Since We Are Apart

Chapter 4. Back to school

The next morning I woke up before the alarm. There wasn’t even a hint of dawn in the room. The days were slowly getting shorter, giving more time to the night. I grabbed my phone and unlocked the screen. Half past six. There was no point in falling asleep again.

Reluctantly, I got up and headed to the bathroom to take a shower, washing away the last remnants of sleep with hot water. Today I had to get back to the usual routine, but all my thoughts were on the upcoming turning. I put my hands under the streams of water and watched as little rivulets formed transparent lines on my skin. Some drops scattered in different directions, colliding with surfaces. They resisted their fate as if unwilling to join the improvised channel, afraid to merge with others and lose their own voice. A temporary, meaningless resistance. Sooner or later, these drops, too, would flow down the drain with the rest.

I quickly dried my hair and then returned to my room for fresh clothes, choosing an emerald turtleneck and tight black jeans. It took me a few minutes to remember where the printout of the new schedule that Dasha had brought to the hospital was. The first lesson was biology, followed by literature. Today the class was supposed to discuss a short novel by Yevgeny Zamyatin, We, which was considered the first in the dystopian genre. A pioneer, albeit not without flaws.

I hastily packed my school bag and took the novel with me just in case. While reading it over summer break, I had marked many pages with colorful sticky notes to make it easier to discuss later. Pink stickers for interesting quotes, orange for key plot points, so that if I forgot the chronology, I could quickly refresh it. Blue stickers marked pages with answers to the questions from the curriculum — or at least the ones available online. What else the teacher might ask was a mystery, so I just hoped for the best.

The bathroom door slammed in the hallway. Kostya must have already woken up and gone to shower. Surprisingly, even with my heightened sense of smell and hearing, my father’s movements remained a mystery to me. Maybe it had something to do with our shared nature.

It’s not that Kostya didn’t have a scent. Dad smelled of treated calfskin — because he almost always wore a leather jacket, cologne with peppermint and tobacco notes, the cleaning fluid for his service pistol, and menthol toothpaste. Sometimes fleeting aromas lingered, depending on where Kostya had recently been. But how quietly he moved!

Thinking about this, I moved my backpack to the hallway and tossed it on the pouf next to the jacket, then went to the kitchen looking for breakfast. Opening the fridge, I quickly scanned the shelves, looking for something edible or at least not as stinky as yesterday’s salami on Kostya’s sandwich. Cheese, eggs, and curd with dried apricots didn’t inspire confidence, unlike the shiny red apple on the bottom shelf. I wasn’t really hungry, but I knew I had to eat something before the tough day at school.

“Good morning,” Kostya appeared in the kitchen and looked over my shoulder into the fridge. “Want some scrambled eggs?”

I grimaced and looked at Dad, signaling that meal planning was going to be tricky soon. Kostya’s mouth twitched slightly downward, and he looked away. It must be hard — to understand what’s happening to your child and be powerless to help.

“All right,” Dad said softly with a sigh. “I’ll just eat at work then. Let’s not irritate the little wolf with smells unnecessarily.”

“Dad, it’s fine. Eat at home like you’re used to.”

Kostya stared at me, puzzled.

“But what about you?”

“I’ll manage somehow. You can’t avoid the smells at school anyway. I need to get used to it. Didn’t you go through the same?”

Dad shook his head, as if trying to remember. I stepped back to let him get closer to the fridge contents, and he immediately pulled out a block of cheese, some butter wrapped in foil, and a couple of eggs from the special door compartment. Setting everything near the stove, Dad reached for the frying pan hanging on a hook right in front of him, alongside tongs and spatulas.

“Probably did. Too many years have passed to remember the details. Basically, I understand… no — I guess how hard it is for you,” Dad carefully cracked the eggshell against the pan’s edge and immediately dropped the contents onto the hot surface. A sizzle sounded.

“In less than five years, you’ll forget everything like a bad dream.”

