Sammi nodded slowly, as if she didnt believe me, but that was her problem, because I was done thinking up explanations. At least until the fall term.
Youre leaving now? She fingered the hem of her blouse, glancing around the apartment at several piles of my belongings that hadnt made the single-suitcase cut.
Yeah, sorry about the mess. Were paid up through the first, and Ill send you a check for my half of next months rent. Can I leave my stuff here till I get back?
Sure, she said. What about Andrew?
I felt Marcs focus shift to me, and I bit my lip to keep from saying something Id regret. I hadnt told him about my new boyfriend, and obviously neither had any of my fathers spies. No doubt their silence was out of respect for him, rather than me.
Marc stiffened, and only the slight flaring of his nostrils betrayed him as he tested my scent. He scowled, and I stifled a groan, suddenly thankful that Andrew and I had hadumlunch in his apartment rather than in mine. Smelling a mans scent mixed with mine was one thing, but smelling it on my sheets would have been quite another.
The lingering smell of stray on me was probably the only reason Marc hadnt already noticed Andrewsum, place in my life. And in my bed. The strays heavy mix of earthy musk and mixed blood easily overpowered Andrews simple blend of light sweat and untainted humanity.
I would have told him, eventually. Really. However, I pride myself on having marginally more tact than Sammi. But then, I hadnt been honest with her about who my ride actually was, so what did I expect?
Ill call him, I said, zipping up my suitcase.
Marc snatched the bag from my grip and stomped out the front door, leaving it open into the hallway.
I hugged Sammi, breathing in the floral fragrance of her shampoo. If my parents had their way, it would be a while before I smelled my roommates wholesome femininity layered with Herbal Essences and cherry Bubble Yum. Assuming I ever made it back to school at all. And where my father was concerned, there were no guarantees.
Study enough for both of us, I said, releasing her reluctantly. She smiled, more confused than sad, and I returned the look. I didnt really know what was going on, either.
In the corridor, Marc said something rude to my neighbor across the hall, just loud enough for me to hear. Sighing, I plucked my keys and cell phone from the coffee table, glancing around the apartment one last time. Why is it that goodbyes always feel so final? Except when I leave home. I always know Ill be back at the ranch eventually, not because I want to go home, but because they keep dragging me back. Its a small difference, but an important one.
I followed Marc down the wide hall to the stairwell, and neither of us said a word. Outside, I stayed several steps behind him, trying to gauge his mood as he marched down the sidewalk. He gripped the handle of my suitcase with knuckles white from tension. His stride was long, each step firm and heavy. But most telling was his posture as he wove between the cars in the parking lot. Head high and shoulders squared, his bearing was stiff and formal, as if he were truly nothing more to me than my chauffeur.
And in case I missed any of those more subtle signs, when I moved up to walk alongside him, Marc favored me with a growl, low and angry, and too soft for anyone else to hear.
Great. Nothing beats several hours in a car with a pissed-off werecat. Welcome to my life.
Two
The drive home from the University of North Texas seemed interminable, even with Marc driving. He took out his anger at me and Andrew on the car, and by the time we merged with the highway traffic, he was going twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. At that rate, the drive from Denton to Lufkin220 miles across the Texas prairie into the lush eastern woodlandswould take him two and a half hours. It should have taken more than four.
When we left the interstate loop around Dallas for state highway 175, the traffic noise ebbed, leaving an awkward silence. Marc glanced at me, his mouth set in a grim line. Tell me about Andrew.
Not for all the money in the world. Although freedom was the currency I truly valued. I stared out my window at moonlit fields and defunct oil wells. Northeast Texas had few trees, fewer hills and way too many miles of empty highway.
Why not? You ashamed of him? Marcs eyes flashed with smug satisfaction.
Damn him! Five years, and he still knew exactly how to piss me off. My fist clenched around the oh shit! handle built into his car door. The plastic casing cracked, falling apart in my hand to expose the steel frame inside. Oops.
I brushed shards of plastic from my lap onto the floorboard, but a few slivers protruded from my palm like spines from a cactus. I plucked them out one by one, dropping them at my feet with the rest.
