Page 98 of Raised By Wolves

CHAPTER 76

MY HEAD FEELS fuzzy and I’m a little off-balance as we leave the bar.

“The second beer tasted better than the first,” I say to Waylon, giggling.

“It went down better, too,” he says. He puts his hand lightly in the small of my back and leans in close. “Which is why I’m cutting you off,” he whispers playfully. “We can’t have you dancing on the tables.”

“As if,” I scoff, although for some reason the idea doesn’t sound nearly as shocking to me as it should.

“I’m going to miss that place when I’m gone,” he says as the door swings shut behind us.

I stumble a little on the uneven pavement. “What do you mean, when you’re gone?”

“I got a scholarship to the University of Idaho. Hey, don’t look so shocked!”

Isshockedthe word? Or wouldhurtbe better? Waylonnever said anything to me about leaving. “But I never saw you doing any work!” I cry.

“I have a slacker reputation to keep up,” he says. “I do all my assignments at home.”

“And you get good grades?” I should probably stop sounding so incredulous, but I can’t help it.

“I’d probably be valedictorian if I didn’t always skip PE.”

“Wow,” I say faintly. My head reels. College—what a nice, normal, human thing to do. What an impossible idea for someone like me. “I guess you have secrets, too,” I say.

“Maybe I do,” he says. “But I’ll tell you any of them, Kai. All you have to do is ask.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as we get into the car. Does he really think it’s that simple? Anything I really want to know, I’d be too shy to ask.

Do you get goosebumps when my fingers graze your skin? Do you lie in your bed at night and think about kissing me?

Waylon starts the engine. Says, “You don’t want to go home yet, do you?”

He forgets that I don’t have a home anymore. “I don’t want to go back to the chief’s,” I correct him.

“Good,” he says. “Because there’s more we have to accomplish.”

CHAPTER 77

KOKANEE CREEK’S TINY downtown is quiet now, its old-fashioned streetlights lit, and moths dancing in their glow.

“Maybe we should get another beer,” I say. “There’s a bar just down the street from the jail.”

Waylon snorts. “The bartender there knows exactly how old I am, and unlike the good folks at Ruby’s Roadhouse, hecares.” He pulls into a parking lot behind Kokanee Creek Elementary School. “Anyway, we’ve already checked first beer off the list. But what about all those super classic childhood things you haven’t done? Like swinging on a swing or sliding down a slide?”

“Are those things prerequisites for drinking beer?” I ask. “I really hope you didn’t just screw up my human education!”

Waylon laughs, and the sound seems to ripple down my spine. “They’re not prerequisites for anything. They’re just fun. Come on.”

I sink into the rubber seat and wrap my hands around the chains. The swings are designed for peoplemuchsmaller than we are.

“Lean back,” Waylon says, “and then you’ll pump your legs like this—see?”

I watch him arcing smoothly back and forth.Okay, Kai, little kids can do this. So can you.It’s awkward at first, but I get the hang of it eventually. I rise up to the black sky, and then I fall down to earth. Rise up, fall back down, rise. I start laughing, and Waylon does too.

“Isn’t it great?” he says.

I don’t know,isit?My stomach feels like it’s doing somersaults. I may or may not feel like barfing. After another minute I scuff my feet and come to a stop. “I can’t tell if I love it or hate it,” I admit.

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