Good Sport
Sammy glanced at himself in Odysseus’ rearview mirror. He’d done his best to brush off the dust of his day’s labors, but he would be glad to shed his garments as soon as they got home. He had managed to spend all day on top of a horse, for the first time ever, riding with the others to guide the herd to fresher grazing land. It was definitely a step up from working the milking machines, which always left him smelling like milk and hay the rest of the day. He was officially a genuine cowboy, he thought with pride, pride which shifted into humor when he realized he wasn’t just a cowboy--he was a werewolf cowboy. It was amazing what a sense of identity could do for someone.
“Liam should be done with his football practice by the time we’re done loading up the hay,” Odysseus said over the British New Wave he had playing in the truck. “The sooner he gets his car fixed, the better.”
“It’s been in the shop for weeks,” Sammy said in obligatory agreement. The garage’s owner was a member of the pack, so at least they knew Liam wasn’t getting fleeced.
“Unfortunately, that’s typical for Cedar City. Small town like ours, parts take forever to come in, especially foreign ones. I told him to buy American, but that boy loves to be contrary.”
“Maybe you shoulda told him to get the Toyota, then.”
Odysseus gave that suggestion a good-natured scoff. “He’s been able to see right through reverse psychology since he was two.”
They pulled in to the feed store--also owned and operated by a pack-mate, which meant Odysseus got everything at near-cost--and loaded up their supplies. Someday, when their kind came out, Sammy wondered how the good folks of Cedar City would react to knowing how many of their neighbors were actually werewolves. Sammy both dreaded and lived for the day he would no longer have to hide what he was.
Once everything was loaded up, they drove deeper into the heart of the small town, where lay a simple strip of grass-laden land with two trees and a gazebo that the town considered good enough to call a park. They pulled up to the sight of Liam and several other boys grappling with each other, while a middle-aged man with a pot belly sat on a folding chair and watching them.
He blew his whistle and the boys disengaged. Both Sammy and Odysseus flinched.
As Sammy opened his door and hopped out, he could hear Coach Will Brennon shouting. “-good offense, but our defense is still crap! Our whole season hinges on our game with the Pine Grove Predators next week, and we’re nowhere ready!”
“Sorry, Coach!” one of the boys whined. “But without Big Billy, we’re f-”
“Language!” the coach snapped.
“-We’re… uh…”
"We don’t have a chance,” Liam spoke up, and shrugged. “Pine Grove breeds ‘em big.”
Sammy, of course, understood the high stakes being discussed here. The Cedar City Loggerheads had a fierce rivalry with Pine Grove High Predators that spanned generations. Liam, and his father, and his father’s father had all fought in that particular war.
“I don’t tolerate harsh or defeatist language, Simon,” said Coach Brennon. “What you boys need…” Sammy saw the man scanning the surrounding park, only to settle his gaze on him.
For once, Sammy didn’t shirk under the scrutiny. In the nine months since his rescue, he had grown over an inch, and Hatchet’s regimen had managed to sculpt some muscle on his six foot, two inch frame. Between that and the braid of hair growing out to his shoulder blades, Mady had started calling him “Samson” instead of Sammy. He had to admit… he liked it, the way it made him sound strong and rolled off the tongue. As long as he avoided making the same carnal mistakes as the original Samson, the name otherwise suited him.
“What you need is someone big you can practice on,” Coach Brennon said. “Hey, Nick! Mind if I borrow your new kid for a few minutes?”
Odysseus scratched the five o’clock shadow on his neck. “Well, you’ll have to ask him if he minds, Will,” he said.
Coach Brennon directed his pointed gaze at Sammy. “Sam, isn’t it? Well, how’s about it? You wanna help out the team?”
“By bein’ target practice?” Sammy said. “Sure, where d’you need me?”
Sammy was guided to the middle of one lineup and given a few quick directions. By now he knew the basics of the game from watching Sunday night games on TV with Odysseus, Hatchet, and Elizabeth. And he had attended a few of Liam’s games with the rest of the family. So he just needed a few quick instructions on carrying the ball properly and dodging tackles. Sammy could smell everyone’s salty, sweaty anticipation as they took their positions.
The whistle blew, and the neat lineup exploded into a frenzy. Suddenly, somehow, the ball was in his arms. His half of the team managed to lock up most of the other half, but two or three burst through the defense, coming straight at him. Sammy didn’t hesitate. He spun, side-stepping one attempt at a tackle, and blew past the others. He could feel someone--Liam--at his heels, so with a deep inhalation of air, he let himself fly, pumping his legs and outpacing his pursuer and making it all the way to the gazebo, which had been designated the goal.
The coach’s whistle blew, and everyone peeled off from one another. “Damn, son! I’ve only seen someone outrun Simon twice before!” He clapped his hands. “All right, men, let’s try that again. And this time, someone actually try to tackle Sam, wouldja?”
They lined up, this time Sammy playing for the other half. The whistle blew, and one of the boys managed to collide into him. While he struggled to break free, Sammy watched as one of his teammates caught the ball and sprinted off towards the goal with another player nipping at his heels. Sammy took a deep breath, heaved, and left his opponent spinning in the grass. In just a few breaths, he caught up with his teammate's pursuer and wedged himself between them. He hit the brakes, feeling his opponent slam into him, but held his ground and cleared the path for another goal for his side.
The whistle blew again, and Coach Brennon turned to Odysseus. “Nick, why’ve you been holding out on me?”
Liam, who had finally caught up with them, growled and stalked off towards his father, leaving Sammy very confused as several other boys clamored around to give him hearty high-fives and slaps on the shoulder.
***
Three quick pulses of the subharmonic alarm meant unexpected human company. Sammy abandoned his pursuit of the rabbit and loped homeward on all fours. He paused behind the treeline, scenting the air to make sure the coast was clear. Strangely, he recognized one of the scents from earlier that day… the coach. Well, this was probably about Liam, and no business of his. But the protocol forbade being wolfside while humans were on the properly, so he bounded towards the side of the house that had no windows for occasions such as this, climbed up to the second story, and let himself in through an unlocked window in the meeting room. He shifted in there, and then jogged across the hall to his room.
