The bottle of tea was waiting for me in the fridge the next morning.

Sam left for work early in the morning, and Amy was in too much of a rush for breakfast, so I made myself Egos with a side of day-old egg salad and a couple pickles that one of Sam’s coworkers pickled herself.

Over the summer, Sam had taken it upon herself to plaster little squares of wallpaper above the sink. Each square bore a continuing Fleur de Lis pattern that linked together. To the untrained eye, the stretch of the wall looked like a single, professionally done piece instead of a budget DIY project except for a small seam where there was a slight overlap. The minor defect grew bigger and bigger the more and more I stared at it.

I got on the bus before my attention turned to picking myself apart.

My day didn’t improve much when I got to school. Cheryl made it to our lockers first, and when she saw me, her back seemed to stiffen.

“Good morning,” I said.

“How was your evening?” she dryly asked.

“It was… okay.” There was hesitation in her voice. She took her time unloading her bag, while I waited beside her, trying to troubleshoot what to say. “Yours?”

She shrugged. “Just fine.”

I took the moment to apologize. “Sorry about last night. The whole double booking and ditching your thing.”

“I told you, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I made plans with you first.”

“Well, I hope had a good time with whoever.”

“I didn’t,” I confessed. “Turns out there was someone else.”

Cheryl’s brows raised with concern. “What do you mean?”

“I misread the situation,” I admitted. “I guess he had other interests.”

“Oh, Collin, I’m sorry to hear that!”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I guess I deserved it. Went home and sat in my room the rest of the day.”

“Why didn’t you text me? I could have turned around and picked you up from school.”

“Dunno. Cause I’m dumb.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “Collin, you aren’t dumb. Silly, sure, not dumb.”

“Tell that to my GPA.”

“Stop it. Just be straight with me next time, okay? Or I’ll cut off your tail. I’m serious,” she warned. “Jeez, what a fucking jerk, leaving you hanging. If I ever meet your person, I’ll their pelt and make myself a new rug.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I insisted. As frustrated as I was last night, seeing Simon as a shag runner wouldn’t have improved my mood.

Though Cheryl and I settled our qualms before class, she made it clear I was still on my probationary period for earning her forgiveness. It didn’t help that I was behind on the assigned reading. Like, a hundred chapters behind. Honestly, she was more than capable of writing our essay and pulling off our presentation alone without hauling my fat ass along in the process. But, I did my best to keep up, even though I might as well have been a slug keeping up with a cheetah.

When Simon walked into English class, I was determined to stay upset with him, but instead, my feelings became mixed. He barely even glanced at me; not even a word about yesterday.

The end of class bell rang earlier than I expected, probably because I spent the whole period trying to catch up.

“Well, see you later at lunch?” I cautiously asked Cheryl.

“Not today,” she responded. “It’s not you, I got a dentist appointment after second period, so I’ll be off until fifth”

“Oh, well, good luck. Cavity?”

“Nah, just cleaning. I got good teeth.”

“Lucky,” I remarked in good humor. “Every time I go, I feel like they’re always trying to drill one.”

“I brush my teeth twice a day. Haven’t had a cavity my whole life,” she informed me. Of course.

“Guess I should get in the habit of brushing more than once a full moon.”

“Stars, Collin. Do I have to start texting you every night to floss?”

“I think I’m good on the babysitting,” I said. “Sam’s already on my tail on my sugar consumption.”

“Sounds like she needs to be on your tail for a lot more than that.”

I shrugged and shared a laugh.

🌕 | 🌗 | 🌑

Gym was more pickle ball.

The teacher had let us mess around and do whatever the past few days to get used to the sport. Some of the girls spent most of those days in the sidelines, while I awkwardly stood around without a clue how to socialize. When I did play, it was usually with someone almost as bad and unwanted as I was.

There was a dreadful change in plans today—Mr. Coach decided to end our unit with a tourney. At the start of class, he rolled out a whiteboard with assigned partners with a confusing, round-robin bracket.

“Let’s go have some fun!” he announced. “We’ve only got today left, then it’s off to basketball.”

None of us echoed his energy.

I was paired with a girl named Vicki. She more of the athletic type than I was, despite wearing eyeliner during gym, and judging by her shorts being school colors, was probably in one of the school sports teams. When I found her in the crowd, I waved her over, though her response back wasn’t particularly nice.

“What’s your name again?” she asked.

“Collin. It’s… on the board.”

“Right,” Vicki sighed. “Let’s get this over with. Try to hit the ball at least once, okay?”

I considered returning the snappy insult. With 45 minutes left in class, it was probably best to keep the slights until the very end.

Mr. Coach continued to try and hype us up. “Just remember, this isn’t about winning. You don’t get graded on ranking. It’s about performance and staying engaged. What matters most is that you try hard and have fun!”

“Dog shit. If it wasn’t about winning, he wouldn’t put us through this damn stuff,” Vicki muttered.

