Page 25 of Raised By Wolves

“We don’t have to do this,” Holo reminds me. “We can always run.”

I tighten my backpack straps. “No, we can’t,” I say. “Not yet.”

A school bus pulls up, brakes screeching, and even more high school kids get off. The crowd in front of the school gets bigger. Louder. They call out to one another. Jostle one another. It’s a giant surging herd of humans.

A wolf looks for signs of vulnerability when picking its prey. The newborn elk calf. The lame bull. The yearling deer who stumbles on a rock in a dry riverbed.

I watch the crowd with hunter’s eyes—but for what? Holo and I both know that the only vulnerable animals around here are us.

Wolves who trespass on other wolves’ territory will be attacked.

The goal is to be accepted by the pack.

A bell rings, and the front doors swing open. My heart gives a sickening leap. My brother grabs my hand, and I give his fingers a quick squeeze.

Then I let go and we start walking.

Inside Kokanee Creek High School, kids are shouting, laughing, slamming their lockers. Someone’s playing loud and terrible music. Noise swirls around me. Voices ricochet off my skin.

“He says Michael kissed me, which is bullshit!”

“Yo, Gunner—where’s my twenty?”

“Gedney seriously needs to give us a break.”

“I didn’t study, did you?”

I smell soap and perfume and sweat. Bodies brush against me. Someone steps on my foot. I start breathing too quickly. My hands start to shake. It’s too loud. Too close. Too much for my senses to handle.

“Kai,” Holo says, “are you all right?” He knows I’m not.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “I just have to get to room 112.”

He presses his shoulder tight against mine. Wordless, wolfish reassurance. And then we start walking again, weaving through all the people. We’re doing okay until a grizzly-sized guy in a camo T-shirt steps in front of us, blocking our way.

He says, “Who the hell are you?”

He’s so tall I’ve got to crane my head back to see his face. He’s got tiny blue eyes and a short, fat nose. Blond hair cut close to a pink scalp. Small, mean teeth.

My jaw clenches. Holo starts to growl.

He laughs harshly. “Oh shit, never mind,” he says. “I know who you are. You’re the newfreaks.” He takes a menacing step forward. His smell washes over me. Musk. Sour milk. Crotch.

I freeze. I don’t know whether to run or fight. We’re in enemy territory. Holo crouches down and bares his teeth. He looks ready to spring.

Okay, I think.Fight it is.

I’m scanning the giant kid’s body for where to hit first when suddenly there’s a teacher in between us and him. “Mr. Hardy,” she says, all sugary sweet, “your classroom is down that way. I wouldn’t want you to be late again. Would you?”

His pink face gets pinker with rage. Then he turns and lumbers away down the hall, muttering under his breath.

Hardy, I think.That means he’s one ofthem.

In a normal voice, the teacher says to me, “Are you Kai? I’m Ms. Tillman, your ELA teacher.” She’s kind of old, but her hair’s dyed turquoise. There’s a tattoo of a mountain bluebird on her freckled forearm.

“Yes, I’m Kai,” I say.What’s ELA?

“Come on in,” she says, gesturing to her classroom.

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