Shimmer in the Darkness

Gwendolynn The smell of rotten fruit and day-old meat hits my nostrils in a puff of abnormally hot wind. Even though it was September and school was back in session, fall weather wouldn't officially start until well into November. The endless summer is a true trial of living in a tiny town in Southern California. I can’t understand how we are far enough from death valley and the desert to be surrounded by a literal forest, but it still gets so hot I feel like I am melting and stays that way until November brings a “fall season” that is nothing like what movies and TV shows look like.  Truthfully, I hate sitting in this spot but it is the only place no one bothers me. I wonder if they just think that me sitting here next to these gross dumpsters is punishment enough? Every day at school is the same as summer break with the pack. I thought school would be different because there are so many humans here; the other pack kids can’t bring up the fact that I can’t shift. But boy was I wrong, they just found other reasons to bully me. If I can't shift, I'm not worth anyone's time - how original. I am different. There will always be something others can pick on me for. This week it is my weight. I am fat. I need to eat a salad. I should stop eating. I am gross. I take up too much space. I should go to the gym instead of reading. Their comments blend together for me, but the message is clear… I don’t belong here.  Anyways. That is why I am sitting outside, alone, hiding out behind the school by a row of smelly old dumpsters. I’ve tried hiding other places, it never works out. If I’m in the library one of the pack kids always seems to find me. I tried the bathroom stall, but they love crawling under the doors or jumping over the stalls to get to me. Sometimes they just surround the stall and hurl insults since I'm too scared to get past them. I even tried hiding out under the bleachers. But they still came after me. If I am somewhere they might stumble across me, I'm not safe. So I go the one place no one else would go, especially a shifter with a sensitive nose, and hope the smell of garbage hides my scent, you know, just in case one of them happens to be nearby.  Unfortunately, I haven't really won anything because they still get this week’s wish, I won’t be eating. The smell is so foul I cannot even look at my sad sandwich that is now hidden in my bag. Instead of spending my lunch like a normal teen eating and chatting with literally any other kid, I am sitting here reading another book just imagining I am the heroine in one of these paranormal romances where the shifter finds their fated mate and they are automatically loved no matter what they look like or how different they are.   Isn’t that the dream? In all these books the heroines are kick-ass because they have supernatural abilities. Even if they have a horrible life, they always find their tribe and find a way out of the hell hole where they started. I wish that could be me. But being a supernatural creature means nothing when you are already surrounded by them. Being a shift doesn't make you a kick-ass heroine. There is nothing special about another shifter when everyone around you can also shift. Especially if you are in the middle of a wolf pack without a wolf. What is worse is that today is my 18th birthday. And here I am, spending every break from class my senior year hiding; sitting next to Frank, the dumpster in case you weren’t paying attention, his twin Franklin, and their little sister Frankie, a slightly smaller dumpster. If I were normal and had friends I would probably get to celebrate with cake or a party or something. But not me. Today is like any other day. I hide at school then I will go home and do all of my bajillion chores. If I finish before dinner, I can eat in the packhouse kitchen after serving the pack before washing dishes and scurry off to my room to do my homework before bed. If I don’t, then I work until I am done and pray I can snag a quick snack and don’t have to stay up all night to finish my school work.  I always dreamed of leaving home at 18, but I also assumed I would have graduated from high school and would be going off to college like everyone else my age. I also hoped I would have money saved up, but there is no time for a part-time job when I am expected to work for free around the packhouse. it also didn't help that my father's fears consume his life, he is so scared of our Alpha that he insists I keep my other half a secret from the pack. I guess being the only pack omega has reduced him to the bottom of the pack and increased his fear of our Alpha and Betas.  I had to miss a whole year of school when I was 10 because I shifted in the middle of the living room, and guess what, I didn't shift into a wolf. He was so scared of what would happen if the pack found out that he sent me to live with a relative of my mother’s in Columbia to learn control so I wouldn’t out myself. I didn’t even speak Spanish because my mother died when I was born and my father’s only other language is Arabic. Needless to say, I learned a lot more than how to control my shifting in that year living in Colombia.  