Raised by Wolves

Chapter 45

CHAPTER 45

THE NICE “I saved someone’s life” feeling doesn’t last very long.

It starts on Monday with Mrs. Simon telling Holo that he has to go to his own language arts class. The kid growls a little—I don’t blame him; it’s a hard habit to break—and then it’s detention for him, plus for me, too, because I tried to stand up for him.

On the bright side, the chief doesn’t get mad at us for getting in trouble again. He’s too distracted, because Lacey’s still in the hospital, recovering. Her blood pressure hasn’t quite stabilized, and her entire arm’s black and blue and green, and so whenever he’s not at work he’s sitting at her bedside.

On the not-bright side, it means that I’m in charge of taking care of the house and keeping Holo fed and bathed. This last part isn’t easy. He’s a bottomless food pit—he ate Lacey’s entire cake in one sitting—and he has a weird fear of the shower. He says it’s “not natural” that hot water rains down from the ceiling. Since he grew up bathing in rivers, he has a point. But just because something isn’t natural doesn’t mean it’s not nice .

And even worse, every day at school, I hear stories of more dead sheep. More missing calves. Suddenly it seems like every kid lives on a ranch or a farm, and every single one of them is losing livestock.

Wolves are to blame, they say. And something’s got to be done.

When I hear that kind of thing, my blood turns to ice. I think about Beast and her family. Would she leave the safety of the forest? Would she kill a cow?

She’s the fastest wolf in the pack. But Ernie was the strongest. And now he’s gone. He didn’t kill Hardy’s ewe but he died for it anyway.

And it’s not like Beast understands ownership . She can’t comprehend that a sheep isn’t hers to hunt and kill.

So if she had to hunt livestock, she would. Anything to keep those babies alive.

I have to warn her , I think.

It’s the last period of the day, and I’m still worrying about the wolves as I jog around the track in PE. I’m coming down the backstretch, trying to figure out how to warn her, when I feel Mac Hardy’s sour breath on my neck.

“My dad says we should kill all wolves,” he says.

My shoulders stiffen. Your dad is a murderer , I think.

He pulls up beside me. He’s red and sweating. “‘Yeah,’ I go, ‘just don’t forget the wolf girls.’” Then he passes me, laughing. His stupid friends turn and leer.

I give them all the finger. So far, this gesture’s the best thing I’ve learned in school.

But I keep my distance from Mac for the rest of the class. I don’t want another confrontation, and I don’t need any more detentions. I jog so slowly around the track that even Lucy can keep up.

“He sure doesn’t like you,” she says, huffing alongside me.

“Maybe because I beat him in a race and then I kicked his dad’s ass.”

She lets out a braying laugh. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”

“I wish I could do it again.”

She pants awhile, then says, “Are wolves nicer than high school kids?”

“That’s a weird question.”

“I’m a weird person. Like you are.”

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “I was hoping not everyone noticed.”

“Sorry,” she says. “But we all noticed.” She elbows me lightly. “So—are wolves nicer or what?”

I think about Beast, and how she keeps the pack in line, with aggression if she needs to. How she kills by necessity and without any remorse. And how Ben bites, and Bim steals…

“I wouldn’t call a wolf nice,” I say, “but they don’t understand cruelty, either.”

“You mean they aren’t assholes just because they can be? I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

I grin. I’m starting to like Lucy.

When PE is over, we walk together back toward the school. Lucy is telling me about her pet chinchilla, an animal I’ve never even heard of before.

“His name is Squeaky, because he squeaks when he—” She stops in her tracks. Her eyes go wide.

Mac Hardy is looming by the entrance to the school. And we both know he’s waiting for me.

“I’ll see you later,” she gasps, and then she runs off faster than I’ve ever seen her go.

I could follow Lucy to the other door, a hundred yards away. But I refuse to let any Hardy scare me. So I stare straight ahead and keep walking. As I try to pass him by, Mac throws out an arm and stops me.

“Animals belong outside ,” he says.

“I hope you’re not planning on going in then,” I say.

He spits a thick wad of phlegm onto the asphalt. “You think you’re smart,” he says.

“Actually, I know I’m smart.”

“You don’t belong here,” he says.

I sigh. “Are you bringing up that argument again? Look, we fundamentally agree with each other about it. But for better and worse, I’m here now, so you might as well get used to it.”

“I don’t have to get used to anything,” he says.

He moves quickly toward me, and suddenly there’s something sharp and cold jabbing into my stomach. I look down.

It’s a gun .