Markings (14 page)

“Hi, guys,” Alison whispered, pretending to sneak in and not interrupt. Moving to the pool table, they jumped up to sit on the sides, opening their boxes.

I looked at the floor, biting my lip. Aaron’s shoulders went all stiff as he avoided looking at me.

“Oh my goodness.” Trinity’s eyes widened. Jabbing a finger towards my head, she cried, “Lina’s losing hair color.”

“Thanks, announce it to the world,” I crabbed. “So I’m going gray a little early.”

The girls burst out laughing. “No, silly!” Trinity set her lunch down, coming to prod through my hair. She pushed it this way and that, revealing more white-blonde streaks. “It means you’re coming closer to your shifting date.”

My whole morning had been spent fearless, but suddenly a stab of unease went through me.
Shifting date?

“Aaron, isn’t this great?” Trinity said. “She can’t be far off now. Do you feel funny, Lina? Unusual?”

“Um . . .” In my peripheral vision, Aaron had stopped writing. He glanced at me. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I’ve been pretty weird all morning.” No need to elaborate and say I’d eaten cold salmon for breakfast and threatened a bully at school.

“Yay!” Trinity clapped her hands, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is perfect. Hair’s changing color, feline hormones are setting in . . . how long do you think she has, Aaron? One week? Two?”

“It’s not like predicting a baby’s due date, Trin,” he snapped. “You can’t predict this kind of stuff. It’ll happen when it happens.”

Trinity crossed her arms. She threw a finger towards him as she turned back to me, silently asking: what’s his problem? I shrugged. She narrowed her eyes at him, moving back towards the pool table.

“So we have some investigative work to do this afternoon,” Aaron announced. “Tom called me while you guys were out getting lunch. He and Nate are down at the end of the reserve with Jace, near the southern border. Joey’s disappeared.”

“What?” Trinity and Alison said at the same time.

My temper deflated. “Joey’s missing?” I asked.

“There was no trace of the Keftey. They don’t understand it. It’s like he disappeared into thin air.” Aaron stood up, pushing his paperwork into a desk drawer. “They want us to come join the search party, see if we can’t make better progress before the sun goes down.”

“I guess we’re taking this to the car.” Alison closed up a box of beef and onion.

These Keftey didn’t scare me; they were starting to piss me off.

“Don’t worry. It’s at least an hour’s drive,” Trinity said to Alison, tying the handles of her bag together. “We’ll have plenty of time to eat on the way. Speaking of which, Lina have you eaten? I bet we’ll be out there a while—”

“She’s not going,” Aaron said.

Alison froze, in the middle of tightening her shoe laces. Trinity stopped mid-stride to the door, turning back.

I stood in the center of the room, hands curling into fists. “What?”

“What do you mean she’s not going?” Trinity said. “She’s the Alpha, she—”

“She can stay here with Brendon. It’s safer. I’ll meet you guys in the jeep. Hurry up.” Aaron motioned for them to leave the room.

Trinity made a huffy, annoyed sound. Her hand brushed my shoulder as she went by, a silent sorry. Alison followed her, sparing me a half smile.

As the door closed behind them, I jerked around. “I’m not
going
? Joey could be in danger and you want me to stay
here
? Since when do you call shots like that, new employee?”

“Since I was a clan leader, and the rest of you weren’t or aren’t yet.” He was back to not looking at me as he spoke. He yanked his black jacket off the back of his chair, pulling it on. “You’ll stay and help Brendon take care of the wildlife. Tell Ellen to check on that one red fox that came in last week. Her leg’s still pretty swollen.”

He headed for the door. I blocked him. He was zipping his jacket. “Why?” I demanded.

Aaron sighed, his chest puffing up a little. “Because. You are not dressed for the part, and you cannot shift. You have no feline counterpart to summon should we run into danger, and I don’t have time to protect bunnies today. You might be the Alpha, but at the moment you are still the equivalent of a human. Do as I say.”

He pushed by, leaving the office. My chest heaved. I couldn’t breathe. The anger, the hurt, the fear, all of it felt magnified by ten. Twenty. Before logic could kick in, hold me down, I exploded.