If Coach had any intention of evening out teams, he didn’t do a particularly good job. Pierson was our first rival, paired someone named Matt. Face to face, I recognized Matt as one of Pierson’s pack mates that called Cheryl a chipmunk my first day. Just from the way the two stood next to each other, I knew they’d be an absolute pain in the ass to play against.

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“Best of luck,” Pierson cockily said as we settled in our court. Matt gave us a toothy smile, showing off his canines. Vicki snorted. I gripped my racket, imagining the ball slamming straight into Pierson’s face.

Even though Pierson’s team won the coin flip, he decided to let Vicki and I serve first, either out of pity or some twisted form of teasing. Vicki took the ball before I had a say, hitting it with one long, graceful swing. Pierson easily reach volleyed it back, his height a clear advantage in pickle ball. Well, pretty much every sport someone like hi could ever dream of playing.

The ball whizzed past me before I could blink, bouncing just before the boundary line for a legal score. I chased it down and tossed it over for the enemy team’s turn, ignoring Matt’s gloating face. Pierson did the honors of serving, dropping his friendly act and hitting it so hard and fast that not even Vicki could dive for it. While Pierson’s sportsmanship stopped just short of arrogance, his pack mate loudly savored every point scored against us.

Around round 4, Matt and Pierson managed to hit the ball right smack dab between Vicki and I. Both of us moved to hit it, which ended in our rackets getting tangled and the ball anticlimactically bouncing between us.

“Real omega move,” Matt snarked at me across the net.

Vicki growled at me. “Get out of the way next time, Conner, okay?” she huffed under her breath.

“Collin,” I corrected. It was bad enough that we were 0 to 4 with two minutes left on the clock without Vicki lashing out at me.

Things changed after round 5. Pierson served as he usually did, except this time, his aim was conveniently skewed. The ball went way past the little cones that marked the edge of our court. He shrugged as if it was a genuine mistake.

“My bad. Nobody’s perfect, huh?” he casually said.

Yeah, right.

I picked up the ball, and Vicki stretched out a hand to take it. I shook my head, backing up to the edge of our side of the court. Fuck if I was going to just stand and let the two shit on us.

When he saw me prepare to serve, Pierson took a firm stance across the court from me, smiling in anticipation to see what sort of screw-up I’d pull off next. As for Matt, he stuck his tongue out.

“Real freaking mature,” I snarled. “You spend all day licking his hind with that tongue?”

“Says the freak that can’t even—“

I didn’t let him finish his sentence. I hit the ball hard, so hard even Pierson had to dive to return it. Vicki moved up, but I beat her to the return, reaching up to spike it at full power.

Instead of a racket, the ball hit Matt right in the face.

You’d think the cheapo plastic structure of a pickle ball would reduce the damage irresponsible high schoolers could do to each other. That wasn’t enough to stop it from hitting with an audible smack, knocking Matt off balance enough to drop his racket. When he recovered, he hissed louder than a sputtering lawn sprinkler.

Mr. Coach’s whistle pierced through the entire gymnasium and brought every game to a stop.

“Collin!” he yelled. “Out!”

I looked at Vicki—even she was stunned, her jaw dropping. Frustred, I walked off the court to toss my racket into the wire bin of sports equipment. As I passed him, Pierson had a stupid smile plastered on his face as if he was enjoying himself even more.

“Knew you were a fighter,” he teased. I shrugged off the compliment and waited for Mr. Coach’s inevitable lecture. With Matt needing first aid, and me needing a time out, Vicki and Pierson paired together for the rest of the tourney; probably a relief on Vicki’s behalf, considering she finally got a team mate that could hit.

The rest of class, I stewed on the sidelines. As unsportsmanlike-like as it was to hit Matt in the face with a pickleball, I’d take a one-hour lecture just to do it again. The only thing better? Hitting Pierson’s instead.

🌕 | 🌗 | 🌑

Without Cheryl, I wasn’t sure if it would be weird to sit with her pack, or if I should find an unpopulated corner. Maybe word hadn’t spread yet that I’d pommeled a pickle ball straight into someone’s face. If so, that probably wouldn’t last for long.

While I waited in the lunch line, mulling over my options, someone tapped me on the shoulder. The familiar smell of deodorant invaded my personal space. I turned to catch Pierson cutting right into line beside me.

Great. I counted my lives—which, for a werewolf, was just one.

“Hey hot shot,” he said in his usual, cocky tone. “Where’s your bestie?”

“She’s at the dentist for a cleaning,” I grittingly answered Pierson.

“I see. Keepin’ those buck teeth pearly.”

“She doesn’t have buck teeth.”

“I’m teasing,” he laughed. “Sounds like you’re taking up on my offer, then.”

“What offer?”

“Lunch, silly.”

I frowned. Course he was still stuck on it, taking my response at the mall a week ago as more of a ‘yes’ than its intended ‘no.’ “Why are you so set on it?”

“I told you—little bit of curiosity, little bit of flavor.” Pierson was now hovering over my tray. “Talking about flavor, the jello tastes like discount cough drops. Trust me, not worth the calories.”

I yanked my tray away from him. “I think I can manage my diet.”