“Hold on there, boy,” Hatchet’s arm shot out, snatching him.
Sammy froze in place, wondering what he had done wrong, until Hatchet pulled a large twig out of his braid and showed it to him. “Make yourself presentable, then duck out and come inside through the back door. Our guests wanna talk with you, and Odysseus and Night Sky told them you’re out taking a walk in the woods.”
Talk with him? Sammy had no idea why, but his stomach lurched. Had he done something wrong? Oh, no. What if he had ran with inhuman speed, or shrugged off that boy’s tackle too easily? He might have put the pack in jeopardy, or put the alphas in an awkward position having to come up with lies for him-
“I’m tellin’ you, it ain’t happening!” Night Sky’s voice rose through the house. “Sam is not ready!”
“Ruth, honey, calm down,” he heard Odysseus say. “I know you’re protective of him, but we can’t smother him, either.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hatchet grunted. “Get moving!”
Sammy did as instructed, pulling his dirty clothes from the hamper and putting them back on, pausing to sniff a pit and wrinkle his nose. He’d planned to shower after his evening run, and there was no time for a quick rinse-off because then they might wonder what he was doing running around outside wet in February. He grabbed one of Liam’s bottles of body spray and blasted his pits before sliding into his shirt and checking his hair for any other detritus. Thus passable, he climbed out his window onto the first story roof, then leapt down and made his way to the back door.
By now, the arguing had turned into an awkward silent stalemate while they waited for his arrival. As soon as he emerged into the living room, Coach Brennon and a tall, reedy bald man in a pinstripe suit stood, both men looking him over with… Sammy wasn’t sure, but it looked like some kind of hunger.
“Sam, have a seat,” Odysseus motioned towards the spot between him and Ruth on the couch. “This is Mr. Kirby, Cedar City High’s principal, and of course you know Will Brennon.
“So this is the boy you told me about?” Mr. Kirby said. “How old are you, son?”
“Sixteen,” Night Sky answered for him.
Sammy sucked a little air in. “Actually, I’m seventeen now.”
“What?” Night Sky sounded incredulous. “Did you have a birthday and not tell us?”
“Actually, yeah,” Sammy said meekly. “My birthday’s December 17th.”
“Sammy!” Night Sky was shocked, and even a little upset. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Sammy glanced down, staring intently at his fingers. “You guys’ve done so much for me already. I didn’t want you to think I expected gifts or a cake or anythin’.” That, and he hadn’t had a birthday celebration since his parents had died. Back at the foster home, they'd made him a box-mix cake and that was it. His life so far didn’t seem worth celebrating, anyway.
“Hun, look at me.” Night Sky didn’t even wait for Sammy to turn his head of his own power. She cradled his head between her thumb and forefinger and turned it herself. “That’s not how it works around here. You’re part of our family now, and birthdays are for celebrating having each other in our lives.”
His eyes started to moisten, and he blinked back the tears as he nodded. Once again, he felt like this situation was too good to be true, and never wanted it to end. But it had to. Someday, somehow, he would disappoint these wonderful people, or offend them beyond forgiveness, and he would be cast out. That’s just the way his life went.
Coach Brennon cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt this… touching moment, but we’re getting off-track here.”
Mr. Kirby nodded his head. “Indeed. Son, how would you like to come play football for us?”
This evening was proving to be an emotional roller-coaster for Sammy. His jaw dropped.
“But… I don’t go to your school,” he said. “Ruth has been home-schoolin’ me here.”
“Well, what’s your grade equivalency?”
Sammy’s face grew warm. “Eighth in some subjects, ninth in others.”
Odysseus’ hand landed on his shoulder. “Sam’s been working hard to catch up with his academics. He was homeless for several years. And before coming here… he was one of the BioPharm children.”
Both men sucked in their breaths. Of course, black vans raiding pharmaceutical labs was not something that could just be covered up. So the Order’s contacts within the FBI had put out the cover story that BioPharm, Inc. had been snatching children off the street for human experimentation. It was the truth, just omitting the detail that their victims were all werewolves. Sammy had followed all the news coverage he could on the story with a growing sense of satisfaction. The corporation’s stocks had plummeted immediately, and the entire board had been arrested in the ensuing scandal--all except the CEO, who had hung himself. Funny thing about that, though. Odysseus and Hatchet had gone on a road trip a couple days before the discovery of the man’s body. Sammy hadn’t asked them about the incident. He decided he preferred it if he didn’t know for sure. After that, no one else on the board had dared utter the word “werewolf” in public, either.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Mr. Kirby. “But if I’m going to be completely frank and off the record, we’re a small, underfunded public school still using books that were printed almost a decade ago. Ruth’s eighth grade homeschooling is probably equivalent to or even better than what we have for the Ninth grade right now.”
“You just don’t give up, do you Kirby?” Ruth growled, not accepting the compliment at all. “You’ll do and say anything to get what you want.”
Mr. Kirby looked right at her. Sammy wondered if he would be so bold if he knew how close he was to getting his throat ripped out. “What I want is better funding for my school. You think the state gives a backwater town like ours a cent more than they absolutely have to? A winning football team turns heads. It gets us better funding. It’s a flawed system, but it’s what we have.” He shrugged.
“Just think about it, Sam,” Coach Brennon said, leaning in. “You’ve got a body that’s just built to play football. You’ve got the speed, you’ve got the strength. You play your cards right, you could catch the eye of some talent scout, earn yourself a college scholarship. Maybe even go pro!”
College? The NFL? Sammy’s ambitions rarely ventured beyond making it through the day without embarrassing himself. And he was gaining life skills here, learning how to be a ranch hand. But supposing he really did find himself cast out one day… well, he didn’t want to leave here, but having a backup plan wouldn’t be a bad idea. As for the NFL… yeah, it was unlikely, but it was worth a shot, right?
Sammy still wasn't certain if Odysseus considered him worth keeping around. Odysseus was the big, important Alpha of a large pack. Most days, his attention was focused on a million other things, and Sammy didn't merit much of his time unless he screwed up. And Sammy tried very hard not to screw up. It was a mixed blessing, because it kept him on his toes... but he rarely got any kudos for keeping out of trouble, either. Night Sky was still protective of him, so he knew he was in her good graces... but how long would that last? How long til his need for her protection got pathetic? He didn't want to be the pack's charity case forever.
