Chapter 40 Origin Story
Grace stumbled back down the stairs and into the school hallway, her throat still aching from where Zion had grabbed her. She could feel bruises forming already, the tender skin protesting with every swallow.
‘What was I thinking?’
She’d been so desperate for answers that she’d approached Zion like she had any right to demand things from him. Like she had any power in the situation at all.
Clearly, she’d been wrong.
Grace made her way back to her classroom slowly, her injured leg making the walk even more difficult than usual.
‘I’m supposed to be a werewolf now, right? Aren’t healing properties supposed to come with it?’
Grace scoffed in her head, and by the time she pushed through the door, class had already started.
Mr. Rudy, their homeroom teacher, looked up from where he was writing on the board and frowned.
“Miss Ainsley,” he said, his voice carrying that particular tone of disappointment teachers seemed to perfect over the years. “How kind of you to join us. Care to explain why you’re twenty min— no, almost 3 days late?”
Grace’s mind went blank. What could she possibly say? That she had gone through the stages of life and almost death?
“I’m sorry,” Grace said quietly, not offering any explanation.
Mr. Rudy’s frown deepened. “That’s not an answer, Miss Ainsley. But since you’re here now, you can make yourself useful. Come dust the board.”
Grace limped to the front of the classroom, acutely aware of every eye following her movement. She could hear the whispers starting up again, could feel the weight of their curiosity and judgment.
As she reached for the board eraser, Grace’s eyes swept across the classroom, automatically searching for one face in particular.
Molly’s seat was empty.
Grace’s heart sank. She’d known it was a possibility, had known that Molly’s family might have already moved abroad, but seeing the empty desk made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.
Molly was gone. She was gone to another country, another continent, somewhere Grace couldn’t reach her even if she wanted to.
Grace realized she had taken her company for granted and it was safe to admit that she felt guilty about that and really missed her.
The realization made something ache deep in Grace’s chest. She was alone now. Completely alone. No parents, no home, no Molly. Just her and a world she didn’t understand filled with creatures she’d thought were myths.
Grace started erasing the board, the repetitive motion giving her something to focus on besides the crushing loneliness threatening to overwhelm her.
She heard the continued whispers behind her and tried to tune them out until she heard Zion’s name being mentioned.
“…does she think she is?”
“…was with Zion on the roof…”
Grace heard a whisper of movement behind her, listened to the soft intake of breath that suggested someone was about to do something.
Then her ears picked up a sound that shouldn’t have been audible. The faint whoosh of air being displaced, something small flying through the space toward her head.
Without thinking, Grace jerked her head to the side.
The spitball sailed past where her head had been a moment before, hitting the board with a wet splat.
Grace turned slowly, her eyes immediately finding the source. A girl three rows back, Adelaide something, was staring at Grace with wide eyes and a guilty expression. She had a straw still clutched in her hand, frozen in the act of lowering it.
The classroom had gone completely silent. Everyone was staring, their expressions ranging from shock to amusement then confusion.
‘How did I do that?’
Grace shouldn’t have been able to hear the spitball coming. Shouldn’t have been able to react fast enough to dodge it. But she had, and now everyone was looking at her like she’d just done something impossible.
Grace’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She could feel anger building in her chest, hot and immediate and disproportionate to what had actually happened.
It was just a spitball. Just a stupid, childish prank. It shouldn’t make her this angry.
But Grace was angry. Furious, actually. She could feel it burning through her veins, making her vision sharpen, making her muscles tense with the need to do something.
Adelaide was still staring at her with that guilty expression, but there was something else there too. Satisfaction, maybe. Like she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do even if the spitball had missed.
Grace finished erasing the board then she turned and with quick, long strides, stalked toward Adelaide’s desk.
The girl’s satisfaction turned to uncertainty as Grace approached.
“What are you doing?”
Grace didn’t answer. She just raised the chalk-filled eraser and slammed it down onto Adelaide’s face.
The classroom erupted in gasps.
Adelaide screamed, her hands flying up to her face which was now covered in white chalk dust. Some of it had gotten in her eyes, making her tear up as she frantically tried to wipe it away.
“Grace Ainsley!” Mr. Rudy’s voice cut through the drama. “Principal’s office! Now!”
‘Wasn’t a problem when she did it, huh?’
Grace made a point to dump the eraser on Adelaide’s head and walked out of the classroom without a word. Behind her, she could hear Adelaide scream louder about her eyes, could hear Mr. Rudy trying to restore order, could hear the excited chatter of her classmates who’d just witnessed something they’d be talking about for days.
