Chapter 13
Callie
I’ve somehow managed to survive this crazy week, but only just. Finding out I’m a witch and an heiress with supernatural friends, at least one sporting an eight pack and wings, seems to be my quota. It’s the end of the day Friday, and I’m a mandatory pep rally away from freedom.
Each grade is sitting in their own section of the auditorium, and the cheerleaders are trying to get us excited by having us compete on who can cheer the loudest. Both Connor and I wince when they get to the sophomores. They’re really hyped for the varsity away game.
I’m sandwiched between Connor and Donovan, who sport about as much school spirit as I do. At least I clap. Mostly, we’re watching the spectacle in front of us that is Nolan trapped between two aggressively amorous girls. The pretty brunette on the right is leaning in close, her breasts pressed against his arm, while the equally attractive redhead on the left is flipping her hair and has a hand crawling up his leg. They keep trading between giggling and stroking Nolan to glaring at each other. Any minute now, I swear they’re going to start tugging on his arms like two toddlers fighting over a beloved teddy bear.
Nolan’s being his charming self, trying to pacify them, but I can see the strain in his shoulders and the unyielding, rigidness of his posture.
I tug on the leather sleeve of Donovan’s jacket until he leans down. I gesture towards Nolan, then murmur, “Shouldn’t we do something?”
He sighs, his breath warm against my skin. “Like what? Want me to scare them off?”
I don’t like the idea of him physically intimidating them, even if these girls don’t understand the meaning of personal space. I shake my head, and he sits back up. Biting my lip, I pull the sleeves of my new Princess Leia sweater over my hands, struggling to figure out a different way to help. Somehow, I doubt simply telling them to knock it off will do much. Would Nolan even appreciate me meddling like that? He’s clearly unhappy, but for whatever reason, his Casanova rep seems more important than his personal comfort.
Connor looks at Nolan, then at me, clearly hearing what I asked even over the loud cheering in the auditorium. Super wolf hearing at work. He taps me on the shoulder and motions for me to stand up. I have no idea where he’s going with this, but apparently, Donovan does, nodding his head when he trades looks with Connor.
They shift to make more room between them, crowding and slightly terrifying the people sitting next to them. Connor tugs me so I’m turned sideways and leaning into him, my hands braced on his broad shoulders while he holds me at the waist to keep me from toppling over. Donovan gets Nolan’s attention and motions to the now Nolan sized space between them.
Uh, they better not be planning on putting me between the rabid girls. I like my hair and eyes right where they are.
Relief floods Nolan’s face as he climbs from the girls’ grasps. At first, there’s matching pouting faces when he settles shoulder to shoulder between Connor and Donovan, but they’re quickly replaced with scathing glares when Nolan pulls me onto his lap. Ah, it all makes sense now.
I lean back into Nolan, the scent of cracked pepper and engine grease teasing my nose, and grumble, “I should just get ‘human shield’ tattooed on my forehead.”
Nolan wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder. “That’s not necessary,” he quips. “A stenciled shirt should be more than enough.”
I groan and roll my eyes. It took one week. One week of poking, hugging, petting, and overall friendly invasion of my personal space to get me to the point where sitting on Nolan’s lap, or being tugged every which way by Connor, doesn’t bother me. Trying to initiate these kind of interactions still feels awkward, and this level of comfort is limited to only the guys and my aunt, but hey, it’s progress.
Slanting towards Connor, I mumble, “If I end up missing, check the trunks of those girls’ cars first.”
He smirks and pats me on the head, which I translate as he’d make sure to sniff me out if I disappeared on them.
“Don’t worry,” Nolan teases, giving me a squeezing hug. “We made sure to chip you while you were asleep. Can’t have my human shield nabbed while we’re not looking.”
“Hilarious,” I drawl and attempt to elbow him. Doesn’t quite have the same umph with his arms around me. Sitting up, I peer around and notice I can’t find Kaleb or Felix. “Where’s Casper? And how did Kaleb get out of this?”
Donovan snorts. “He didn’t. Kaleb is captain of the varsity football team and will be out soon. Has to do a dumbass speech and everything, and he hates public speaking.”
“Felix is hanging out with him because it’s less crowded,” Nolan adds in my ear, brushing my hair to the side.
“Poor Kaleb,” I lament. “Is he bad at it?”
Donovan cuts me a look, one heavy black brow raised high. “Kaleb? Bad at something? No, he’s fine at public speaking. He just hates it, because he doesn’t like to be the center of attention.”
“He hates being the center of attention,” I echo slowly, “and he thought captain of the football team was a good idea?”
