Since We Are Apart

Chapter 6. Losing myself

As soon as I stepped out of the restroom, I saw the Smirnovs walking together at a leisurely pace toward the stairs after the cafeteria. Looking more closely, I realized there were more kids than usual, and soon understood why: Stas was walking with Tatyana, casually putting his arm around his classmate’s shoulders, and behind them trudged Dasha, looking gloomy. Poor Dasha.

I hurried to help her, quickly joining the little procession.

"Why do you look so gloomy?" I asked, deliberately lowering my voice.

"And you?" Dasha answered, returning the question.

"What about me?"

"Your eyes are red, like from crying."

Although Dasha spoke quietly, vampire hearing was sharp enough to catch that phrase despite what I hoped. At least, Stas and Diana immediately turned around. Things weren’t looking good.

"I went outside to get some fresh air, and something got in my eye. Barely got it out!" To hide my clumsy lie, I tried to say the last part with surprise.

"Fresh air? In this freezing cold?"

"Yeah. In the hospital, you know, they ventilate every three hours, no matter if it’s plus fifteen outside or minus twenty. But at school, they heat so much the thermometer probably shows no less than twenty-seven!"

Dasha nodded understandingly, and the signs of worry on her face immediately vanished. If my classmate believed my explanation, the same couldn’t be said about Diana and Stas. However, the guys didn’t press me further in front of everyone.

"Alright," I tried to steer the conversation back to where I wanted. "What happened to you?"

"They announced the theme of the New Year’s Ball over the loudspeaker."

Another dance? How many events do they hold at this school! On one hand, the news made me happy, if only for a moment, because it gave me a chance to make up for the missed Halloween for obvious reasons. On the other hand, I worried it would be hard to catch up on school after days spent in the hospital. I’d have to study late into the night, hunched over books, if I wanted to keep up with everything — but first, it would be good to get used to the new range of feelings I wasn’t sure I could control at all.

"What’s so bad about the ball? We’ll all have fun together one last time before exams."

"It’s going to be a White Ball," Dasha said, her voice sinking as she spoke the words. I had no idea what that meant; it sounded like just a name.

"What, everyone has to come dressed in white?"

Dasha smiled sadly.

"If only."

The veil of mystery was lifted by Rostova, who spoke up:

"A White Ball is when the girls ask the guys to dance, not the other way around."

So that was the problem. While everyone around already had a kind of ready-made partner, Dasha would have to go searching. For a moment I sincerely felt sorry for my friend, but then I snapped back: and who would I go with myself?

"Look," Artur called out to the others, "Asya’s feeling down too!"

"Keep laughing, Artur. Viola has probably already invited you."

"Of course," she replied proudly and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. All I could do was feel the misery of my situation, since I had to sort everything out in just one month. I had to set priorities and focus on the most important. First came school, if I still planned to get into Kserton State; second, my father’s cheerful legacy; and only then thoughts about the dances. But that was if I used my head. I really wanted to put the ball higher on the pedestal and break free for a little while from the vortex that, like a living thing, was pulling me deeper every day, knocking me down with new troubles again and again.

I took Dasha by the elbow, pushing away worries. The touch of someone I trusted calmed me a bit. Constantly boiling in thoughts about the first change and worrying about keeping at least small scraps of normal life was draining my already exhausted body, tired of all the changes. The closer the full moon came, the stronger and longer-lasting the effects of sharpened hearing or smell became. The desire to take something into my own hands and feel, if only briefly, control over my fate was like a lifesaving gulp of air for a drowning person, and it pushed me to say:

"What if we go to the ball together? I don’t have anyone to ask either."

My gaze involuntarily slid toward Stas, who, as if sensing it, pulled Tatyana even closer, and a strange feeling spread through my chest, making my heart pound hard against my ribs. At that moment, all the days I spent in the hospital flashed before my eyes.

