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Story: May the Wolf Die
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MARLOWE
Eight years ago
My cheeks were warm from the late summer air and alcohol, and I lay back on the cool, nylon sleeping bag, watching the night sky spin in lazy circles above me. Out here, away from the light pollution of the city, you could actually see the stars, and in my inebriated state, I attempted to find the few constellations I knew. The Big Dipper was always easy to spot, and I was pretty sure I could make out Cygnus too—its long, cross-shaped body flying through the heavens.
Music and conversations waned around me, and I traced the plumes of smoke and the occasional spark from the small campfire with my eyes as they floated up and disappeared.
My group of friends from high school had decided to camp out here together at Emma’s house on Pewaukee Lake—one last hurrah for the summer and our childhoods before we all scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.
Instead of enjoying the group camaraderie, however, quite a few people had decided to take the opportunity to hook up inside.
There were only a few of us still left out in the yard, either by choice or by lack of options.
I was out here by choice. Tyler had been hinting ever since prom that he’d been wanting to hook up before we left for college, and tonight he’d finally said it plainly—a last-ditch effort to bring four years of mild flirting to fruition.
I might have said yes—I’d flirted with Tyler for good reason, after all. But I just couldn’t muster up the interest. I was still adjusting to the new birth control pills my mom had gotten me, and my libido was all over the place. Some days I felt like I could have slept with the whole football team, which… ew, gross. But others, I would’ve turned down Harry Styles himself if he’d shown up at my door.
Today I was definitely leaning toward the latter, which ended up being a blessing since once Tyler realized I was officially a dead end, he quickly moved onto Sarah, who happily grabbed him by the hand and snagged one of the few remaining bedrooms.
Whatever.
She’d also struck out that night with her first choice—my twin brother—and needed someone to lick her wounds among other things from the sting of Ezra’s rejection.
Tyler and Sarah, rebounding with each other to recover from their double Linden losses. I laughed to myself, and turned my head to make some stupid comment about it to Ezra when I realized he wasn’t one of the holdouts passing out around the campfire.
Wait… had he gone inside with someone?
Thatwouldbe the news of the night, because while I had been quite liberal with my sexuality for the past two years, Ezra had left high school with his virginity mysteriously intact.
Ezra was my opposite in a lot of ways. I was short—five- foot-three on a good day, and ranked second in my class. I’d played the clarinet in band, had been the star of my debate club, and was heading to UW-Madison next week on a full-ride scholarship.
Ezra, meanwhile, was six-foot-four and still growing. He had been the captain of every single sport he’d played, and considering the interest he’d gotten from football, basketball, and baseball scouting agents, he probably could’ve gotten into any university of his choice.
He also could have gone out with any of the girls, and probably some of the guys, too, of his choice, but he’d remained celibate for reasons he’d never told me. We weren’t religious, and he wasn’t a romantic saving himself for true love or anything like that. Whenever I’d bring it up, he’d just grumble that it was none of my business and walk away.
Regardless of his reasons, it seemed to have coincided with his general moodiness and temper that had only worsened in the past few years. While I was, as my mom tearfully put it recently, “blossoming into a confident, bright young woman,” Ezra had become more inward and unsure of himself.
But he was at least very aware of his turbulent head space and aggressive mood swings, and instead of rushing off to college, he’d been saving money from his part-time job so he could take a gap year to travel the world and, hopefully, discover himself.
Or at the very least come back less of a raging, hormonal douche bag.
And if he didn’t? Oh well. He was still my brother, and I’d always love him.
I sat up and looked around. If he wasn’t outside, did that mean that maybe he’d finally decided to lose his V-card? He was leaving tomorrow, so tonight would have been a good chance to symbolically take that first step towards a new life.
A large, familiar shape sitting alone by the lake told me otherwise. I got up, waited for my eyes to focus, and then slowly staggered over.
“Incoming!” I cried, falling onto his back and hanging off his neck.
He grunted softly and didn’t move, my weight barely affecting him. “I’m only letting this pass since I won’t see you for a year.” I rolled off him, trying and failing multiple times to regain my balance until he finally stuck his joint between his teeth, picking me up with both hands and setting me up next to him on the log.
He chuckled, inhaling deeply and then releasing a pungent cloud once I was still. “Pathetic.”
“Whatever, you love me,” I replied, holding my hand out expectantly. He took another hit and then passed it.
He coughed as he exhaled. “Sure, bitch.”
Table of Contents
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