My Mother Runs With Wolves

Chapter 2

Brookfall is one of those sleepy little towns nestled in the foothills of some small California mountain range. Plenty of trees, creeks, and open spaces. Perfect if you're looking to get away from it all.

Or away from something specific.

"Maddie, are you going to unpack or keep staring out the window?"

I keep staring out the living room window. "Mom, why did we buy a farm? Are we farmers now?"

She chuckles. "It's not a farm, it's an orchard. A lot of them had to shut down due to the drought. This place was a bargain. You know what ten acres of our own land means?"

"Uh... lots and lots of weeds?"

A sweater hits the back of my head and I turn away from the window. My mom wears a look of pure joy on her face. "It means I can run free, anytime I want. I don't have to drive an hour just to find a spot. I won't have to worry about hunters or campers. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

I smile at her wistfully, wishing I could share her joy. "I'm happy for you, Mom."

"Sweetie, why do you look sad?"

"I'll be all right." I turn back to the window. Truth is, it doesn't matter where we move to. I'd probably feel the same.

"I know it isn't easy being the new kid," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "But you're smart and you're adaptable. You'll fit right in before you know it."

"I thought I was supposed to avoid people."

Her expression softens. "Sweetie, we never said that. You just have to be careful how much you reveal about yourself. We want you to have friends."

Keep to myself, but make friends. Got it. "Sure, Mom. Don't worry about me."

She squeezes my shoulder and plucks at my beanie. "Do you always have to wear this thing?"

I tug it back down. "I like it."

"It covers up your beautiful hair."

I pull a chestnut lock off my shoulder and examine it. "Like it matters if anyone notices."

"Maddie... you're antisocial by choice. You're as much a part of me as you are your father. I've seen you when you're friendly. You're quite pleasant to be around."

I roll my eyes at her.

"All right, all right. Sometimes I forget I have a moody teenager now. Go finish unpacking."

I glance around. "Dad's not unpacking. Where is he anyway?"

"Oh you know him. Scouting the perimeter. Doing Stalkerish things."

"Right. Of course." I turn back to the window. A breeze causes the tall grass to sway. "Mom..." What's it like to run like the wind on all fours? To be part of a pack? To be part of... something?

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Never mind." I pull myself away from the window and head back to my room.

My dad has loner tendencies. It's in his nature. And anyone who meets me today would tell you I do too. They would tell you I'm just like him.

Only I'm not. Not exactly.

My parents used tell me about how happy I was as a child, making friends everywhere I went. That I was just like my mother. I had her hair, her eyes. I wish I could tell you what happened. The older I got, the more conflicted I felt.

I yank a box open and begin throwing shoes into my closet. They make satisfying clunking noises as they hit the inside wall and thump to the floor.