Our pack hates everything that isn't a wolf. They believe that wolf shifters are superior to all other shifters and that non-natural animals are an abomination created by black magic and should be destroyed. If I had been a bear or a fox I would be safe, but once again I am too different and it puts me in danger. So, I continue to hide my shifting from everyone.  Thankfully, the wolves in our pack have never smelled a shifter that isn’t a wolf before. My weird smell of cotton candy and rain is just one more thing to be teased about. Thankfully, humans all smell different, some smelling distinctly of foods they eat too often. So, my pack assumes that the fat girl was busy eating candy. A theory I support by keeping candy around constantly in an attempt to protect my secret. Hiding by the Franks ended up being easier than I originally expected because our pack is pretty small. There are only 15 other members who are of age to be going to my high school out of about 100 members total. They get sidetracked easily and as long as I am out of sight and far enough away they can smell me they don't tend to come looking for me.  The humans at this school are fine, they don't tend to pick on me, but because of Sally and her squad of nasty wolves, they give me a wide berth. Shifters tend to be taller with more well-formed muscle than humans at any age, but especially as teenagers. We tend to skip the lanky weird teen years and go from kid body to adult body pretty early. I think it's because of our weird biology and the speed of our metabolisms. It also doesn't help that we are expected to train from a young age, sculpting our bodies into weapons to help protect us from other supernaturals or rival packs. But that means that the humans are intimidated by the large strong boys and the well-defined and athletic girls who flock together like a gang and run the halls of Mercy Valley Prep.  I check my watch to see if I have enough time to read another chapter before the bell rings for 6th period. Hmm, looks like I have about 20 minutes left. That should be enough to read another chapter or two.  I am about halfway through my book, waiting for the other shoe to drop and something awful to happen to break apart the heroine and her mate when a strange shadow blocks my sunlight.  I look up and see a boy I have never seen before. And oh boy, is he gorgeous. He is quite possibly the most beautiful man, and I mean man, he is definitely no longer a boy, I have ever seen in my life. He is tall, tall enough that he must be a shifter. I can’t tell exactly how tall from my spot down on the floor but he has to be at least 6’5”. Due to the Franks’ perfume, I can’t smell him, so there is no way to know for sure if he is a shifter or not.  He has beautiful ebony skin and the most intriguing grey eyes. I have never seen a black man with eyes so grey before. His jaw is square and his cheekbones could cut glass. I am pretty sure I stopped breathing for a second. He is wearing a pair of beat-up Doc's and an old pair of worn denim jeans. As I look higher up, I see he is wearing a plain white t-shirt topped with a leather jacket. He looks like an old cola commercial. Possibly the poster boy for a teen romance bad boy? You know, the ones that look like you should steer clear but aren’t actually bad?  Good Goddess.  “Hey, what are you doing sitting back here?” He asks with his eyebrows scrunched down and a look of confusion on his face.   I can't help but stare into those steely grey eyes and I get a little lost in the depths of them. I can see his concern in his expression grow as I stare back. He seems genuinely concerned as to why I am sitting back here all alone.  And now mute.  “Umm, hello?” His eyes squint even more as he starts to squat down to eye level and gives a little wave in front of my face.  Oh, Goddess! I am taking too long to answer, aren't I? Shoot, what did he ask?  Goddess, he probably thinks I'm a weirdo... Oh yeah! He asked why I am sitting next to these disgusting dumpsters.  “Uh, because it’s quiet out here?” The statement comes out more like a question. Good Goddess woman, get yourself together. “I am sorry. Do I know you?” It comes out sounding ruder than I intended. How dare this glorious creature disturb my reading by the dumpster time.  He seems confused by my answer but his concern turns into a small smirk.  “No, I don’t think you would. I am Ryder Drake. Today is my first day here at Mercy Valley Prep. I was just walking around the building trying to figure out where my next class is when I spotted you sitting here by yourself and wondered why you would sit next to something that smells so awful when there is a perfectly good tree 30 feet in front of you with a ton of shade that you could be sitting under instead?”  Ah, makes sense. I guess no one has told him how different I am yet. New students always do weird things on their first day. Like wandering around lost and walking up to strangers for no reason. Right? “I see. Are you a senior?” He looks way too old to be in high school but I will let him correct me if he is a teacher or Goddess forbid a freshman.  “Yup, I know, I know. I look too old to be a senior. But I got into a really bad car accident with my parents when I was younger and missed a whole year of school while I was recuperating. So here I am, 18 and starting my senior year of High School. And now I am oversharing, sorry.”  That makes sense. I mean, I am 18 and a senior. I am in no place to judge.  But still, why is he talking to me? No one talks to me. This is just weird. It’s like halfway through the day and no one has told him to stay away from Grubby Gwen? “I’m sorry, that must have been hard.” “Yeah.” He responds, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet like he is nervous. But he hasn't walked away, he just keeps staring at me.  Why isn't he leaving?  I give a small smile and look back down at my book. Maybe if I look like I am reading he will take the hint.  It can’t be much longer before the bell rings. Ryder clears his throat like he is about to say something else, and I make the mistake of looking up into those pools of swirling grey.  “Uhh, what's up?” I ask, a little hesitantly. Unsure if I should encourage whatever is going on here or if I should run away before he realizes I am a loser who hides by the dumpster to avoid her bullies.  **BRRRRIIIINNNNGGGG** The bell signifying the end of lunch cuts off whatever he is about to say, ringing loud in my sensitive ears.  “Oh, Goddess! I have to go. I am going to be late for class! Uh, Bye!” I stammer out the words before he can finish the thought he had before the bell rang. I rush to grab my backpack and scramble to my feet shoving my book into the depth of my bag. I turn to run to class, which is of course on the other side of campus from the Franks, and see he is still standing near me, only having shuffled back enough to allow my movement.  “Uh, Ok. See ya later.” He murmurs as he continues to stare at me as I turn to run.  I swing my bag over my shoulder and take off, not even checking to make sure he isn't following me.  That was weird. Hopefully, I don’t see him again anytime soon. This school isn’t that big, but a girl can hope, right? Ryder I stand frozen staring after her as she darts away from me like the school is on fire. She is the strangest creature I have ever encountered.  She was average height for a girl, maybe about 5’5”, with gorgeous dark blue hair falling around her round face in waves. Her eyes were a gorgeous shade of hazel that was practically glowing against her caramelly brown skin. She was larger than the other girls I have seen so far at school but personally, I like women with tons of extra curves. There is nothing sexier than a larger woman.  Maybe it is because they have the soft edges that so many shifters lack? Shifters, even the women, are all taut muscles and strength. They spend their lives training their bodies into weapons in order to protect themselves from outside supernatural threats. It can leave them feeling like a rock rather than a pillow. It is something that has always bothered me. Who wants to cuddle with a rock?  Growing up, I was always drawn to the human girls who were chubby and soft. My family was sure I would grow out of it when I realized that a human woman would never accept me the way a shifter would but here I am, 18, still loving larger human women. I couldn't smell anything past these damn dumpsters, but I am sure if I could I would smell human. Though, to be honest, that doesn't matter to me.  Shifters aren’t able to find their mates until they are 21 and we are not forced into choosing to be with our fated mates like pop culture insists. We have choices. If in real life a person abused and bullied someone non-stop and then found out at 21 their abuser was their mate, you best believe the abuser would be rejected in a heartbeat. You respect your mate, or you don’t get one. All shifters know that.  Thankfully, being rejected isn't the end of the world. You can still build a relationship and create a mate bond with someone who isn’t your fated mate. It is just harder and takes more work and dedication.  Not to forget, not everyone finds their fated mate. Only about 30 percent of shifters find their true mates. So many shifters will build relationships the way humans do if they don't find their mate before the age of 31. With our slightly longer life spans and the speed of our metabolism and healing, shifter women remain fertile much longer than human men, so there really isn't a rush to have children as soon as you become an adult, like in many human cultures.  Honestly, I think I would prefer being rejected or never finding my fated mate. Hard work makes relationships stronger. That is one of the most important lessons my parents taught me. They weren't true mates, but their love was strong and their relationship was stronger than any I have ever seen.   Normally, my sense of smell would help me to judge if she was lying or telling the truth when she answered me but the dumpster was all I could smell. If shifters are trained and really paying attention, we can also tell a lie based on listening to heartbeats. It is a skill of mine, however, I didn't really think it a question she might lie about so I wasn't paying attention to her heartbeat. Thankfully, the way she shifted and squirmed when answering my questions makes me think she is leaving something out, if not outright lying.  