One thing Sammy was confident about was his physicality. He had already grown a couple inches since coming here; he was going to be massive as an adult. Even now, he was confident he could go toe to toe with any human athlete. The issue would be holding back so no one would figure out he wasn't human. But if he could manage it... if he could make money, and lots of it... he would undeniably be an boon to the pack rather than a bane. He could even do something to pay the Simons and Hatchet back for all the kindness they’ve shown him, and even have enough left over to open a foster home. He would be able to take kids like him off the streets, spare them the kind of suffering he had gone through.
“Now, Will, be careful with your lofty promises,” Nicholas said.
“I’m making no promises,” Coach Brennon said. “Just telling Sam to consider his potential.”
“I’ll do it,” Sammy said. “At least, I’ll give it a try. Couldn’t hurt, right? An’ if it doesn’t work out… I can just come back to homeschoolin’, right?”
Night Sky looked dubious, but she put her arm around him.
“Of course, hun. I just don’t want you biting off more than you can chew right now.”
“All the more reason to treat this as an experiment, rather than a commitment,” Odysseus said. He stood up. “And so long as no one in the school pressures Sam to stay if he feels uncomfortable in the situation.”
The two men stood up, shaking Odysseus’ hand. “It’s a deal,” said the coach, then offered his hand to Sammy. Sammy stood and shook the hand as firmly as he could.
“I’ll email you all the forms you’ll need to fill out tonight!” Mr. Kirby said.
“And I’ll fill them out as quickly as I can,” Odysseus promised. “Mind you, it could take a few days. We still haven’t gotten all the paperwork from his case worker, but I’ll put in a call and light a fire under their arses.”
“Case worker” in this instance being code for the Order. Since Sammy wasn’t in the system, the Order would have to forge him a birth certificate, social security number, the whole deal to get him recognized as an entity by the U.S. government.
“Understood,” said Mr. Kirby, and then he turned to Sammy. “By the way, Sam. What’s your whole name?”
Sammy opened his mouth, and then faltered. Whole name? He didn’t have one. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember what the last name of his parents had been. He had considered just making something up, but… for some reason, nothing felt right. Choosing a name for himself would always be a reminder that he had had to make up an identity because he had lost the one his parents had given him. He had been putting it off for as long as he could.
“Phoenix,” Ruth said suddenly. She stood up and clamped her hands over his shoulders. “Samson Phoenix.”
Samson Phoenix? Okay. Sounded fake, but… okay.
***
Sammy found himself in school the next Tuesday. He got off the bus and shifted the used backpack that Gerry had given him, loaded up with brand-new school supplies and a lunch from Night Sky. She still seemed unhappy about this, but she still supported him and told Liam to watch out for him. Which would be hard to do, as they went their separate ways for class.
His first class of the day was English. He managed to learn a thing or two, but he didn’t feel too confident when handing in his work. Next up, Algebra which nearly caused a panic attack. Fortunately, once he actually cracked open the book and recognized the equations, the crisis was averted. Art was… well, that turned out to be the most challenging of the morning classes, surprisingly. Everyone was given a blob of clay and “free creative expression” by the teacher who smelled like booze and kept his distance from the open windows. And what did someone who had spent their whole life bottling themselves up express, exactly? Sammy panicked and molded a sphere and stuck three fingers in, calling it a bowling ball. It was just the first thing that came to mind, not that the teacher really seemed to pay attention to everyone's results.
He was already looking forward to his break. Madison had shown him “Mean Girls” as her way of preparing him for High School. Awful movie, but it gave him some ideas. He burned through so much energy and worry at home just trying not to be disliked, that he already decided he wasn’t going to concern himself with popularity in high school. He wasn’t going to let himself care if he was popular or hated here. These humans were not part of his pack, and after he graduated he would likely never see them again. Their opinions didn’t matter. He didn’t need friends as much as he needed his family. He just needed to pass his classes and play football well enough to catch some talent scout’s eye some day. So the best way to win this game would be not to play it at all. He found his way to the library, cracked open Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. He’d always wanted to give Mark Twain a try, but was never sure which one came first, this or Tom Sawyer.
Computer classes drew him out of his hiding spot after break. Those turned out to be useful, and he was halfway through photoshopping a composite image together when the lunch bell rang.
Well, he had managed to make it through a couple minefields this morning, time to see if he could sail through a hurricane unscathed. He retrieved his lunchbag from his locker, took a deep breath, and stepped inside to the smell of a thousand greases, both human and inhuman. Fortunately, it took a lot--a lot--to ruin a hungry werewolf’s appetite. By now, the tortillas wrapped around his burrito beef should be achieving ideal saturation of meat juices--just enough to make the tortillas soft and moist, but not crossing soggy point of no return. The thought made his mouth water as he skirted around the hordes to an empty table in the far corner.
He had just managed to fit his mouth around one corner for an ambitious bite when one of the boys Sammy recognized from practice suddenly appeared.
“Sam, right? Jake Welling. Coach told us to make you feel welcome. Come on, come sit with us.”
Sammy chewed his bite frantically and swallowed it, before the other boy was left waiting too long. “Uh… okay.”
He soon found himself wedged in the middle of a CW drama, but with more acne; five large boys he recognized from the other evening, three of them with conventionally-attractive girlfriends beside them. Liam sat at the far side of the table, posture rigid, smelling of annoyance. What was his problem?
“Everyone, this is Sam Phoenix. This is my girl, Kristie,” said the boy who’d brought him over. “That’s Doug and Janet, Michael and Colleen, Artie and Taz, and of course you know Geronimo.”
Sammy glanced towards Liam, momentarily knocked off-kilter to hear a pack name spoken aloud in human company. He must have encouraged them to use it as a nickname, since the broad-shouldered boy already growing a scraggly beard clearly could not have “Taz” written on his birth certificate. But then, given his new surname, Samson Phoenix had no room to criticize Liam.
