“A strapping future, by the look of him,” agreed Doug.
“Hope you can handle the pressure, Sully boy,” said Marty. “It’s all on you now.”
“It isn’t,” I snapped. “It’s on Jules, too.”
“Sure, sure. Provided he comes back, the pressure is on Jules, too.”
“He’ll come back!” I cried. “’Course he’ll come back!”
He has to.
“I hope so, kid. But then again, those Blaine boys have a way of leaving for the summer and never being heard from again.”
All three omegas laughed as if he’d said something hilarious.
I didn’t reply; I just headed into the woods. It was cooler under the shady canopy of the trees than it was at home. The air wasn’t as oppressive. The song of the forest was peaceful. The whisper of the wind in the leaves of the tall trees, the subtle hum of grasshopper wings, and now and again, the distinctive call of a bird. Ordinarily, these sounds soothed me. They always had, but not that summer and not that day. Without Jules by my side, the sounds grew loud and abrasive. After a while, I found myself doing crazy things like yelling, “Just tell him where you are!” to the female chickadee who was leaving her mate’s frantic call unanswered.
Still, it was less boring than being at home and way, way less irritating then having to deal with my stupid pack. I spent the day tracking a young male bobcat, just to see if I could. The thing was, I already knew I could. I’d been successfully tracking animals every day of the summer. So the real reason I did it wasn’t to see if I could; the reason I did it was to quiet the voice that looped round and round in my head.
What if he doesn’t come back?
“He will come back,” I said aloud to the trunk of an Engelmann spruce, when the fear got too much to bear. “Hehasto come back.”
When it got dark, I headed home. I walked the long way around, up the hill and around the bend, so I didn’t have to walk up the lane and thus successfully managed to avoid being told how much I’d grown during the course of the day. When I got home, my mother had a plate ready for me to take to Mrs. O’Malley. The pack took turns cooking for her, but more often than not, I was the one to take dinner to her. I didn’t mind. To be honest, I liked it. I set her plate down for her and sat at the table with her while she ate.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“Boring.”
“Only boring people get bored, Sully.”
“Well, I guess that makes me boring then.”
She smiled and nodded, as if I’d just proved her point. We sat in comfortable silence for a while.
“Everyone is driving me crazy,” I grumbled. “I hate it. They won’t stop saying how much I’ve grown. It’s fu…it’s boring. And irritating.”
“So, you’ve grown, have you?” she said mildly. “I wasn’t sure. Truth be told, I was starting to suspect I’ve been shrinking. At my age you can’t rule anything out, you know.”
I tried to smile at that. I knew she was coming from a good place.
Eventually, she said, “Don’t worry, Sully. He’ll come back.”
“How do you know? Have you heard anything? When are they getting back?”
She didn’t answer any of my questions. She just said, “’Course he’ll come back. He has to.”
“Why does he have to? His brothers didn’t.”
“Jules has to come back because you’re here, aren’t you?”
The thing about Mrs. O’Malley was that sometimes you couldn’t tell when she actuallyknewsomething, and when she was trying to be nice.
“Come on, sad face. Let’s sit for a while and I’ll tell you all about the White Wolf.” We moved to the sofa. The plastic cover squelched as I sat down. There was a time I’d have done anything, and I meananything,to have Mrs. O’Malley tell me about the White Wolf. Of all her stories it was my favorite by far. I wasn’t a boy though and I wasn’t even sure I believed in the White Wolf anymore. In fact, I was pretty sure I didn’t. Still, it was a good story, and no one told it better.
“The White Wolf,” she said several times over, as if she was psyching herself up, or getting into character, I couldn’t tell which. “The White Wolf will walk among us. He has before and he will again. It has been told. It was set in motion a long time ago and it can’t be undone.”
“What’s so special about the White Wolf?” I knew the answer. I’d heard it over and over. I knew it by heart, but I also knew that if I didn’t ask the question, Mrs. O’Malley wouldn’t continue the story.
