Chapter 19 You're Werewolves, Aren't You?
GINGER:
Jayden looks at me like I'm bipolar, and his jaw tightens. His expression solidifying into something I don't recognize. “No way. My clothes stay on.”
I sigh, looking to the heavens for some patience. “You're doing that thing again.”
“Excuse me?”
“That thing where you close up and act like I don't see what this is. You walk around carrying this weight, this stupid aura of mystery caught up in jokes and silly jabs… it's almost as if you have something to hide.”
“Easy for you to say, I'm not the one covering for my stepbrother and some chick like a coward.”
I flinch. “That’s it! I've had it with you. I really thought you could be a decent being. If it was left to me, I would walk right out this door and bid this entire study situation goodbye without looking back, but apparently the extra credits I need to sweeten the pot on my recommendation sheet is tied to this, so if we're to get along fine, you're going to start having to actually tell me things for a start.”
My index finger is poking at his chest, shoulders heavy and eyes wide from the way I've just exploded into his face.
I wait for a second. Two.
Expecting him to say something. Anything.
He doesn't.
Just keeps staring at me with that blank look.
Somewhere in that back of his mind, I can see those gears turning, churning, fighting against that part of him that knows I can be trusted and wants to tell me the truth.
But regardless of whichever side is winning, I don't want to wait around long enough for a decision.
“Guess I was wrong,” I say, returning the rest of the materials to the first aid box. “Everyone is entitled to their secrets after all. Why should I expect you to come out to me with yours?”
I stand and head to the dressing table, gathering up my things for the final time. “I'll just drop this with Pauline and then I'll be out of your hair. As for our study sessions, they can be limited to video calls and post-it notes.”
I pull the door open, but before I can walk through, Jayden’s voice comes through.
“Close the door… I'll show you.”
I fight the grin that threatens to make its way onto my face and turn back towards the bed.
His fingers pause on the base of his sweatshirt, and then they hook onto the material dragging it up and over his head.
My smile falls. And whatever residual anger I was holding onto with Jayden vanishes.
His skin.
It's bruised and battered and…scarred.
Some are still fresh from Grayson's fists—which I admit fills me with regret, but the others… the ones covered in faded shades of purple and red? Those are not today.
I can sense his eyes burning into me. Pensive. Assessing.
“Now I'm sort of missing the snappy Ginger.” He tries to lighten up the situation. He's failing badly. “What? Cat got your tongue?”
“Where did you get these?” I ask. He tries to look away, but I draw him back by the jaw. “Answer me.”
“They're from my parents. Mildred and Dinah Rivera.”
“The founding family.”
“How did you—”
“From the cabbie on the ride here. Continue.”
He takes a deep breath to get himself together, and then starts speaking.
“It started the morning I discovered they weren't really my parents.” His tone is shaky. “I was 13. Still much of a kid, curious, trying to figure things out. They were in the bedroom, arguing over whether or not to keep me. I only heard bits and pieces, fragments about a werewolf killing their biological daughter and that being even more reason to send me away. Something brushed past my leg—a rat, maybe, and I reacted without thinking. Mildred caught up to me, accused me of getting information for them.”
“Who's ‘them’?”
“The werewolves, I think.”
My breath stills. Who are his parents exactly aside being Bayview's founders? How do they know about our kind? How long have they been onto us? The neurons in my brain are trying to make sense of it but I'm turning a blank.
Jayden doesn't notice.
“When I wouldn't agree with him, it started,” he says. “The beatings.”
His jaw is clenched, his fists tight. I don't think he even realizes he's doing it, and that in itself makes my heart break.
“At first he would only order me to what he called the interrogation room when he was sure Dinah was sleeping. He reeked of booze the entire time, convincing himself with every whip of the belt he was only torturing me to protect his family.” His throat constricts. “I think he just didn't want his wife to see the monster she married.”
I take his hand in mine. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't look at me either.
“And then she saw it, when I eventually passed out from his lashes one night.”
Hope swells in my chest. “Surely that brought an end to the abuse.”
Jayden smiles. But it's not a happy one.
“Dinah was horrified—at first, but she quickly recovered. I wasn't rushed to the hospital. She wouldn't allow it. Claimed I would be taken by social services if the doctors saw my scars.”
My mouth falls open and then closed. I am in shock. How could two people be so devious?