“I think we’ve seen each other around,” he said, then turned his attention to one of the girls. “Colleen, right? You look familiar…”
She nodded. “I think I’ve seen you before at my dad’s church.”
“Oh! You’re Pastor Qwan’s daughter!” When she smiled, he felt a surge of momentary panic, frantically trying to figure out what to say next.
“Uh… tell your dad I really liked his sermon the other week, on the Good Samaritan,” he added. He got a ride into town on Sunday mornings when he could, but Nicholas and Ruth were very sporadic in their attendance.
She smiled. “I’ll pass that along, thanks.”
“So, Sam,” Liam spoke up. With feigned interest, he asked, "How's your first day of school in... how long's it been?"
Sammy cocked his head and stared at his foster-brother for a moment. Was Liam trying to embarrass him in front of his friends? Why would he do that? Sammy was no threat to his social standing. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Overthinking it. Like he did with everything else.
"'Bout five years," he answered. "And it's goin' all right, I guess."
"Five years?" Kristie repeated. She had been twirling her dirty blonde hair with a pair of fingers, but froze mid-twirl to look at him more closely. "What've you been doing in the meantime?"
Sammy shrank in his seat. What was it about teenage girls? Their curiosity was comparable to the Spanish Inquisition (which they would be studying in History this afternoon--he'd peeked ahead).
He glanced down at his burrito, and then looked around almost-untouched plastic trays heaped with Sloppy Joes and chips and canned carrots. He pondered taking another bite before he answered, but he didn’t think these humans could appreciate a starving werewolf’s appetite.
He considered making something up, but he was no good at lying. That was a skill that required talking to non-werewolves to hone, and werewolves could smell a lie a mile away. So instead he went with vague honestly. "Mostly bein' homeless."
"Dude," Taz murmured. Everyone human at the table stared at Sammy with a mixture of awe and pity. He wasn't sure which was worse.
"Oh, you poor thing!" cried Colleen.
Kristie tilted her head. "Why?"
Sammy swallowed. It was a good question. But how could he answer without mentioning the whole secret werewolf thing? Again, perhaps vague honesty would serve him again. "Well, I guess... foster life didn't suit me."
After all the boys nodded in seeming agreement, Sammy replayed his response in his head and realized that came off as more nonchalant and "cool" than he had intended.
"Well, I hope Geronimo here's making you feel welcome," Kristie said, shooting Liam a withering gaze.
"Oh, yeah, a' course," Sammy said agreeably. Truthfully, he and Liam hadn't turned out to be as compatible as he had originally hoped. They got along all right, but it was as Night Sky had said: Liam lived his own life.
Kristie's smile brightened, and then she leaned in across the table. "Well, if there's anything we can do to help you fit in, just ask. The girls and I would absolutely love to help you out, right girls?"
"Right," Colleen agreed, apparently speaking for Janet too.
"In fact, can I get you started with some free pointers?" Kristie asked.
"Uh, sure."
"Well, for starters, don't tuck your shirt in," she said,in a reasonably helpful tone. "No one tucks in flannel. In fact, you could definitely do with a makeover, especially if you want to find a girlfriend by the end of the semester."
Sammy looked down, scanning his jeans and shirt. Thanks to a recent growth spurt, he had already outgrown most of the clothes Night Sky had initially bought for him. His current shirt was a hand-me-down from a packmate, his pants attested to the hardworking lifestyle Night Sky had promised him, and his steel-toed boots had been a Christmas gift from Patience and Fenton.
"Tell you what," Kristie said, ever chipper. "The girls and I were going shopping after practice. There are a couple stores in town besides Walmart that have some cool stuff. I've always wanted to help give someone a makeover!"
Sammy considered her offer, considered the people he was sitting with. They were all... children. Wrapped in their little bubble of high school and sports, they had absolutely no concept of what the real world was like out there. And he didn't look down on them for it--quite the opposite. He envied them for their innocence. But that world was closed off to him now, and there was no setting foot in it. He would just make himself sick pining for something he could never have.
"Thank you for the offer, but... I still got chores and homework back home I'll need t' do after school."
"But don't you want to get a girlfriend?" Kristie's tone now sounded concerned.
Sammy flashed back to his first and last attempt to talk to a girl and tried not to wince at the memory of his arm snapping in two. This girl, however well-intentioned, was relentless. He glanced over to Liam, who just shrugged. Okay, so no help there.
He took another, smaller bite, swallowing it down almost whole.
"I jus'... I got a lot t' deal with right now as it is," he said. "Gettin' used to havin' a family again, gettin' caught up in school, learnin' a new job... I think it'll be a long time before I'm even ready to even think about datin'. Thanks for the offer, but... no thanks."
"Babe, c'mon," Jake finally spoke up, patting Kristie on the arm. "I know you like to make the new kids feel welcome, but don't smother the poor guy."
She pouted. "Well, all right. Sorry, Sam. But if you ever change your mind or need fashion advice, you know where to find me."
"Okay," he said, and then added a perfunctory, "Thank you." Her heart was in the right place, he thought. But she seemed like one of those people who didn't really understood people could have different priorities in life. He lowered his head to concentrate on the meal he desperately needed, and thankfully the clique left him alone for the rest of lunch time.
***
"Hell of a kid you got there, Nick."
Odysseus glanced up from his book and merely grunted an acknowledgement for the man approaching him.
Will Brennon reached the top bleacher where Odysseus sat and plopped himself down a couple seats' width away. Most humans, even if they were unaware of the exact reason why, kept themselves at least an arm's length away from him. They had no way of consciously knowing a werewolf when they saw one, but something in their gut instinct knew a predator when they saw one.
"We've been drilling tackles this afternoon. Sam's an unstoppable force and an immovable object. He follows orders to a T. He's aware of his surroundings at all times. I'm telling you, he's gonna go far."
Odysseus slapped his book shut and glared at his old schoolmate. "Do me a favor, and don't talk like that around Sam. I don't want you filling his head with false promises."
"False promises? I'm just giving him some goals to aim for!" Will protested. His eyes narrowed. "What's this about, Nick? Is it because your own football career never took off, now you wanna keep Sam working on the ranch just like you?"
