“One more drink. Come on, you’re eighteen!” Skye shouts, clearly more drunk than I am. She grins at me as I accept the small shot that can hardly be called a drink. I down it quickly, feeling the liquid burn my throat. It is my birthday, after all. Skye wanders off into the party, happy with herself that I’ve had a drink and I’m relaxing a little. I look around the woods, seeing the huge fire in the middle of the clearing, and my drunk classmates that surround it, dancing to the loud music. They clear as one guy I don’t know kisses some random girl, and everyone cheers. I watch as Skye talks to them all, and they laugh at whatever she says. I prefer to sit in the corner quietly, and I wish I could have brought my kindle with me, but Skye wouldn’t allow it. All she’s cared about since I got here, was where Colton was. He was right; I should have stayed at home, or went out with him or something. This isn’t what I would call fun, but I wanted to try what normal eighteen-year-olds are meant to be doing. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, seeing my foster mum’s name flashing on the screen. I stand up, pulling my red coat closer around myself as I walk away from the party, and answer the phone call.
“Harper, where are you?” she asks me straightaway in her annoyed tone. I’m honestly surprised she’s noticed I’m missing; she usually never does.
“I’m out with friends. It’s my birthday,” I say, not feeling the need to explain anything to her anymore. She made it clear last night when she told me she isn’t getting paid to have me anymore, she wants me out. I didn’t get presents when I woke up; instead, I got told to make plans to find somewhere else to live. I don’t know what I was expecting.
“You’re not with that older boy, Colton?” she asks in an accusing tone.
“Colton is the same age as me, I’ve told you this millions of times, but no, he isn’t here,” I mutter. I don’t know why, but she’s convinced Colton is older than me when he isn’t. It might have to do with how mature he is compared to most of the idiotic boys my age.
“I want you to come back home,” she says, her voice quiet and extremely unlike the usual way she shouts at me. I keep walking through the woods, as I think about what to say to her. Miss Linderale is the fourth foster parent I’ve had, and honestly, one of the nicer ones of the bunch. The rest are not worth thinking about.
“I don’t get you. Why do you want me home? What changed from this morning?”
“Nothing. I wish I could keep you living with me, but I can’t afford to, Harper. I thought you could come home and we could look at local places for you to move to,” she tells me, but I don’t believe her for a second. Miss Linderale has a large three-bedroom house, and her husband works a good job. They have expensive things all around the house, and she never goes anywhere in any clothes that aren’t designer. I know I should have applied to college, but I didn’t have enough money, or the grades, because of moving all the time. You don’t have time to study when you're packing your stuff, or hiding from the new weird foster parents the social workers have found.
“Colton said I could move in with him and his family,” I respond, disappointed, knowing some deep part of me just wants to be accepted by her.
“You cannot do that, Harper. You know how strange his family is. They never invite anyone over to their house,” she says.
“I’ve been over once, they aren’t that bad,” I tell her, only lying a little bit. They are weird and cold, but it's not like they actually said anything bad towards me.
“Harper, just come home so we can talk. I’m not a heartless woman. I want you somewhere safe, and with a planned future,” she tells me.
“Sure, I’ll come home soon,” I say, kicking a rock with my foot and watching it fall down a hill. I stop walking when I realise how far I’ve gone; so far that I can’t hear the party music anymore. I turn around in a circle, looking for the fire, and see it in the distance. I start walking back, as Miss Linderale goes on about being responsible, and that she’s going to wait up for me.
“Do you understand, Harper?” she finishes.
“Yes, I’ll see you in a bit,” I say, and end the call before she can lecture me anymore. A deep, long growl comes from behind me, and I turn, my eyes widening at the sight of a big black wolf crouched down, not far away from me. The wolf growls again and then turns, running into the forest.
“Wait!” I shout before I even think about what I just said, and the wolf stops, looking over its shoulder at me as I step forward. It can’t be a wolf; this is England, and we don’t have wolves here, so it must be someone’s pet. I don’t want to get too close, but I should take a photo to put on the town Facebook page, in case someone lost him. I take another step closer, pulling out my phone and keeping eye contact with the wolf. I quickly glance down to open my camera. The growling gets louder, and I look up just in time to see the wolf running for me. I drop my phone and turn around, running as fast I can towards the party.
I shouldn’t have done that. I can’t believe how stupid I just was.
I scream when teeth clamp down on my leg, biting, and I slam onto the ground, my chin smacking against the hard dirt. The wolf pulls on my leg, ripping my skin as I scream and try to kick him off. It doesn’t work, and everything is going blurry as pain racks through my leg. The ache consumes every thought as I reach down and try to push the wolf’s head away from my leg. All I can see is the blood on my hands and all over its face, mixing with its black fur and white sharp teeth. It’s going to kill me.
“Help!” I shout, my words quieter than I want them to be. Nothing makes sense as the wolf shakes my leg and pain causes the words to choke in my mouth. As everything starts to go black and the forest disappears, I see a grey wolf running towards me through the trees.
Its terrifying growl is the last thing I hear.