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hello Mrs. Lambert. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m so glad you’re letting us stay in your home. It really is a…” Mrs. Lambert looks at me.

“Dear, will you come with me?” I look at Dev, his eyes signal for me to follow.

“Okay,” I follow her down a blue painted hallway with lots of picture of Samantha. “Where are we going?”

“The restroom.”

My voice has an accusing undertone, “Why?”

“Because you look like a hobo, and no one looking like a hobo stays in my home,” her voice is curt, and her words sting.

I ask, “A hobo? Really? You think I care,” I really do care a little bit, “I look like a hobo all the time where I come from. We don’t really have a choice!” I defend my looks, I make excuses.

“Okay, but wherever you come from, is not here,” she gestures to the bathroom.

The bathroom is pink, god awful, and so is everything in it. The tub is the only thing that looks relatively enjoyable. It’s large, a Jacuzzi Tub, the education, not my own, tells me.

Mrs. Lambert turns the tub on, and she fills it to the top; a layer of steam sits above the water. She drops two little cubes into the water.

“Undress! Are you planning on taking a bath in your clothes?!” I stare at her.

“Are you going to leave?” she shakes her head no.

I still don’t undress, she eventually turns around. Good as I’m going to get, I guess. Quickly undressing, I hop into the tub.

The water stings at first, but my body adjusts and I relax. “Wow, this is amazing,” I murmur.

“I’m glad. Take as long as you like, and please, call me when you’re done,” she stands and looks back at me. “To ensure you do,” she takes the towels out of the bathroom, and leaves.

“Sheesh!”

Enjoying the bath is not hard, I don’t even realize how long I’ve been in here until a sharp knock snaps me out of it. “Huh?”

“Are you dead?!” Samantha yells, “Because Mom says I should check on you to ensure so.” Samantha uses a proper tone, and leaves.

“Are you done?”

“Yea, can you hand me the towel?” Mrs. Lambert’s hand extends into the bathroom, I grab the towel.

Drying my self off, I see that my fingers and toes are pruned. Oh well.

“Mrs. Lambert?” I question tentatively.

She answers, “Yes?”

“Do you have any clothes, or can I have the ones I’m wearing?” Mrs. Lambert laughs.

She opens the door, “Sit,” she points to a chair.

“Why? Can’t I have clothes?!” I ask as she pulls and yanks my hair.

“Because I’m doing your hair, and you’ll get your clothes when you are ready!”

I moan, and crinkle my nose in disgust. “Fine!” I cross my arms over my chest and pout.

When she stops the tugging, I look up. “I French Braided it, this way it won’t be in your face all the time,” she smiles at me, she’s happy.

A French Braid? I run my fingers over the intricate patter, Mrs. Lambert hand me a mirror. I take a look, it’s so pretty. I smile a little, I look pretty.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

She grins, it spreads across her entire face, “Well, we’re almost done here. So don’t worry a moment. “Just close your eyes.”

“Why?!” I stand up, on my toes.

Mrs. Lambert points to the chair, “Sit or I may have to make you sit. It’s alright for a girl to be pampered, Ms. It won’t take too long,” she starts pulling things out of drawers. “Besides Cal and Samantha are out, and you friend in there is eating me out of house!”

Closing my eyes, I feel her smear gooey, cold, odd smelling stuff on my eyelids. “What is that?!”
“Shut it!” I smile, she yells at me for that too. I think I may be starting to like this woman.

Mrs. Lambert continues touching my face gently until she pats my head. “You can look now.”

“Oh!” I sit up, and look at he girl in the mirror

My dark brown hair is pulled back in the French Braid and the stuff she was putting on my eyelids is colored green. My eyelashes have mascara on them, and they are darker.

“What do I do with this?” I ask her, surprised.

Mrs. Lambert shrugs, “It’s just to wear. I thought you might like to try it since I figured you’ve never worn any before.”

“You figured right,” I chuckle. “Thanks, again. I don’t mind this look. If only I could do this little braid thing!” Mrs. Lambert beams.

“Anytime, sugar! Come on, let’s get you something to wear, and then you can eat.”

She hands me a pair of jeans that are tight fitting, hard to fight in, and a black T-shirt.

I get dressed.

 

Mrs. Lambert and I enter the kitchen where Dev is eating, well, everything. “Hey! Save some for the rest of us, idiot!” I joke.

Dev looks up and doesn’t say anything, “What’s that?!” he points at my face.

“Hey!” I growl, “You better watch it,” he just laughs.

“It looks good, Brim. I mean,” he looks at Mrs. Lambert, she acts like she hasn’t heard a thing. “The point is I like your hair,” he says.

I take a seat next to him, “Thanks! Now give me some of that food, I’m starved!”

“I imagine! You were in there forever! Cal and Sam got back forty-five minutes ago. I told him what you were doing, he says she does the same thing to Lydia,” I nod and shove food in my mouth.

Samantha shouts as she comes down the stairs, “Mom! Where are my new Louis Baton heels?!”

“I imagine, they’re in your closet, dear,” Louis Baton? I wonder who that is, or why a fifteen year old needs to wear heels?

Mrs. Lambert chuckles as she washes dishes, “Samantha bought them with her own money. She adores them! But, personally,” she whispers, “I think six hundred dollars it way too much for shoes of any kind!”

“Six hundred dollars!” I shout.