Odysseus snorted. "I've always let Sam know he's free to pursue whatever career he desires. As for my own 'career,' there never was one. I played back in school to impress the girls, Will. Once I found other ways of doing that, football never seemed quite that important." He allowed himself a smirk at seeing the coach's shocked expression.
"Okay, so then... what? You don't think Sam has it in him to make it all the way to the big leagues?"
Odysseus didn't answer right away. Instead, he watched the boys drilling on the field. Even from this distance, he could pinpoint which two figures were his. Sam stood head and shoulders above all the others, but beyond the obvious giveaway, he could hear their voices whenever they shouted. And even from the top bleachers, he could distinguish their scents from the humans. Werewolves might live in this world, but it would always belong to the humans. Yes, a werewolf's physiology gave them natural advantages for sports. Even humanside, they were faster and stronger and recovered quicker, not comic-book-superhumanly so, but just enough to give them an edge. There already were some werewolves in the NFL and MLB. (The Order had declared the NBA off-limits, since their leaping span was more obviously superhuman.) They could never be a part of it so long as they had to hide what they truly were. And the day they came out, they would deal with even greater ostracization for generations to come. Humans could barely stand their own kind, imagine how they would treat a whole different species. What happened to Sarah and Phoenix had only been a taste of what was to come.
In this day and age when everyone had a camera on them, Odysseus had no doubt that he would live to see the day when thropes were outed and everything would change. The argument inevitably came up every Alpha's summit. Many wanted to reveal themselves on their own terms rather than wait for someone's camera phone to catch a werewolf in the midst of something unsavory. Odysseus understood this reasoning and even considered it the wisest option. But at the same time, the safety of his pack, of his children, was his number one priority. He had already failed Sarah. He wouldn't fail Geronimo or Phoenix, and if it meant keeping them under the shield of the status quo for as long as it could be maintained, then so be it.
Odysseus turned to his old companion. "I have utmost faith Sam will achieve greatness some day. He's already recovered so much from his ordeals. But he's still recovering now. You of all people should appreciate the dangers of straining something before it's fully healed."
Will gave him a contemplative look, or at least as contemplative as he seemed capable of managing. Despite his recent behavior, Odysseus liked Will. The man was loyal and cared about the kids under his mentorship. And he had a good eye for tactics, which was how he had managed to stay head coach for going on a decade. But the capacity for deep thought had never been one of his finer points.
"I get it," Will said. "I promise I won't push him into anything he isn't comfortable doing."
"Thank you," Odysseus said. "That's all I ask."
***
"Hey, Sam--whoa, dude! How'd you get that nasty scar on your back?"
Sam spun around, feeling the blast of hot water along the offending tissue. Oddly, he felt less vulnerable letting the others see his penis than the scar. The marks on his face and his shoulder were one thing, mementoes simply of stupid mistakes. The long, ugly line along his spine--that had been inflicted on him by sadists. He may have killed them all, but his body would forever carry their mark, a reminder of their existence.
Whatever good mood he had managed to develop during practice had suddenly spoiled. Even the smell of mold in the showers punching the back of his nostrils hadn't diminished his spirit. But a single question could be so much more damaging.
"Taz, dude, don't you have any manners?" Jake chastised. He made a face, and then turned to Sammy. "Long as you don't have any spinal problems we need to be careful about, you don't have to share anything you don't wanna, man."
"Th-thanks," Sammy said, then turned around to rush through the rest of his shower. He could feel all eyes boring on his back, though. It was one thing to be the center of attention for being new, or being the team's newest advantage, and even then he didn't like having so much focus on him. The former would pass, and the latter was a lot of pressure. But even then it was a different feeling to be the center of attention because of one of his most painful memories.
He made record time in the shower, then draped his towel over his shoulders like a cape and beat it towards the lockers. He put his shirt on even before his hair was dry, which left a sopping mess on his back and forced him to stand there under a blow-dryer. Sammy wasn't sure if werewolves could get pneumonia, but with his luck, he wasn't going to risk it.
The other boys must have sensed his discomfort, because when they started filling in to the lockers, all of them except Liam gave him a wide berth and very deliberately avoided eye contact. Well, at least they were trying, and he appreciated that.
"Hey, Jess!" Sammy heard voices resonate through the room. Down here, the acoustics were terrible. Voices bounced around the lockers to Sammy's sensitive ears, but even with the distracting resonance, he could hear the malevolence in Jake's voice. "Try not to fumble the ball so much this Friday. That was embarrassing."
"Yeah, Jessica," Doug taunted. "Shape up or ship out."
Metal slammed against metal, and then Sammy heard a yelp. Something about that pained sound flipped a switch in his mind, and stirred him to rush down the lane, into the far corner of the lockers. Jake, Doug, and Taz, with towels around their waists, were closing in on a small, skinny and naked boy clutching his own right hand.
"Hey, guys... what's goin' on here?" Sammy asked.
"Just keeping the team on their toes, Sam," Jake said, in a very dangerous tone. He turned around with what he must have though was dramatic flair. "And trimming the fat if we need to. Nothing you need to worry about."
Jesse looked past the bullies and right at him. His blue eyes were filled with sheer terror, stirring the wolf in Samson Phoenix. He started calculating his odds. Even though he was bigger than each one of the boys, their collective mass was more than his. But then, they didn't have his strength, his speed, and he doubted they knew any of the moves Hatchet had taught him. Getting into a fight with three boys on his first day of school was the exact opposite of keeping his head down. But what else could he do? The wolf would not back down now.
Sammy tilted his head. "I think maybe I do," he said. "It doesn't matter how good or bad he is, he's part of the team. Leave him alone."
"This is none of your business, Sam!" Taz snarled.
In a calm, quiet voice, Sammy said, "Speakin' of things that're nobody's business, you really wanna know how I got the scar on my back?"
The sudden shift in topic was enough to make all parties freeze in place. Curious eyes turned towards him, and though every instinct screamed against it, Sammy turned his back to his opponents and lifted his shirt.