My palm was dotted with several tiny spots of blood and one long, shallow cut. Such minor wounds would likely heal during my next Shift, if not before. That was one of the advantages to spending half your life on four paws, along with increased metabolism, strength and hearing. No superhuman lifespan, though, as cool as that would have been. In fact, in some places, many toms die young, in fights over territory or mates.
Marc glanced at my hand, his face impassive. He didnt care about the broken handle. His drivers seat was missing an armrest and his steering wheel resembled a dented hexagon more than it did a circle. My little accident couldnt begin to compare with the damage hed done to his own vehicle in past fits of anger.
Im not ashamed of him, Marc. I snatched a tissue from the box he kept on the center console and wiped the blood from my palm in short, angry strokes. I just dont want to talk about him.
To anyone, or just to me? His voice was strained, and his eyes flicked to my face quickly, then back to the road before I could read his expression.
To anyone with fur and claws. But I couldnt say that. Does it matter?
I guess not. However, the tense lines around his mouth argued otherwise. Arent you going to call him?
I flipped my phone open and closed, considering. As much fun as it might have been to make Marc listen while I spoke to Andrew, it certainly wouldnt make the ride home any more bearable. Ill wait till we stop for gas.
We wont be stopping for a couple of hours. Wont he worry before then?
I almost laughed out loud. As if he gave a damn whether or not Andrew would worry. No, he wont. Hes my boyfriend. Not my conscience, my conjoined twin or my father.
Marc frowned, and I looked away, dabbing at my palm again, though the bleeding had already stopped. His question was typical of Pride mentality. A tomcats strongest instinct was to protect the women at any cost, with no consideration for our desires for privacy or independence. Or for whether we wanted, or even needed to be protected.
As Id demonstrated an hour earlier, I did not need his protection. What I needed was a life of my own, which was exactly what Id found on campus. My decision to live outside the Pride confounded the entire werecat community. Including my parents, which Ill probably never understand. After all, they taught me to think things through and to defend myself. Then they seemed genuinely surprised when I fought for the very independence theyd prepared me to handle.
While a tomcat would be labeled strong and self-sufficient for pursuing his own interests, I was considered stubborn and selfish for abandoning my Pride in favor of an education and a life of my own.
My parents had decided to humor my phase, indulging me on the assumption that I would either grow out of it or come home after graduation. They thought they would lose, at most, four years of manipulation and micromanagement. They were wrong.
Id intentionally spent an extra year as an undergrad, then applied to the graduate program without telling anyone. The day after graduation, I enrolled in two summer classes. The only notice my father got that Id completed my B.A. was the bill for grad school tuition. Hed underestimated me. Like Marc.
I scanned the car for somewhere to put the blood-smeared tissue but couldnt find anyplace that didnt involve making Marc bend over. Stifling a laugh at the thought of where Id like to shove the tissue, I dropped it on the floorboard, making a mental note to clean up my mess when we got home.
What about you? I asked, thinking of the sorority girls in the food court. Have you been dating?
No, I havent been dating. He spat the word as if it tasted bad, and I suppose it did. Marc had never been one for casual relationships, which had been a big part of our problem. Everything he did, he did with his whole heart and soul. Including me. It was sweet for about the first ten minutes. After that, it got old quickly.
Do you really think thats healthy? I asked, still irritated by his prying questions. Its been years, Marc. You cant be my fathers hired muscle forever. You need a plan for your life, something to give it meaning. Like I was one to talk. My grand scheme, which consisted of avoiding my family for as long as possible, had already failed. But that didnt stop me from dispensing advice I couldnt follow.
I had a plan. The gold specks in Marcs irises flashed at me in the glow of passing headlights. I started to respond but he cut me off with a look. A very angry look. He was mad enough that I almost felt sorry for the steering wheel. My personal life is none of your business, Faythe. Not anymore.
Thats a two-way street.
No, it really isnt. He glared at me, ignoring the road long enough that I wanted to grab the wheel. Your personal life is the business of the entire Pride, by custom and by necessity. You cant change that, no matter how long you hide out at school pretending to be human.
I growled, deep in my throat; it was a sound no human could have made. Some people think only dogs growl, but cats growl too, mostly in warning. For once, Marc took my warning and shut up.
