Furry Humans
4.

❝Throw me to the wolves and I’ll return leading the pack.❞

Early morning wind spiraled the surrounding air, causing the leaves in the trees to sway and brush against each other, creating a rustling noise. The temperature continued to drop from the incoming winter that rushed towards us at blinding speed, Colorado received the same temperatures but this was to a different degree; luckily Mom bought winter clothes when she heard of the move, knowing before I had known, my old ones forgotten at the old house.

The morning light brightened the area, giving it a bluish glow that drenched the objects making up the outside of the school, the area favored a winter wonderland that you would see in movies, minus the snow. I stood outside the outer exterior of the car, leaned up against the door, my arms crossed as I gaze up at the tall building that will soon become my new school.

The school had three entrances, stone columns holding up another set of columns, the reason for the building’s tall structures, its red bricks structuring the rest of the school; windows stacked upon each other among the wall. On top of the school’s entrance, white letters presented words that read;

CRYSTALHIGH

Home To The Wolves

“Oooh my goodness, this is so beautiful,” Mom exclaimed as she exited the car.

I scoff, taking a glance her way before shaking my head. “School isn’t supposed to be beautiful, Mom, it’s a hell hole and always will be.” I rebuked, the sound of the passenger door closing.

She crosses over the short distance between us, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to her side. “Awh, honey, school can’t be that bad.”

Giving her a look, the action only causes her to laugh. My eyes reach heavenward as I return my attention back to the building, irritation swimming through my veins. It was clear that I didn’t want to be here but that didn’t stop them from bringing me either way, eager for me to start school.

I couldn’t even get a day to adjust to the move, all the information brought down on me not even less than forty-eight hours ago.

Scanning the open windows, the rooms seeming to be occupied with heads popping up every-so-often, on the second level my eyes suddenly collide with brown that belonged to a boy that looked from down from the window of the classroom.

It was hard to make out his features from the distance but his eyes stood out the most, almost glowing as they stared back into mine, holding me captive, despite the brown color they glowed almost hazel from the shift in the clouds that brought rays from the sun to slant against his face. Electricity zipped down the length of my spine that caused me to shiver, goosebumps rising to attention on my arms under my coat; the frigid atmosphere not being the only reason for it.

The connection was broken when the sound of keys jiggling rings through the air, bringing me back to look over at Dad as he comes to stand beside us, papers in his hands.

“Ready?”

I nod once and Mom squeezes my shoulder, pulling me forward as we walk in sync, up the stairs. My eyes linger on the spot the boy sat to replace his figure gone. Shaking my head, I let it go, not sure if I would see him again, the imprint of his eyes burning in my mind. Once we make it to the doors, Dad holds it open for us to walk inside, passing under his arm, a blast of cool air hits us in the face almost instantly.

“Isn’t it cold enough outside? Jesus.” I comment, shivering and rubbing at my arms.

The halls were empty, considering we arrived a couple of days after they started classes. There was nothing but a hand full of students that lingered in the halls, their gazes soon falling upon my form when the doors behind us shut with a loud thud. Ignoring their curious looks, I turn my attention around the interior of the school, the walls reaching high and curving into a point, lockers lining up and down the length.

My focus is dragged to a sign that registered directions to certain places with arrows beside the titles, pointing in said directions. ′Office′ read in bold letters, pointed in the path ahead of us.

“Dad the office is straight ahead.”

He peered down at me, “How do you know?”

“There’s a sign above that says so,” I reply, nodding up to the said sign.

“Oh.”

“You must be Abigail Simpson?”

A lady with bright blonde curls pulled into a tight neat bun and forest-like green eyes, greeted me as we walked over the threshold of the door, the wooded furniture presenting the smell of a forest; the dark colors contrasting with her tan skin. The lady’s smile was wide and vibrant, under a small buttoned nose, that revealed all of her pearly whites, the way she looked at me unblinking, staring deeply unnerved me.

“Uh, yeah,” I smile awkwardly, shooting a quick glance at Mom, “that’s me. . .”

Her smile grew, if possible, her eyes brightened with it. The way her eyes regarded me with curiosity, the tilt of her head didn’t go unnoticed, her gazes skirt up and down my frame briefly before she turns her to Dad, holding her hand out.

“My name is Vivian, nice to meet you, Mr. Simpson.”

He straightens his back, hardening his features as he thins his lips, shaking her hand, his own engulfing hers. “Likewise,” he says gruffly.

The lady makes an indistinct movement of her head, tilting her slightly as her nostrils flare. . .sniffing? she then turned her eyes and attention from Dad to my Mom with a gleeful expression on her face. “Congratulations on your pregnancy!”

My pulse quickens and I couldn’t help but step closer towards mom, who smiled back at the lady, unfazed.

“How did you know I was pregnant?” she asks, quirking her brow.

’That’s what I want to know.′

Vivian simply laughed, “You’re practically glowing! Most women who are expecting usually are, I took a lucky guess,” she states, without missing a beat.