"You guys heard of BioPharm?" he asked. Judging by the to gasps he heard, and the lack of confusion, he assumed the answer was yes. "I told ya I was homeless. One day I got knocked out, and woke up in a holding cell. No windows, no clocks, no way of knowin' how long I was there or even if it was night or day. No way of knowin' when my captors would gas my room and I'd wake up in the middle of surgery. I had t' be awake for their sadistic tests. They did the most work on my spine, cuttin' nerves and stitchin' em back together. I'm lucky I came out of there still able to walk."
He lowered his shirt and turned back around. He saw the horrified expressions not just in the four boys, but in the rest of the team who had gathered around the commotion. Once again, Sammy found himself putting his trauma on display before an audience. But this as different from the pack. Ultimately, he didn't care what these boys thought. No doubt some of them would tell their parents,and soon the whole town would know. But he didn't care what they thought either. He was sharing this to make a point.
He had to continue through grit teeth. Slowly, with a growing edge in his voice, he made his point. "The h- the monsters who did that to me, they thought they could get away with it because they were stronger than me. They thought because I was weaker, that I was somethin' less than them. Strength... an' power... should be used to protect, not prey. We're human beings, not animals. I don't... like... people who act like animals."
Ironically, his voice had taken on an inhuman edge--deeper, hollower, the wolf was growling through his words. Taz and Doug were shaking. Sammy caught a whiff of human urine--someone in the crowd had dripped. He took a single step forward. Jake, Taz and Doug took two steps back.
Sammy took a deep breath and stuffed the wolf away. Closing his eyes, he managed a much more moderate tone as he finished. "If you boys wanna live by the law of the jungle, then it's only fair that you're subject to it, too. I'm bigger'n any of you. An' I know how t'fight. Either that, or you can apologize to Jessie. Pick his towel up for him, and promise to behave like a human being towards him from now on."
Jake was the first to find his voice. "Uh, yeah... sure. Doug, pick up Jessie's towel."
"Whu?"
"Pick up the damn towel, Doug!" Jake screeched.
Doug picked up the damn towel and handed it back to Jessie. All three boys mumbled apologies and scurried away. In the distant corner, Sammy recognized the sound of Liam chuckling.
***
Principal Kirby cleared his throat nervously as Sammy, Odysseus and Night Sky pulled up seats before his desk. "So, this was not how I wanted to start Sam's second day of school, but as the principal, I have no choice but to investigate a harassment complaint filed against Mr. Phoenix."
Night Sky leaned forward. "And just how can he be harassing someone when he's only been here a day?" she demanded. She was quivering with anger. After the phone call last night, she had asked Sammy for his side of things, and then simply nodded and went quiet. She had managed to build up a pretty impressive reservoir of rage overnight.
Mr. Kirby upturned his hands in a halfhearted shrug. "Three boys say Sam threatened them with violence last night."
"That's not true!" Sammy exclaimed. "They slammed a locker door on some kid named Jessie's hand! And I told them that if they were gonna pick on someone smaller than them, then they should be prepared for the same kinda treatment from someone... bigger... oh."
Mr. Kirby groaned. "Sam, I want you to tell me, word for word, what you said."
Sammy closed his eyes and replayed the moment in his head, reenacting the moment as best as he could. When he finished, he looked around him. Odysseus and Night Sky still smelled aggravated, but they were beaming at him with pride, while Mr. Kirby looked thoughtful.
He pressed a button on his phone. "Jaime, call Jessie Cooper into my office, please." He looked up. "If Mr. Cooper can corroborate your story, that you were simply standing up for him, then we can put this whole matter behind us. We have a game coming up in two days, and I'd rather not have anything jeopardize that."
Sammy twisted in his seat as the mousy boy from the locker room arrived a few minutes later. Sammy recognized the smell of anxiety coming off him. He could relate. Maybe Sammy could make a new friend at this school after all. If Jessie had been shunned by his own clique of choice, then they would be outcasts together. He wondered what the pack policy was for bringing human guests over. He had never needed to ask before. But he was getting ahead of himself.
"Mr. Cooper, I'm given to understand you were witness to an altercation between Mr. Phoenix and a couple other boys on the football team."
"I- I- I- don't know what you're talking about."
Sammy had to stop and think about Jessie's answer. Something didn't match up. What...?
"Mr. Cooper," Principal Kirby pressed with growing aggravation. "Jake Welling claims that Mr. Phoenix here threatened him yesterday in the locker room. Mr. Phoenix, of course, refutes this claim and said he was defending you. We need you to confirm which person is telling the truth."
"C'mon, Jessie," Sammy coaxed. "Ple-"
"Mr. Phoenix, I'm going to have to ask you to be quiet, or I'll have to escort you out of the room and talk to Mr. Cooper privately."
Odysseus growled. "I don't like your tone with my boy, Kirby," he said. "You and I both know for a fact that Welling has been suspended for bullying before. If anyone should be given the benefit of the doubt, it's Sam."
It took the principal a few seconds to regain his wits and close his jaw. He clearly hadn't been expecting Odysseus' intensity. "I'm trying to do that, Mr. Simon. But I'm still required to investigate this." His voice had a whine to it, the whine of a messenger who knew he was in someone's gun sights.
Sammy was barely listening now. He felt like a black hole had suddenly formed in his gut, twisting and distorting his insides. This was not the gut-wrenching terror he usually lived with, but he still felt sick. Jake and the others had been tormenting Jessie. Why would he protect them, and not the boy who had stuck out his neck for him? Sammy didn't understand humans. Werewolves could be dangerous and moody, but at least they weren't unpredictable.
Or treacherous.
"Jessie," the principal said, pleading now. "I know you've had a hard time fitting in, that's why you joined the football team in the first place. But if someone has been bullying you, they're not going to stop if you conceal what they've done. Now, did Mr. Phoenix step in to stop Welling from hurting you?"
Jessie hung his head. "If I say yes, will you just drop the whole matter?"
Sammy heard a low growl from Night Sky this time, and nerves slid into the place of his disgust. He knew she wouldn't lose control, but... an angry alpha was still someone to steer clear of.
"That more or less confirms what Sam said, doesn't it?" Odysseus said, letting his annoyance burn through his tone.
