In Spirit and Truth (In Spiritu Et Veritate Series)

by Reed, Zoe

  “No!” I laughed and shook my head again. I really hadn’t been watching the cheerleaders. They hadn’t even stood out to me until Kyla mentioned it. So not wanting her to get the wrong idea about me, I decided to confess the truth. “I don’t understand the game.”

  “It’s simple,” she said without being fazed. She’d probably expected I didn’t have a clue. “Pretty much, the quarter back,” she pointed to a tall, thin player in the center of the field, “Throws the ball to another player who tries to run it to the other end of the field. The other team tries to tackle the player with the ball before he can make a touchdown or run a certain distance. If he doesn’t make the distance goal after being tackled four times, then the other team gets the ball.”

  I nodded and watched the next play to see if I could understand. It started to make more sense the more I watched. “How do you know how far he has to go?”

  “That red thing that guy is holding,” Kyla pointed to a guy on the sidelines. “That shows you how far.” She waited for me to nod again and then nudged me with her shoulder. “Are you going to cheer now?” I couldn’t help but smile and give a shy shrug. Never having cheered before, I wasn’t really sure what to say. “Please Camille, tell me you know what cheering is. You know, saying ‘go team’, yelling for your mascot. That kind of stuff?”

  “What’s our mascot?” I asked, and the look of shock I received from Kyla made me laugh at myself for having to even ask. This really was stuff I should know.

  “How is it I’ve been here less than a week and I know things that you don’t know after three whole years?” After recovering from pretend shock-induced fainting, Kyla shouted in teasing exasperation and threw her hands up in the air, “We’re the tigers!”

  I giggled at how matter-of-fact she was when it came to football. I figured it must have been a southern thing. “Well, the blue and white is really misleading.”

  Kyla laughed and stood up to cheer as our school’s team made a touchdown, and after a moment she pulled my arm to make me stand up and cheer too. After the crowd settled down we sat back into our seats, but that didn’t mean Kyla stopped cheering. Which in turn meant I couldn’t stop cheering either. The fact that she was so carefree and having so much fun screaming and whistling started to get me to loosen up, and soon I was having fun too. I tried screaming louder than her, and after a couple attempts at besting the professional cheerer, we got into a screaming and whistling contest. While Kyla could definitely yell louder than me, her lungs were no match for my werewolf stamina. So toward the end of the second quarter she started tiring out, and eventually stopped cheering to simply watch the game.

  “Is your first football game more fun than you thought it’d be?” Kyla asked, voice broken by a quick shiver that shook her body. “It’s starting to get chilly.” As her shiver subsided she hooked her arm through mine and scooted closer for warmth.

  I knew it was a completely friendly gesture. Kyla hadn’t seemed at all shy about friendly affection, and had it been anyone else I would have hardly noticed. But as Kyla got closer my heart dropped to my stomach, where it stayed, almost making me queasy with each quickening beat.

  It took me a second to recover and a clear of my throat before I could respond. “Yeah, it’s a lot more fun than I thought. Thanks for bringing me.”

  Kyla smiled her response and I felt her grip tighten around my arm as we both focused on the game. My mind wanted so badly only to feel and regard the shivering body so close to mine, but I knew if too much attention was paid then the itch would start in my fingertips. If the itch started I would ruin the night, having to leave in order to calm my self-control.

  The halftime show started with the end of the second quarter, and the school band and color guard stepped uniformly onto the field as the players left. The show was relatively short, only about ten minutes, but by the end I was already exhausted. Fighting my mind on the one thing it wanted was starting to take its toll, and so, as much as I loved having Kyla close, I had to do something to get her away. “Do you want to go get some hot chocolate?”

  She nodded excitedly and stood, ready to walk to the line in front of the ‘Snack Shack’. “That sounds delicious.” I followed her to the line a short distance away and we stood there for a minute in silence before she spoke again. “What a jerk.” Worried I’d done something wrong I looked around, relieved when I followed Kyla’s gaze to a guy who’d skillfully maneuvered a girl into a corner, their faces too close for a platonic meeting. “Isn’t he with that one girl?”

