Tale of the Werewolf Alpha and His Mate

Chapter Three: A Friend

BECCA

The next day, I wake up pretty early, around 6 a.m. I blink and stare at the ceiling for a while. The news of us moving to a new, unknown town sinks into my brain. I glance at Aria cozily tucked in. My mother’s sleeping too. In ten minutes, I freshen up and get ready in my full sleeves pearl pink jogger tracksuit with pockets. I shut the door and find myself on the porch.

Silence. Peace. Tranquility.

I take in the fresh air and stretch before my morning run.

Running is my therapy. It feels so great to sweat it all out. Not to think and hear about anything else except your thumping heart and your stomping.

I plug in some music and begin to jog. The area is quite vast and perfect for a nice long run. The newspaper guy rides past me.

I race for some more until I reach the edge of the forest. I slow down to catch my breath as I wipe off the sweat from my forehead and huff. On my break, I stretch and squat when something crunches loudly. I halt and turn around, only to freeze on my spot as my eyes widen at the sight of a big black wolf with glowing red eyes.

Shit!

I shuffle and stumble back when the wolf growls. His eyes mirror my confusion, fear, and surprise as my heart pounds.

Curiosity is a b***h. I take a step forward.

Like Hagrid advised Harry to respect the Hippogriff before gaining its trust, I stupidly bow to the snarling wolf and hold out a hand. I don’t think that would work, but I take small steps toward the wolf. I slowly and gently guide my hand on the soft black fur. I begin to pat as the wolf lets its guard down by wagging its tail, and its eyes lighten up. I warmly smile, caressing and patting the beast when my alarm goes off, only to ruin the moment.

I retract my hand and step away. “Oh, sorry, wolfy!” I guiltily smile and look into those glowing red eyes revealing a deep emotion – loneliness.

I cough up, “I have to go now.” With one last pat, I turn around and jog away from the wolf.

***

“Good morning, Becki.” Aria looks up at me as she stuffs a French toast in her mouth. She is wearing a shades of blue uniform with knee-length socks.

“Good morning, little angel!” I smile back.

Aria climbs down from her chair and runs toward me for a hug and a kiss. What can I say? My little sister loves displaying affection. I gently place my hand on her head. I tie her hair in two plaits before I proceed to wash up.

“Ready for your first day?” I ask.

The two of us take our seats and Aria nods. “Yes, I am.”

Dressed in a jogging jacket over my grey tank top and black leggings, I slip my feet into my Doc Martens and tightly tie my hair in a ponytail. It’s painful, but it’s okay.

We eat, talk, and watch Aria’s favorite cartoons on my laptop. I then drop Aria at Claire Ann Elementary School and drive to Wolfden High, where I pull over in a crammed parking lot.

My anxiety grows when I look at the students hanging out in groups. It’s nerve-wracking to be the new girl. My hands feel clammed up and my heart is pounding, yet I force myself to make my way to the entrance door.

I am a new girl and a new face for everyone here. What more could one expect? My mother decided to move across the country in the middle of the semester, after all.

I straighten up and walk inside. The linoleum floor shines under the tube lights hanging above my head. People turn their heads and see the newcomer, but most don’t care. I am thankful for that. I am not here to attract attention but only to graduate and stay off of anyone’s radar. The school signs indicating classrooms, labs, and washrooms are neatly marked, which makes it easier for me to find the primary office.

As I step into the office absent-mindedly, I collide with someone else.

My bag drops to the floor with a thud.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry!” a sickly-sweet voice reaches my ears. I look up and find a short, dark-skinned girl with curly hair and brown eyes apologetically looking at me. She picks my bag up and offers it to me as she beams heartily.

“Thanks….” I nod and then turn to the receptionist behind a mahogany desk. The middle-aged woman stares at me as she chews on a red licorice stick.

“What do you want?”

“Erm, hi! I am here to collect-” I reply, but the bored receptionist snaps. “Becca Simmons, eh?” And then gives me what I am here for, i.e., class schedule, student ID, a map, and whatnot.

Someone clears their throat. “So, you are new here, huh?”

“What?” I look to my side. Oh, the girl, she is still here. I simply pass her a nod.

Offering a hand, she beams, “Hi, I am Dakota.”

I nod and then thank the receptionist. I turn back and walk away in a hurry but Dakota seems to be following me, not taking a hint.

Minutes later, after I find my homeroom, a bald teacher with a slightly chubby physique calls me, “You must be Ms. Simmons, huh? I am your homeroom teacher and your AP History t—” I politely nod and pass him a slip before the teacher asks me to take my seat.

I open a book and a pen when I hear someone say, “Hey...”

I turn toward the voice. Oh, no.

“Oooo, we meet again.” Her voice is indeed sweet. I fake a grin as Dakota slides into the empty chair beside mine.

Not her, again. No offense. She’s friendly, but she’s too cheery.

I turn to her and fake a smile.

Dakota grins. “Not much of a talker, I see.”

Duh! What do you think? I shrug and scoff. And I don’t want enemies so soon.

Dakota startles me with sudden claps and scoffs, “Don’t worry.”

I hiss softly and narrow my eyes to look at her.

Dakota tilts her head and beams. “Now that you are my friend, I’ll make sure you become talkative, babe.” She winks. As the teacher continues with the class, I shake my head and focus on him rather than the annoyingly cheerful person beside me.