100 Years to Live (Completed)

Chapter 1 : Ethan

AN: Remember, the story is from Noelle's point of view. The italic words are what Noelle writes in her book. And I dedicated this to Jordan because she inspires me :)

I've never exactly fit in.

It's not that I'm antisocial. I have pals. It's simply that I'm different.

My father is Garret Grey, the head of the Southern Pack. What exactly is in the pack?

Werewolves.

Growing up wasn't easy for me, especially because everyone around me might transform into a gigantic dog at any moment. Of course, at one point in my life, I wanted to be a werewolf. Yeah, that dream failed last year. What happened? I turned fourteen. Most werepups evolve into werewolves around the age of ten. Some reach maturity at the age of eleven. By the age of twelve, all werepups transform into shapeshifting adult werewolves. So, why am I still a human?

I discovered my adoption status last year.

According to Garret, he discovered me as a newborn in the wilderness and decided to raise me himself. But who leaves infants in the wild these days? Why would my biological mother suddenly desert me? I have a hunch Garret isn't telling me the entire truth.

But I'm not too worried about it. I have a wonderful family, even though they are all wolves. Garret is an amazing father; I adore him. And then there's Lindsey, my sister. Yes, she might be obnoxious, but she is still my sister. You've got to love family! And I have Ethan, the most fantastic best friend a girl could ever want, even if he did scratch me once when he unexpectedly turned (it's only a small scar on my side).

Living with a pack of twenty-something werewolves has its perks (don't upset me or I'll let the dogs out! ), but there is always a drawback. Like I already stated, no matter what I do, I will never fit in. When everyone changes into wolves and flees into the forest, I will always fall behind. "It is too risky." It will always be too dangerous for me.

...I'm not sure whether always is the correct word choice. The werewolves are immortal. They will live for forever. What about me? I'm simply a mortal who will die one day; however, my family and friends will go on forever.

So I kind of enjoy school. It's a location where I'm not surrounded by eternal mythological beings. There are people at school who are somewhat similar to me.

"Popular" and "Noelle Grey" have never been in the same phrase. Perhaps it's because I am not attractive. Perhaps it's because of my exceptional sketching ability. Or perhaps it is just me. Whatever the reason, I'm compelled to eat lunch with the math and chemistry buffs. And Ethan, of course.

So, I'm an outsider at home and school. I think I am simply an outsider in life. And I still haven't introduced the vampires...

I wish I was normal, but what is normal for a girl like me?

Suddenly, the diary I was writing in jerked out from under me. I looked up to find Ethan holding the small brown book with a smug smirk on his face.

"Ethan, give it back!"

"What is this, Noelle?" he said, beginning to read my journal. I yelled and attempted to pull it back. Of course I failed—never play tug-of-war with a werewolf.

"You didn't respond to me," Ethan replied. "Is this a diary?"

I placed my arms across my chest. "No, it's not a journal; it's a life tale, an autobiography.

"Since when have you written novels?"

"Well, I need something to do! All you wolves keep going off, and I'm left here alone, bored out of my head. Writing a book seems intriguing."

"Right." Ethan attempted to read the book again. "Am I in it?"

I grabbed for the diary, but Ethan slammed it shut and raised his arm to the ceiling. And, since he was so big, the book in his palm touched the ceiling.

"Yes, you're in it; now give it back!" I stood on tip-toes, but what was the point? Ethan was almost six feet tall (not including his outstretched hand), whereas I was barely over five feet. I'm not getting my book back.

Ethan laughed as he watched me struggle.

"ETHAN CLARK!!! Give it back! NOW!!!" I had a quick temper.

He kept laughing, but I had some tricks up my sleeve.

I peered beyond him and gasped. He fell for it and turned around to see what I had gasped over. Taking advantage of his confusion, I leapt up, wrapped my legs around Ethan's waist, and effortlessly removed my book from his grasp. That's how it works.

"You little sneak," he chuckled once before pushing my legs off of him, causing me to tumble.

Of course, he would catch me. But that did not make it any less terrifying. I instantly placed my arms around his neck and pressed my eyes closed. I couldn't see his face, but I bet it was a big smile.

I released my arms from his neck and attempted to move his arms away from me. Again, I failed. "Will you let go of me?"

He did it unwillingly. Or did I only imagine that part? Anyway, I regained my footing. I hurriedly slid my book into my desk drawer before Ethan could access it again. He's a fantastic buddy, but I don't believe he understands the concept of privacy. "Go home, Ethan, and put on a shirt." I laughed, pushing on his bare chest.

"T-shirts are so overrated and inconvenient for us werewolves," he murmured, settling down on my bed.

"Or... you simply love showing off your muscles."

"Okay, but admit it: you enjoy it," he added, smiling.

I turned and glared at him. "You wish."

Was it simply my imagination, or did he say, "I do?"

I'm fifteen for a moment,

Caught between ten and twenty.

And I'm just dreaming.

Counting the ways to where you are.