My Resolution

Chapter 2

“BRRRRRING!!!,” the alarm clock on my phone rang, “BRRRRRRRING!!!,” with my head still buried in my pillow; I reached over and randomly squeezed the thing until it finally shut up. About the moment I pulled my comforter back over my head, I heard annoying screeching once again, this time coming from the alarm clock I had set on the other side of my bedroom. It forces me to get up and walk across the room; otherwise, I would never get out of bed on time. After turning the annoying noise machine off, I stretched my arms, back, and neck while yawning widely. I aspire to be a morning person, but it's doubtful that will ever happen. I threw on some clothes to make breakfast in, an old t-shirt, a pair of sweats, and my house shoes, leaving my hair in the braid I always slept in and started my way downstairs. I hadn’t made it to the third step when my phone alarm started ringing again, “son of a b***h,” I muttered as I backtracked to turn it off this time. Definitely never going to be a morning person, I think to myself as I trudge back out of my room and down the stairs once again.

The kitchen was quiet when I arrived, but it didn’t take long for the aroma of coffee and the sounds of breakfast preparations to fill the immense space. This room, like all the other spaces in the house, had been designed with intention. Countertops were lining three of the four walls, except the area where the double doors that led outback were, the large double wide fridge fit comfortably between the cabinets on the opposite wall, a stainless-steel triple wide sink and two dishwashers sat beneath a large picture window directly across from the refrigerator, and on the wall stretching across the side was the large gas top Wolfe stove and oven combo, my favorite appliance to ever exist. Down the middle of the room was a large island with immense storage capabilities, electrical outlets galore, and a handwashing sink. The fourth wall held another countertop where outlets were running down the wall for the coffee maker, crock pots, mixers, and anything other small appliances that I could possibly imagine. On either side of the countertop were doorways; one was the entry to the kitchen from the galley beside the indoor dining room, on the opposite side was the doorway to the pantry, that was nearly as expansive as the kitchen itself, where a second double-wide fridge was located along with a large deep freezer and shelves stacked to the ceiling with enough food to feed an army of growing werepups.

I sipped my coffee as I got a large stockpot of water boiling for oatmeal, then I lined a few industrial-sized jelly roll pans with bacon and slid them into the oven to bake sliced up apples and supremed some oranges. There was still plenty of orange juice and milk, so I didn’t worry about the drinks. As I was ringing the bell for breakfast, my phone vibrated in the pocket of my apron; it was Tobi.

Tobi:

-You and Donovan want to go to the corn maze tonight?

Me:

-The haunted one out at the Anderson’s?

Tobi:

-The one and only. It’ll be fun! They doing hayrides too.

-*Are

-My bad, don’t yell at me

Me:

-Ha Ha Ha you’re hilarious

-Yeah, I’ll have to okay it with the Boone’s, but it should be fine.

-I’ll let Donovan know

-TTYL I’m feeding the kids

Tobi:

-OK

-See ya!

--------------------------------

Me:

-Tobi asked if we wanted to go to the Anderson’s tonight

-I’ve got to get the okay, but I’m down to go.

I dropped my phone back into my pocket and started dropping ice cubes into the oatmeal for the little kids so that it would cool faster. They munched on fruit while they waited. After eating my breakfast, I went up to shower and get dressed for the day. I always shower in the morning; it's just part of the schedule; pups ten and under take baths in the evening, eleven and older bathe in the morning. Mr. Boone had tankless water heaters installed, so we don’t run out of hot water, but splitting the schedule helps with timing. Mrs. Boone insists that little kids are always filthy by the end of the day, so they need baths before going to sleep; otherwise, their beds would never be clean. I preferred showering after cooking breakfast, anyway, so it worked well for me.