“Just looking out for you,” Pierson shrugged. “If you’re gonna get back into sports, you need to take care of your body outside of your sweet tooth. It’s exercise and diet, not one or the other. Hey, the table’s this way, future team mate.”

Maybe it was the alpha-thing, maybe it was Pierson’s brick wall body. Either way, it was difficult to resist his lead over to one of the busiest tables in the cafeteria; the complete opposite of what I was looking for this lunch.

“Ears up, crew,” Pierson announced when we arrived. “This is Collin Thomas. New wolf in town.” They all looked up from their chow in unison. If I wasn’t set on being defiant, cowering would have been the smart move.

Even though everyone there was a mix of faces, somehow everyone still looked the same. All of them had similar haircuts—fades for men, ponytails for women—and similar sporty clothes, down to their sneakers that were either Adidas or Nikes.

I put on an awkward smile, trying to look friendly, but even I knew it was crooked. Not a single one of them returned the sentiment.

Whenever I hung out with Cheryl’s pack, I constantly wondered if they were okay with me, or were secretly annoyed with my presence. With Pierson’s pack, there was no need to guess—the general expressions smeared across their faces were a clear answer. I was an outsider, an intruder, an offense to their territory. Without their alpha between me and them, I had little doubt they’d rip me to shreds.

I looked at Pierson, who didn’t show any trace he noticed the underlying, hostile current. Instead, he slung his arm around my shoulder as if we were familiar friends, conveniently trapping me in place. When I stayed quiet, he gave me a shake. Say something.

“Hi,” I finally eeked out.

As pathetic as it was, my response was enough to break their stares. Most of everyone went back to their own business except for a handful who kept their eyes on me. From their proximity, they must have been Pierson’s inner-most circle, a central seat in their midsts left open for him. With no open spots for me, I saw an opportunity to wiggle out. But, before I could excuse myself, Pierson spat out a command.

“Knudson, up.”

The guy sitting on the right of Pierson’s open seat stiffly turned his head to glare. Specifically, at me.

As it turned out, ‘Knudson’ was Matt from gym class, the kid I spiked in the face less than an hour earlier. He now had a thick piece of gauze taped over one eye, hiding whatever bruise I gave him. A growl from Pierson, and Knudson finally relented, moving others aside so he could at least sit in front of his alpha. I’d call it a childish tantrum if it wasn’t my hind taking his seat.

Pierson cleared his throat once everyone was resettled. Back to all smiles and showmanship.

“Well, Collin, mandatory introductions, right? For starters, we’ve got Matt Knudson here, my right-hand man,” he gestured. “Course, you’ve met him already.”

Matt’s glare at me intensified.

“Then, we’ve got my wonderful girl, Uriey Lane. Beauty of the pack,” he continued. Wait, girl as in… girlfriend? “Clockwise, Hannah Chang, Jet Harrison, and Sonny Bull Plume Over time, I’m sure you’ll warm up to us just fine.”

“Uhh, thanks.” I set my tray down beside Pierson. Due to the table being packed, it was either pressing against Pierson’s side or knocking elbows with Sonny. If you’ve ever stood in a mountain’s shadow, that would summarize Sonny’s size.

“Where are you from?” Uriey asked. The tone of her voice wasn’t very friendly—Moon forbid I mistook the question as a fun little ice breaker.

“Small town,” I admitted, keeping my eyes averted. “Central Montana.”

“Sulphur Springs, right?” Pierson supplemented.

“Sounds like the name of a backwater town, alright,” Hannah cut in. Her tone was harsh, even though she kept a friendly face on. “Why’d you leave?”

I shrugged. “Just… needed to get away, y’know?”

“I don’t get why people stick around places like that,” Uriey piped back in. She feigned being distracted, picking at her nails. Judging from her proximity to Hannah, the two had to be cliquey close. “Other than like, old people.”

“Well, it’s hard to just pick up your life and leave, sometimes,” I answered.

She didn’t find my answer very satisfying and continued. “I heard people from rural towns spend more time wild than human. Is that true? And that they eat their meat raw even when they’re normal?”

“My mom says if you stay shifted too long, it makes your legs really hairy,” Hannah added.

It took a lot of effort to keep the annoyance out of my voice. “I, uh… don’t think any of that’s true.”

Matt scoffed. “Bet the mining waste makes them all—“

“Cut it out, guys,” Pierson growled again, his voice low and rumbling. A hair-prickling pause where nobody said a word. Then, just as easily as he had built the tension, Pierson cut through it with a smile.

“Apologies, Collin. Been a while since we had someone new that wasn’t, well, a snotty freshman. Like I said, curious, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I reluctantly agreed.

“Well, it’s noble of you, Pierson, including a guy like him,” Uriey commented. It was hard to miss the facetiousness in her tone, let alone the possessiveness. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you, Carson.”

“Collin,” I corrected.

“He’s a fighter,” Pierson defended.

“Not, uh, really.” I awkwardly laughed off the compliment. Instinctively, I rubbed my shoulder, where my bite scars were. It wasn’t the first time those scars gave people the wrong impression.