"Honey, your shift is up!"
I heard Mrs. Whinfrey's voice from where she stood behind the counter. Giving the cake one last nudge making sure that it was stable enough on the stand, I went to join my boss. With a smile on her face, and a motherly tone, she held out a pack for me.
"Here's your pay for this week."
Giving out a sigh, I let myself feel content for the first time this week. It felt as though I was also able to physically relax. I extended my hand and happily accepted the packet that contained my hard—worked money.
"Thank you. Ma'am! I'll be heading out now."
As soon as I took off the apron and returned the keys where it's supposed to be placed for the next morning, I was out of the cake shop. Placing the packet inside my backpack, I unconsciously put a bit of a spring to my step as I headed home. Finding a job is hard nowadays, especially for people who are not a wolf, like me.
Mrs. Whinfrey, the shop owner, is a wolf. She has a big orange marking on her right wrists that proves that she is. Well, that, and the fact that she could turn into a wolf on command.
The streets were slowly starting to crowd as people finished their work and headed home. Some of them proudly wore the fact that they are a wolf, letting out certain parts and features at a time. Like that one girl across the street who had her ears and her tail out.
I don't know what that would feel like though. To be able to shift easily like that, or have a wolf at the back of your head giving you help when you need it and have no one.
People here are expected to be able to shift at the age of 15. They get marks to prove their bond with their lycanthropic abilities. I'm 17. No shifting, and no markings whatsoever.
"Would you spare some change, please?"
Taking me out of my trance, an old man by the side of the road stretched out a cup in front of me.
"Uhhm, uhh, y—yes! Of course!"
I clambered for my wallet, fishing out whatever coin I had to give to this man, but before I could, he gave a startled yelp as two men dragged him to his feet. They were big, each standing at about 6'0 tall with muscular builds. They seemed to be inspecting the older man, and after a while they turned to each other, nodded, and dragged the man away.
He didn't have a wolf. I guess that would also explain the fact that he was homeless in the first place.
I wanted to help. However, looking at his face etched with scorn now as they push him inside a van makes me wonder, what could I have done if I helped him?
Streets are not particularly kind to non wolves either. And on that note, I should probably stop worrying about the old man and start running in the opposite direction. A group of female wolves were going my direction.
Normally, this wouldn't be an issue. If only they weren't the Queen B's at school.
"Well, well, if it isn't little miss nobody."
Vanessa's sultry voice expanded through the streets. I frantically looked around, thinking that there might be people watching. Good thing they didn't really seem to care. I couldn't help but frown a bit at them.
"What do you want?"
My voice did not falter. They scared me. Yes, they could easily overpower me and they can run about convincing people that I got myself hurt cause I'm a "helpless" human. I rolled my eyes at the thought.
"I smell that brown little packet on you. Me and my friends all want some latte for later. Mind treating us to a coffee?"
She smirked, and I hated it. I wouldn't give them my month's rent just because they want me to.
"I don't know what you are talking about."
Ignoring the way she raised her eyebrows in disbelief, I walked around them, hoping to use their dumbfoundedness as a coy and get out ASAP. A hand found its way to my shoulder. A tall girl with a bob fade haircut put her hand on her shoulder.
"You got some nerve for a human."
I felt a strong gush of air as I was pushed back, gravity working on me and pulling me to the ground. They stood above me, all five of them carrying an aura that seemed to scream ‘Don't Mess With Me."
Vanessa grabbed my bag, spilling its contents on the pavement. The brown packet dropped in front of me and her. Scrambling, I tried to grab it before she did, but within the blink of an eye she already had it in her hands.
She inspected its contents, looked at me in mockery, and gave a sigh. "This wouldn't even be enough to pay for our shopping fees, ugh."
She took one $10 bill and threw it at me. "There, think of it as a thanks."
Winking at me, she turned on her heels, beckoning the other girls to follow her.
Picking up the money she left me, I sighed. I felt tears welling up, not out of sadness, but of frustration and anger. I'm mad that they could have their way with me like that, and I'm frustrated I couldn't do anything about it.
I picked my stuff off of the floor as passersby kicked and stomped on a few of them. It's a bit disappointing that there was this much of a lack of empathy among the wolves.
Headed my way home again, the sound of trains caught my attention. ‘I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a quick detour'.
I found myself on an old red brick bridge overlooking rails for the trains I heard earlier. Growing without a wolf is hard, especially in a world where social status is based on A. How beautiful your wolf is, and most importantly B. How strong your wolf is.
Hoisting myself up over the wall like a barrier of the bridge, I sat by its edge. The feeling of being so close to death, the danger, the thrill… It made me feel alive. Which is… ABSOLUTELY WRONG. Where on earth did that thought come from?
"Oi."
Someone called, and the voice sounded way too close for comfort. A guy all clad in black with his hair neatly shaved with the exception of two symmetrical lines to the side sat a few feet away from me. His jaw was strong and his features were sharp. He was pale with deep black eyes.
"Are you suicidal or something?"
He puffed out smoke as he continued to use his cigarette hanging in between his fingertips. He looked at me briefly, a glance of some sort, then he kept his eyes on the railroad underneath him. It almost ran out and so he threw it on the ground, took another one and lighted it.
I wasn't suicidal, no. But it's not his business if I was, anyway. He probably was another one of those people who like pretending that they cared.
"Well, who are you and what's it to you?"
This time he looked at me directly in the eyes, and I felt his stare burn at the back of my mind. I felt something turn in my stomach, I felt fidgety, like I wanted to touch his face and make sure he was real.
‘Have I seen him before?'