“I wouldn’t want to forget,” I said aloud, not really sure why.

“Why?”

Sometimes the answer to a question is just an intuitive feeling lurking somewhere deep down. Not yet formulated, not put into words, but obvious. Almost tangible. I didn’t know how to explain it to Kostya. But, as if sensing my confusion, Dad stretched his lips into a faint, barely noticeable smile.

“I get it,” he said, using a plastic spatula to flip the scrambled eggs with yolks as orange as the July sun. “Go pack your bag.”

“Already done,” I exhaled and headed toward the couch, following Dad.

“What time did you get up to get everything done?”

“Half past five.”

Kostya frowned and shook his head disapprovingly, like he had a shell stuck between his teeth.

“Maybe,” he started after a pause, “you should stay home a little longer?”

I shook my head.

“It’s worth trying at least.”

“There’s still time before the full moon…” Dad said softly, without launching into a long explanation again.

“Yes, but not much. I know that, you know that. We both know. You said yourself I need to get back to people as soon as possible, to learn how to control myself. To get used to the noise, the smells.”

“Of course, all that is true. But exhausted and tired, what can you learn?”

“I’m not exhausted or tired,” I protested, though a yawn betrayed me. “I slept fine. Just woke up before the alarm.”

“No nightmares? No sudden noises from outside?”

“No. Woke up before the alarm, that’s all.”

Kostya gave me a doubtful look but stayed silent. Quietly, he finished his breakfast, then got up from the couch and took the dishes to the sink.

“Dad, go get ready. I’ll wash up.”

“All right.”

***

Getting out of the car near the school, I habitually started looking for Nik, but he was nowhere to be seen. Predictable.

What was I expecting after what happened in the forest? That Karimov would just return to classes as if nothing happened? He disappeared without a trace, and no one knew whether he was planning another scheme — to take revenge after his mother’s murder — or if he had run away, trying to forget everything and start a new life. I hadn’t noticed any strong bond between Galina and Nik. He didn’t even let her call him her son. But for some reason, I couldn’t shake the thought that it wasn’t easy for Nikita to survive the loss of that crazy woman who was still his biological mother. At least Kostya believed he hadn’t returned to the Karimov house, which only confirmed my suspicion.

Some part of me still held warm memories of Nikita and how safe it felt to be near him. I felt safe the moment Nik touched my skin. But the other, wiser part of me was twisted inside by the cloying thoughts. That part of the new Asya, where the wolf was gaining strength, knew every deceit, every flattery, and every manipulation of Nikita. The beast inside thirsted for blood and revenge, while the high schooler, Black Asya, thirsted for love. How these very different parts of me would come, if not to an agreement, then at least a compromise soon, I had no idea.

Behind me came the screech of brakes, harsh and grating on the ears. Too loud. So sharp that I immediately wanted to give the offender of my gloomy thoughts a good scolding. I turned around to see which driver had taken the turn too sharply and saw two familiar cars of the Smirnov family and the Yakovlev twins. Almost simultaneously, Viola and Stas parked in the first row by the school, where the teachers usually left their cars. Today the row was suspiciously empty, and a doubt formed in my mind: maybe it was some holiday, and I had mixed up the days?

All five of them fussily got out of their cars. Stas opened the trunk and handed out bags and backpacks with textbooks to his relatives. Diana noticed me first. She waved hello, and for a moment her gaze assessed me as if she was wary of me. She whispered something to her brother, standing on tiptoe to get closer to his ear. Stas glanced at me and answered briefly so quietly that I couldn’t hear, though I admit I tried.

Arthur grabbed his own backpack, then Viola’s bag. Holding hands, the couple walked straight toward me, smiling, unlike the other relatives.

“Good morning,” Arthur saluted, touching two fingers to his forehead. “I see you’re already okay.”

“As much as possible, yes. How did the disco end up?”