  I nodded. I knew who the guy was, and also knew the girl he was dating. “Yeah, Michelle I think.”

  “Yeah, her.” Kyla nodded her agreement and turned her head, face full of disgust, to me so she could no longer see the pair near the bleachers. “Poor girl, she’ll definitely hear about this at school tomorrow.”

  Even though I couldn’t have cared less about the affairs of my peers, I respected Kyla’s opinion on the subject. The disgust at our philandering schoolmate was a plus in my eyes, but it did mean that since Kyla had a boyfriend I’d have to be extra careful about how I acted around her. I wanted nothing more than for her to see me as more than a friend, but seeing as she wasn’t single, I’d have to wait patiently until the time was right.

  “Do you like to keep up on all the gossip around school?” I asked as we inched closer to the window, only a couple people in front of us now.

  My eyes kept dropping to Kyla’s arms, which now rested limply at her sides. Now that I had figured a way to get out of contact with her, I just wanted to link our arms and have it back again. Somehow though, I knew it would carry a different meaning if I were to instigate it. So instead, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

  Kyla shrugged. “I try not to get into other peoples’ business, but you can’t help but notice things.” She nodded back toward the pair in the corner near the bleachers. “Especially things like that.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder just how much Kyla noticed, and how much of what she noticed she kept to herself. “Would you say you’re pretty good at figuring things out?” Then I added, “Like secrets.”

  Kyla smiled, eyeing me suspiciously. “Why? Do you have a secret to figure out?”

  I hadn’t been expecting her to react playfully to the question. In order to keep her teasing suspicion from being a real suspicion, I played along. “Would you have figured it out already if I did?”

  “I could tell you,” she started with a smirk, “But then I’d have to kill you.”

  We reached the window to the snack bar before I could come up with a witty response, so I just laughed. As Kyla ordered I wondered what kinds of things were obvious to her. Did she notice I had feelings for her? Or that I was a werewolf? After ordering her hot chocolate Kyla asked me if I wanted anything, to which I shook my head, and once she got her drink I followed her back to the bleachers.

  The third quarter had already started, and I smiled as I watched Kyla frantically scan the scoreboard while we took our seats. The score hadn’t changed, and seemingly satisfied that we were winning Kyla relaxed and sipped her drink. The hot chocolate must have been warming her up, because she didn’t scoot closer to me for the rest of the game. Even though I was disappointed that I’d had to find a way to put space between us, I was relieved I didn’t have to try so hard not to think about the alluring brunette.

  By the fourth quarter Kyla’s drink had completely rejuvenated her, and she began to cheer again, me following right along and cheering with her. We focused on the rest of the game without talking much, but I enjoyed it anyway. At the end of the fourth quarter I followed a victoriously excited Kyla along with the crowd of people back to the parking lot. A couple times some excited boys who were running through the crowd and jumping up and down screaming jostled us. Each of the few times I was pushed into Kyla or the other way around. Kyla just laughed and rolled her eyes, while the affect on me was far more dramatic.

  When we reached the car and I calml
y got into the passenger side, Kyla was already in the front seat shivering and starting the engine. “Mind if I turn up the heat?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Go for it.” I sat there for a minute as Kyla pulled out of the lot and started the drive home, and waited until the heat warmed her up enough for the shivers to subside before making her talk again. “Thanks for taking me tonight.”

  She took her hands off the steering wheel for a second to rub them together, and then placing them back on she answered, “It was my pleasure! I just can’t believe you’ve never gone to any school events like that before.”

  “It must be a homeschool thing. I never learned how to show school spirit.” I shrugged.

