Conflicted Love

Stark, bright light struck me, as my eyes adjusted to the assault that had just been rendered upon them. Lacey, my younger sister, had violently whipped open my bedroom curtains and perched herself upon the end of my bed, almost vibrating with excitement. I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "Happy Birthday Erin!" she yelled, through barely-contained glee. She held onto her own feet in their respective hands, rocking back and forth, "How does it feel to be of age?" she exclaimed loudly. I shrugged and thought for a second, "It's okay... just like... any other day, I guess..." I watched her face drop, small shoulders slumping in disappointment as she dumped herself off the foot of my bed and dragged her feet along the carpet back towards her own bedroom. I honestly didn't feel any change yet, but I know that's not what she wanted to hear. "But I there's still time for me to feel different...!" I called after her, feeling guilty. "Yeah, I guess", she replied with a hint of emptiness, "Everyone's different after all". She disappeared into the relative darkness of her bedroom to sulk at the realisation that life wasn't a fairytale, as I realised who was absent only by their lack of negativity. "Logan?", I called gently, "Lo-gan!", putting more emphasis on the different syllables of his name. It was a given fact that one had to approach Logan gently, to avoid provoking his volatile side. He was Lacey's twin. She was bright, bubbly, sociable and excitable, whilst Logan was quiet and subdued, happy in his own company, calm until provoked. He had a famous temper, especially for one so young and not of age. It was hard to imagine how he and Lacey had ever shared our mother's womb, since they were polar opposites in nature. No answer. Perhaps he's already our with the pack, I thought to myself, climbing out of my pyjamas. The twins were our parents' youngest children at thirteen. My older brother, Elijah, was already married off to his mate and moved out of the family home at twenty-one. I was the "middle child" as it were, turning seventeen. I quickly visited my humble, yet much-appreciated en-suite bathroom. After a short, but hot and refreshing shower, plus a change of clothes and a quick hair brush, I felt better. My long, thick and wavy hair fell in dark semi-circles around my face and down the upper half of my back. I dressed in some well-worn jeans and a faded rock band t-shirt. Scraping my hair back into a tie to keep it's cold dampness off the sensitive skin on my neck until it dried, such was my aversion to using a hair-drier when I could avoid it, I sighed and took my bland, unsatisfactory appearance downstairs to breakfast. If I was honest with myself, I was also disappointed that I didn't feel any different today. "SURPRISE!", yelled all of the voices around our extra large table as I entered the dining room, wishing I had dressed better. "W-wow!" I stammered, "I can't believe... you... I can't believe everyone went to all this trouble, for ME!" I flushed a deep shade of crimson all along my cheeks and tears threatened the corners of my eyes as I took in the effort our community had put in; balloons tied to cupboard door handles and light fittings; banners taped to a myriad of flat surfaces; confetti strewn along the sizeable dining table which was set with a wonderful breakfast; another table was set with a cloth, a slightly embarrassing, chocolate-smeared photo of me as a child propped up in a fancy frame and a stack of brilliantly wrapped presents. They looked so wonderful, they could have been wrapped for a Christmas advert. But we were a long way away from Christmas. It was June 30th, my seventeenth birthday, when one becomes "of age" - in wolf circles anyway. The humans would not accept me as an adult until next year, but at least now my pack would. It's strange for the British wolves. While our own community sees us as fully-fledged adults at seventeen, human law dictates that people can have consensual s****l activity from sixteen and learn to drive at seventeen, but they are not legally adults for another year after that. So... people can legally have babies at sixteen, but not get a mortgage or life insurance to provide for their young until they reach eighteen. It has always seemed a bit backwards to me and the wolves have always had to pretend not to be so mature at seventeen around the humans. Unless something miraculous happened, I would not be getting pregnant any time soon anyway. None of the boys at school, wolf or otherwise, had ever looked at me twice. I was the most plain girl in my year group, if not the whole school. Feeling slightly numb from shock and unable to keep my embarrassed smile from my face, I took a seat at the breakfast table. My mother fussed over getting me the food I wanted and making sure I knew who in the family had sent which presents. The kitchen was a mess of leftovers and wrapping paper by the time I peeled myself away from well-meaning relatives, plus my mother and Lacey, who pressed on with creating "the perfect birthday" for me. I just wished they'd realise how much I appreciated the fact that they cared. I didn't need material possessions to be happy - the fact that they cared so much was worth all the gold in the world to me. Making my way upstairs to my bedroom, I contemplated the tradition unfolding below me. Pausing at the landing window overlooking our back garden, I took in all the effort everyone was putting in. A huge marquee had been erected to offer plentiful shelter to the guests should the weather turn. Bunting and balloon clusters had been strung between all the trees. Decorative light stakes had been pushed into all the flower beds and pots. Our old tree house and jungle gym had been decorated as well, to appeal to the younger members of the pack. A large BBQ grill was being fired up enthusiastically by my father's Beta and oldest friend, Lucien. Contemplating the traditional party ahead, I took a deep breath as I worried about the pressure facing me. Wolves were expected to "pair up" with their mates at coming of age parties. Mates were mystically fated to be together for life. We were chemically bound, in ways we couldn't fight if we wanted to. If our mate was younger than us we'd have to wait for them to come of age, but at every party there was always a heavy expectance in the air.