Initiation (Wolf Blood Academy Book 1), RaShelle Workman [english novels for beginners .TXT] 📗

As I backed out of my spot, I headed right onto Dewar Drive and continued until I hit Summit, where I took another right, followed by another right onto Reagan. I passed the Wildwood Recreation Center and went a little further until I turned left onto Whitewater.

The house I shared with my mom sat on the left, midway down the street. The large trees of the Shade hover gloomily in the background. Thankfully there was a chain-link fence with barbed wire along the top to keep animals in and wayward children out—for the most part. On either side of my street, the houses shone with care, except our house. It was bleak, and everyone called it an eyesore. It wasn't always like that. At one time, the paint color had been white. Now it was gray and dingy. The screen door hung loose and swayed in the constant breeze that blew in this part of Wyoming. Carefully, I pulled into the crumbling concrete driveway and parked.

Dead grass crunched under my feet until I reached the stairs. Along the rusty rails that made up the exterior of our full-length porch grew wild sunflowers, the only spot of color in our sad front yard. Since it was early September, they passed the roof and seemed to be looking down on me. Judging.

I sighed. It’d been a long day. After school, I worked, spending a couple of hours making double decaf half-caf’s, iced caramel macchiatos with two dashes of cinnamon, lattes, and about a hundred other orders. It was rare for someone to come in and order plain coffee or even tea for that matter. But Wyatt had. Just thinking about him set my heart ablaze.

Before I reached the door, I heard the TV. Sounded like Teen Wolf. My mom had a thing for one of the actors. There must’ve been a marathon. I pushed open the screen, holding it with my back while turning the key in the lock. Then I twisted the handle, lifted up on it, and kicked the bottom of the door. If anyone tried to break in, they’d have one hell of a time.

“Hey, Mom,” I said upon entering. Inside, our house was like a cave. Dark with a slight stench of fish, which I knew was actually rotting potatoes. Mom always bought them because they were cheap and then never got around to cooking them.

“How was school? Work?” she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position. Her hair was flat on one side like she’d been lying on it all day.

I bit back a retort. Mom was just a shell of her prior self. Her golden locks were the same color as mine, though there was some gray at the roots. Even without makeup, it was apparent she had been beautiful. With a flash of the light from the TV, I saw her eyes. Dark blue. Not like mine, which were light blue. Mom called them icy.

“Good,” I said, tossing my backpack at the bottom of the stairs before taking the day-old bagels I purchased from work to the kitchen and placed them on the counter. “Have you eaten today?” There weren’t any dishes in the sink. That meant probably not.

“I’m not hungry.”

I watched her lie back down. “How about a bagel with some strawberry cream cheese?” I took out one with blueberries and smeared some of the cream cheese on it. Grabbed a napkin and walked the bagel out to her. “Here. You need to eat.”

“Thank you, Di. You’re too good to me.” She took the bagel but didn’t look at it.

I fought down another sigh. “Did you get any of the laundry done?” I asked without hope.

“Laundry? Shoot. No. I forgot.” She shook her head, already distracted.

Before Dad left, she’d talked about opening her own bakery. She’d been the talk of the town with her delicious cookies, cakes, and various other sweet treats. Now, she was rail thin, as though nothing appealed to her.

In the laundry room, I separated the lights from the darks, tossed in a load, threw in some soap, and started the washing machine. Thoughts of Wyatt filled my mind as I rehearsed all the better ways I could’ve handled the situation. There were at least a dozen. “I’ve got my karate class at seven, and then I’m going to play racquetball with Ember,” I hollered. “I should be home around nine-thirty. Do you need anything?”

“Uh-huh,” Mom said, still distracted. She heard me but not what I said.

Running upstairs, I threw my bag on the bed. I had homework in history, math, and English. They would have to wait until after I got home. Kicking off my shoes, I changed into my workout clothes, then headed to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and put it back in a ponytail.

Back downstairs, I went into the kitchen for some water. Bills sat on the kitchen table, unopened. Even with me working full-time and Mom on unemployment, we struggled. I kept telling Mom we should move. This house was too big for the two of us—and too expensive. She wouldn’t budge. Karate classes and the rec center were the first things I wanted to give up, but Mom wouldn’t hear it. Last year I discovered the reasons. My Dad paid for those things. More than once, I debated not going just to spite him, but I liked karate. I enjoyed playing racquetball. Giving them up would be like giving up a part of myself, and I’d already done enough of that.

With a sigh, I pushed away the bills. It was too late to call on them today, but I would get to them soon.

I put some cream cheese on a plain bagel and ate it all. Downstairs, I kissed my mom on the cheek and rushed to the door with my racquet.

“Stay out of the forest, Di. No matter what. Promise me.” She was more alert than I’d seen her in weeks.

“I promise, Mom.” I studied her a