  It may have been a little bit of a homeschool issue, but it was mostly a werewolf issue. I’d been taught the basics of fitting in with my classmates: don’t fight or growl, don’t stand out or get into trouble, and never, ever Phase in public. Other than that, however, I hadn’t been taught how to have fun. The way I played and joked with my brothers and sisters was completely different than how I was learning to act with Kyla. With my brothers and sisters it was more about the physical rough and tumble than it was about the verbal. I appreciated more than I let on how patient a teacher Kyla was, and that the girl didn’t make a big deal or ask too many questions about me.

  I watched Kyla nod her understanding, and then waited for her to think of something to say. “We still going to the movies on Friday?”

  “Of course, if you still want to.” As I answered, the driveway of my house came into view. Time always passed so rapidly with Kyla that I was reluctant to end the night. If it weren’t a school night I’d have asked her to go to the movies right then and there. “I can pick you up if you want?”

  Kyla turned into the driveway of my house and put the car into park in front of the porch. “That sounds great.”

  As we sat there, I watched Kyla look around, eyes scanning the vineyard and then taking in my house. My home wasn’t shabby or falling apart, but it certainly wasn’t comparable to Rob Walters’ place. The white paint of the wood-paneled exterior desperately needed a new coat, and the roof was missing a couple shingles. The driveway was nothing but dirt and potholes, and I was pretty sure there was even a missing window or two. It wasn’t that werewolves didn’t know how to decorate or take care of a house. My family spent so much of their time outdoors and away from the house anyway that I didn’t even notice it was a bit rundown until I saw Kyla looking at it.

  Not knowing what else to say to keep me with Kyla longer, and a little embarrassed by the house, I opened the door. “Thanks again. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” And with a smile I made my way up to the front door.

  After closing the door behind me I stood with my back against it, listening to the truck back out of the drive. In an ideal world the only thing I’d be hearing would be Kyla’s footsteps coming up the porch. But it wasn’t my ideal world, and it wasn’t until I could no longer hear the tires against the dirt that I pulled myself from the door and walked up to my bedroom, wanting to immediately fall asleep so I could see her again the next day.

  Hearing a honk from outside I eagerly looked out the window to see that Camille had just driven up in a yellow jeep and was waiting for me. Before leaving my bedroom I looked myself over in the mirror one last time. Not a spot wrinkled and not a hair out of place, I smiled as I hurried out the door and down the stairs. After the football game and waiting for my Friday movie plans with Camille, Thursday had seemed to drag on relentlessly slow. We ate lunch and had film studies together, but lunch was short and the entirety of sixth period was spent watching a movie in silence. I was thankful for the weekend to have finally arrived, leaving virtually no excuse not to hang out with her.

  In a way it almost felt as if I was becoming addicted to my new friend. If I were to be completely honest with myself, I could admit that I’d developed a bit of a friendly crush on the blonde. The only reason I was comfortable admitting that to myself, given Camille’s orientation, was because it was an innocent rather than a sexual attraction. It felt kind of like being a kid again. That giddy excitement when you get a new best friend, and you have so much fun together that you just want to spend all your time with them.

  The justification for that friendly crush? Camille was mysterious. It drew me in. It also drew me out. I spoke so freely to her, and was more comfortable with her than I’d ever felt with even a best friend. It was for that exact reason I was disheartened whenever we’d be talking and something would trigger Camille to shut down. For some reason, no matter how much I tried to put myself out there over the last week, she wouldn’t open up to me. I just kept telling myself that when she got to trust me more, then she would open up more easily.

  I waved to Camille as I threw open the passenger door and hopped into the jeep. “You’re late,” I teased, glimpsing the time on the dashboard clock.

  Camille glanced at the time. “Hm, nope. It just took you a whole minute to get your butt out here.” She made a ‘so, there’ face at me as she turned the car around to get back out the long driveway.

  “Fair enough.” I resigned with a defeated laugh.