"Yes." Principal Kirby shook his head a little too vigorously. "I'd say it does. Mr. Phoenix, Mr. Cooper, please return to your classes. Mr. and Mrs. Simon, I'm sorry to have bothered you."
They all stood to go, but as Night Sky passed Jessie, she stopped and looked the boy over, and then turned to Sammy. "Coward," she condemned, then turned to Sammy. "He's not worth your energy, Sam."
"Mrs. Simon-!"
"Okay, time to go!" Odysseus exclaimed, placing his hands on his wife's shoulders and ushering her out the door before the Mama Wolf did something they'd all regret.
***
Game day!
Sammy knew after his experience with Jessie that he would never make friends here. He kept to himself and ate his lunches in the library, with the other outcasts and loners. Coach Brennon was happy with him during their practice sessions, and that was all that mattered. But the pre-game hype was too invigorating to resist. Even the teachers seemed to want to just get classes over with. It was, after all, a rematch with their oldest rivals--it was a matter of patriotism, or whatever the small-town equivalent is called.
From the locker room, he could make out the thrum of the marching band's drums, and some of the horns too. A few members of the team helped Sammy struggle into his gear, assuring him that he wasn't a total pariah, but Jake and his toadies gave him a wide berth.
"Nervous?" someone asked him.
"I'd be lyin' if I said no."
"All right boys, listen up!" Coach Brennon came into their midst. Sammy had been looking forward to this, his first pep talk, a time-honored pre-game ritual.
"I know this team's had morale and infighting problems. But tonight's the night that all changes. Tonight's the night we go out there, and kick butt! The field is no place for personal issues. We all want to win, right?"
"Yes, coach!" they all shouted in unison, Sammy included.
"We all want to wipe the smug grin off that stupid sabertooth tiger mascot they've got, don't we?"
"Yes coach!"
"Then go out there and do it!" Coach Brennon managed a pretty impressive throb in the vein on his temple. "It's time our tortoise comes out ahead!"
Technically, their mascot was a sea turtle, not a tortoise, but it was close enough for the metaphor to stir up the team spirit. With plenty of chest-bumping and ass-smacking, the Cedar City Loggerheads donned their helmets and ran out onto the field to a victorious cacophony. Sammy shuddered at the spiritual power of the pageantry, how it wanted to suck him in like a siren's song. The fact that this worked on humans too showed that they were no different from werewolves in how close their instincts lay to the surfaces of their psyches. It went to show, they were all beings with a desire to be part of something greater, and could not resist the call to be a part of a greater whole and the celebration of it.
They circled around Brennon, receiving their orders. Just like before a deer hunt, Sammy listened, visualizing the tactics in his mind. If it all went right, they would move like an eloquent machine, sharing each others' strengths and spirits to achieve their goal. With a clap of his hands, they went rushing out, past the scores of pretty cheerleaders, to their positions. Sammy surveyed the opposition, in their venomous yellow and orange uniforms. Pine Grove really did breed them big, but Sammy was bigger than any of them.
A referee emerged, placed the ball in the middle of the field, and backed away.
The whistle blew. A boy from Pine Grove drove forward and kicked the ball with all his might. It flew back, over Sammy's head, deep into their territory. That's when the Predators started charging. Sammy kicked himself into gear, trying to block them off, and two of them bore down on him.
He braced himself before the impact sent shockwaves through his whole body, but he stood his ground against the two Predators. Only, suddenly, they weren't boys in orange and yellow. Against all logic, they were men--men in blue scrubs and white lab coats. They had found him again!
Sammy's body locked up with fear. How? He needed air. He gulped down lungfuls of it, lungfuls of cold air that stank of sweat and humans. All he could hear was his own heartbeat. It didn't matter how they had found him again, he wouldn't let them take him this time!
There was no time to go wolfside. But he knew how to fight, now. His brain scrambled through the memories of Hatchet's lessons, only to send them scattering through his head-space. Amidst the chaotic tumble, he snatched one or two maneuvers and dragged them to the forefront of his conscious. He managed to shift his weight, knocking the predators off-balance enough for him to slip around them, bringing his foot up into one of their shins. It screamed and went down.
Sammy brought both of his fists together and slammed them down onto the other predator's back, knocking it down. Weakened enemy! Take them out before they can get back up!
He leapt on top of the two prone figures, grabbing one by the head and slamming it down again into the ground. And again. And again. He kicked and punched at both bodies, not noticing the quiet that had settled around them or the screams. Not even the shrill whistles could pierce his survival instincts.
Another predator grabbed him from behind, yanking him off the two he had laid out. He screamed and flailed his arms and legs, landing ineffectual blows at his new enemy.
"PHOENIX!" the voice of his Alpha splashed like ice water directly onto his brain. Odysseus managed to grab his arms, forcing them to cross against his chest. By now, Sammy was trembling, as reality forced his delusions away and he saw--not two BioPharm scientists on the ground, but two boys in bright-colored uniforms, one groaning and the other crying as medics rushed in to check them out. Not his predators. Just Predators.
Coach Brennon was the one who had pulled Sammy off them, still holding onto him despite the blood streaming from his bent nose.
Night Sky appeared, grabbing his helmet and forcing eye contact. "Sam Phoenix, calm down! You're safe now!"
Both teams were standing around, staring at Sammy. The whole field stunk of fear and disgust. From the crowds, a low thrumming sound arose, increasing in loudness. Booing. People were booing him.
"Get 'im off the field!" shouted a referee.
Sammy couldn't disagree with that call.
***
The drive home was agonizingly quiet. He wanted to cry, to tremble, but he dare not move or bring any more attention to himself than he was due from the alphas in the front. Sammy could sense their aggravation, heavy and crackling in the air, like a storm about to break. Once they were out of the town, shadow shrouded Sammy in the back seat. He only remembered flashes of it. The whistle, the ball flying, the incoming assault, then flashes of fear and fighting for his life. It was like waking up after a nightmare that your mind immediately tried to erase.
There was something he needed to know, though. His voice barely above a whisper, he managed to choke out, "Those two boys... did I seriously hurt them?"
"No, thank God," Odysseus answered. His voice was carefully neutral, giving Sammy no hint of just how much trouble he was in. "Their armor protected them from the worst of it."