Stas was always there and came more often than the others. He was kind and gentle with me, filling in for Kostya. He brought other kids to the ward, sometimes after hours, using his status as the chief doctor’s son. Without Stas, I would have gone crazy from boredom and inner torment, locked in a single room alone with myself. The gratitude I felt toward Stanislav was so great I wanted to repay him somehow, but what could I offer someone who already had everything?

Dasha smiled weakly, and it seemed to me that a quick solution to her problem didn’t make her happy but rather made things worse. I looked at her questioningly, trying to guess why. After hesitating a bit, she decided to explain, though I saw how hard it was for her to admit.

"Actually, I have someone in mind," Dasha said, nervously rubbing her forehead. "I just don’t know how to invite him. And whether I even should. What if he says ‘no’?"

"He might refuse just because he already said ‘yes’ to someone else while you were gathering your courage," Viola spoke up, and Dasha’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She surely didn’t expect anyone but me to hear that part of the conversation since she was trying to whisper. It was easier for Dasha to trust me, as our friendship grew stronger every day, while she seemed hardly willing to get closer to the Smirnovs: as soon as Stas joined Tatyana, Dasha’s voice immediately faded, and I couldn’t understand why.

If only she gave the guys a chance to get to know her better, things could have been different within the group. Even though I’d known the family only a short time, how the Smirnovs tried to help me proved that natural essence wasn’t the main thing. The kids were still good and sensitive people in their own way, ready to selflessly help if they could.

I noticed that other classmates were simultaneously curious about the Smirnovs and the Yakovlevs but tried to keep their distance. They seemed to sense the power emanating from them, and with it, danger. Only a few flew toward the fire like moths, unaware they might burn. Not long ago, I was one of those moths.

"She’s right," Dasha replied even quieter. "But I have no idea how to start."

"You approach, say hello, and ask: ‘Will you go to the White Ball with me?’ Then wait for the answer. After that, it depends," Viola said monotonously, and I felt like nudging her in the ribs.

Violetta always spoke in a similar way, but she had no understanding or sympathy for other people. Viola was straightforward and blunt, which I admired, but at the same time it created a certain barrier between her and others. I wished she would be gentler with Dasha because I saw how hard it was for my friend. It was neither the moment nor the time to bluntly tell someone who wasn’t ready what to do. I hurried to fix the situation, wanting to encourage Dasha and not to strengthen the wall between them.

"Do you want me to go up to him with you? Let’s find him in the school and be back in a flash? We’ll probably manage before the bell rings."

Darya shook her head.

"He’s not from our school."

Arthur and Stas whistled, then both shouted loud comments. Their words mixed into an indistinct cocktail, but from their wide smiles it was easy to guess they were very curious about who Dasha’s chosen one was.

"Boys!" I called sharply, genuinely angry. "Don’t be jerks!"

"Ooooh," Stas replied, "we can get offended, you know."

"If you don’t want to be hurt, don’t hurt others yourselves."

Arthur patted me on the shoulder, and for the first time I noticed how heavy his hand was.

"You were really missed at school, Mother Teresa."

A sharp pop sounded in my head, something switched, as if someone pulled a lever, and the walls of the dam parted, releasing a flood of emotions I didn’t even know I had.

"What did you call me?"

At first, I didn’t recognize my own voice. It sounded like it was coming from somewhere else, but everyone was looking right at me. A wave of trembling ran up and down my body. My hands clenched into fists so tightly that my knuckles ached. The heat from the core of my being surged outward, already reaching toward Arthur.

I came to my senses only when a scream tore from Tatiana’s lips. The dark veil before my eyes lifted, and I didn’t understand what was happening. The scene shifted abruptly. Arthur was lying on the floor beneath me, blood running from his nose. He stared at me wide-eyed, but inside there was neither fear nor pain. Only some silent understanding and pity. He sprawled on the floor, not even trying to resist.

"What the…?"