  I began to flip through the radio as I studied Camille out of the corner of my eye. Her long blonde hair curled perfectly, falling a good six inches below her shoulders, which led my eyes straight down to the white tank top underneath her black leather jacket. I found myself admiring the perfection of her upper body. She wasn’t fragile or bony looking, but she didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on her body. She’d told me she liked to run, and it made me wonder just how often she really did.

  While trying to think of something to talk about I ran a finger along my chin, and feeling the scrape from falling off the barn ladder was suddenly reminded of the cut that Camille had sustained on her arm.

  Since I’d completely forgotten about it and didn’t ask at the football game, I figured I should mention it now. “Hey, how’s your arm? Is it healing alright?”

  To my confusion Camille hesitated to answer, and for a few moments stared straight through the windshield and at the road in deep thought. “Yeah, it’s healing fine.”

  She answered without making the slightest eye contact, and I couldn’t understand where the awkwardness was coming from. Again, I was being shut down. Did she not want me to care about it?

  “Can I take a look?” I was curious, maybe the cut was worse than I’d originally thought and Camille simply didn’t want me to feel bad.

  She hesitated again before taking a hand off the steering wheel and lifting the sleeve of her jacket. I studied her arm for a moment, searching for the cut, before I realized it had already faded to a pink scar. My jaw dropped and I ran my fingers over it in disbelief. I’d never even had a paper cut that had healed that fast.

  As I studied the absence of the wound I noticed all the other tiny, barely visible scars Camille had on her arm. Like scratches or bite marks from playing with a dog or cat. Judging from the way Brandy and Blue treated her though, and her comment about animals not liking her, I found it strange that she would have a ‘playful’ relationship with any animal.

  I could feel Camille tensing and getting more and more uncomfortable with the silence that grew between us. “How’d it heal so fast?” I asked quickly, hoping that showing an interest would get her to open up about it.

  She pulled her sleeve back down to cover her arm. “I take my daily vitamins.” She finally looked over at me, the first time since I’d asked, and smiled sarcastically.

  But the smile was forced. I hadn’t known Camille for long, but I’d learned a genuine smile from a fake one. Even though the origin of her distress at the topic piqued my interest, I decided to let the subject rest. I couldn’t force her to give me answers. Still, I couldn’t change the fact that it began to irk me. Every time we were together something came up that I knew Camille was avoiding or giving half-truths about. It hadn’t even been a week and I was already questioning how long I c
ould tolerate the mystery before it ate away at me completely.

  While we sat in renewed silence I glanced at Camille, and I remembered it was the mystery that had attracted to me to the girl in the first place. In any town or city where the natural order of superficiality applied, Camille, the curly-haired blonde with the model-like body and the unnaturally down-to-earth confidence, would be the most popular, most out-there girl in the school.

  As Camille pulled the car into a parking space in front of the theater, my thoughts got me carried away. I couldn’t force her to tell me anything, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t pry. She’d told me herself, she had trust issues. Maybe she just needed a little push. “Let me ask you something,” I started, turning to face her.

  With a raised eyebrow, Camille characteristically put her hand to her neck and pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Okay.” Then she turned to face me as I had done, meeting my gaze with those deep mahogany eyes.

  “Well, you’re the prettiest girl in the school but you’re so–” I paused my explanation as I searched for the right word to use. “Reserved.”

  I was waiting for her to nod or something, to give some acknowledgement that I could continue with my question. Instead, she smiled a shy, tickled smile as she playfully batted her eyes. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “I was just saying!” I rolled my eyes and began to get out of the car as I tried to defend the comment, which had come out more of a compliment than I’d meant it, and played it off. “I mean good looks obviously run in your family. Niko and Luna are good looking too. But how come you don’t… like… capitalize on it?”

  Camille’s eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully as she too got out of the car, meeting me behind it. “I don’t know.” Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and leaned her back against the jeep, staring at the ground as she tried to come up with an answer. “You said so yourself that everyone here is boring. Maybe you’re the only one worth capitalizing for.”