"Thank God," Sammy repeated.
This was it, probably. A family, that was all he had ever wanted. Every night he had gone to bed homeless, he had prayed to God to find him a family, if nothing else. He hadn't thought that was an extravagant request. But Odysseus and Night Sky weren't his parents. They could have given him their last name when they made something up for him, but they hadn't. He was in Argo out of pity, not love. He was the stray they had taken in. Not their son--a pet. And tonight he had shown them he was more trouble than he was worth.
Where would they send him? The possibilities were too daunting to imagine. No doubt the Order had some dark, secret place where they locked up troubled werewolves like him. Kept them neatly away from everybody else.
Sammy started breathing in through his mouth and out through his nose. It was something Hatchet had taught him. But as much as Sammy tried to keep his breaths slow and deep, they kept getting fast and shallow.
He waited a moment, and then said, "I can't ever go back there."
"Agreed," said Odysseus.
***
He didn't want to leave the car after they pulled up to the house. He just wanted to stay in here, hiding from the wrath of his alphas. But he knew that wasn't an option.
Like a dead man walking, he followed them silently inside. If he was going to be kicked out, banned from the pack, he wanted to retain a small shred of dignity. He deserved this, the least he could do was own it. But then until the door clicked shut behind him, and fear overtook him for the second time that night.
It started with hyperventilating. He couldn't get enough air. Sammy dropped to his knees, his gasps quickly morphing into loud, undeniable sobs. So much for dignity.
"Please," he managed to choke out. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, please don't get rid of me. I'll be good, I'll never go out to the city again. Please, please, please, just give me another chance. PLEASE!"
In his fear, he started to go wolfside, and this time, it hurt again, replacing all other sensations. He clenched his fists as his claws burst violently from his fingertips, cutting into his palms. Something knocked him onto his side and he looked up, watching as his alphas each had a foot in their hands, rushing to untie his shoes and free his feet before the restructuring bones shattered against the pressure.
Did... did they still care about him?
When the shift ended, Sammy was too exhausted to cry or even hyperventilate any longer. He flopped onto the floor, utterly spent. Night Sky had kicked off her own shoes and gone wolfside herself, and she leaned down over him and began to nibble and groom on his neck fur.
Odysseus himself leaned down and caressed Sammy's head, petting him like a dog, but Sammy would accept anything right now. He kissed the back of Night Sky's neck. "You handle him," he told her. "I'll make some calls and take care of damage control."
Night Sky rose and pulled Sammy to his feet. His legs were jelly, but he followed her to the kitchen, silent save for the clicking of his claws against the hardwood floor, and sat down where she directed him.
"I'm sorry," Sammy said again. Eyes cast down, playing the submissive wolf in the hopes of abating their rage. He knew he deserved it, but he didn't know if he could stand it. "You were right. I had no business goin' out there. I'm still way, way too damaged."
Night Sky still said nothing. He glanced up, and saw her pull two glasses out of the cabinet and fill them halfway with water from the sink, deliberately making sure they both had the same amount of water. She then scooped up a fistful of colored glass gems from a vase by the window and dumped three into one of the glasses, before setting both down in front of him.
"Which one has more water in it?" she asked.
Sammy frowned, wondering if this was some kind of trick. "They both got the same amount."
"But this one," she tapped the glass with the gems, "is almost overflowing."
"Because it’s got somethin’ else in it," he said. "It’s still got the same amount of water as the other one."
"Exactly! Each glass is a person. The water is a person ’s inner strength, and the gems are positive life experiences." She pointed at each gem. "A loving family. A safe environment. Even a healthy diet. Traumas can take those gems away. Just because you haven’t had the advantaged life that the rest of us have, doesn’t make you any less stronger than any one of us. It just looks that way because you haven’t replenished your gems yet."
Sammy dared to glance up at Night Sky. She smiled, before turning to grab another handful of gems, and took Sammy’s hand. She grabbed his wrist, pressed them into his palm, still smeared with his drying blood, and guided it above the half-full glass. “But now that you’re here, you can start regaining your gems.”
Sammy watched as he dropped the gems, one by one, into the glass.
Plunk! "A safe environment," Night Sky said.
Plunk! "A healthy diet."
Plunk! "A loving family."
Plunk! "Even the traumas that make you stronger."
By the fourth gem, the water level in the second glass was higher than the first.
***
"Careful, man. You're gonna get a hernia at that rate," Liam said as he reached the top of the barn's stairs.
Sammy, dressed only in a cotton T-shirt and workout shorts, merely grunted in acknowledgment as he slowly spread his arms out and lowered the home gym's weights down. He caught the towel that Liam tossed to him.
Liam slid over behind the machine. "Dude, one-eighty? Are you nuts?"
Sammy just barely managed to pull himself off the gym and reached for his water bottle. "I think Friday night proved that," he said before taking a drink.
"Yes, well. That's what Jake Welling said about you during lunch break today."
It shouldn't have, but that bothered Sammy anyway. He turned to face his foster brother. "Well, I'm sure the whole team's enjoyin' havin' a laugh at my expense. Even Cooper. Probably bringin' you all closer together." He dropped onto a floor mat and started doing push-ups, despite his body's dull protestations that he had put it through enough for today.
"Actually, no," Liam said. He stuck his thumbs in his pockets and walked up to Sammy's feet. Swaying his hips back and forth, he went on, "I told Jake to shut up. He knows what you've been through and none of us could possibly understand what that kind of thing does to someone, but I bet if he went through the same ordeal I doubt he'd have come out of it half as functional as you."
Sammy stopped on an ascent, and brought his arms down to prop himself up so he could maintain eye contact with Liam. "You really said that?"
Liam rolled his eyes. "Of course. You may be all kinds of messed up, but who wouldn't be after all the shit you've been through? I know a thing or two about living with handicaps, too, y'know."
Sammy frowned. "Yeah... yeah, I guess you do. Thank you, Liam, for standing up for me."
Liam shrugged. "Hey, what're packmates for?"
"So..." Sammy asked, "We're cool?"
"Now that I'm the fastest runner on the team again, hell yeah we're cool." Liam grinned.