I looked around. People were standing in a circle around us. The Smirnovs looked down at us from their height with detachment, as if this was an expected trouble. Their faces revealed almost nothing, or maybe I just couldn’t catch any changes behind their impenetrable masks, which they handled as if they were a second skin. Only Viola slightly furrowed her brows and folded her arms, but no one was rushing to intervene.

"We need to call Konstantin," Diana reached into her purse for her phone, but Stas grabbed her hand.

"No," steel notes rang in his voice, emphasizing his confidence in the decision. "Take her to our father."

"But dad will freak out if I skip class."

"Tell him I decided so."

"Then call him yourself first and..."

"Diana, quieter. Before the other students notice."

"And what about these two?" Viola pointed to Dasha and Tatiana standing behind her.

Both girls looked pale. Frightened, they clung to each other like two little rabbits cornered with nowhere left to run from the approaching wolf.

A lump formed in my throat, making it hard not only to speak but to breathe.

They were afraid. Not just of anything, but of me.

"Things are bad," Arthur croaked and cleared his throat.

"Can you handle two?" Stas nodded toward the girls.

Arthur smirked slightly.

"I should. Unless there’s another little wolf hidden in a snuffbox."

Stas lifted me under the arms in one motion and set me on my feet like I was a rag doll. I barely kept my balance and immediately swayed backward, about to fall to the floor, but Stanislav caught me. Instinctively, I grabbed his shoulder and only then noticed that his fingers were smeared with blood — either Arthur’s or my own. Torn wounds showed beneath the wet scarlet, as if I had punched so hard that my skin cracked.

"How did I... what..."

Stanislav handed me over to his sister like some object. I wanted to open my mouth and resist, demand an explanation. The very idea that I had just rushed at Arthur like that—because of one careless phrase said in jest—seemed unthinkable. Even harder to believe was that I had the strength to knock such a big guy to the floor. This had to be some misunderstanding. Just as suitable words came to mind, I opened and closed my mouth helplessly like a fish. All the heat faded the moment my eyes met Dasha’s. She looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. As if I were a dangerous animal foaming at the mouth, standing with widely spread paws, ready to pounce any second, and there was no one to protect Dasha — she could only count on herself. It seemed that way from the outside because she had let go of Tatiana’s hand, whom Arthur was already handling. My palms got sweaty from the anxiety. I wanted to approach and explain, to say I would never hurt her and that there was an explanation for what happened, but as soon as I stepped toward her, Dasha took two steps back. Powerless, I wanted to burst into tears, and I would have if Diana hadn’t pushed me toward the stairs.

"Let’s go. You won’t do anything now."

"Wait," I resisted, but Diana firmly led me down the stairs. "I have to talk to her."

"You don’t owe anyone anything. Arthur will handle her now, and Dasha won’t remember this little incident."

"A little incident?" I laughed nervously and showed Diana my hands. "My hands are covered in blood!"

"Quiet," she hissed through her teeth and, ripping off her scarf, quickly wrapped it around the wounds, hiding the consequences from curious eyes. "The bell’s about to ring, and the first floor is full of people now. No one must see or hear anything. We’ll talk in the car."

She stretched her lips into a fake friendly smile and, still supporting me by the shoulder, quickly headed to the exit. I barely kept up, seeing almost nothing through the tears already rushing to break free.

"What’s wrong with her?" my hearing treacherously caught bits of classmates’ phrases, jumping from one voice to another.

"Some Black Girl’s acting weird today."

"You think she got shell-shocked after the beast attack?"

"Look! She’s like a scared cat! Look at her eyes!"

"Probably on some tranquillisers."

"I wish someone would prescribe me those," two guys laughed cruelly.

I felt disgusted hearing that. Until today, I felt safe with the same circle of classmates. The illusory feeling that other students had lost interest in me vanished like smoke. Now I knew what they said about me. Or rather, how they sweetly gossiped.

I was crazy to them, unable to pull myself together after the forest attack. If only they knew half the truth. If only they knew what it was like to face a terrible nightmare in real life and be unable to wake up.

