My Resolution

Chapter 6

There was a chill in the air, but we didn’t expect to see snow for, at least, a few more weeks. I had pots full of turkey and noodles going in the kitchen; the aroma was floating through the house. We always made homemade noodles to go with the leftover turkey from Thanksgiving. I like to make a big pot of mashed potatoes to ladle the buttery noodles, and rich gravy over it was one of the most comforting warm meals I could imagine. It was the Friday after Thanksgiving, and we were listening to Christmas carols and decorating the house for the holidays.

Mr. Boone had taken all the kids six and up, who wanted to go, to help pick out a few trees for the house. We needed two to flank the front doors, one for the entryway, one for every landing on the stairs, and finally, an enormous tree for the great room. Donovan had arrived shortly after breakfast and was currently trying to help Mr. Boone set up the fifteen-foot pine tree he and the boys had hauled home. Every year, Mr. Boone would swear this was the last year he would “drag home so many damn dead trees,” but every year, he took off early the day after thanksgiving into the woods bringing back every tree Mrs. Boone had requested.

There were kids everywhere hanging garland, lights, and baubles according to Mrs. Boone's specifications. By the time she was finished, the entire house would look like Santa's workshop from inside out. No surface would go unaffected by the festivities.

I love this time of year most. The house always smelled of baking sweets and rich soups and stews. We decorated cookies and made homemade candies. Mrs. And Mr. Boone hosted a gingerbread house and stocking decorating contest for all of us; sometimes, friends from school would take part as well. There were holiday parties to attend around the pack, and the high school hosted the winter formal. I've been making every effort to soak in all the events going on around me, and this season would be no exception.

I was outside, up a ladder, hanging lights along the gutter of the house. Katie and her boyfriend Jake, the “hot boy,” were helping me by holding the ladder and passing strings of lights and plastic clips up to me, as needed.

“Hey, Val, has anyone told you lately that your ass is, like, super grabbable these days?” Katie called up to me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I turn my head, confused.

“She says your bubble is looking nice these days,” Jake explained, looking up toward me, but not at my face.

“Umm, thanks? I think?” I said uncomfortably, “Can we talk about something else?”

“I’m just saying, Val. That’s all. You need to learn how to take a compliment.” Katie countered.

“I’m better at taking a compliment when people aren’t talking directly to my ass when they offer said compliment.”

“Fine. I’m just saying, whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”

I looked down at them a moment longer before turning back to my task. Whatever I’m doing, “keep it up.” I’m training with full-grown male werewolf warriors; that's what I’m doing and have been since October 29th, three days after my birthday. During defensive training, we would do bodyweight training and learn defensive tactics, but that was all. We were in and out after an hour five days a week. Now, I trained six days a week, three hours a day.

I’m confident that I nearly died on the first day of training. Their program was so different than the defensive classes. We ran a mile, then did one-hundred pushups, ran another mile, then did one hundred sit-ups, ran another mile, then flipped a big ass tractor tire for a quarter of a mile, then ran the entire three miles back to do a hundred squats and burpees. This was just the warmup, I'm still not able to complete all the bodyweight training, but the lead warriors said I should be able to get through it by the end of the month. After the so-called warm-up, there was grappling where we fought one another and were trained on various offensive and defensive techniques. Friday mornings were purely for weightlifting, and Sundays were for weapons training. Being seventeen, I wasn’t able to participate in wolf training yet, but we did train in fighting off wolves so that, should it be necessary, we wouldn’t be sitting ducks if we couldn’t shift before being attacked. It was a lot; it was grueling, and I had a love-hate relationship with the whole program. On the one hand, I was getting in incredible shape and doing well, which I had to be to hold up my end of the alpha and my bargain. On the other hand, it was so f*****g hard.

I had fun being in training with Donovan, though. He was helping me with form and technique. I still couldn’t keep up with him, I knew he was fit, but I hadn’t realized he was hard as a rock. All the warriors trained in plain black athletic shorts (I got to wear a black tank top and shorts bra), so I saw each of them every day without a shirt. Donovan was ripped, muscles rippled across his arms and back and down his chest. He had a solid six-pack cut into a deep “v” that disappeared into his low-cut shorts. More than once, in the recent past, I found my mind wandering to him when I was having a little “me” time alone in my room. He’s my best friend, not a piece of meat, but oh, could he elicit a response.

I had noticed my extra fluff was starting to tighten up. My arms and legs were looking more toned than before, and my waist had cinched up a bit as well. My ass was somehow rounder, and my bust was standing perkier, despite my cup size increasing. Honestly, I had expected to lose some cleavage when I started toning up, but that did not happen. I was still curvy and voluptuous as ever, but my muscles were hardening and toning in a way that I liked. I was developing the ability to fight with intention, not just instinct, and I had been able to win some grappling matches against some omega warriors. My goal was to beat Donovan before I left at the end of the following summer.

We continued to work the lights around the house, going around all the gutters and windows. Mrs. Boone brought out the five feet by five feet wreath to hang on the front of the house. Hanging it required another person. Thankfully, Donovan and Jake were both tall, so they were able to climb the ladders to hang it easier than I would have done.