Donovan shakes his head, leans forward on his knees, and looks at me. “Kaleb didn’t volunteer. They made him team captain, because he’s the only one who has two brain cells to rub together.”
“Actually,” Nolan chuckles, “the coach offered him captain as incentive to join the team, which is priceless, since he didn’t want to play football and definitely didn’t want the added responsibility of captain.”
“At the risk of stating the obvious,” I hazard, “why is he playing football then?”
“Because the genius doesn’t know how to tell people to fuck off,” Donovan sighs, flicking his hair out of his eyes. “He’s too nice for his own damn good. The coach also went after Connor and me, but do you see us down there? No, because we don’t let a middle aged dude desperate for dumb high school trophies pressure us to do something we don’t want to do. I’ve got bigger shit to worry about than giving or receiving concussions just to get a rubber ball to the other side of a field.”
“Damn, Donovan. Tell me how you really feel,” I joke, warmed by his protectiveness of Kaleb in his own grumpy way.
He scowls out at the crowd. “It pisses me off that he’s a doormat, because he’s too scared to be anything but ‘Perfect Kaleb’. You know, he’s captain of the damn varsity baseball team too? Didn’t want to do that either, but come spring semester, he’ll be out there carrying the team and trying to get those morons to at least get near hitting or catching the damn ball.”
I want to support my friend, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make it through one of his games next semester. Just the idea of baseball bats has me shivering.
“Cold?” Nolan asks, rubbing my arms before pulling me further into him.
I give a noncommittal shrug, and Connor grabs his hooded jacket from between his feet and throws it over my lap. I offer a small smile in return. Guilt is starting to eat at me that I haven’t told them more about myself, but how do I tell them I’ve known for years I was different, because my father abused me to such extremes, I sometimes begged for death that never came.
I’m not cold, but I pull up and snuggle into Connor’s jacket anyway, breathing in the crisp, clean smell that clings to the fabric and try to absorb the comfort of my friends surrounding me.
Finally, the cheering dies down and the football coach makes his way to the podium in the middle of the gym. He’s the aforementioned middle aged man, with a protruding gut and dressed in a full obnoxiously red tracksuit. There’s a fever in his eyes as he assures the crowd that we’re going to crush the Westmerrow Bulldogs, our rival team. Connor and I wince again as the whole gym erupts in cheers.
When the crowd dies down, the coach announces, “As the great Tom Landry said, ‘Leadership is a matter of having people look at you and gain confidence,’ and our team captain has that and more. Let’s hear it for the man who’s going to lead the Wolves to glory, Kaleb Ward!”
I cheer because it’s Kaleb, but can’t help sending a wide eyed look at Connor and mouth “Wolves?”
Unsurprisingly, he shrugs in return.
Everyone screams and chants Kaleb’s name as he walks to the podium. His smile is in place, but there’s a hardness to his eyes that’s off, and he rolls his shoulders like his shirt is too tight. He’s wearing a bright red jersey with a giant, white 42 on the front, above it and to the right is a large C-- a jersey he was lacking when I saw him earlier today. He nods and waves at the crowd, waiting for them to settle down enough so he can speak.
“Thank you, everyone,” he begins, his deep voice reverberating through the gym. Both of his hands grip tight to the sides of the podium. “It’s the comradery and unwavering support of each other that makes this school something I’m proud to represent out on the field.” No one else seems to notice, but there’s an edge to the way he says ‘support’, like it’s less truth and more a reminder. “We may be a small school, but our numbers only mean we’re a tighter community. We are a school that lifts each other up…,” he pauses, taking in the crowd, then shouts, “and that’s what will take down the Bulldogs! Our team doesn’t end with the guys on the field. It includes all of you!”
The crowd roars, clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and chanting “Wolves! Wolves! Wolves!”
“Bullshit,” Donovan grunts, leaning back and crossing his arms. “The only reason anyone gives a damn is because, thanks to Kaleb, they’re actually winning now.”
I get the feeling Kaleb was talking about more than football. My suspicions seem to gain traction, because while Kaleb introduces the rest of the team, I notice there are people pointing at me and whispering--- not that the whispering is all that new.
Connor stiffens, a low growl rumbling in his chest, and starts sending out a glare so cold, I’m surprised there aren’t blocks of ice where students used to be. That seems to be all that’s needed for Nolan and Donovan to go on full alert.
Whereas Connor is ice, Donovan is all fire, snarling, “What the fuck are you looking at?” to anyone he catches even glancing in our direction. He seems to grow in size, squaring his massive shoulders and puffing out his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking against the strain of the bulging muscles underneath.
