the human condition ❁ paul lahote

chapter ten: the girl who cried wolf

DAD DIDN'T EVEN GET HALF of what he had on his list. As though in a fugue state, I went through the grocery mart witless, grabbing only the basics for a week's worth of groceries; eggs, milk, bread, butter, and bottled water. I remembered him telling me to grab a few cans of marinara sauce, for spaghetti and pasta, but the confused, angry part of me feigned forgetfulness as spite.

My mind was frantic. I was desperate to think back on all previous encounters I had with Paul, with Jared, with Dad. Were there signs? If Jared was a shapeshifter, did that mean Paul was, too? Or Dad?

Sam has to be one, I thought with a dawning frown. Jared follows him around like a lost dog.

So did Paul. So did Embry.

They all had long hair and lanky figures before they started following Sam. But the moment they cut off contact with everyone else, with anyone but their little clique, they grew taller, bulkier. They cut their hair and got matching tattoos. They became feverishly warm, something I noticed whenever Paul or Jared would touch me.

And when they were angry, they would shake. Paul never shook before he started following Sam; but after, after he changed, he was so much easier to anger. And it was like a monster was beneath his skin, trying to claw its way out.

I thought back on the day in the cafeteria, when Paul attacked Jeremiah. It never occurred to me how exactly he heard Jeremiah's insults. We were separated by quite a few yards, and even though Paul was in eyesight, he never would have been able to hear me over the boisterous laughing and talking of our peers.

If what the spirit told me was true, then it meant that the boys had supernatural hearing. It meant they had (well, probably: that was 'to be determined') supernatural strength. Things I never would have believed if it wasn't for the signs—signs I ignored when I believed the legends to be nothing but fables, stories made up for the entertainment of tribal children.

It explained the unwarranted hatred that the entire tribe held against the Cullens, if they truly were the Cold Ones. And it explained why Jared and Paul called themselves protectors, why they acted like a cult, and why they warded away others who didn't have that same damned tattoo—Jesus Christ, it all makes sense.

How could I be so blind?

Ignoring the clerk as he told me to have a very nice day, I barely paid any attention as I walked out of Pic-Pac. I walked over to my car—well, my Dad's car—slowly, so much slower than my usual pace, holding the grocery bags tight in my grasp. The unmindful part of me wondered if I still had time to run in the local drug store and pick up stain remover for the coffee stain on the passenger seat, while the paranoid part couldn't stop my eyes from flickering around, waiting with bated breath for something to jump from the shadows.

Surprisingly, my paranoia wasn't so far off the mark for once. I had a right to be afraid.

A shriek caught itself in my throat when I saw limbs materialize from the darkness. A ghostly woman appeared in front of me, blood covering her from head to foot. She had a gash in the side of her neck, and from what I could tell of her misshapen figure, a broken back. Blood was spilling into her eyes from the open wounds on her scalp. She whispered, "He is here." She was looking over my shoulder, at the front of the grocery mart.

"Who is here?" I asked. A sardonic voice said, The pizza man, while another one whispered, A monster. My fingernails dug into the skin of my palms and I felt my blood freeze. Not even an hour ago, I learned the truth of shapeshifters, and here I was, being told by a newer, scarier-looking ghost that someone was behind me.