"Fine. I'll leave her a camera—I suppose you might want to take some photographs. I'll be leaving in a few hours to start the preparations. If you need anything, I'll be available by cell phone. Otherwise, I guess I will see you in the woods." Marie reached up and straightened the collar of her shirt.
"You're . . . You're leaving?" Claire's cheeks stung like she'd been slapped. It had been obvious that her human life was becoming less and less important to her mother, but her mother knew how much this dance meant to her—or at least, she should know. But she was already halfway out the door.
It wasn't as though Claire expected her mother to be like the other moms she knew—for one thing, her mother had always been distant. And when Claire discovered what secrets Marie had to keep, she'd begun to understand why. Still, when they'd grown closer in their wolf lives, she'd thought at least some of that might trickle down into the human parts of their lives. Instead, it seemed like Marie barely even noticed Claire when she wasn't covered in fur.
Her mother twitched a shoulder in Claire's direction. "I have much to do in order to fulfill my responsibilities to the pack. It has to come first. For all of us. Always." Claire sat down on the bed, the air punched out of her lungs by the force of her mother's words.
Concern flitted across Marie's face. "I am not leaving in order to hurt you, chérie. I must do it, in spite of the fact that you feel wounded. I must do it because I love you, and I want to keep you safe. Putting the pack first is the best way to keep you safe. You understand that?"
Claire nodded painfully. Wounded, as her mother had so ably observed. She understood perfectly, but that didn't make it hurt even a little bit less.
"Good. Call me if you need me. I will be waiting for you in the forest with much anticipation." With a quick little smile, Marie disappeared down the hall, leaving Claire aching at the foot of the bed.
Her cell phone rang, breaking the wringing sadness that had seeped through her, as dark and silent as ink.
It was Matthew.
"Hello?" she answered, her voice dull.
"Claire? You sound weird. Are you sick?"
His words came out in a rush, but as soon as Claire heard them, an idea sprang up in front of her. A way to make it all work—and maybe without infuriating Emily.
"No, not yet," she replied. "But I'm going to be."
"Huh?" he asked, confused.
"Some stuff happened last night, and things are going to be a little more . . . complicated than they were before."
Matthew sighed. "Story of your life, right?"
"Pretty much," Claire confessed, though it stung a little bit to admit that in the face of what had just happened with her mother. "So, here's what's happening."
She gave him the brief version—that Victoria had had her baby and that the naming, the absolutely mandatory naming, would happen just after the dance. When she was supposed to be at Emily's crowning-glory-of-her-high-school-years after party. But his questions about how she was feeling had given her the perfect idea for a way out.
She would have a great time at dinner, a fabulous time at the dance, and then, just as things were drawing to a close, she would bring on a fake . . . something. Stomach flu. Migraine. Broken bone. Whatever it took to get her out of Emily's party. Matthew could drop her off by the woods, and then she'd be home free.
"Do you mind?" she asked, twisting a loose thread from her comforter between her fingers.
"Not really," he said. "That's part of the job, I guess."
He sounded like she'd just asked him to come with her while she bought tampons.
"Do you"—he paused—"need me to stay or just to drop you off?"
The worry in his voice made Claire grimace, and she was glad he couldn't see her face. The tension between them bobbed to the surface of their conversation like ice. But the last thing she wanted was to have a big fight with him now, when she needed his help so badly.
"No—I mean, thanks, but I think the best thing is if you go to the party. You know, make a big deal to Emily about how sick I got and how really upset I am that I'm not at the party. You could even tell her that I tried to come but you and Lisbeth wouldn't let me." The more she talked about it, the more she convinced herself that it was the right plan.
"Oh." Matthew sounded relieved, but Claire ignored it. "Yeah, I guess I can see that it would work better that way." He paused. "Wow. It really has gotten complicated, hasn't it?"
"Like you said, story of my life." She thought of what Marie had said just before she'd left. "And it doesn't look like it's going to be getting any simpler, either." She was half-talking to herself, but the heaviness of the silence on the other end of the phone caught her attention.
"I'm beginning to see that," he said slowly. "But anyway"— he perked up—"at least we can go to the dance, right? It's going to be great."
"I can't wait," said Claire. She glanced at the clock. "Speaking of which, Emily and Amy and Lisbeth are going to be here soon."
"And I have a corsage to get." Matthew's voice was getting more excited by the second, and Claire knew she'd made the right choice by refusing to bail on the dance completely. "I'll see you at five thirty, okay?"
"I'll be ready," Claire promised.
*