For the next two hours, I faked sleep, beyond caring whether or not he bought the act. Just as my eyes were starting to close for real, Marc jerked the wheel to the right and veered across two lanes of highwayboth empty, fortunately. He sped down the off-ramp and swerved into an all-night service station, sliding in front of another customer in line for the only available pump.
I twisted in my seat to see the unfortunate drivera chunky man in ill-fitting slacks and a dress shirtburst from his Volkswagen Passat and slam the door. His face was comically red in the fluorescent light from the awning overhead. He was yelling before hed taken two steps, his gestures becoming more and more animated with each word.
Marc watched in the rearview mirror. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. The metal began to groan.
Play nice with the other boys, I warned, watching his jaw tense and relax.
He ignored me. Without a word, Marc opened his door and set first one foot, then the other on the concrete. He stood slowly and smoothed his black T-shirt, giving the other man a chance to realize that he lacked both the size and the build to back up his big talk. When that didnt work, Marc took a single step forward.
The other man dove into his car, pulled the door shut, and slammed his hand down on the lock.
Satisfied, Marc nodded politely at the man, as if in greeting. The Passat pulled out of the parking lot as Marc lifted the nozzle from the pump.
Shaking my head at the near-toxic level of testosterone, I headed for the convenience store. While Marc pumped, I called Andrew from the one-man restroom, standing to avoid any contact with the filthy toilet seat.
How bout pizza? Andrew said by way of answering his phone. He never bothered to say hi, but spoke as if continuing the same ongoing conversation wed been having for the entire four months of our relationship. I thought it was cute, but also wondered how he answered when someone elses number showed up on his caller ID. Did he ask the guy selling magazine subscriptions whether he wanted mushrooms or pepperoni?
I glanced at my watch: 11:04 p.m. Its too late for dinner, and too early for a midnight snack.
Its never too early for pizza. He sounded a little stuffy, as if he had a head cold.
You okay? I eyed the scum-coated cinder-block walls for a spot clean enough to lean against. No such luck. You sound a little nasal.
I think Im getting a cold. Its not affecting my appetite, though. Im starved. Ill pick up a large with everything. Unless youre afraid of catching my germs.
I smiled. No, I dont mind your germs. I probably couldnt catch them anyway. But itll take you a while to get here.
Why, where are you? he asked, sniffling. Over the phone, loud grunge music echoed with a reverberation apparently unique to thin apartment walls.
Twenty miles north of Waco.
No pause, and no questions. Okay, but itll be cold by the time I get there.
The grimy concrete seemed to absorb the sound of my laughter as soon as it left my throat. Andrews sense of humor was contagious. It made him very easy to be around, which had become my only prerequisite for boyfriends lately. Not that he couldnt set the jokes aside when he needed to. But his smile was genuine, and it was always lurking on the edge of his other expressions. Talking to him never felt like work, as it did with some people. Andrew knew how to take things in stride, such as my sudden departure from campus.
I glanced at my face in the grease-streaked mirror. I looked tired, but it was probably just the thick layer of dirt. On the mirror, not on me. I think youll have to eat without me tonight. And tomorrow. And maybe for the rest of the summer.
Why, whats up?
My dads mad cause I didnt invite my family to graduation. He threatened to yank my funds unless I spend the summer at home.
Andrew laughed. So the mysterious Faythe Sanders does have a family. And where is home?
I hesitated long enough that anyone else would have commented on my reluctance to answer. Not Andrew. He never acknowledged an uncomfortable situation, unlike Marc, who wallowed in tension like pigs roll in the mud. A ranch near the Louisiana border, I said finally.
For years, Id carefully avoided any conversation that might have led to questions about my childhood, because it had always been easier for me to pretend I hadnt had one than to try to explain the Sanders family dynamic. From a human perspective, we didnt make sense, and struggling to explain it only made things worse.
As children, humans learned to compromise, share and make friends. I learned to identify animals by scent and to stalk them without betraying my presence. While normal parents discussed political elections and spiking interest rates, mine discussed expanding territorial boundary lines and how harshly to deal with trespassers. Humans just didnt understand my childhood, so I generally avoided the subject altogether.