Mrs. Lambert nods, “I know what my daughter does, I’m not stupid. She makes quite a chunk of money doing it too. I just can’t stop her because,” Mrs. Lambert stops talking.

Dev and I eat in silence, someone tromps down the stairs, “Is she done yet?! It’s taking forever…” I turn around as Cal takes the last step. “Oh.”

I go to push my hair behind my ear, as a nervous tick, but realize it’s already back. “Sorry, I took so long.”

Dev stares at each of us, “That’s okay,” Cal says.

“Okay, what’d you need,” I shake of the sill school girl attitude. He shrugs, “I’m not sure. I kind of forgot, but you guys can come upstairs if you want?” his eyes bore into Dev’s.

“Cal!” Samantha calls, “where’d you go?! I found my shoes, I can model now!”

Samantha walks down the staircase in four inch blue paten leather heels. “Wow!” I say.

“You like, Cal?” she ignores me. Samantha, even though she’s fifteen she acts younger.

I sigh, looking at Cal’s desperate face, “I’ll come! I want to see all your clothes, I bet they’re awesome!”

She curls her lip, “Yea, I guess so, since you’re wearing them,” she turns to Mrs. Lambert. “Mom! Why is she in those clothes? Those are mine!”
“Honey, be nice!” she snaps.

Cal speaks, “Come on, Brim. Let’s go,” Samantha smiles evilly.

“Brim?! What kind of stupid name is that?” she laughs hysterically and my face turns red.

It’s not my name, I think. My name is 23, but I bet that sounds more stupid. “Okay,” I say, and glare at the little brat.

Samantha runs up the stairs, “She’s kind of a brat!” I say loud enough so that she can here.

“Yea, but she’s very helpful,” he whispers this.

Samantha turns a radio on to some pop station. It beats through the entire house. I cover my ears, the noise is ten times louder when you’re a lycanthrope! “Ahhhh!” I yell.

Cal covers his ears, and winces. We walk into her room, where she’s dancing.

Downstairs we hear Dev scream for us to turn it off. Cal pull the radio by the handle, and out of the wall. “God!” I scream when it’s off, and broken.

“What the heck!” she yells at Cal. “You just broke my radio!” Samantha turn to me, “It’s your fault, it would have been fine if you weren’t here!” she spits.

I glare at her, “Give it a break! What is your problem!”

She laughs, “You’re just a nobody, so don’t come in here trying to ruin everything. You have no family, no friends, no life, and you don’t even have your own childhood memories, do you! I know all about The Center,” Samantha says. “I’m not stupid, I can hack into things the government can’t get into. I know all about you too, number 23!”

My body is shaking with anger, “Well, Samantha, if you knew more. You’d know that I am lethal, and that it’s not in your best interest to make me angry!”

Samantha smirks, “You’re no more lethal than a kitten!” she taunts.

My eyes snap yellow, and her laughing face turns serious. “Oh, God, Sam!” Cal says.

He stands in front of her, and my skin tears. Samantha screams, “Why is she doing that?!”

“Samantha! That was by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done!” Cal shouts at her.

She rolls her eyes, even in the moment of distress, “She won’t actually hurt us, will she?!”

“I don’t think so,” he explains.

I complete my changing, and I lick my lips, staring at her. This’ll be fun, I think. She has absolutely no idea that I still have my wits.

Circling her, she starts to shiver, I growl, a low rumble in my chest.

“Samantha, you should go downstairs,” Cal warns. He actually thinks I have no idea what’s going on.

Cal and Samantha scoot toward the door, oh well. They both exit and shut the door. Samantha screams for her mother, Mrs. Lambert.

Quickly, with little pain, I change back. I did through Samantha’s closet, looking for sweatpants and a T-shirt. I stare into her mirror after I’m dressed.

The French Braid is gone and so is the green cream, oh well. Taking the steps two at a time I walk into the living room.

Samantha and Mrs. Lambert are on the couch, Samantha is crying. Cal and Dev are on the opposite couch. Mrs. Lambert looks up lips pursed, my smile is gone, “I’m afraid you can’t stay here, Brim.” She looks to the boys, “You’re welcome here, but Brim, you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay since you can’t control yourself.”

My jaw hits the floor, “Can’t control myself! You don’t think I knew what I was doing up there? Well, you have it wrong. I remember everything from when I change, I knew what I was doing!” Mrs. Lambert shakes her head.

“All the more reason for you to leave, how could you lunge at my daughter?! You knew you were scaring her, Brim. She’s only fifteen, for goodness sakes.”
“But I didn’t lunge at her, I just growled!” I turn to Cal looking for his support.

He just shrugs, “Please, leave our home, Brim.”

I glare at all of them, especially Samantha, who smiles. I fly out the door, and hop on my bike. Dev follows me, “Where are you going?!”

“Out of their home!” I call back as I tear out of the driveway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

I keep driving for a while, and what sucks, I’m not sure how to get back.

Not that I really want to go back, but that’s beside the point. I was outsmarted by a fifteen year old girl. Fifteen!

Guess I was wrong when I though Mrs. Lambert was a completely sane woman who was just like me. If I was her, I would have been begging someone to teach my snotty daughter a lesson. Oh well.

Another bad thing, I have no money. So even if I was hungry, tired, or bored I couldn’t do anything.

And on top of everything else, I left my license with Samantha, therefore if I’m pulled over, I’m screwed.

The fact that I was kicked out of the house, puts unsettling feeling in my stomach. I push it aside, and keep

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