Little Wolf

Ch 24 The Power of Stories

I woke to Dad hollering at someone. I groaned from the pile of clothes I was curled on top of. That made me blink and look at the guest bedroom door. Dad had installed a simple hook and eye for privacy.

I couldn't believe I had shifted to wolf at some point during the night. It was Dad's clothes I had made a bed of. I sighed to myself.

Apparently everything I had been through had affected me more than I realized, especially if I still needed the comfort of sleeping on Dad's stuff.

He still kept the chewed up pair of shoes from when I was a puppy under his bed. I found them about a week after his extended run after Mom died, much the way I found myself this morning. I had gone to bed back then crying, wanting my dead mother and my missing father. I woke up with the old chewed up shoes under me, me in wolf-form under his bed, fresh naw marks on the old shoes.

They had been my go-to comfort whenever I woke up in the middle of the night as a kid. I remember pulling them out of dad's closet with puppy teeth and sleeping in them after a nightmare. I was small enough back then in wolf form that I had wriggled my whole rump into one of the shoes, laying across the other. He was furious that I had chewed them up. He had gone to school that morning embarrassed at having to wear moccasins. I was surprised he never got rid of them, even after all this time.

Since I was already wolf, I snuck out through the hole in the guest bedroom floor. I stayed under the trailer to scope out what was happening outside.

Derrick was on the back steps. I could smell his coffee. I could hear Mahina in the bathroom.

The high school wrestling team was scrubbing my tent, my bike, and Dad's truck. Dad was supervising. He moved around until he was between me and the boys. It wasn't like they could see me under here, but I took Dad's hint and headed back in. I was quick to dress, unlatch the door, and head to the kitchen.

Mahina was just coming out of the bathroom, so I headed in after giving her a quick hug. I don't think I ever spent so much care on my morning routine. I still hurried though because I could hear my dad getting impatient with his detention charges.

"Little Wolf!"
"Hey Little Wolf."

The small group of teenage boys were waiting for me. I sauntered over to them.

"Thought detention happened at school. You lot must be feeling sorry for my dad out here all alone. I'm sure you aren't in that big a hurry to serve detention that you'd come out to get an early start."

None of them met my eyes. Dad and I shared a look.

"Dad, what normally happens on Saturday mornings?"

"Wrestling practice."

"So why would the wrestling team be working so hard to get out of wrestling practice?" I asked.

I stalked toward the boys. They were nervous but held their ground, exchanging glances. They were debating spilling the beans. I suddenly spun back toward dad.

"Maybe they have no skills and are embarrassed to be seen on the mat?"

Dad gave me the barest nod. I tackled Jimmy out of the blue, his back smacking the ground. I had him pinned in a hold I knew he could break out of. I put him through his paces, trying to gauge the emotions running through him. I caught the barest whiff of something that reminded me of Lone Wolf.

I literally jumped up and back, staring at Jimmy.

"Dad," I said hesitantly, not taking my eyes off of Jimmy, "who is the new wrestling coach? Anyone I know?"

"No, new guy got hired, does phys-ed and history, volunteered to coach some of the sports teams. What are you thinking?"

No one understood the words I spoke to Dad. Great thing about having a language nut for a father. One of our regular things to do while working out was go through words in different languages. He grew up speaking Russian and German, learned a few other languages across Europe. He taught all the languages at school.