After shutting the door to my room, I replaced my shower caddy and hung up my bathrobe. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall beside the closet door. I took in my appearance; I’m about 5’9” and curvy with round hips and a full bust, muscular with a little bit of cushion. My rich chestnut brown hair hung just at my waist with a slight wave twisting about halfway down and through the length, the layers softly framed just below my oval face, covered in light brown freckles and light peach skin tone. My eyes are my favorite feature. They are almond-shaped with pools of hot chocolate and black specks staring back at me. My mom’s eyes; my dad always described her as hypnotizing. My mom was indigenous; specifically, she was Inuit, hailing from a pack in the far northern reaches of Alaska, and dad was primarily Irish, with a smattering of other European genes mixed in there, I ended up with my mom’s eyes, high cheekbones, and nose, but my dad's skin and freckles. I’m happy with myself. I can’t say I would change much. I could be a bit healthier, but I do exercise and mostly eat well, so there is that. I was once called conceited because I’m happy with my look, but I think body positivity is essential for everyone. I concede that I could make minor improvements for my overall health, but I make no apologies for a bit of self-love.

Digging through my closet, I find a pair of blue jeggings, a white fitted t-shirt, a navy, burgundy, and white plaid cardigan with fringe that hung down into long points in the front with rolled and buttoned three-quarter length sleeves, and pulled on my light brown, calf-high leatherette boots over a pair of mismatched socks. I pulled my hair up high into a messy bun and went to grab my phone from the bed. I looked all over the bed but didn’t see it, so I glanced at the nightstand and table; it wasn’t on either. I picked up my comforter and shook it thinking my phone would fall out, but it didn’t.

“Damn it. Where the hell is my phone?” I signed, annoyed at my own absentmindedness. The last place I knew I had it was the kitchen, so I proceeded toward that direction, hoping it was there. It didn’t take me long to find my phone still sitting in the pocket of the apron I had been wearing that morning. “Ah-ha!” I proclaimed to the empty room in general. Mrs. Boone poked her head through the door from the backyard with an eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked curiously.

“I found my phone,” I smiled, holding it up like a trophy.

“You would lose your head if it wasn’t attached, do you know that?” She laughed while shaking her head.

“Yeah, yeah, but it's attached, so I’m safe,” I concluded with a grin.

“Hey, Mrs. Boone! Tobi invited me to come to The Anderson’s corn maze tonight. Would that be all right?”

“I don’t see why not. Will you be eating dinner here or with your friends?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. Can I let you know?”

“That’ll be fine. Just check-in.”

“Definitely”

“Have fun, Val.” She waved as she walked back out toward the playing pups.

“I will!” I called to her before heading upstairs. I needed to do a load of laundry. My phone vibrated in my hand; when I looked at it, I realized I hadn’t checked my notifications. “Jeez!” I thought, thirty-two text messages and seven missed calls. I kept on toward my room as I checked the phone. A couple of texts were from Toni checking to see if I would make it tonight. I quickly responded, “yes.” The rest of the calls and texts were from Donovan confirming he was going tonight, and they quickly deteriorated from words to him just sending random memes with no particular theme.

Me:

-Hey, you can stop now.

Donovan:

-Lost your phone, again, didn’t you?

Me:

-No, I was just ignoring you

-Obviously

Donovan:

-You would never

Me:

-I might

Donovan:

-Never!

-Micah said they were having a bonfire and roasting wieners too

-Starting around 6

Well, that answered that question, I thought. I’ll let Mrs. Boone know later.

Me:

-I Love bonfires!!!

-We should take something.

Donovan:

-I vote monster cookies!

Me:

-Ok, sounds good to me.

-You helping?

Donovan:

-Official taste tester at your service.

-I can be there around 11, we can eat lunch and go to the store.

Me:

-Ok, see ya

I had made it to my room and was sprawled out on my bed. I rolled over to look out the window toward the front of the house. My eyes followed the driveway winding off toward the road. The trees were swaying in unison, each covered in brightly colored orange, yellow, and red leaves. The house was set back deep onto the property, at the edge of town. Still, it was in no way secluded. Across the road was a row of neat homes where other pack members lived, and wrapping around each side of the property was the expanse of the pack lands that backed directly up to a 150-foot high cliff in the Ozark Mountains, which made it much easier for the warriors to protect the lands and kept us more easily secluded from the human towns.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts, realizing I needed to get that laundry finished before I could leave today. I tossed my bathrobe and towels into the hamper, snagging a stray sock from under the chair and sniffing my hoodie to see if it needed washing; it did. I threw everything into the hamper along with the rest of my dirty clothes and lugged the whole lot down the stairs into the laundry room. With two regular-sized washers and dryers along with an industrial version of each, laundry was easier to keep up with, considering all the bedding, clothes, and kids. Mrs. Boone even used cloth diapers on the littles that were not potty trained. I started my laundry in one of the smaller machines, not caring about separating it. Nothing terrible has happened yet. However, I still separated the other laundry per Mrs. Boone's specifications. I started the industrial washer full of bedsheets piled up to be washed and started a load of baby clothes into the other small washer.