That evening, after all the lights and garland were hung and trees set up, we all gathered in the great room to decorate the giant Christmas tree. There were baubles of green, red, blue, gold, and purple, as well as various ornaments shaped like snowflakes, trains, nutcrackers, snowmen, and other seasonal objects. We each had our own box of Christmas ornaments made of things like popsicle sticks, pinecones, and Styrofoam balls that we had gathered over the years by doing crafts at school and home. When we had finished, we shut off all the lights in the house and turned on the Christmas lights, inside and out. This was my favorite part of the night, gazing in wonder at the twinkling lights. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I love the lights.

December days passed with a smattering of themed activities for all. I’ve spent most of my spare time baking and making candies. My favorite are buckeyes, because, well, peanut butter and chocolate. Donovan was dropping them in his mouth three and four at a time. Fortunately, I had learned years ago to account for “taste testers” and scavengers, so there would still be plenty of sweets for everyone.

“Do you have a date for the winter formal on Friday?” Donovan was saying between mouthfuls of candy. This was the last week of classes before winter break, and the semester would go out with the highly anticipated formal dance on Friday night.

“No, you know I don’t date.”

“I know, but I know you were asked,” he dropped his chin and raised an eyebrow, looking at me knowingly.

“Yeah, I was. Stop looking at me like that. It’s not some scandalous secret.” I shrugged, “I declined, which you also know. It’s not like you date either.”

“True, but I got asked today,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, yeah?” I grinned, “Who's this hot date?”

“Mara Darcy”

“Oh, she’s so sweet, and she's gorgeous, which never hurts, right? Wait, isn't she dating Drew Ashford?” I asked. Mara was class president and student council president; she headed all kinds of planning committees and arranged dances and events at school. She could be a little overbearing sometimes, especially with group projects and committees she would head, but she really was a good person and very nice to everyone.

"Apparently, they broke up a couple of weeks ago." He replied with a shrug.

“Alrighty," I don't generally keep track of other people's personal life, so it wasn't surprising that I had no idea they had broken up. "So, are you gonna take her?”

“I mean, I thought it might be fun to take an actual date. No offense to my usual partner,” he jested, poking me in the side.

“None taken. You should call her and tell her, though. She’s going to want to plan; accordingly, I’m sure.”

“Plan? For what?” He could be so dense sometimes.

“She’ll need to order a boutonniere, let her friends know she has a date, and brag about who it is.” I smirked, “She might even want to coordinate outfits with you,” I explained, “hell, there’s probably stuff I’m not thinking about, too.”

He looked at me, bewilderment smeared across his face. “Boutonniere? Coordinating outfits? What? I thought this was just a simple, ya know, fun time out. What the hell is wrong with females?”

I glared at him with indignation, “Really?”

“Sorry, I just mean, this shouldn’t be so damn complicated. And why do our clothes have to match? I mean, what even is that?”

I dried maraschino cherry juice off my fingers and grasped his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Stop being a drama queen. First, not all females are the same, but Mara is a planner and likes things “just so.” I could be completely wrong. You do need to get her a corsage, so find out the color of her dress. I will help you get one made.”

“What about matching outfits?”

“Just wear a tie that goes with her dress. It doesn’t have to match, but it’s a nice touch. It shows a little thoughtfulness, that’s all.”

“I still think this is stupid, as fuck.”

I couldn’t help laughing, “yeah, it kinda is, I can’t deny that. You should go ahead and call her, though.” I pointed out while washing my hands and continuing to chop cherries for the cherry chocolate kiss cookies, Mr. Boone's favorite. He left the kitchen as he dialed. I could hear his voice murmuring down the hall. I sighed; he was intelligent, strong, and compassionate. He was a great leader and would be a magnificent alpha, but he could be so dense sometimes.

“We have to have a fancy dinner?” he squawked, returning to the kitchen.

“Oh, my Goddess! How are you this ignorant about dating?”

“I’ve never really dated. So, we have dinner together before going to the actual date?”

“Okay, the whole thing is a date,” I replied gently.

“You could suggest a group dinner if you’re that bothered by it.”

“I’m not bothered by anything, but this is getting way too intimate for a one-time date.”

“So, plan a group dinner. Invite Tobi and Brady, maybe a few others as well.”

“Hey, you could come.”

“Are you asking me to be the third wheel on your date?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No, I meant a whole bunch of us could go together.”

“In that case, that would probably be okay.”

“Ask around, see what you can set up.” I recommended, “and the sooner, the better. A lot of people probably have this all sorted out.”

“Should I pick you up before or after I get Mara?”

My jaw dropped, and I stared at him in confused wonder, “What is wrong with you? I mean, really. Did you hit your head?”

“What?”

“I cannot ride with you and your date,” I said, getting annoyed at this point.

“Oh, yeah, that would be inappropriate.”

“Yeah, it would. I will figure something out,” I was assuring him when my phone vibrated. I wiped my hands and looked at the notification.

“There you go. Tobi just texted me. Nolan got a stretch limo; do we want to ride along with everyone and get dinner before the dance? I have a ride.” I proclaimed as I responded to the text.