Nolan sits up tall, pulling me even tighter to his chest. I glance over my shoulder and see his face has gone to stone. Stone that promises lots of pain. Oh boy.
“Uh, guys,” I murmur, but before I can try to calm them down, Felix pops up in front of me then promptly falls through the bleachers.
“Damn it!” Felix shouts from down below with a fury that sounds foreign in his warm timbre.
The seriousness of the situation is only amplified when Felix makes his way out from under the bleachers and starts purposely climbing towards us, walking through anyone in his way-- people jumping and shivering in his wake. His features are twisted into a scowl that looks wrong on his normally happy face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when he reaches us, my heart thundering with real worry and not giving a crap if people see me talking to thin air.
“That bitch!” he hisses, his teeth clenched and his hands curled into fists. “She…she…”
Connor grips his knees and is now actively searching the crowd, looking for the bitch, which I can only assume is Gina.
“Spit it out,” Donovan growls. “The fuck did she do?”
“The bitch started a rumor that Callie… is suicidal and threatens to kill herself if you guys try to leave her.” Felix is shaking he’s so mad. “That Callie is taking advantage of your grief over my death.”
I know I should probably be at least a little upset, if only because of how this has hurt my friends, but the idea of me trying to commit suicide now-- like it’s possible with my super healing-- is so ludicrous that I bust up laughing.
“Me?” I wheeze. “Try to kill myself? Why didn’t she tell everyone I’m really an alien in a skin suit? It’s just as likely.”
My, admittedly, inappropriate response has baffled the guys out of their rage. Now they just look very concerned.
“Pretty girl,” Felix murmurs cautiously, like I’m a wild animal he doesn’t want to spook, “it’s good to know you’re committed to living, but uh, you okay? Of all the reactions I expected, hysterical laughter was definitely not one of them.”
“You’re not losing it on us, love?” Nolan questions gently, petting my hair in long soothing strokes.
Unfortunately, asking whether I’m losing my mind after the week I’ve had only makes me laugh harder. Poor Donovan and Connor look so lost and confused that I surprisingly want to explain, but I can’t. Not the place or time, so instead, I keep laughing at the ironic rumor of a girl that can’t die threatening to kill herself. Now people are looking and pointing at me for completely different reasons.
Finally, I choke out, “I promise to explain later. It’s uh, a lot, but I can assure you, I won’t be dying anytime soon.”
“That’s… good,” Donovan drawls with a dubious narrowing of his vibrant blue-green eyes.
I try to wave off their concern. “Look, it’s a dumb rumor that we know isn’t true. Getting mad is what Gina wants, so let’s not give it to her.”
They look unconvinced, but at least they’re no longer promising murder to all that dare to repeat Gina’s stupid ploy to get back at me. Seriously, she’s going to have to try a whole lot harder to get to me.
Fortunately, the stupidity seems to be localized to those close enough to see and potentially know me. Most of the auditorium is still cheering and stomping for the varsity football team. Once everyone is out, there are more speeches, encouraging students to go out to Westmerrow to support the team, and the cheerleaders do some complicated routine. I’m surprised Gina and her posse aren’t cheerleaders. It seems like a missed opportunity for a mean girl stereotype.
Considering how long it took to introduce the team, they’re out for only a brief amount of time before they’re jogging back to the locker room to a screaming fanfare.
“That’s my cue. Have fun clawing your way through the masses,” Felix mocks, waving farewell and popping back to Kaleb, clearly tired of standing in people. I, however, enjoyed watching the two handsy girls squirming and shivering, not understanding why they were suddenly cold.
∞∞∞
It takes forever to file out of the gym, made more challenging with Connor, Donovan and Nolan making a confining, triangle shield around me. I literally can’t see where I’m going around the giants, and I have to rely on Nolan’s hands on my shoulders to steer me. Still on high alert, I see.
Finally, we slog through the crowd and turn towards the lockers only to have Felix pop up in front of us again.
“Skip Casper, I’m going to start calling you Nightcrawler soon,” I gasp, stumbling in my tracks so I don’t walk through him. “All you’re missing are the puffs of smoke.”
“Heh, funny,” Felix replies, before rubbing at his neck, scrunching up his face, and stammering, “Uh, guys. You need to get to the parking lot ASAP. I think… I think Kaleb is in a fight with one of the other football players.”
“Kaleb? Our Kaleb?” Donovan clarifies, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one side. “Is he talking the guy to death?”
Felix shakes his head slowly, a mixture of shock and concern washing over his elfin features. “No, he lost it on this guy and has him pinned against the dude’s car. You need to hurry before someone from administration catches them.”