One comment followed another, no one suspected that all this reached my ears. The words hurt. I almost physically felt them on my body, like sharp lashes. Something animal, unknown to me before, was growing inside like a fire of rage, heating every cell until the heat would burst out and strike back just to stop the pain. To stop the mad dance of black hypocrisy and mockery. There was only one thing left...

Diana flung open the door to the street and pushed me outside.

"Asya, breathe. Deeper. Three-two-one. Good. Listen to my voice. One more breath. Three-two..."

The cold air filled my lungs but brought no real relief. I still heard the merging voices of students. My mind deliberately clung to the hurtful words, dragging me into a viscous whirlpool. Diana gave me a critical look and frowned.

Immediately we moved on. Step, second, third, and soon my feet touched the asphalt of the parking lot. By some miracle, Diana pulled the ignition key from the outer pocket of her bag and turned off the alarm. The car headlights blinked, I heard the mechanical click of unlocked doors, and only then did I come to my senses.

"Jackets," I managed to say, but Diana just waved her hand as if to say this problem was the last thing we should worry about now.

"Get in the car."

I obediently opened the door and sat in the front seat. Diana took the driver’s seat and tossed my backpack at my feet, which I had completely forgotten. Where did this absent-mindedness come from? Something was happening, and it was beyond my understanding. Beyond everything I knew about myself before. And I didn’t like it.

"Where are we going?"

Diana looked puzzled.

"Where else? To my father. Stas said so," she gently touched my shoulder and moved closer, looking into my eyes as if there was a running line of information that would damn well make life easier for everyone right now. "Things are bad."

"What? What is it?"

"See for yourself."

Diana lowered the sun visor opposite my seat and with a light movement slid the mirror cover aside.

With caution, I looked at the reflection, inwardly fearing to understand what it meant—and what I saw didn’t please me. My eyes, once gray-blue, had turned an unnatural sandy-yellow shade, like a character from some trendy cartoon. Looking closer, I realized that not only the color of the iris had changed, but also the shape of the pupil. Now it resembled a drop, narrowed at the top and widening toward the bottom. A pounding started in my temples. I had never seen anything like it before. Not even when I was with Dad and Denis at the kennels. The gaze of those who could never return to human form was recognizable, human—but the reflection in the mirror was puzzling and frightening in its unfamiliarity: was this normal for werewolves or not?

From Diana’s brief comment, I quickly understood the answer was probably “no.” My head buzzed so loudly that the noise coming from the school turned into white noise. One sound was replaced by another—sharp, growling.

“Asya, quieter. Calm down. Breathe.”

Diana’s melodious and so calm voice pulled me out of the grip of the reflection, sharply plunging me back into the real world. The car was driving down the highway, and I was ready to swear we would walk faster, but when I glanced at the dashboard, I was horrified: Diana was driving at an unbelievable speed. I wasn’t even sure it was legal! What I had earlier taken for a growl was actually the engine’s roar. How had I not noticed before?

“A little more. Hang in there, please.”

I wanted to ask Diana what she meant, but my mouth didn’t obey. Not a single muscle twitched, as if the sounds of the surrounding world had imprisoned me and wouldn’t let me move. Submissive to the mysterious power of something ethereal, something I didn’t fully understand, I started feeling myself in the space more intensely. It suddenly felt cramped in this car.

Vertebra by vertebra pressed into the back of the seat.

I felt cramped inside this body.

The unpleasant stirring inside scared me—as if a huge snake was twisting somewhere in my stomach, stubbornly trying to free up more space for itself by pushing out the excess.

As soon as I listened to my feelings, a wave of dragging pain ran through my body, forcing me to jerk my head up, and then I saw nothing but the light beige upholstery of the car interior. No matter how hard I tried, my body refused to obey, handing control over to my dark companion, who rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“Damn it!” was the last thing I heard before a black veil clouded my eyes.