Memoirs of a Girl Wolf

Prologue

My name is Michelle ‘Mickey’ White. I am eighteen years old. If the person who gave you these journals, was a man with black hair and greenish-yellow eyes, then I have survived and I continue traveling, fighting, and preserving peace between packs and other threats, but if the person who gave you these journals is a man with golden hair and coal black eyes, then I have failed. I am dead. Most likely I have met my demise at the hands of someone I trusted, loved even. Love is weakness. To trust is to be vulnerable. By now I should’ve learned that, but I am not completely animal. I am human and I still think with my heart instead of my head, sometimes. Regardless, if I am flourishing and following in the steps of my father or buried under the soil, these journals have come to you for a reason. I recorded my history, our history, my re-birth and struggles in hopes that my message, my quest is not lost. We are not beasts to be punished or cursed. We are not beasts at all. We are beautiful and deserve love and life. If you are reading this as Morphic like me or a Hunter, my only hope is that you can see, you can learn that difference does not equate evil or justify killing. We are destined enemies, but we can love one another. We can come together and fight on the same side to conquer an even greater threat to us than each other. I am proof of that. My words, my story is proof of that.

It’s best to start at the beginning. Two years ago before I changed. When I was fifteen, and still an innocent, naïve, shallow teenager yet to experience anything worse than a bad hair day.

1

              The summer of my sophomore year of high school, I knew my boring, normal life was going to change for the better. I knew because I hit puberty and my boobs grew, finally. I grew my hair all summer, so it was now a long, auburn red. Mom told me I had auburn hair like my paternal grandmother, who I was also named for, but I didn’t have any pictures to prove it. I knew as much about my father’s family as I knew about him: nothing. 

              By August, my physical appearance improved greatly as I blossomed out of the gawky, awkward phase. My face, once adorned in red pimples, now cleared into a soft, porcelain glow; my legs grew longer and leaner; my  lips plumped naturally; my green eyes brightened; and Petoskey was a small enough town for everyone to notice. Suddenly, the popular girls were talking to me and calling me to hang out. My best friend Kristen and I were beside ourselves excited. Just the year before we were nobody’s and now everyone knew who we were. 

With my new found popularity I knew that I had a chance of making the dance team, despite not having any dance skills, but then Kristen told me to aim higher and try out for cheerleading. I was positive that there was no way I’d have a chance, but then I found out Max Fender thought I was cute.

              Max was a senior. He was also the cutest and most popular guy at Petoskey High School. He played hockey and everyone was certain that he was going to be offered a full ride to University of Michigan.

              Because he was an amazing hockey player, he was incredibly fit. He spent more time in the gym than studying. Rumor was he paid other kids to do his homework for him. What I remember most about him is how massive his arms were. He was bulky, and muscular, with sandy hair and mesmerizing blue violet eyes. The only part of him that wasn’t perfect was a chipped front tooth, but even that didn’t matter. He could still make a girl’s knees buckle with his crooked grin. 

              I had had a crush on Max for years. Only Kristen knew the extent of my crush. I had a locker next to him freshman year, but he made me so nervous that I turned into a bubbling mess around him, so I carried all my books in my tattered navy blue backpack, and sometimes to avoid him entirely, I used Kristen’s locker. If the most popular guy in school liked me, then that for sure guaranteed me a spot on the cheerleading team.

              When Sydney Chester told me at her sleep over on a Friday night while she French braided my red hair, that she heard from Dana Carter who had heard from Dayna Shepherd who found out from her boyfriend Tim Mason that Max said I was cute, I was both excited and terrified.

              Sydney stopped braiding my hair and grabbed my hunched shoulders when she noticed my reaction was stone silence. She leaned forward and whispered, “Why are you being so quiet! I just told you Max Fender like loooooooves you.”

              I sighed. My heart started beating faster and I looked up at Kristen who was looking at me nodding and smiling. The other girls looked at me too with fingers partially polished and hair braided and popcorn in big bowls in their laps; everyone was frozen waiting for my reaction. The truth was, and maybe only Kristen understood this though she seemed to be adjusting to popularity fine, that my physical appearance had changed for the popular life before my emotions had time to catch up and so deep down I was still that awkward nerd. All of this was a little overwhelming and at the moment I wanted to run from the house into the dark and all the way back home and away from everyone’s nauseating, enthusiastic stare.

              “Yay,” I said which caused everyone else to clap and say yay also, and the party resumed. I looked up at Sydney and asked, “What do I do?”

              “We have to get you guys alone, obviously,” Sydney said.

             
Alone?

              “Oh, oh, I know!” Kristen said, jumping up and down where she sat. “Her mom is gonna be gone next weekend.”

              Once again a silence settled over the room. Then one of the girls with blonde pigtails screamed, “Party at Mickey’s!”

              “Uhhh,” was all I managed to say in protest. Sydney started planning the party. I looked over at Kristen hoping that we could have one of our telepathic conversations so that she could calm me down since I started mentally panicking at not just the thought of being alone with Max, but also that I had somehow gotten myself into throwing a party at my house, but to my disappointment Kristen was fixated on Sydney who praised Kristen because it was her idea.

I listened quietly to Sydney plan the party, as my stomach twisted into tight knots, I concentrated on a faded stain on the beige carpet until the hair on the back of my neck rose. Someone was watching me; I was sure of it. I looked wildly around the room, but everyone was interrupting one another about the upcoming party at my house while ignoring me. My eyes finally rested on the open bay window at the front of the room. It was dark outside and Sydney’s house like mine was bordered by a stretch of woods, but I was instantly drawn to the window when I saw glowing yellow eyes near the trees at the edge of the driveway. As if I was hypnotized by the yellow orbs, I stood and walked to the window until my face nearly touched the cool glass. The window pane fogged up due to my breathing and obstructed my view of the outdoors.

