Losing the Moonstone Wolf Pack

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Theo’s P.O.V

My dreams don’t usually make sense. They’re not like movies with a solid plot. They’re just like random pictures and people appearing and talking, and by the morning, I can’t remember any of it.

Which was why I was pretty sure this dream wasn’t a dream. It was a memory.

“Come on, Theo!” The girl giggled, tugging my hand. She had a long blonde ponytail that swung as she tugged me, and her voice had an American lilt. “It’ll be fun!”

“We’ll get in trouble,” I said stubbornly, crossing my arms. It must’ve been a memory from about ten years ago; I was around seven or eight.

The girl, who looked about eight as well, rolled her eyes. “You’re so boring, Theo,” she sighed. “Come on, Alex completely killed your football. Didn’t you see it?”

I scowled at her. “Yes, I saw it. It looks like it’s been run over by a steam roller.”

“Exactly. This won’t hurt, it’ll just be a bit of payback.” She smiled at me eagerly, her light brown eyes glittering with excitement. “Come on.”

“Dave will be mad,” I said, but I could feel myself smiling. The girl looked smug, obviously knowing she had won.

“Okay,” She announced loudly, passing me a large bucket of water. It probably weighed a ton, but it didn’t seem heavy to me. “Give me a boost.”

I cupped my hands, and she stepped into them, boosting herself up onto the roof. Traces of snow where scattered around the fields of the house we were standing next to, and as the girl scrabbled onto the roof, some flaked drifted onto my head. I brushed them off.

“Pass me the bucket!” The girl hissed. I obediently held out the bucket, and she placed it carefully next to her, steadying it on the roofs slant. Then she reached down to me. I took her hand and pulled myself up onto the roof with her. Her fingers were cool and firm in mine.

We slipped along the roof, carrying the bucket of water between us. Above us, the sky was pale pink with early dawn, fingers of sunlight streaking the horizon. It had to be about five or six ‘o’ clock in the morning.

Eventually, we came across a window in the roof. Underneath it was Alex’s room. He looked about nine years old, and was sleeping soundly in a bed directly under the window.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” I hissed. The girl rolled her eyes.

“Scaredy-cat,” she mumbled to herself. “Okay, open the window.”

Sighing, I unhinged the window and prised it open. It swung up silently.

“Okay. On the count of three, we pour the water. Got it?” The girl grinned at me. She had very even, white teeth.

“Got it,” I said solemnly, excitement leaping in my stomach. We both gripped the edge of the heavy bucket.

“One,” she whispered. “Two... THREE!”

The bucket tipped, and a torrent of icy water cascaded down onto Alex’s head. He sat up with a yell, gasping with the cold. Me and the girl looked at each other, and promptly burst out laughing. We laughed so hard that the bucket fell from our grasp and landed on Alex’s head; this made as laugh even more. We were practically rolling around on the roof. Below us, Alex was grinning at us ruefully, shaking his head.