“Should me and Mara ride with you guys?”

“That’s up to you two. I don’t see a problem, personally, but you should probably run it by her.” I shrugged.

“Sweet! I’ll let her know later.”

“We spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen baking and tasting.

Thankfully, the last week of the semester didn’t involve a lot of new material. We finished assignments and projects, and our grades were finally released for the biology projects we turned in before Thanksgiving break. Donovan and I were both pleased when our projects came back with grades in the ninetieth percentile. We had put a lot of effort into them. I got a “B” on my final semester exam in calculus, and I was ecstatic; I was sure I had failed that stupid test. Donovan got an “A,” which was really no surprise. He was good with numbers, which was good because running a pack, in a lot of ways, is like running a business. Our language arts instructor assigned “The Scarlett Letter” to read over break, I’ve read it before, but Donovan wasn’t thrilled about the assignment.

Donovan and I had gone to The Blossom House to order Mara’s corsage. Her dress was silver and white, so we decided on a corsage with a sapphire blue rose as the centerpiece, and the florist said she would run with the silver and white to create a masterpiece. He was able to find a tie that would match the rose in her corsage, as well. I had gone on Wednesday, after school, to get my nails done. They were rounded tips with a matte ombre design that faded from black on the very tips down to a deep red that matched my dress.

Friday was a lazy day. There were different movies set up in various classrooms that we could choose from to watch. In the gymnasium, there were all different kinds of games set up that we could play. Lunch was a big pizza party, and most of the female student population were signed out shortly after, so they could get their hair done for the dance that evening. I stayed for the remainder of the day since I would just fix my hair myself at home.

When I arrived home, Emma was waiting for me. “What are you up to?” I asked.

“I came to fix your hair and makeup,” she answered eagerly, “Love the nails! Now run upstairs and rinse off in the shower, but don’t wash your hair,” she commanded.

“Yes, ma’am,” I responded, taken aback but excited just the same.

I clipped my hair up before getting in the shower and washed my face and body quickly. I remained in my bathrobe while Emma worked her magic. She had brought all kinds of brushes, combs, hot tools, and hair products, some I recognized, others I did not. She also had a suitcase full of makeup. She had covered my mirror with a towel, so I had no idea what she was doing. I felt a light tugging on my hair, and occasionally she would pick up a can or bottle to spray or spritz. When she finally decided my hair fit her vision, she moved on to my makeup. She had pallets of colored powders and creams, but I don’t think they all served the same purpose. There were tubes, tubs, and small bottles spread out before me. I was overwhelmed. She went to work sponging, smearing, dripping, and painting these things all over my face. I had no idea what to expect, but I followed the directions she gave me. “Open your mouth.” “Do this.” She smooshed her lips together. “Look up.” “Blink.” I felt like a well-trained monkey.

At last, she put the final lid back on its container and sat back with a smile.

“Can I look in the mirror now?” I questioned.

“Nope, get dressed.” Mrs. Boone had graciously taken in the dress for me. I hadn’t lost much, but my waist had shrunk a bit, making some of my clothes fit differently.

Emma helped me with the adhesive bra I had gotten to help hold my bosom in place. This is probably the weirdest thing I have ever put on my body. I was surprised at how well they kept me in place. I stepped into my dress, and Emma zipped up the back.

“Damn, I forgot how good that looks on you. Okay, shoes!” she proclaimed.

I slipped on a pair of black stilettos with round toes and an ankle strap that buckled at the back. They had a midcentury feel to them that I thought complimented the dress perfectly. I had also borrowed a vintage black wrap from Mrs. Boone that would keep my arms warm in the winter air. We had already gotten a few dustings of snow, and the forecast was calling for more before the night was over.

At long last, she uncovered the mirror. The person looking back at me was f*****g hot. I still looked like me, but all my best features were enhanced. She had found a way to make my eyes and lips pop, but the make-up was surprisingly subtle. My hair was pulled back with thick curls falling down my back, just missing my shoulder, with fringe dancing delicately around my face. I felt fierce and feminine at the same time.

I grabbed a little black clutch that fit some cash, my I.D., and my phone, and we headed downstairs so that Mrs. Boone could take all the pictures she wanted before I was picked up for dinner. I was the final stop so that I would have plenty of time to get ready.

When the limo arrived, she insisted everyone line up for a few group shots as well, my friends had been around the house regularly over the last five years, and Mrs. Boone just treated them all like family. All the girls “Oohed” and “Awed” over dresses, hair, and makeup. I was quite the spectacle, seeing as I never dressed up or wore such elaborate make-up. Mrs. Boone moved everyone around, getting all the girls, then all the guys, then the individual couples. The last pictures she wanted were of Donovan and me, him being my best friend and spending more time around the house than anyone else. She was closest to him.

Finally, we were allowed to pile back into the limo to leave for dinner. I found a seat next to Tobi, and Donovan and Mara were directly across from us. The genial spirit in the limo made me even more excited to be spending this time with my friends. Looking around at some of my favorite people, I noticed Mara had her arms crossed, lips pursed, and she was staring out the window.