Brazen

Still Geometry? Slow class..

Some people think of werewolves as teen angst fashion models. If you've ever met one of us, you'd know different. Actually, if you have met one of us, you probably wouldn't know it. Hunters are just too prevalent for us to stick out too much...

Oh! I've forgotten, haven't I? I'm Brazen. Stupid name for a werewolf, right? Guess I live up to it, though. I am certainly the most brazen in our little pack.

We like to call our family a pack. It helps with 'remembering out heritage' as Dad says. He's pretty old-fashioned. He tells us stories about what he calls the First, basically fairy tails for werewolves. I don't believe in any of it, but that's Dad for you.

I glance at my watch again. Really? Still fifteen minutes left? I glance back, and still find the pressure of Someone's hazel eyes on the back of my neck. He's stopped chewing on his pencil now, and moved on to doodling in his notebook. I really need to know what he is drawing. Could he be drawing me? Maybe that's why he has been staring at me.

I lean back in my chair to take a peek, and our eyes meet again. One side of his mouth quirks up in an almost-smile, and I feel blood rush to my face. Hopefully he can't see my blush. I whip around in my seat, furious with myself for getting caught, but relieved with what I had seen in Paul Gerringon's black and white Geometry notebook. My face grew deathly pale as I thought of that notebook. What was I going to do?