Teacher's Pet Wolf

“Yep. Just making my circuit.”

She laughs at me, because she knows exactly what I’m doing. “Do you need a buddy?”

“No.” I don’t want her to abandon the fun she’s having to baby me. “I intend to grab a plate of food and practice listening in on all the gossip.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh my god. This is going to be the best day ever. You should especially listen in on Robin and Erin, because I’d love to hear how they’re gnashing their teeth about you snagging Ranger.”

Oooh, me too. I grin, then hold up the bottle she emptied. “Another?”

“That’d be great, yeah.”

Great for me, too. Now I can meander purposefully to get her a drink, then meander purposefully back, and kill a little more time. Though I should have remembered the adage about eavesdroppers never hearing good about themselves, because Robin and Erin aren’t gnashing their teeth but running through a critical assessment of my appearance and wondering how an ugly freckled fish like me snagged a guy like Ranger—and predicting that he’ll leave me soon.

Okay. So listening to them wasn’t the best plan.

After delivering the water, it’s on to option three: grab a plate of food and find shade under a tree, away from the tables and chairs where everyone else is seated. And if someone notices me sitting alone and says that I should come and join them, I’ll look at the bright sun and gesture to my red hair and say, “I will! I’m just going to finish my lunch and then I have to reapply my sunscreen, or I’ll burn to a crisp in fifteen minutes.”

Which used to be true. I don’t get sunburns anymore—which is so far the single greatest thing about becoming a werewolf. But no one else knows that. So food, shade, and ginger lamentations.

I idly practice listening again as I head to the buffet table—with my lesson learned, so I’m not actively listening for gossip and also trying to ignore any mention of my name. Which is hard. A name always seems to cut straight through any background noise.

“Hey there, Alicia.”

Ugh. This one isn’t background noise, but right here. I look up from the stack of ribs I’m piling onto my plate. Joy Pritchard is across the table from me, her husband Mike at her side—a husband I’ve just heard is cheating on her with Robin, though Joy doesn’t know yet.

“Joy.” A few years of teaching have allowed me to perfect a bland smile that I usually offer to overbearing parents. “Mike. How’s your summer been?”

“Oh, you know,” she laughs and flips her blonde hair back over her shoulder, a move she’s done since high school. “We don’t have a summer vacation at our jobs. Most people don’t.”

Oh Lord, save me from assholes who don’t think teaching is a real job. My bland smile widens. “That’s why I asked about your summer, and not your summer vacation. Because unless your jobs exempt you from the changing of seasons, you are smack dab in the middle of one.”

Her eyes narrow and anxiety knots my stomach. The only thing worse for me than parties is confrontation. I’m not good at it. Oh, but Joy’s ready for a fight. I can almost smell it on her. As if she was simmering in sour resentment, rarin’ to go even before she saw me.

And I’m such an easy target. Especially without Sam beside me. They’re afraid of her. They’ve never been afraid of me.

“Joy! Mike!” Maria comes up, carrying a tub of sliced watermelon—and completely oblivious to the tension, but that’s okay. Her presence makes ignoring the assholes easier, and I go back to loading my plate.

“Hi, Maria.” Instantly Joy is all bright smiles again, but that sour smell of resentment is still there. “Thank you so much for inviting us. This is amazing.”

“I’m just glad you could come! Help yourselves to anything.”

“We will. I brought a salad, made some room for it on the table with the others.”

“Fantastic. Thank you.”

“I suppose you’re the one who brought the fish, Alicia?”

The knot in my stomach tightens, begins spilling acid that burns and churns through my gut. Why are people like this? Why?

“Fish?” In confusion, Maria scans the dishes. Because of course no one brought fish to a barbecue like this. “Didn’t you bring the chocolate cake?”

I did. Oh god. Now Ranger’s heading this way, jaw clenched and eyes sparking, as if he can sense the painful lump in my throat, the horrible pressure in my chest.

“Oh, it’s just a little joke from way back when,” Joy titters. “Alicia gets it.”

Yeah, I do. I really do. She’s hurting about something—probably her prick of a cheating husband—so she’s lashing out at me. Oh, and I could hurt her back right now. Not with fangs and claws, but simply by spilling everything I’ve heard. I could get Robin, too. I could humiliate and expose all of them, like they’ve so gleefully humiliated me for years.