I found Mrs. Boone in the kitchen getting graham crackers and yogurt ready for snacks. She held up a package of crackers to me. I washed my hands and started breaking crackers into quarters.

“I found out The Andersons are having a bonfire and roasting hotdogs tonight, so I’ll eat while I’m out there,” I said.

“That’s a fun idea. We should do that for the kids tomorrow night after the pumpkin patch,” she suggested.

“Sounds good to me. I think they would enjoy that. Some of them have never roasted a hotdog on a stick.”

“What child could resist?” she chortled. “How are the college applications coming?”

“Well, I’ve decided to apply to schools in Kansas City, Oklahoma City, and St. Louis, but I’ve got to write essays for a few, and I am not looking forward to that. I’d like to go even further, but I can get instate tuition, and there are some excellent schools.” I explained.

“Yeah, you can save some money, and I would much rather have you close to home—the closer, the better, in fact. However, you’ve always wanted to travel and see the entire world for as long as I’ve known you. Is there something keeping you closer to home?” She questioned, raising both her eyebrows while looking me in the eyes.

I still hadn’t told her I didn’t plan to come back to live with the pack because I’m avoiding a mate, by all means, necessary, so I didn’t want to tell her the reason I was being as conservative as I could think to be with education funds was so that I wouldn’t be drowning in too much debt all while trying to make a life on my own.

“No, just the financial stuff. College is expensive,” I shrugged. “This would make money go further, that’s all.”

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, “Okay, but you don’t need to stress about that stuff. Just do what is best for you.”

I nodded and finished breaking up the crackers. She always insisted that I not stress about finances, but I did anyway. How can an orphan not be concerned about where money was going to come from? I heard the washing machine start singing its odd little tune indicating the cycle was complete, and I went to switch the loads over as Mrs. Boone winked at me and carried her load of yogurt and crackers out the door.

About the time the laundry was dried, folded, and put away, I could hear Katie calling up the stairs, “Your sexy friend is here, Valerie!” The is one boy crazy fourteen-year-old. I laughed to myself as I ambled down the stairs. I guess we all are at some point if we’re into boys, anyway.

I found Donovan in the great room surrounded by several of the smaller kids and the girls around Katie’s age. I was always amused at the reactions to his visits. The younger pups jumped around and asked him random questions, like, “who's your favorite superhero?” and “could you lift me all the way up with just one arm?” they seemed to all look up to him and thought of him as a bit of a superhero being the future alpha of the Snow Moon pack. Meanwhile, the older girls cutely flirted. Well, I thought it was cute. Donovan hated being flirted with; I don’t know why he wasn’t used to it by now; regardless, any one of these girls could be his mate, he didn’t know, so I just amused myself watching my best friend be the wonderfully friendly person he is all the while being slightly uncomfortable because that’s what good friends do. He really is a good-looking guy. He stands about 6’5” with tawny brown hair that he kept in a high fade with a textured cut and a bit of fringe down his forehead that directed the gaze to his golden-brown eyes and chiseled face. He was very muscular without being massively bulky, and he kept a warm coppery tan year-round. The girls were standing with a hand on one hip or the other with their heads slightly tilted to either side, all while giggling playing with their hair. I just stood back leaned against the door frame smirking at the sight.

It didn’t take him long to see me standing there biting my lips, trying not to laugh. He scowled at me, and I lost it. Tears were pouring down my face instantly from all the pent-up mirth. The others finally noticed me standing there as well, and they all wore bewildered expressions, not knowing what was so funny. Donovan said his goodbyes to the kids, then turned toward me; he mouthed, “you are a pain in my ass” as he walked past me and through the door. I waved to everyone as I turned and followed him out to his car, still shaking with silent laughter.