“What is your problem, Aaron? What are you, nineteen, and you treat everybody like your inferiors?” I shouted. He walked on. “What happened to the Aaron who rescued me, took me to coffee? Is this how you treat your family? Your friends? What about Halia?”

He stopped near the office entrance.

My hands folded over my mouth. Oh, crap.

His hands rolled into fists. Spinning around, he strode back towards me. His cheeks turned so red, I waited for the freckles to melt off his skin. His stride picked up to where he was just short of running.

I stumbled backwards, hitting the wall as he stormed toward me. I squeezed my eyes shut, sure he would ram me, shove me, something! He stopped just short, arms slamming the wall on either side of me. I cracked an eye. His breathing grew ragged as it hit my face, hot as the air of an open oven. Fur poked out of his hands, which raked repeatedly through his hair.

“You don’t know a damn thing about Halia, do you hear me?” he snarled. “You don’t know a
damn thing.
”

“Aaron, I’m sorry—”

“Did we not have a deal? What, did I need to specify that when I said don’t ask about my girlfriend that applied to interrogating
my sister
as well?” He drew back a couple feet, covering his face. A moan escaped through his fingers. It was a pained noise.

The tears stung my eyes. I reached towards him then pulled my hand back.
You did this, Lina.
All I wanted to do was hold him, touch him, do something to make the pain stop. It hurt me to see him like this. It killed me knowing it was my fault.

I hate myself.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

“You want to know why I want you here, Lina? Because Halia’s death was my fault. Because my team got ambushed and I couldn’t save her. I refuse to make the same mistake twice. If you died because of me . . . ” He shook his head, moving towards the doors. His own eyes were glossy, red around the edges. “Don’t ever bring her up again . . . I’m outta here.”

“Aaron,” I said, but his footsteps moved quickly down the hall. He glided into the lobby then made a noisy exit out the front doors. All at once the sound, the smell of him . . . it faded away.

I sunk down the wall. The tears streamed my face, trickling down onto my stupid MEOW shirt. I smacked the floor.
Stupid, stupid, Lina
, my brain kept repeating.
He won’t let you live this one down.
He hated me. That much I had heard in his voice, saw in his eyes.
I blew it.

My weird high popped like a balloon. My self-confidence had been blown to bits. The paranoia took over in waves, darker than the shadows in the lotus tree dream. Looking down, I realized I despised this shirt. Not just because Aaron had—I
always
had. It reminded me of the ones She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wore, the ones wealthy hoochy-mommas fit over their big, plastic boobs. And I really didn’t like these shorts, either, how tight they were, how if I bent over too far they’d show my cellulite and the hair I’d missed while shaving.

The old Celina was back.

And although I welcomed her return, I didn’t feel invincible anymore.

Chapter 16: The Golden Fox

I
n my backyard, we have a large metal can for burning on Sundays. It sits just outside the patio, safely away from the woods, but not too close to the house. The second I arrived home I ripped off my MEOW shirt, then the silver shorts, and threw them in. I strode into the kitchen, pulling open the drawer by the sink. Under miscellaneous items, I honed in on a pack of matches.

Standing by the trash can, I swiped a match along the edge of the box. A flame ignited, reminding me of the fire I felt inside. I thrust the match on top of the shorts. The tears had stopped while I helped Brendon feed the animals, but they restarted as I watched the outfit burn, hoping Wild Celina (that’s the name I’d given to my new alter ego) wouldn’t show her face again.

The blow-out with Aaron had left me exhausted, dead inside. I lounged on the couch that evening, ignoring my homework and the fact I had an algebra test tomorrow. An advertisement for cat food appeared on the TV just then. A slim, orange house cat with eyes the color of Aaron’s waddled across the screen. I sniffled, wiping my eyes on my sweatshirt sleeve. What other strange things were going to happen to me? What about after I shifted? Will I crave cat food? Maybe I’ll have to be flea-treated every other month.

A meow echoed from the stairs. Harry waddled over, jumping up beside me. He slid under my arm, looking at my face. “Be glad you’re a housecat, Harry,” I whispered. “No responsibility. No one to tell you what to do or to break your heart.”

