Claire closed her eyes. She wanted to go to Emily's, but she really, really needed to get into the forest.
"I wish I could, but I think that the celebration at the diner is going to go pretty long. . . ." It was hard to outright reject Emily. She hated saying no to her best friend. She missed her. But she needed to figure out how to create fire, without having to ask her mother.
"No, it's okay. I knew it was a long shot." Emily's words were reassuring, but there was hurt in her voice, thin and bright and sharp as a needle. "Just call me tomorrow, okay? I want the dish. Something's bound to happen at Louie's. I just know it."
Claire's laugh had a note of regret in it. "You know I'll tell you, first thing."
"Okay, go do the whole jock's-girlfriend thing. I'll talk to you soon." Emily hung up.
Claire sighed and tapped her phone against her leg. At the top of the bleachers, the UCLA scout stood up and stuffed his portfolio into a battered leather briefcase. The stands were mostly empty—a couple of people from school were huddled around someone's cell phone, and a few parents were clearly waiting to drive their kids home. One of the adults glancedover at her, and the expression that flashed across his face made Claire jump. He looked . . . he was looking at her. Almost like he was checking her out.
His face was vaguely familiar. Sort of like one of the fullbacks'. Someone's dad, probably. Which was totally gross, but whatever. She was a werewolf. She could take him out without blinking if she needed to.
She returned his stare, her shoulders thrown back and her hands curled into fists at her side. It was a dominant posture. Fearless. Claire watched his piggy little eyes widen in surprise, and he dropped his gaze, studying his battered tennis shoes like the winning lottery numbers were written on the laces.
Satisfaction poured through her, hot and sweet. She couldn't fail at the ceremony. She couldn't stand to let anyone look at her the way that guy had—like she didn't count, like she could be used. She couldn't be some sort of incomplete wolf.
But before she could ensure that didn't happen, she had a date to go on and a best friend to worry about.
Chapter Three
LOUIE'S WAS BUZZING with people, and most of them had come over to say hi to Matthew at one point or another during dinner. Claire stole the last of Matthew's fries while Doug Kingman grilled him about the recruiter who'd been watching the match.
Doug shook his head. "Man, I'm just saying. If you get a full ride to UCLA, I will totally die of jealousy. I'd have the acceptance letter tattooed across my chest. Seriously. I'm already booking my plane ticket to visit you."
Matthew shrugged. "It's a long way from being a done deal. And it wouldn't be so bad to end up here at the uni versity." He glanced over at Claire. "Closer to home is pretty good, you know."
Claire swallowed hard. She was only a junior. She and Matthew hadn't talked much about next year—what it would mean for them if he got into UCLA. If he left. Just thinking about it made her miss him, even though he was still within touching distance.
Doug slapped the table. "Well, you know you'd be a seriously big fish in a tiny-ass pond if you stayed. Everyone in this town practically worships your dad. Hell, maybe I should think about going into lycanthropy research."
Matthew smiled, but it was tight, fake. "Yeah. It's a really great career."
Claire stuffed a French fry in her mouth to keep herself from making a smart-ass comment. A suspicious smart-ass comment. She'd gotten a lot better at keeping her thoughts to herself over the last couple of months, but sometimes people were so ignorant that it made her want to scream. And anyone who thought that Dr. Engle was a good guy was definitely ignorant. The "cure" he'd developed for werewolves didn't really work. He'd only tested it on men, and since all werewolves were women, that meant he'd never actually tested it on a werewolf. The poor humans Dr. Engle experimented on were all in permanent comas. He'd used his clout in the scientific community to cover up his failures, to boot. How a man like that could have had a son like Matthew was beyond her.
Doug looked over at the door, where KateMarie Brown stood, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Whoops. The girlfriend awaits. If she's late for curfew, I'm pretty sure her dad will kill me. Which would make it really hard for me to take her to the Autumn Ball. Later, guys." He half-sprinted over to the door.
Claire's mouth dropped open. "Doug is dating KateMarie?" She stared at the two of them wrapped around each other in the entryway of Louie's. KateMarie was as close to royalty as the senior class got. She was pretty, she could sing, and she was the one who decided who was in and who was out. If you cared about your social standing at Hanover Falls High School, you cared what KateMarie thought.
Matthew glanced back over his shoulder. "Yep. It's only been a couple of weeks, though. He jumps every time she snaps her fingers."