Silvere

Chapter Two: '67 Chevy Impala

"Please don't tell her." He whispered finally, his voice cracking as his head had suddenly collided into my shoulder; I could feel his sobs muffled in my shoulder. For the first time since our parents died, Simon cried.

*

I woke up in my brother's bed, his body sprawled over the bed, and my head smudged into his bare armpits. I let out a cough of disgust, and sat up; slowly, I poked his cheek to check if he was still asleep. He groaned, before he sat up slowly to see me patting down my hair.

He wiped his cheeks, then his eyes, and finally he grumbled. "God, Silv, don't tell anyone about that." He said, before folding his hands on his face.

"What? That you cried like a baby in your sister's arms, or that you slept with, and leading on, possibly the most innocent girl in the pack?" I joked, quite harshly.

"Both, and she isn't the most innocent girl in the pack. That's you." He bit back at me, before pushing me lightly.

"I know." I told him, before rubbing my temples, and standing up. I was still fully dressed, besides the cardigan that I had shrugged off in the middle of the night, leaving me with a black tank top and my tights.

Simon looked at me, "Make me breakfast, will ya?" He asked.

"What if Clarisse is still downstairs?" I asked him.

He lifted his head up into the air, using his smelling abilities to find her scent in the house. He shook his head finally, "She left last night, probably around midnight." He told me.

I exited his room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I ran down to the kitchen, and opened the fridge with a groan. We were completely out of food, minus the old, and surely molded, bacon from three months ago. I bit my lip, glancing at the clock, and then to the stairs to see if Simon was going to come down. It was clear he was going to stay upstairs until he smelled eggs and sausage; things were probably going to be tense considering he was probably humiliated by last nights episodes of tears.

"Hey, Sim!" I added an 'e' noise at the end.

"Yup?" I could hear him say from his room.

"I'm going to ride my bike to the store, we don't have anything to eat!" I shouted back up to him.

It was early in the morning, and he probably wanted space- so he'd more than likely let me go for the sake of his breakfast. His voice was groggy as he replied, "I'll let ya' go, but just this once, only because we don't have any visiting pack members from another territory this week. Clear?" He told me from his room.

"Yeah, where's your wallet?" I shouted back up to him, still scanning over the empty fridge.

"On the dining room table, ya' sure you can make it with your little bike down to the store, it sure is snowing." He added.

I laughed, "It's not a little bike, it's a mountain bike, and I'll be alright, so will my bike."

"Wear a coat!" Simon said at the last minute.

"Yes, mom!" I shouted back up to him; I could hear him chuckle through the house's floors and walked to the dining room table. I snatched up his wallet from the glass table, and walked back to the front door; grabbing Simon's old leather jacket, and a pair of my old converse that were caked with mud from my last bike ride.

*

Pedaling my bike, I watched as the trees that fenced the road passed me, the dirt road I was riding on dipped. My bike squeaked as we went down the hill, faster than usual as I felt the wind slap my face; it was nice to be away from home, away from my brother, away from everything but the bike's handles and my brother's leather jacket. It smelled like Simon, and my father.