Harry purred, rubbing his head on me. I closed my eyes. I wanted to doze, set aside how badly today had ended and how gross my face would feel tomorrow with the tears plastered to my cheeks.

Don’t water, human.

My eyes shot open. I lifted my head.

Harry stared at me.
Don’t water.
He blinked.
Don’t water.
An image of me smiling as I came in the front door crossed my mind, then of me opening a can of tuna in the kitchen, which I then scooped into the cat bowls.

I sat up. As I pulled away from Harry, the images faded. Those thoughts, memories came like I was an extremely short person walking along the floor.
No, not a person.
They came from another source . . . A source that I was pretty sure had his furry fat rolls pressed up against me.

“Harry?” I said.

He flicked his tail.
Human.

“Oh, wow.” I curled my arms around my legs, debating whether this should freak me out or if I was too tired to care.

Harry repositioned himself. He moved back against my side, curling his tail around his feet. Kneading the couch beneath his paws, he purred again.
My human.
A feeling of peace came over me.

I sighed.
At least someone still likes me.
Stroking his back, I wondered if I should quit showing up at the shelter for good this time. Aaron wouldn’t be speaking to me, which would hurt every time we passed each other and he treated me like a ghost. Trinity would clearly be angry, seeing as I’d betrayed her, spilled the fact that I knew about Halia. Alison was Trinity’s best friend and would probably side with her, as would Tom, Trinity’s boyfriend. I might still have Brendon.

At about six-thirty, I trudged upstairs to bed. I left a note for Mom on the table, saying I was too tired to wait up and that it had been a crappy day. I also wrote an apology for this morning, saying I didn’t know what came over me and that whatever it was had gone away and hopefully wouldn’t come back.

That night was one of those long, toss-and-turn kinds. I woke up frequently then fell back asleep. This, of course, caused me to dream. Luckily, they were normal dreams with no whispery voices or shadows or Cain. Dreams of the shelter, of Trinity and Alison always being out of reach. Dreams of the group at the field, of Brendon trying to kiss me and me slapping him . . . then I dreamt of a girl.

A milky-skinned girl with a head of golden curls stood outside the shelter. Her black dress waved in the breeze, molding to her perfectly slim body. She smiled, brushing her curls to the side as she sat on the hood of a blue Mercury Cougar.

I, an invisible figure on the sidewalk, watched the girl. The bells on the shelter doors jingled. I turned to see Aaron walking out in his capris and flip-flops. I tried to say his name, but no words came out. He walked right by me.
Don’t go
, I wanted to say. He walked up to her, spinning his arms around her waist. She giggled as he spun her around, knitting his hands in her curls as he pulled her face to his. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him close. Nudging her cheek, he whispered “I love you” in her ear.

I woke up, feeling pressure by my legs. Someone was sitting on my bed. “Mom?” I blinked the blurriness away.

“Hi, honey,” she whispered. Her outline was bent over, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. She had that look that people get when they’re studying you. As we made eye contact, however, she smiled and sat up. “Did I wake you?”

“No, yes. Did you get my note?”

She nodded, the corners of her mouth drooping. Reaching out, she ran a hand over my head and through my hair, admiring the new color. “Am I a bad mother?” she whispered.

“Where did that come from? No, you’re not a bad mother.”

She huffed, staring at the ceiling. “I just . . . I know I haven’t been around much lately. David finally came back this week, but now Kelsey has quit waitressing to go back to school and Hansen got fired for trying to steal our silverware,”—another huff—“I can’t catch a break lately. I feel like I need to be here more often. Giselle is looking to replace them, so maybe soon—”

“I’ll waitress for you,” I interrupted. I had to do something today that would distract me, help me think of anything but how awful I felt. It couldn’t be that hard: you walk up, you smile, you write people’s orders down, you walk away.

Mom raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were volunteering at the shelter?”