“Wouldn't that have been better?” I whisper. Anywhere else would have to have been better than these animals right?
“No, Ginger. Going away would've meant returning to the foster system and probably being bounced round families the two years till I turned legal. I couldn't risk that. Not when I already had this plan to escape to college.”
He lifts his head, finally glancing my way and I suck in air. His eyes are red-rimmed. Nose flushed. I don't need anyone to tell me he's on the verge of tears.
He forces his gaze upward, lips tightening with frustration as he blinks fast. “Okay, this is embarrassing. I'm sorry you had to—”
I pull him into a hug. “Stop apologizing.”
The tension in his shoulders loosens, and his arms wrap around me. He tries to stay silent, but soon, his sniffles fill the space between us.
It dawns on me that this must be why he was acting weird back at the hospital.
My phone rings just as a knock cuts through the tension. I shoot him a sorry look.
“It's probably Pauline,” he says, straightening. “She knows about this.”
Even so I wouldn't want her walking in on him when he's this vulnerable.
While Jayden slips his shirt back on, I take the medkit and cross the room, pulling up the screen. It's my mom.
Based off the two voicemails and one missed call she already left me, whatever she has to say must be really important. I toss the used cotton wools in the bin, trapping the phone between my head and shoulder, then reach for the doorknob. Sure enough, his kind housekeeper’s standing there.
“Hello,” I say, more to the phone than to her.
“Ginger Cordelia Mikaelson, where in goddess’ name are you?” my mom shouts. “Everyone came down for dinner twenty minutes ago.”
Uh-oh. This can't be good. The only time she uses my full name is when she's livid or seriously worried about me. From her tone, I know it's both.
“Dinner?” I echo.
Pauline has a genuine smile on. “I came to tell you I've just whipped up a fresh batch of cookies, if you and the young master would like a snack.”
It's hard to focus on what she's saying when my mother’s also in my ears going off on me. “Sorry, one second.”
I place the speaker on my chest, turning in time to see Jayden walking towards us.
“May I return that while you wait?” Pauline asks, glancing at the first aid box.
“Yes, thank you.” I hand it over, leaving the doorway for Jayden to stand in my place.
My feet lead me to a quieter section of his room where I step out, into the balcony.
There are two sets of sofas neatly arranged here, a plush round carpet, and a glass balustrade held together by posts and clamps. I return the phone to my ear.
“I'm here now.”
There's silence on the line for a second, then—“Text me your location, I'm coming to pick you up myself.”
She sounds like she's in a hurry. I kick at an imaginary stone on the floor.
“I'm sorry I didn't inform you ahead, I'm here to tutor a friend. Jayden. You remember him.”
“The boy from last night?” she asks.
“Yes, exactly.”
It feels weird calling him a friend. But now that I know his story, it's so much harder to treat him like a villain.
I can hear her breathing on the other line, her voice sounding distracted for some reason.
“Fine, but still send me his address. I should be there in the next forty-five minutes tops.”
“You sound excited about something,” I note. “What are you not telling?”
“It can't be said over the phone, honey. Guess you'll just have to find out at the dinner table, like everyone else.”
Her laughter is infectious. I find myself smiling with her. “Alright, fine. I've gotta go.”
I text her my address and re-enter the room.
Jayden’s back on his bed, typing away at his laptop, brows pulled together in concentration. Two glasses of milk and some cookies are on the tray not far from him. I'm guessing courtesy of Pauline, bless her soul.
“I just got off the phone with my mom. Apparently, I shouldn't have run off without telling her,” I inform him. “Now we have a total of forty minutes till she's here to run through the topics covered at school today. Keep your laptop aside and open your textbook, please.”
But he doesn't move.
Instead his eyes lift to mine.
“Come to think of it, I remember seeing this exact same type of wolf yesterday,” he says, turning his device to me. “Except, it was bigger. In our school, and staying in the same spot my rival was standing not long ago.”
On the screen is a Gogle image of a gold-eyed Yukon Arctic similar to Grayson's wolf. It's standing proud at the edge of a cliff deep within the glacial plains.
Jayden points to its body. “That's Grayson isn't it?”
“You don't know what you're saying.”
“Stop bloody lying to me,” he hisses. “That would explain the mystery surrounding you two. You're werewolves, aren't you?”