The Wilde Expedition

1. marriage crisis

Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved.

〮CHAPTER ONE  〮

My existence was sorely unprepared for because it was one half unexpected and another half unpredictable. And I didn't blame them, especially once I was old enough to understand what sort of life we were living, but what I didn't understand was the endless arguments my existence ensued both before and after my birth.

It was all kind of crazy, really, how it all happened. Mom played a major part in it, and debatably, the only part aside from the encouragement from friends and her beloved husband (gross), otherwise known as my dad. I heard once that Mom weighed the options that abortion presented, but I punched the guy straight in the nose afterwards so that was the last I heard of that. I never knew where that rumor came from, but I assumed it was true and approached Mom later that night with my serene green eyes—they always got to her.

At first she stared at me, as if stopping herself from saying, "Where the hell did that come from?" before finally settling on taking my hand and pulling me over to her. I hopped onto her lap, my legs kicked over the armrest, and saw her examine the damage on my knuckles. They were sore from pounding that guy's face in, so she kissed them.

"Everyone has reservations," she told me, to which I pouted. Any little kid would've done the same when they realized that at some point in their lives, they weren't truly wanted. She promptly continued, though—"I didn't want to bring you into this big bad world, but your dad told me all about how being a parent means that I get to protect you from it. Sure, life's gonna be ugly, but we'll always be there for you, sweetie."

"But you didn't want me-"

"No, I always wanted you. I just didn't like the problems you'll have to face later in life," she reassured me, while at the same time making one thing very clear: There were going to be obstacles in my way, but my mom and dad vowed to help me through them, and that was all I could ask for.

After tending to my bruised knuckles, five years passed before I was knocked upside the head with something everyone feared happening, but no one expected to. I was in eighth grade when it happened, in the middle of gym class to be exact, and it was just one of those things every girl has to look forward to—their period. Now, that wasn't even the scary part. The scary part was that I'd left a red splotch on the bleacher bench—I hadn't come prepared, alright?—and one of the boys in the class pointed to me and made a big deal about it. Everyone was laughing. I was mortified, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I climbed up those bleachers and kicked the kid in the crotch before shoving him into the bleachers.

The adrenaline that came with it climbed to the point where my whole body felt completely and entirely numb, and the entire world seemed to vanish into a dreamlike state in which I peered through the eyes of glass clearer than anything I'd ever seen, and listened through ears that magnified sound tenfold.

I shifted into a wolf in the middle of gym class.

Of course, this wasn't entirely a problem where we came from. I knew all about wolves and the people that turned into them—at least, I thought I did. As far as I knew, my mom was the only woman to turn into a wolf that I knew of, so when I came to and was carted off to the nurse's office, I didn't realize the damage I'd done by shifting. It wasn't just the kid I'd nearly mauled to death—it was the consequences that came from just shifting in general.

I wasn't supposed to shift. I wasn't supposed to know how, and yet I was shifting at the age all the other boys did. Most of them turned in waves, like how a girl's menstrual cycle could line up with other girls she hangs out with.