“No fucking way,” Donovan grins and is out like a shot, dodging and weaving through people, surprisingly agile for being so huge.
I try to wave the other boys off with promises that I’ll catch up, but instead, Connor hands his backpack and jacket to Nolan then kneels down and commands me, “Climb up.”
I want to protest, but Kaleb is in trouble. Taking a fortifying breath, I scrounge up some courage and wrap my arms around Connor’s neck. He catches me under my knees, making me grateful I wore jeans today, and secures me to his very muscular back. I flatten against him, his blue flannel soft against my skin, and tighten my grip as he rises, trying not to choke him and keep myself from falling backwards at the same time. Crap, he’s tall!
Connor leads the way with his very scary face on, ensuring students leap out of the way, while Nolan keeps pace behind, one hand braced on my lower back under my backpack. Felix is gone, I’m assuming back to Kaleb or possibly Donovan.
With Connor’s purposeful gait and long strides, we make it to the parking lot in record time--- for me anyway. The sun is out, and with the heat radiating from Connor’s body, I barely feel the cut of the cold air. He pauses long enough to scan the area, finds Felix waving his arms to get our attention, and jogs over, moving like he doesn’t have over a hundred pounds hanging off his back.
“I better not hear you say it again. Do you understand me?” Kaleb threatens, pulling a boy who is also dressed in a red jersey far enough away so he can slam him back into the side of a white jeep, pinning him against it. Kaleb has a forearm pressed against the back of the boy’s neck and one of the boy’s arms twisted behind his back. “And you shut down anyone else you hear spreading it around.”
“Too nice, huh?” I mutter under my breath, then request Connor to put me down.
Sliding down his back, I falter somewhat when I hit the ground, but Nolan stabilizes me before I can trip over my own feet. Connor shifts so he’s half blocking me and folds his arms, scary face still in place, and Donovan is standing to the side, massive and intimidating, showing his support for Kaleb. Felix is chewing on his lip and fidgeting, clearly at a loss on what he’s supposed to do. I share his indecision. Do I try to stop this? What has this boy done that could enrage someone as gentle as Kaleb? I’m grateful that we’re obscured enough that no one else has noticed what’s going on.
The boy with Marks written across the back of his jersey along with the number 33, is equal in size to Kaleb, but is in no way a match for his supernatural strength. “Damn, Ward,” he groans, face smashed against the glass. “I didn’t know she was like your girl. I just thought…”
“Shut up, caput stercoris,” Kaleb spits, his jaw clenched and chest heaving.
Donovan snorts and rolls his eyes. A barely there, “Seriously?” slips through his lips.
Kaleb continues, either not hearing or ignoring Donovan, and lifts Marks’ arm higher up his back causing him to cry out. “I don’t care what you thought. You don’t say disgusting things like that about anyone, period. Now get the hell out of my face.” Kaleb shoves him one more time before releasing him.
Marks cuts Kaleb a cautious look, like he’s never seen him before, and rubs at his shoulder. However, before he can get too far, Donovan blocks his path and gives him a hard punch to the gut, dropping the guy like a stone. I flinch at the sound of the meaty thump.
Donovan squats down as the boy tries to crawl up on all fours and gasps for air. “And while you’re being a good boy,” he growls, the gravel in his voice making his tone all the more menacing, “you make sure to spread around that anyone that fucks with Callie, fucks with us, and it won’t be as pleasant a conversation as this one.” He grabs Marks by the hair, tugging hard until their eyes meet. “And if one word of Kaleb’s involvement here today makes it to the wrong ears, you’ll be kissing more than a football season goodbye.”
Kaleb looks around, only now seeming to realize his friends are here with him. He meets my gaze, and a look of surprise and deep sadness takes over his face. With a tone of defeat I don’t quite understand, he turns his head toward Marks and demands, “Apologize to Callie.”
The boy struggling on the asphalt glances up just long enough to choke out, “Sorry,” before going back to trying to breathe normally again.
This show of aggression should frighten me, but it doesn’t. Despite our brief history, I know these guys, and they’re far from inherently violent, especially Kaleb. Mostly, I feel annoyed that Gina’s stunt has hurt my friends and concern for Kaleb. It’s obvious that what he’s done bothers him greatly.
Donovan stands back up, brushing his hands together even though there’s nothing on them, and walks over to Kaleb.
Throwing an arm around his shoulders, he encourages, “Let’s get out of here. You’ve got a game to catch.” He grins and leads the way towards the boys’ cars. “Unless you want to continue this new streak of a backbone and tell the coach where he can shove his football.”
