Dreamwalkers (24 page)

I just want a chance to make my own choices.
I’ve proven that I’m an alpha, and a leader. I rescued all those
people from Ben, didn’t I?

Not in the best way, no. I could have taken
Remy’s advice and been more careful. We could have come up with a
better plan. Instead I practically had to be rescued myself.

As the sun begins to sink beyond the
mountains in the distance, I allow myself to cry.

I was scared. Only luck had saved me. I could
have just as easily ended up in Misty’s position. Matthew could
just as easily have been able to follow through on his threat.

(Mom?)

(Mom, I’m sorry)

It’s a long moment before she answers.

(Oh, Kayla)

(I’m sorry I ran off, I’m sorry I couldn’t
help you kill Matthew, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... I don’t think I can
do this)

(you are not weak)

I sniff and stop crying (mostly) and
listen.

(You are not weak. Weakness is not freezing
instead of acting. Weakness is not about losing a fight.)

The colors in the sky are beautiful streaks
of orange and red.

(You can cry and still be strong. You can
change your mind and still be strong. Sometimes I forget how young
you are and how much you’ve been through. I forget how when I was
fifteen, I dated a different boy every week. You’re right, you’re
too young for me to pressure you into marriage.)

(I know you don’t want me to marry Geo. I
don’t know why I said that.)

(There have been times when I wondered if it
might not solve all our problems... But it is your choice. You
shouldn’t have to marry either one of your cousins. It hasn’t
exactly helped our pack any, has it)

I think of crazy Fallon Loupe, and Uncle
Frank beating on Daniel.

(No)

(But I still don’t understand why I froze...
I didn’t freeze before. I saved you that time. Why couldn’t I do it
again?)

(Maybe it was my turn to save you... My turn
to show you that I’m not weak)

My lips wobble into a smile.

(You’re the strongest person I know, Mom)

I make my way home in the deep twilight.
Sometimes I close my eyes and let my wolf senses guide me. There’s
a fire going, wisps of smoke entering my nostrils. Remnants of
grilled hamburgers, the sharp scents of pickle brine and mustard. I
smell these things strongest with my grumbling stomach, but there
are other smells: the dark musk of urine that is vaguely
comforting–members of my pack marking our territory.

The moon has risen by the time I get to the
cabin. I turn human and slip in through the back door, avoiding the
creaky boards. Everyone is sleeping. As I pass through the main
room, where most everyone is sprawled on the floor and on any
available surface, I sense a few minds lost in the grip of dreams,
and send comfort their way.

I slip into the bedroom with the purpose of
finding clothes. Mom and Aunt Jenny sleep in their sleeping bags.
Daniel lies curled up beside his mother. Two others on the floor
also: a woman with short black hair and Phil, who I remember from
dreamwalking was a nurse. I don’t remember the woman at all, but
the way they sleep spooned together makes me think she might be
Phil’s wife, or one of Ben’s pack who decided to defect with her
boyfriend.

Stepping over their legs, I carefully make my
way to the bed.

The moonlight shines down through the sheet
hung over the window and softly outlines Jeff’s face. I sit down
slowly, trying to keep the mattress from creaking, and lean over
him. I like his scent, even though it smells unfamiliar. His hair
is matted to his head with old sweat and dirt. Ever so carefully, I
reach up and run my fingers through it. It feels pretty gross, but
I smile.

He looks so peaceful.

In my dream–our dream?–he was frantic. He
said we needed to find Zeke. Something about a “psycho.” Did Geo
have this Zeke kid? Jeff doesn’t look frantic now. He looks almost
dead.

I consider lying here and trying to dreamwalk
with him. If I do that, I probably ought to put some clothes on
first. One glance at the bureau next to the bed, seeming so far
away, makes me realize I don’t want to dreamwalk with Jeff.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean
down and press my lips against his.

I almost giggle. It’s a little like kissing
my hand to practice. I haven’t had too much practice at kissing,
and I part my lips and let myself get really into it. I imagine
Jeff is awake and kissing me back and running his hands through my
hair.

Then Jeff’s lips part and I pull back
abruptly.

He looks up at me, eyes filled with confusion
and amazement.

Kate Spofford lives in New Hampshire and
works as a young adult librarian. In her spare time she writes
novels and trains for the circus. She is the author of the Wolf
Point series as well as two contemporary young adult novels,
Bethany Caleb
and
The Art Kids
.

For more information, visit her online at
http://www.katespofford.wordpress.com
.