“Awesome!” Diana exclaimed, squeezing between her brother and sister. The fragile vampire suddenly hugged me, and I caught myself hoping she would let me go soon. How strange. Diana had always been my favorite, perhaps even more than anyone else in the Smirnov family.

“Viola and I took first place for our costumes,” Arthur proudly continued. “They say Greek mythology will soon be trendy again!”

“So we were ahead of our time.”

“Exactly!” Viola and Arthur answered in unison. The couple exchanged glances, delighted by the coincidence, and laughed heartily. Their relationship seemed like a honeymoon, where every day was a holiday. Complete unity, harmony, and understanding. Next to Arthur, Viola shed the hard armor around her soul and became a carefree girl, whose eyes burned with the flame of first love. It was pleasant to watch them, even if the shards that had recently shattered my own heart reminded me of what had happened with a slight ache in my chest.

“First transformation soon?” Diana asked loudly, and Arthur shushed his sister.

“Diana!”

“What?” Her beautiful eyes seemed even bigger with sincere confusion. “Isn’t it okay to ask?”

All three turned their curious eyes on me. I could understand them. After all, soon the city would have another wolf roaming around, and who knew who he would pick as his first prey. I couldn’t promise that nothing would happen or that friends had nothing to fear, even if I wanted to.

“Friday.”

Arthur and Viola froze like stone statues, afraid to move or show their emotions, while Diana looked at me with sympathy. The news was bad for all of us.

“Maybe,” I began cautiously, but my throat dried up, “you could leave for the weekend? Just to be safe.”

“That’s always an option,” Arthur thoughtfully replied. “We already considered that, but you know, we never had problems with your father. He even lets Max and Viola come with him. Sometimes they go hunting together if some ‘big game’ sneaks into the local forests.”

Arthur emphasized the last phrase in a conspiratorial tone, leaning slightly forward. Viola nodded approvingly.

“We really do make a good team from time to time. Who knows, maybe you’ll get along with your wolf too...”

“If, of course, you’re not mad at any of us,” Stanislav approached and immediately joined the conversation. Vampire hearing must be sharper than a werewolf’s. I thought for a moment. Mad? At the Smirnovs?

“I don’t understand what I could be mad at you for...” I began, but Diana immediately interrupted.

“For example, that you let yourself go into the forest alone so easily and didn’t sense anything was wrong.”

“Or that you didn’t expose Nik and Galina earlier,” Stas added, looking up dreamily, and something in his tone and posture suggested he took the failure personally. Stas was the one who most often appeared at my hospital room door and brought other kids, as if blaming himself for what happened and trying to make my hospital stay a little easier.

“And also that we had fun at the school disco without you, even though you worked so hard decorating the hall!”

Arthur’s version made not only me but the whole group laugh. The tension immediately eased. The fresh winter air sobered and relieved us.

“Come on. All those ‘if onlys’ won’t change anything now. What happened happened, and now I have to live with it.”

“Exactly,” Stas said seriously. “You. Not us.”

“And partly you too. Now I’m the most dangerous neighbor in Xertoni.”

I wanted the phrase to sound playful, but only Arthur caught the joke.

“We’ll see about that,” the big guy winked and hugged Viola’s shoulder, pulling her to him in a gentle embrace. “Let’s wrap it up. It’s starting.”

He said the last word with disdain. Viola followed her boyfriend’s gaze and snorted.

“Let’s get out of here. I can’t stand her.” Viola headed toward the stairs, and Arthur obediently followed her.

“Asya!” Tatiana shouted loudly and immediately hung on my neck, almost choking me. It was good my body was already changing. If I were still just a human, she would probably have squeezed my throat painfully.

“You’re back!” she continued, and I gently patted her on the back, patiently waiting for the wave of Rostova’s tenderness to subside.

“Hey, hey,” I just said.

Fortunately, Tatiana soon let me go, spotting another victim in Stanislav.

The first bell rang for class, and without any prior agreement, we all hurried into school.