Kaleb stops and releases a weary sigh, scrubbing at his face and shrugging off Donovan’s arm.
“What I did isn’t something to be proud of,” he reasons darkly, then turns to look at me, shame weighing heavily in his normally tender brown eyes. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
My chest aches for how disappointed in himself he sounds. I reach for one of his hands, making sure not to hesitate, and hold it between mine. His skin is warm, and there are calluses lining his palm.
The boys kindly continue onward a few paces to give us a semblance of privacy.
Returning Kaleb’s gaze with one of equal measures concern and understanding, I ask softly, “Was this about the rumors?”
“Among other things,” he confesses, his thumb tracing along the backs of my fingers.
A gust of wind teases strands of my hair into my eyes. With his free hand, he carefully tucks the renegade tresses behind my ears, and my heart feels full under his gentle touch.
“I’m not suicidal,” I assure him, lightly squeezing his hand. “I appreciate you defending me, and I can’t say I wouldn’t be upset if awful rumors were spread about you guys. But they’re stupid lies thought up by a selfish, pathetic girl, and the opinion of anyone dumb enough to listen to Gina’s bullshit means less than nothing to me. As far as I’m concerned, they all can take a long walk over a short cliff.”
“Nice one,” Nolan cheers, proving just how artificial our privacy really is.
I flash Kaleb a look of shared exasperation before rolling my eyes. He chuckles, more a breathy release than any real sound, and offers me a subtle pull of his lips. It’s smile-esque, so I’ll take it.
“So, you’re captain of the football team,” I tease, tugging on his arm to encourage him to start walking again.
Now that I’m holding his hand, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Should I let go? Keep holding on? This is why I don’t initiate contact! I settle for somewhere in between, and only hold on with one hand, but I still feel awkward.
A sheepish expression steals across his features, already knowing where I’m going with this. “Yeah.”
“That’s funny, because you see,” I continue with lofty sarcasm, “I sat next to you all through Psychology and all through lunch, and I seem to have missed this bright red jersey advertising that fact--- might be because you weren’t wearing it.”
“Somebody’s in trouble,” Felix sings, and the rest of the guys laugh.
“He’s not in trouble,” I counter, but flash Kaleb a mock you’re a little in trouble face. “I’m simply curious about why you didn’t tell me.” Then I stage whisper, “It’s because the uniforms are so ugly, isn’t it. You’re ashamed to be impersonating a giant tomato.”
“No, no,” Nolan interjects with a sly smirk, “he’s thinking of how many accidents he’ll cause when people mistake him for an enormous stop sign.”
“That’s not it,” Felix chimes in with a cheeky grin. “The jersey is red and white. Clearly, he’s just ashamed to be casual cosplaying Toad from Mario Brothers, football fan edition. It’s okay, Kaleb. Let your inner geek out.”
I squint in mock heavy thought. “No, Toad is more white and red, than red and white. The home game jerseys would work better for that. This jersey is more a cosplay of a power up mushroom.”
Kaleb groans and shakes his head, but any lingering shame or sadness is gone, and he’s back to his calm but slightly exasperated self.
“Anyway,” I say, bumping my shoulder into Kaleb’s arm, “you have a game tonight that apparently is a big deal, if our screaming classmates are any indication.”
He shrugs. “Westmerrow was the team we beat for the championship last year. First time they’ve lost in something like ten years.”
“Ah, so they’ll be out for revenge. Seems pretty important to me,” I postulate, tapping my lips with one finger. “Sounds like we should all go.”
“What?” he exclaims. “No, you don’t have to do that. It’s…”
“Nope,” I interrupt with a slice of my hand. “We’re going to your big game, and we’ll shout embarrassing cheers of support. If only we had time to make obnoxious posters or buy a set of pom-poms and a megaphone. Next time, I guess,” I lament, my voice filled with mock disappointment. “Oh, think we can get front row seats so we can badger the coach?”
“If he doesn’t want us…” Donovan tries, his expression full of please don’t make me.
“It’s an important game, and as Kaleb’s friends, we’re going-- if only to suffer right along with him,” I assert, partly banking these trips to counter all the ones I’ll definitely miss come spring. “Besides, I’ve never been to a football game before.”
Donovan sighs, knowing he’s beat. “Fine, but I demand food first. I’m not suffering the crappy snack shack with stupid prices for what amounts to cheese on chips. That’s not nachos!”
“I’ll do you guys one better,” I croon, my new fancy credit card tucked safely into my wallet. “Dinner is on me.”