speak apparently translates into 'really good friends' that if you showed up, you would be hugged and then later I would endure dad's unbearably happy mood.

I can almost hear Christine's exasperated sigh when she replies; Is being happy for you such a bad thing?

You don't have to endure his well-meaning, 'I'm so happy for you'

We agree to meet tomorrow at the library to go over the new info, and I flop onto my bed, planning to enjoy a completely wolf-free night of sleep. Why I don't just turn on the full moon- one night of the month, I don't know. Instead, I have the joy of turning three nights a month- on the full moon and the nights before and after. I know, fabulous right?

I mean, I don't even look like a normal wolf- I'm not, I'm a coywolf. I didn't even know that existed until I looked it up- google; the source of all sorts of useful information. Exhausted from yet another day of seeming to go as far forward as backwards, I close my eyes and am immediately ambushed by the wonderful quiet that is sleep.