She didn’t care, let them talk. Let Adelaide cry. Let the whole school think she’d lost her mind.
Grace limped to the principal’s office on autopilot, her mind struggling to understand what had just happened.
She’d never done anything like that before. Had never lashed out physically at another student, had never let her anger control her actions like that.
‘What’s wrong with me? I get angry, yes but these days whatever emotion I feel is just so intense. She deserved it though.’
The principal, was less than sympathetic when Grace explained what had happened. Or rather, when Grace sat silently and let Mr. Rudy explain what had happened, as he had followed her, since Grace herself couldn’t seem to find the words.
“This is completely unacceptable behavior, Miss Ainsley,” the older woman said, her expression stern. “I don’t care what provocation you felt you received. Physical assault on another student will not be tolerated.”
Grace just nodded, too exhausted to argue or defend herself.
“You’re suspended from classes for the rest of today,” she continued. “And that’s only because this is your first offense. Next week, you’ll be doing volunteer work in the library during your lunch periods and after school. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Grace said quietly.
“You may return to class to collect your things. Then I want you off school property.”
Grace nodded again and stood to leave.
“Miss Ainsley,” she called as Grace reached the door. “Is everything alright at home? This kind of behavior is very unlike you.”
Grace turned and stared at her, almost laughing at the question. Was everything alright at home? She didn’t have a home anymore. Her parents had abandoned her. She was a werewolf who didn’t know how to be a werewolf. She’d been kidnapped, nearly sold, broken her leg, slept with two different guys in the span of three days, and just gotten choked by one of the few people who might have been able to give her answers.
‘Heck, if it had been Adelaide she would sob worse than this.’ Grace had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing.
And she just said, “Everything’s fine. I’m just having a bad week.”
The older woman didn’t look convinced, but she let Grace go.
The walk back to the classroom felt longer than it should have. Grace could feel the weight of what she’d done settling on her shoulders. She’d just assaulted another student. Had let her anger control her in a way that was completely foreign to who she thought she was.
‘Werewolves are often depicted as short-tempered,’ a voice in her head supplied.’ Maybe this is just part of what you are now.’
The thought was unsettling. If she couldn’t control her anger, if she was going to lash out at every small provocation, what did that mean for her future? How was she supposed to function in normal society if she couldn’t trust herself not to attack people?
Grace pushed open the classroom door and immediately felt every eye in the room turn toward her. Adelaide was still at her desk, her face mostly cleaned of chalk but red and blotchy from crying. She shot Grace a venomous look that Grace ignored.
The students were talking amongst themselves since Mr. Rudy had stayed back at the principal’s office, and Grace started to collect her things without saying a word.
As she gathered her books and backpack, she noticed that everyone in the class was holding sheets of paper. White papers with official-looking headers. They were all talking excitedly, comparing whatever was on the papers.
Grace frowned. What had she missed?
The class representative, a studious girl named Emma, approached Grace’s desk with a paper in hand.
“This came for you while you were with the principal.”
Grace took the paper, her eyes scanning the header. It was from the school health clinic. The blood test results from the mandatory screening they’d done a few weeks ago.
Grace had completely forgotten about it. All the students had been required to get blood drawn for some kind of health database the school was putting together. Grace hadn’t thought much of it at the time, had just rolled up her sleeve and let the nurse take her blood.
Now she was staring at the results, and her entire world was tilting sideways.
Blood Type: AB-negative.
Grace read it three times, certain she was misunderstanding. But the letters didn’t change, didn’t rearrange themselves into something that made sense.
AB-negative.
Both of her parents were O-positive. She knew this with absolute certainty because Sarah had mentioned it multiple times over the years. Had talked about how common O-positive was, how it was one of the most needed blood type for donations.
And Grace knew enough about basic genetics from biology class to know that two O-positive parents could not have a child with AB-negative blood.
It was genetically impossible.
Which meant only one thing.
Grant and Sarah weren’t her biological parents.
Grace clutched the paper with trembling hands as she stared at it, her mind was racing, trying to process this new information on top of everything else.
She’d been adopted. Or maybe not even adopted legally. Maybe just taken in, raised as their own, for reasons she couldn’t begin to guess.
‘Huh?’
You couldn’t raise a child for eighteen years without knowing they weren’t biologically yours.
So they’d lied to her. For her entire life, they’d lied about who she was, where she came from, and who her real parents were.
And the necklace. The damn necklace had to fit in all these, because it kept nagging at the back of her mind. She smashed it and was taken the same day, could the necklace have held answers to her real family?
Grace’s hand went to her neck, to the spot where the necklace used to rest.
The family she’d known… it had all been a lie.