I hesitated. The waterworks reappeared as I thought of Aaron and the golden-haired girl. “Not anymore.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Mom didn’t know about Aaron, about how much I’d come to like him. We hadn’t had time to talk girl gossip. “Do you remember when we first moved here, and you had that job at Telkson’s Café?” I asked. She nodded. “You remember Suzanne, how she was head-over-heels for that bartender, Jeff, across the street where you guys used to get drinks sometimes?”

“And it turned out he had a really big thing for me, not her?” Mom made a sarcastic, yeah-that-was-fun, kind of face. “Another reason I’m so happy that job is behind me. Anyway, what about it?”

I pressed my face harder into my pillow. “That’s kind of like what happened at the shelter . . . and I’m Suzanne.” Only in my case the desired woman was dead, and my dispute ended way worse than Suzanne and Jeff’s had.

“Aw, honey. I’m sorry.” Mom had a quirk between her eyes. She ran her fingers through my hair.

“I really liked him,” I whispered.

“Well, he’s missing out on an amazing girl. You just wait. You’re going to meet someone who just adores you, who has everything to offer.” Mom snorted. “Your grandma said to me once, ‘Wait until you meet that one man that brings out the lion in you.’ I laughed.”

“Grandma said that?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, not Grandma Mary. I’m talking about your dad’s mom.” Mom hesitated. “She used a lot of weird sayings involving cats, not to mention she had about five of her own. She was a strange woman.”

Yeah, great, so I had a crazy cat lady for a grandma.
I rolled over, about to say this, then stopped. I thought about that for a minute.
Crazy cat lady.
My fingers lingered on my shoulder, where my spots had once been.

“Are you talking about Great Grandma Celine’s daughter?” I asked.

“No, Great Grandma Celina didn’t have a daughter. She had a son, which is your dad’s dad. ”

“I see.” I paused. “Mom . . . what else do you know about Dad’s parents?”

Her face twisted at the subject change. I’d never really asked before. She tilted her head, looking thoughtfully at the giant cougar plush on my bed. I kept it nearby to remind me of Kat, not Aaron, though it was working both ways and I was getting ready to move it.

“I’ve only met them a few times.” Mom ran her hand over my cougar’s paw. “Like I said, they’re kind of . . . different. They’re living down in California last I heard, though I guess they move around a lot. Your grandmother was a tall, thin woman. She never seemed to put on any weight or go gray. She always had thick black hair, while your grandpa was a soft-spoken older man who had kind of pale hair that he always kept in a braid. It was like an old hippie married to a Cher-wannabe.”

“That sounds . . . grandparently.” Most people think of their grandparents as a couple of white-haired folks with glasses and wrinkles around their eyes. I couldn’t picture myself sharing genes with an old hippie and a Cher look-alike.

Mom laughed. “Yes, I know . . . You don’t look much like them. Your dad looked like your grandpa a bit.”

“Did they like you?” I wondered.

“I thought so.” She shrugged, like she’d never really thought about it before. “They were just . . . distant. Involved in their own lives, I suppose.” She rubbed my arm. “We had nothing to do with the absence of your grandparents, Lina. They just had a lot going on.”

“Do they know I exist?”

“Of course. Grams was there at the hospital the night you were born. She rocked you near the windows while I slept and your father went home to rest.” Mom chewed her lip. Sorrow filled her face, a sign this subject was heading for a cliff. Happy memories plus Dad never equaled a stress-less conversation. “Anyway, why all these sudden questions?”

“Um . . . History assignment,” I lied. I suddenly wanted to tell her the truth, fill in all the blanks that she’d missed over the past couple weeks. What stopped me was the way she’d react if I did. She’d flip and our cozy moment here would be gone.

“I see.” Her eyes stuck to my face, skeptical, then she sighed and stood up.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?” She stopped, hand on the door.

My fingers curled around my sheets. “Do I have to go to school today?”

“Um, yes?” She laughed. “What were you expecting?”

“That I could waitress all day instead of just after classes.” I couldn’t take school right now. Plus, Aaron and Kat could be lurking there. Anymore stress and the old Celina might crack, and this time who knew when I would rewire myself together.

