One with the Pack

Chapter 2

The school was rather large for the population of teenagers in Graymond from what I've seen so far. The parking lot was littered with old pickup trucks, each one of them having its own character. The light blue machine resting next to me in the almost empty parking lot for example, it's two seats are draped with a plaid blanket. The leather of the steering wheel chipped from age and cds stacked on the dashboard.

Looking at my watch I decide it's time to start to head in. Before exiting the truck I pull down the visor and study my appearance making sure I still look somewhat presentable. My brown almost black hair is tied into a loose braid. No makeup this morning, just a touch of concealer to hide the bags under my eyes.

A few more students begin to fill in the parking lot, the peacefulness of the early morning silence disrupted by the loud hums of motors and students chatting from a far. More and more trucks enter with a few jeeps and two or three vans unloading a huge number of kids that shouldn't even fit in a five seat van.

Groups of students stand near the entrance as I make my way up the steps leading to the doors. A few students look my way most likely wondering who the unfamiliar face is. I pay them no mind and continue towards the front office.

The rich aroma of coffee hits me a soon as I pull the office door open. A small women with a short blonde haircut sits at a desk in the center, looking up from her papers to greet me with a smile.

"Hello there honey, how can I help you?", I walk closer to her desk handing her the paperwork needed to officially enroll me into the school. "I'm actually a new student, Alex Washington."

"Oh yes I remember that phone call last week, let me just print out your schuele. How are you liking Graymond so far?" She asks, pulling out a pen from her drawer and signing a few papers before looking towards her computer screen.

"It's ok I guess, it's not that different from Maine but with a lot less people." I explain before the sound of a printer reaches my ears, slowing printing out my schuele. "There isn't a whole lot of people living this far up the mountains. Heres your paper honey, welcome to Graymond High, if you have any questions stop on by." She hands me the paper with a smile before I say thank you and return back into the hallway of the school.

The bell rings and groups of students begin rushing to their classes. I read the paper quickly seeing that my first class is history with a Mr. Green. Fortunately I was somewhat near the room already and arrived in time before the bell rings again. I introduce myself to Mr. Green and he hands me a textbook and points me an empty seat towards the windows.

As the teacher searches for the right page to begin reading, I quietly observe my surroundings. Few students towards the back are already resting with their arms making a nest for their heads. A redheaded girl with thick rimmed glasses is already reading and writing down notes. I glance at the page number she is on and open up my own book. The spine is weakly keeping together the torn pages inside. The cover image scratched and it's colors fading away, like my interest in this class already.

My instincts drastically kick in before the classroom door opens revealing a late student. Her scent drowning out any other scents nearby, identifying her as one of my own kind. As if she is experiencing the same thing, her eyes dart quickly towards mine, her body standing still without her eyes leaving mine. Mr. Green brings both of us back into reality asking the girl for her pass.

"Sorry I'm late, I was at the office", she hands him a light yellow slip of paper before walking into the maze of desks. I follow her until I realize where she was heading. The only empty seat in the room is to the left of me. Around three feet of space separates us and I refuse to look over in fear.

I'm in her territory without warning, if we were in the woods I'd be fighting for my life right now. To make things worse, she's Western Native American. Werewolves with Western Native American background are tougher than anybody else. Taking their pride and power extremely serious. Even known as the most deadly among our kind. Sleepy students, boring teachers, and brick walls restricting mother nature from her power in this moment.

I can feel her eyes basically tearing through my soul, making each second feel like eternity. I refuse to look her way, one wrong move can change everything. Even if I were to try to look back at her, the paralysis of my fear consumes my body and freezes me in place.

The heavenly sound of the bell releases the spell of her stare. Before anyone could blink, I was already in the hallway, racing to my next class.