Mom opens her mouth as if taking what she said into consideration before smiling at her once more, her cheeks flushing at the thought of her glowing. Dad nodded his head laughing a bit, a sudden tension behind him that didn’t go unnoticed. I narrowed my eyes at them both and the lady.

′Doesn’t explain why she sniffed. . .′

“Shall I get started on the paperwork?” she inquires while holding an arm out in the direction of another room.

“Yes, please.” Mom replied, walking over to the room with Dad in tow.

“Dylan, would you please interact with Abigail for a bit while I get her schedule ready?”

I turn around, finally noticing a boy, his presence unknown until she pointed it out. He lifts his head up from a book, his place within a chair beside the entrance to the office. He smiles at Vivian, nodding his head before his sights glide over toward me, widening a fraction as he did.

“Sure,” he replied calmly, still holding my gaze.

She nods her head once, moving into the room my parents already transitioned into. The door shuts, leaving me with the thought that I’m alone with a total stranger --- someone I didn’t need and didn’t know how to talk to. The silence between us stretches as he adverts his gaze and closes the book he held with a sigh, leaning forward to gently set it down on the coffee table before him.

He stands to his full height, towering inches above me despite the distance. I access him up and down, his orange tresses falling over his forehead in waves, standing out against the brown jacket that rests upon his shoulders, his frame was smaller than most boys I have encountered.

Dark brows creased over the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, twinkling in the office’s light that shone overhead, long lashes brushing the definition of his cheekbone, freckles littering the surface of his face. He looks down at me from the top of a slender-wide nose, those eyes bringing forth the forgotten memory of the wolf I’ve spotted on our way into town. My head begins to throb.

“Abigail, correct?” he speaks, voice airy as he takes a step forward to stand a few feet away, closer than before.

Blinking away the haze that has fallen over my vision, my thoughts returning to me, “Yes, that’s my name,” I clear my throat, shifting my weight to the heels of my feet, fumbling to place my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “And you’re. . .”

“My name is Dylan Goldberg,” he responds, reaching his hand out for me to shake, “I apologize for the late introduction.”

I hesitate to return it, still trying to figure out his character. Flicking my gaze to his hand then back to his face, the depths of his eyes holding a distinct field of curiosity, other than that, I didn’t sense anything hostile. Slowly, I remove one of my hands from my back pocket and place my own into his, his rough and wide fingers closing around my; palms touching as I look him dead in the eyes.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

A sudden twinkle lit up in his eyes, momentarily catching me off guard for a second, something flashing before it disappeared. My attention is brought to his lips, a wide smile spreading them open, revealing the two rows of teeth, his canines standing out the most.

“Nice to meet you, too, Abigail.”

I nodded, pulling away and creating a little bit of space between us, I tuck away a strand of hair behind my ear; moving my gaze about the room to keep from awkwardly staring at him. This goes on for a few moments when the sound of shuffling is heard.

Shifting my gaze, Dylan crosses the room to stand near the reception desk, his focus on the owl of candy that resides inside a bowl near the computer. “So, I’m guessing you’re new around here?”

I nod, now looking at a bowl of candy, my mouth beginning to salivate for the taste of something sweet.

“What makes you say that?” I say, distracted.

“Considering the fact that you’re joining the school after we’ve come back from summer break. Our town is pretty small, unheard of, and miles away from a normal city for anyone new to be moving into,” he explains, looking at me from under his lashes.

I roll my eyes, the information well known to me already. “Well, surprise, my family and I are the first.”

He chuckles, leaning his weight against the desk, digging through the candy before pulling out a starburst, unraveling it between his fingers. “How are you adjusting?”

I shrug, moving to the chair he sat at, not directly sitting in it but turning my attention to the paintings on the wall. “It’s actually really cold here,” I admit, “I come from Colorado where it has its cold days but, my goodness. Honestly, I didn’t want to come here but that’ll make me sound like a whining brat,” I shrug once again, finishing off my rant.

Looking over my shoulder, I replace him already looking at me, his mouth working the sweet treat in his mouth, those eyes burning through mine as if searching for a passageway to my every thought and motive. It unnerved me, further, the way his nostrils flared as if inhaling. I let it pass, moving my body around to face him completely.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him.

“I’m a student assistant, I help Ms. Vivan with paperwork or run errands for her within the school.”

Before I could respond, a sudden bringgg! echoed throughout the room and from the hall, the sound causing me to jump, and at that exact moment, my parents filed out from the room at the end of the wall with a still, smiling Vivian.

“You’re all set! And just in time for the second hour of classes,” she pushes a paper to my chest and pushes me towards the door.

“Uh, w-wait --- Mom!”

“We’ll see you after school, sweetie! Have a good first day of High School.”

And the door was slammed in my face. Silent laughter was heard from behind me, I slowly turn around to see Dylan, also being shoved out, laughing at me.

“Shut up.”