I tried to work the tired, abused-child look as Mom stared at me, hands on her hips. A short silence later and she hung her head, making a funny noise. “This is a one-time thing, okay? We don’t do this very often.” She held up a finger, enforcing that this was my only get-out-of-jail-free card. “Let me call Giselle and see what she says. In the meantime, you’re still on a schedule: get in the shower.”

I felt a huge weight lift off my chest. As she closed the door, I hopped up and ran to the closet. I plucked out a pair of dark skinny jeans and—avoiding all bustier-type tops—settled on a full-coverage, white blouse. I left a message at the shelter, saying “some things have come up” and I wouldn’t be available for a while.

According to Mom, Giselle was thrilled about my desire to work for her. The whole ride into town, we talked about what I should know. I wouldn’t be waitressing today. I would be “testing the waters,” doing dishes and cleaning up. It was no trip to the amusement park, but it wasn’t school or the shelter, so I felt content.

The Golden Fox rested towards the center of town. The sign mounted above its front doors hosted a yellow fox sitting on a chair with a napkin tied around his neck. In his paws, he held a plate piled with pizza, lasagna, and other Italian items. The restaurant had been built alongside two other eateries, but unlike its competitors it wasn’t in danger of going out of business. Their food was one of a kind, based off Giselle’s ancient family recipes, and Giselle herself was a total people person: everyone adored and wanted to support her.

I followed Mom inside, crossing the white lobby with its rose-carved waiting benches. A pair of skinny girls dressed in golden collared shirts and black pants discussed table settings for an afternoon party of seven. They smiled, waving at us as we passed.

The main restaurant area made sort of an
L
-shape. Booths lined the walls, tables down the center. Each had a crisp, lacy table cloth, a pair of candles, and fox pepper and salt shakers. Looking around, I saw they’d put new artwork on the walls, favoring phrases or proverbs. I stared at the one with the monarch butterfly painting.

Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,
She became the butterfly.

After setting our stuff in the backroom, Mom and I went to the kitchen. The scent of burnt cooking oil, garlic, toast, hamburger meat, and eggs took over. My stomach rumbled, even though I’d eaten before we left the house.

David stood over the oven, a short-haired man with lanky limbs and a goatee. A stocky girl with a brown ponytail stood beside him, busily chopping onions. The pair looked up at us.

“Lina.” David’s thick eyebrows rose. “Well, look at you!”

“Hi, David.” I smiled, clipping my hair back. It surprised me that he remembered me. We’d only met a few times around Mom’s birthday and Christmas.

David turned away from scrambling eggs. He scanned me up and down before turning to Mom. “Jeez, Karen, she looks so grown up. I thought you said she was a high school freshman.”

“That was
two years
ago
, Dave,” Mom said, then laid a hand on my back. “But I know. Time sort of slipped away from me, too.”

“I can see that. Jeez, I’m getting old.” David ran a hand over his head, like he could feel gray hairs popping up as he spoke. “So what brings both of you to work this morning?”

“Say hello to our new helper,” Mom said, pulling an apron off a rack by the door. Each of us got one, and I got a pair of yellow rubber gloves as well. “Lina is going to be our clean-up girl today.” She tugged my hairclip. “So, you ready?”

I nodded. “Ready.”

“All right. You’re starting here.” She pointed to the massive pile of dishes on the back counter.

I spent the morning scrubbing, rinsing, and clearing the sink. The task was time-consuming, but not difficult. The repeated motions kept my mind in line, no straying into worry zones.
Scrub, rinse, into the washer. Scrub, rinse, into the washer.
The restaurant didn’t get busy until eleven, when I was sent out to retrieve plates and glasses as customers left.

Giselle came in at noon. She’d dyed her hair since the last time I saw her. It was no longer the color of cherries, but of Dr. Pepper. Her wedge heels clip-clopped across the floor like a horse, and I didn’t want to admit it, but I fell in love with her tight, sparkly sweater with the silver buttons. Her attitude was a mix of formal and friendly as we met in the hallway.

The morning had passed before I knew it, and Mom and I stopped for lunch. We went across the street to Simply Greenlicious—an organic restaurant, no artificial ingredients, chemicals, or excess fats.