I sigh as I finally pull myself together and turn towards where I think my next class is. I honestly have no idea where I am going, but I guess I will just wander and ask a teacher if I have to.  I am in a bit of a daze as I walk around looking for my class, my thoughts focused on the strange girl from earlier. I have no idea why she was really over there, but it sure as Hades wasn't because it was quiet.  I know my sense of smell is more sensitive than humans but how could she stand it? There has to be a different reason for it. I wonder if the smell of the dumpsters stuck to her after she went to class or if she smells like whatever she ate for lunch? She seemed so genuinely startled that I would say hello. Do people not talk to her? Maybe she likes to be alone and hates everyone? I don’t know, it didn’t seem like she hated me. Why can’t I stop thinking about this girl? “Mr. Drake, you seem lost. Can I help you find your next class?”  I blink at the short woman who stepped into my path. I was so out of it I almost walked straight into her. It is the receptionist who checked me in this morning. She is an older woman, maybe in her 50s with short blond hair with streaks of grey going through it, a heart-shaped face, and a bit of extra fluff around the middle. She is wearing a green sundress with a dark green open sweater that gives her the 1950's housewife look. it makes her seem warm and friendly, approachable. I get a nose full of her fresh baked cookies scent. Her scent definitely helps push the warm and homey vibe she's giving off. Hopefully, she can help me navigate the maze of this school. “Sorry, hi, Mrs. Marley. Yes, I am very lost. Can you tell me where room 154 is?” She gives me a warm smile and answers in a softer voice than the one she used to snap me out of my daze.  “No Problem, sweetheart. Keep going down this hallway then take a left at the end, it’s the first door on the left. Have a good day Mr. Drake.” I give her a warm smile in thanks and start to shuffle off in the direction she pointed, “Thank you, I hope you have a good day as well Mrs. Marley.”  Thankfully, that exchange was enough to get my head back on straight so for the rest of the walk, I just look around and try to orient myself instead of thinking about the curious girl next to the dumpsters.  As I approach the classroom, I catch a hint of something that smells familiar and it stops me in my tracks.  I have been smelling wolf all day, but other than that, I have yet to find any other kind of shifter in this school. That is to be expected based on what I know of the Blood Moon Pack. But, it makes me miss my old school with so many different types of shifters that you couldn't walk down the hall without seeing at least five different types of shifters. Plus we didn't have any humans who didn't know about us at our school. The presence of so many oblivious humans has is making me uncomfortable, forcing me to hide a part of myself that I am much too used to keeping out in the open.  The smell is slightly different than what I have smelled before, which is common but I can place the type of shifter it is coming from easily. All shifters have their own unique scent, even if the base scent is the same for each type of shifter. For example, wolves all smell like musk, however, each tends to have a different type of spice or spice mix that mixes with the musk. Bears always smell like tree bark and berries, but the tree bark and berries differ depending on where their natural bear originated.  Whoever it is, smells like cotton candy and rainfall, one of my favorite smells in the world. I have only met one other person with a smell like this and she died in that car crash that killed my parents.  As I approach the door to my classroom, the smell becomes crisper, drawing me towards it like a wild animal searching for its prey. It smells amazing. I wonder who it is.  I enter the classroom and turn towards the teacher to apologize for being late and the scent lingers inside the room, mixing with the smell of wolf. There must be a couple of wolves in this class too.  “I am sorry Mr. Humble, I got lost. The halls here are confusing.” I try my best to stay focused on my teacher, an older man who is tall and stout and is balding. He gives me a small smile as if he understands how confusing this place can be.  “No Problem Mr. Drake. Let’s introduce you to the class.” “Sure,” I say and he immediately begins my introduction.  “Class. We have a new student today. Please welcome Mr. Ryder Drake. He just moved here from Oregon.”  As he continues, I start to turn towards the class and take a small sniff of the air to direct me to the scent I am searching for. I immediately find the source of the familiar scent.  My heart stops for a second, and my jaw drops. I quickly cough to hide the quick intake of breath I take to recenter myself. I guess that answers my question. She definitely doesn't smell like garbage. In the very back corner, sitting hunched in her chair with her beautiful hazel eyes drilling into me is the girl from the dumpsters.  How strong was that garbage that I missed her scent?