“Uh you okay there, Mick?” Kristen asked from behind me.

I turned, slowly, away from the window. Everyone was staring at me.

“Yeah, I thought I saw something . . . a deer probably,” I said, turning back to the window as a shiver went down my spine. The mysterious yellow eyes had disappeared, but I remained for a few seconds staring into the woods after wiping the glass with the sleeve of my pajama shirt.

I didn’t want to freak the other girls out, but the eyes didn’t look like they belonged to a deer, or any animal for that matter, they looked human and they were focused on me.

              The next morning, instead of going home right away from Sydney’s sleep over, Kristen and I drove to the lake. The beach was mostly empty with seagulls skimming over the waves. It was a grey, chilly day. We walked along the cool sandy shore with our shoes in our hands and pant legs rolled up.

              Kristen smiled at me flashing a full mouth of braces. Her hair was still braided from last night. She linked her lanky arm through mine.

              “This is gonna be the best year of high school,” she said, looking into the water with a dreamy, vacant stare.

              “I don’t know about having a party at my house,” I confessed.

Sydney said we needed to get me alone with Max, but why alone? I had never said more than “Hi” to him and what if I was still an awkward mess in front him? I didn’t even know he had returned from Gulf Shores where he and his family vacationed. How was it possible he had seen me?

              “Why?” Kristen asked, pulling me to a stop.

              We stood barefoot in the cold water.  I looked into her pleading eyes. She loved popularity and it became clear to me in that moment she would use me as much as possible to remain popular, but she was also my best friend. I didn’t want to disappoint her even if her motives were questionable. I quickly thought of an explanation that she could accept easily without hurting her feelings. 

              “School’s about to start,” I said, and when I saw this had no effect on her, I tried again and added, “Not to mention my mom would kill me.”

              “Erin would not kill you,” Kristen said, laughing. “She’s like the most relaxed mom ever.”

              “And I’m babysitting my brothers,” I continued.

              “We’ll set them up in the attic with video games and junk food.”

              “Okay, what if I throw up when I see Max. I’m feeling sick just thinking about it,” I said, starting to cave.

              “You look gorgeous. If anything he should be the one afraid he’s gonna throw up,” Kristen said.

              I smiled. She always knew what to say to make me feel confident. I figured I could let her use me for popularity as long as it ended with me and Max Fender going to homecoming together in October and maybe he’d ask me to prom in the spring.

              The wind picked up and carried water in a chilly breeze which splashed us as we stood with the waves lapping at our shins and our bare feet sinking slightly in the wet sand. We screamed and chased one another in the shallow water.

              Kristen dropped me off at home later in the morning after we split a stack of granola pancakes at Casey and Ed’s Diner in town.  I waved to her as she pulled out of the gravel lane in her yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She responded with a farewell honk before disappearing behind a cluster of White Birch. 

              I walked inside my house and immediately felt that something was off. Making my way slowly down the dark hallway toward the kitchen, I called out in greeting, but the only response I received was silence. I knew my family was home; there were dirty breakfast dishes in the sink and the coffee pot was still on, blinking green. Where was everybody? Turning from the room, I headed back toward the front of the house thinking everyone might be upstairs watching TV.

              “Mom?” I called, but no answer.

              I stood at the base of the stairwell with my hand on the banister and looked up. The familiar sound of Mario Cart drifted from my brother’s bedroom at the top of the stairs.  Turning from the wide, wooden stairwell, I walked back through the dark living room and down another narrow hallway in the back of the house which led to Mom’s bedroom.

              The closer I approached Mom’s room the louder her voice grew. I paused outside the partially open door of the room. I could tell from her strained, husky tone that she was upset, but I didn’t know why and I was too concerned to wait and find out by eavesdropping.

              “Mom?” I asked, softly pushing open the door.

              Mom sat on the olive suede couch in-front of her unmade bed with her slender legs tucked underneath her and a crumpled tissue clutched between the fingers of her right hand while her left hand pressed the white portable phone to her ear. She stared, still as a marble statue, straight ahead at the abandoned house across the pond that was visible through the open French doors of her bedroom.

When I entered the room she looked at me with raised eyebrows and her lips formed an ‘O’ as her voice ceased mid-sentence. Then mentioning my name, to whomever she was talking to, she ended the call and tossed the phone behind her onto the bed.

              “I’m sick,” she said, blowing her nose into the Kleenex.

              This I found to be unbelievable as her face communicated something different. Her eyes were red and puffy and her nose was runny, but not because she was sick. She patted the green, lumpy cushion next to her, instructing me to sit.

              “How was the sleepover?” she asked.

              I groaned. “I think Max Fender likes me.”

              Her face lit up. She wiggled her eyebrows and said, “That’s exciting. He’s cute.”

              I leaned my head on the back of the couch. “Sydney and Kristen think we should all hang out as a group.”

              “You should have your friends over next weekend.”

              “Really?” I asked, wondering if Kristen had talked to her. “You won’t be here.”

              Mom stood and tightened the belt of her lavender robe. Under the robe, she wore thin summer cotton pajamas, and because it was Saturday, she would probably stay in them all day.

              “Okay, so the same rules apply. No drinking, no—“

              “Drugs, no sex, yeah I know,” I interrupted.