Raised by Wolves

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

THE CHIEF brINGS us another visitor in the afternoon, as if we wanted one. She’s older than the chief but younger than the doctor, with bright-pink lipstick that clashes with her bright-red hair. She smells like fake flowers. It’s better than the doc’s chemical stink, but barely.

The chief tells us that her name is Ms. Pettibon. She’s from some county social services organization. He brings out his set of keys and picks through the ring to find the right one.

This is our chance. We can escape. With an almost invisible nod of my head, I signal to Holo: When the chief opens the door, run.

The chief can’t seem to decide which key he needs. Meanwhile Holo’s gone into a half crouch, ready to spring. I’ve got a big fake innocent grin on my face, but every muscle is tensed. Once that door swings open, I’ll be gone so fast that cop’ll see nothing but a Kai-shaped blur.

He’s finally sticking the right key into the lock when a low rumble comes out of Holo’s throat. The woman puts a hand on the chief’s arm and says, “Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll feel safer on this side of the bars.”

Shit . I glare at Holo. “Couldn’t keep your hostility to yourself?” I mutter.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t like how she smells.”

I get it. Wolves don’t keep their feelings secret, either. As far as I know, humans are the only animals that try to.

The chief drags a folding chair over for Ms. Pettibon. She pulls out a clipboard and some kind of official-looking form, and then she asks us for our names.

I’m still pissed about losing our escape chance, so I cross my arms over my chest and keep my mouth shut. Pettibon and I play a staring game for a while. When she gives up and looks down, I decide to talk. Like a wolf, I’ve proven my dominance.

“Kai and Holo,” I say.

“Last name?”

I shake my head. No such thing.

“And your address?” she asks.

“We live at 1101 Two Rocks Past a Stream,” I say. “The Woods, Idaho.”

Holo starts snickering. Ms. Pettibon knows it’s a bullshit answer, so she grits her teeth and writes Unknown on the line.

She wouldn’t last ten minutes where we come from. I look at her soft hands and her painted nails and try to imagine her gutting a fish. It’s impossible. I can’t see her grabbing that cold messy slime at the base of the head and yanking on it. Can’t see her cutting out the liver and the swim bladder with a knife. She’d starve to death before she’d mess up her manicure. This makes me laugh.

“What’s amusing you, Kai?” the woman asks.

Instead of answering, I start to whistle. I can do it way better than that crusty old doc.

“That’s lovely—what’s that song?” Pettibon asks. She’s trying to make friends with me, even though we both know it’s not going to happen.

“Robin.”

“Robyn, the Swedish pop singer?”

“Who? No, robin the bird .”

What kind of idiot can’t recognize one of the most common bird songs there is?

The same kind of idiot who puts a bunch of paint on her lips and sprays herself with chemicals that pretend to be flowers, I guess.

“Well, you’re very talented, Kai,” Ms. Pettibon says tightly.

“Thanks. Not that your opinion matters to me.”

Ms. Pettibon decides to see if Holo’s going to be any friendlier. “Does your sister take care of you, Holo?” she asks.

Holo shrugs, like, I don’t know. Sort of.

Maybe that’s a fair answer. But what am I supposed to do, follow him everywhere? I don’t have time for that. Creatures in the woods have to look out for themselves. I don’t constantly dominate him, the way I would if we were wolves. And I definitely don’t try to kill him, like I would if we were black eagles.

“How about your mom and dad?” Ms. Pettibon says.

Instead of answering, Holo pushes his nose through the bars and sniffs her. Then he makes a face of disgust. I don’t get it—did he think she’d magically start smelling better?

“Did they hurt you? Is that why you ran away?” she asks him.

“They bit us when we were naughty,” I say.

Her eyebrows disappear up under her straggly bangs. “ Bit you?”

“Well, really it was more of a nip.”

Snapsnapsnap go Holo’s teeth. God, I love that kid.

Ms. Pettibon’s pen scratches at lightning speed across her form. “In what other ways did they punish you?”

“Made us stay in the den,” I say.

“The den of your house? Like the TV room?”

“The den was the house,” I say.

Actually, only the littlest wolf pups sleep in dens, but what does she know?

Ms. Pettibon makes a sad face at me. “Oh dear, I am finding all this very hard to believe.”

I lean back and cross my arms. “That seems like a you problem,” I say.

Her face starts to go pink, then purplish. It’s not a good look. Clashes with her hair and lipstick.

Holo gets down on all fours and starts growling. It’s almost impossible to keep from cracking up. Ms. Pettibon’s probably seen tough kids before, but how many of them acted like they wanted to gnaw on her ankles?

Ms. Pettibon stands up. “I think we should continue this interview later,” she says.

“Great. You know where to find us.”

When she stalks off down the hall, I turn to Holo. “Good job chasing her off,” I say. “But you might want to start acting a little bit more like a human, or else they’re going to take you out of jail and put you in the pound.”