Chapter 7
1323 Words
CHAPTER 7: Secrets Don’t Stay Buried
Leota’s POV
By the time I got back home, my legs were shaking like wet noodles and I didn’t even remember how I got there. One second, I was storming out of Jason’s creepy-ass cottage in the woods, and the next, I was standing in front of my apartment door, soaked in sweat and mud, clutching my half-torn backpack like it was a life jacket.
I didn’t go back to school. No way. Not after seeing that. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Sit in class and take notes like, “Fun fact: my classmate’s a giant wolf and his dad almost murdered me with his glowing eyes”? Yeah, no thanks.
The second I stepped into my apartment, I locked the door and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath. Everything that happened kept replaying in my head with the bones cracking, the fur bursting out and all.
No kidding, wolf-boy.
I dropped my bag on the floor and stumbled into the bathroom. I needed a bath, a rather hot one. Maybe hot enough to boil away the memory.
I filled the tub and slipped in, letting the hot water burn my skin. It felt good and safe, for the first time in hours. I sank deeper with my eyes closed and listening to the small splashes echoing off the tiles.
But my brain wouldn’t shut up.
“Why the hell were they acting like that?” I muttered to myself. “I literally helped their son not die. A simple thank you wouldn’t have killed them.”
The water sloshed as I stretched my legs.
“And what was with that guy’s eyes? Golden flash, big voice, scary as hell. Great family genes, I guess.”
I tilted my head back against the tub. Part of me was angry, but another part, some dumb, stubborn part felt… connected to Jason. Like that psychic shock thing wasn’t just random. Like there was something inside me that reacted to him.
“Get a grip, Leota,” I said out loud, covering my face with my hands. “You’re not starring in some Twilight reboot.”
Still, I couldn’t shake it. That moment when the wolf sniffed me and stopped, like it knew me somehow or like I mattered.
Eventually, the heat started making me dizzy and I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew, the water was lukewarm and my fingers looked like raisins. I was half-asleep and half-daydreaming about wolves with student loans when my phone started ringing from the living room.
I groaned.
“Ugh, not now.”
It kept ringing and ringing. I wasn’t getting out of the tub, and whoever it was could wait. Probably Camila again, calling to gossip or complain.
Then I heard her voice through the voicemail speaker.
“Lee, it’s me.. Camila. Look, I don’t know if you’re ignoring me, but he’s still prowling around. Please, keep your head down. Don’t..”
I didn’t even wait for her to finish. I jumped out of the tub, dripping everywhere, with my heart pounding. I ran straight to the living room, grabbed the phone, and slammed the “end” button.
Before I could even think, I heard the door unlock, and my whole body tensed. I spun around, clutching my towel like it was a weapon as the door creaked open.
“Leota?”
I screamed.
“Jesus, honey!” My mom screamed too, dropping her grocery bag, and apples rolled across the floor. “Why are you yelling like that?”
“You scared the life out of me!” I yelled back, clutching my chest. “You can’t just appear like that!”
“Well, I live here,” she said dryly, picking up a tomato. “The better question is.. why aren’t you in school?”
Oh crap.
“Uh…” I scrambled for an excuse with my brain buffering. “I… wasn’t feeling great. Stomach… uh, tornado. Had to come home early.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Stomach tornado?”
“Yeah. Real medical condition. Google it.”
“Leota.”
I sighed.
“Fine. I got sick, and the school nurse told me to rest. Happy?”
Her frown softened a little, but she wasn’t fully buying it.
“You should’ve called.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, tightening the towel around me. “Why aren’t you at work, by the way?”
She smiled faintly.
“Day off. Thought I’d do some shopping, cook something nice. Didn’t expect to find you hiding here.”
“Surprise,” I muttered.
She started unpacking groceries on the counter like nothing happened.
“You should call Camila, by the way. She’s left you about six thousand voicemails.”
“I heard,” I said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I’ll… call her later.”
“You said that last time, too.”
“I will! Just… after I finish not panicking.”
Mom gave me a side glance, clearly sensing I was hiding something, but she didn’t push.
When I finally sat down at the table, dressed and less soggy, Mom was already dishing out stew.
“So,” she said, handing me a bowl, “how’s school? You’ve been quiet lately.”
“School’s… fine,” I lied, blowing on my soup. “You know. Usual academic trauma.”
She chuckled.
“With all this rain to cope with, huh?”
“It’s always raining. This town should be renamed ‘Gloomsville.’”
“Better than the heat back at Lake Mississippi.”
“True,” I said, smiling faintly. “At least the vampires here get good weather.”
Mom laughed.
“You and your monsters.”
If only she knew.
We kept chatting about random stuff, and for a while, it almost felt normal again.
Then she asked the question I didn’t see coming.
“So, have you ever thought about squaring things with that Oliveira boy?”
I froze with the spoon halfway to my mouth.
“What?”
“Dante,” she said casually, like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb. “You two used to be close, didn’t you? It’s been years.”
“Mom,” I said sharply. “Don’t. Please.”
She blinked.
“Sweetheart, I’m just saying maybe you should...”
“No.” My voice came out harsher than I meant. “Don’t talk about him.”
She sighed, leaning back.
“Alright, alright. I respect your wishes, Lee. That boy was… queer anyway.”
I choked on my stew.
“What... what do you mean queer?”
“You know,” she said, waving her hand vaguely. “Strange. Odd. That kinda thing.”
I forced a laugh, but my insides twisted. She didn’t know what he really was. What they really were and I couldn’t tell her, not without sounding completely insane.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Weird guy.”
She nodded, clearly satisfied.
“Exactly.”
We fell into silence, and I poked at my food, trying to focus on anything but Jason or Dante.
Then, just as I started thinking maybe I’d get through lunch without another jump scare, Mom reached for something on the counter.
“Hey,” she said casually, picking up my sketchpad. “This yours?”
My stomach dropped.
On the open page was the sketch I’d made of Jason, the one I drew weeks ago, before everything went to hell.
“Oh,” I said quickly, trying to grab it. “Yeah, that’s.. just practice.”
Mom tilted her head, squinting at it.
“He looks familiar.”
“Does he?” I said, forcing a nervous laugh. “Weird. Ha.”
She ignored my terrible joke.
“No, I’m serious. That’s Jason, right?”
I froze again.
“How... how do you know his name?” I asked slowly…
- Writer
