Page 53 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

Layla was laid out on the bed, surrounded in bowls of barbecue chips, Swedish Berries, and m&m’s.

Viv’s, mine, and Layla’s favorites, respectively.

She was fiddling with the DVD case, leaning over to get the movie queued up on the box TV atop Viv’s dresser, a handful of m&m’s already stuffed into her mouth.

The whole scene brought with it the sort of nostalgia that made me want to cry after the last couple weeks I had. When was the last time we’d done this? It had to have been months. Maybe half a year or more.

Suddenly, I realized why this was what Layla wanted to do for her eighteenth birthday with her best friends. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend mine, either.

And I was next in line for the big one-eight. Just another month to go and I’d be free. Really free.

Viv nudged me, bringing me back to earth.

You okay? She mouthed, eyes dodging between Layla and me like she wanted to make sure, but also didn’t want anything to ruin Layla’s night.

I nodded. “Completely,” I told her and tossed my bag onto the bed, rushing to tackle Layla from the side in a bear hug. She squealed and fell to the carpet, trying to kick me off her. But I just hugged her tighter. “Happy birthday, bitch.”

She stopped struggling and hugged me back. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Thank you, now get off of me before I go nuclear on your ass.”

I snorted. Layla’s idea of going nuclear was using her black painted cat claws against me. Once, I might have been very afraid. Now, I doubted I’d even feel them.

“I got you a present,” I told her, letting her shove me away and push the curtain of dark hair away from her face. She spat a few strands from her mouth and stood, glaring down at me.

“I told you not to get me anything,” she protested, putting her hands on her hips.

I shrugged. How could I take her seriously when she was wearing a black sheep onesie with golden horns on the hood? “Please,” I said, tossing my backpack at her. “Are you really telling me you didn’t already get me something even though my birthday isn’t for another month?”

She narrowed her eyes at me. Layla was the sort of person to start buying Christmas presents in July, the practice completely at odds with her outwardly projected persona of doom and gloom.

“Thought so,” I said with a grin. “Now open it.”

“Might as well open mine, too,” Viv said, flicking a small box onto the bed to join my bag and Layla where she sat cross-legged in one corner.

She cut Viv a glare, but said nothing, pulling the hastily wrapped gift from my bag to set next to her other gift. “Fine,” she said and lifted Viv’s gift, searching for a loose corner to pull the wrapping off without damaging it. “But then we start the movie. You can’t put it off all night.”

Viv and I groaned in unison. Truth be told, I didn’t mind the movie. I actually thought it was pretty good. But I’d already cried a river of tears in the last few weeks. I had no interest in watching something that was going to make me cry even more. But for Layla…

Layla slid her finger beneath the paper, struggling to contain her excitement, when the landline let out a shrill ring from the living room. Layla halted and looked with a wince toward Viv.

The phone rang again, and Vivian groaned, shoving off from the bed. “Hold that thought,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll be right back.”

We all knew Mrs. Cole was in no condition to get the phone and if it was Viv’s dad, they’d never hear the end of it if one of them didn’t answer before the answering machine picked up.

Layla shook the small box from Viv, bringing it up to her ear to listen to the tinny jangle of something metal inside. She pursed her lips, leaning in to whisper. “You don’t think she got me jewelry, did you?”

I shrugged. “Doubt it,” I whispered back as she traded the small box for my larger one and shook that, too.

I’d just picked up the gift yesterday, forcing Clay to wait outside the small independent antique shop down the strip from the bookshop while I browsed for the perfect item.

Something that she would love, that wouldn’t put me more than an additional week behind my saving’s schedule than I already was.

“Mr. Adams?”

Those words from Viv’s mouth as she answered the call carried down the hallway and filtered into my ears like acid.

My stomach turned and I couldn’t jump from the bed fast enough, leaving a confused Layla to follow concernedly in my wake as I tripped into the hall, banging hard against the opposite wall before getting my footing back under me.

No.

It was a mistake. Why would he call?

I gave him the wrong number for Viv’s parent’s place. He wasn’t supposed to ever call it. He wouldn’t. Clay covered for me the other day. There was no reason to—

“Uh,” I heard Viv say, her tone changing from surprise to the one I knew her best for—defensive. “What do you mean?”

Oh fuck. Fuck!

“Well, I—” she started, but my uncle must have cut her off.

Please. Please. Please.

I cleared the end of the hall and stood, chest heaving in the light of the kitchen where Viv stood, her face flushed with the receiver against her ear.

I held my hands up against the physical blow of her glare, trying to convey a million apologies with a single look. “Please,” I whispered just as Layla rushed by me into the kitchen, staring between me and Viv and the phone in Viv’s hand.

“What’s going on?”

“Please,” I urged Viv and she shut her mouth, her expression and body hardening until she could have been carved from stone. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the way she was looking at me.

Like she didn’t recognize me.

“Yeah,” she finally snapped down the receiver. “Of course, she’s here. She lives here after all.”

Layla’s face screwed up in a confused pucker. “What?”

“Here Allie,” Viv said, tearing the phone from her face to me. “Your uncle wants to know why you’re failing Math and Geo.”

My blood ran cold. That day in the office.

When Devin’s father cornered me and I ran away, unable to contain my wolf. Principal Dane had wanted to speak to me. I’d never gone back in to talk to him like he asked. Shit.

And then the assistant told Clay when he called in pretending to be my uncle that I was failing. That’s what the principal wanted to talk to me about.

That’s what he obviously took it upon himself to chat with my uncle directly about.

Why hadn’t he called me?

Why did he phone Viv’s house?

Why? Why? Why?

It didn’t matter now. The damage was done.

As I reached out for the phone, Viv dropped it into my waiting hand disgustedly and shoved past, dragging Layla with her.

They left me alone with only my own voice to echo back to me as I lied to my uncle. Each word was another nail in the coffin I’d built for myself.