Chapter 1
The short flight from Sacramento international Airport to Ken Jernstedt Airfield was enough time for me to ease myself out of ‘California girl’ back to small town Oregon and return to life as I knew it.
After leaving the plane, on my short trip to the luggage carousel bombarded my nose with the smells of coffees, microwaved burritos, and questionable salads and sauces awaiting purchase and consumption. Taylor Swift could only save so much of my hearing from the sketchy feedback from the speakers announcing departures and arrivals and could only ease so much of my flying nerves. It wasn’t long before I arrived at the silver carousel to retrieve my brown suitcase to swing around.
The little golden cupcake hanging from a pocket zipper distinguished my suitcase from the others. The golden cupcake hanging from a pocket zipper distinguished my suitcase from the others. My phone buzzed, catching my attention. The only message I received read ‘Parked’. Sent by my dearest cousin, Lockette, or Kette for short.
After collecting my bag, I rolled it to the parking lot, where a familiar blue Rav4 waited more patiently than its driver. Kette bolted from the car, her heels clicked against the pavement. It was impressive how her lace up heels stayed on despite her speed. Her brown cardigan flowing in her makeshift breeze, exposing her adorable pink blouse and light blue jeans.
“Lette!” Her arms wrapped around me, and she squeezed. Kette was more of a sibling than a cousin. She released me and tossed her impossibly curly gorgeous bronde hair. It fit so well with her chestnut skin. Her higher cheekbones and her wide, close-set eyes of endless golden brown captured the eye of most of the young boys in town. “You will never believe-!” She wrapped her arm around my waist and led me to the car.
It wasn’t long before we were road bound the few miles back home. The sun was sinking behind the spines of mountains that lined the horizon.
“Any cute boys you miss already?” she teased.
“None to speak of. I visited pier thirty-nine, and Big Sur. The Red Woods were beautiful, and the Sequoia Forest was a sight. The Jelly Belly factory brought back some memories, but other than sightseeing and catching up with the rentals, you saw most of my adventures online.” I shrugged.
Hood River, a small town at the base of the Hood River Mountain in Oregon, USA, was my true home, though not my first. We all knew each other for generations, a blessing and a curse.
We drove through the town as streetlights flipped on. Nothing happened in this sleepy town.
’Well, It’s not always nothing.’
“Really? Ugh, youth is wasted on you.” She rolled her eyes and huffed, dissatisfied.
“Happy to disappoint, Kette. Is it so important that I have a ‘hot girl summer’ instead of a regular summer?”
“What’s the point of summer if you’re not a little daring?”
“Does Hansel enjoy your ‘daring’ summers?”
“Bitch-!”
’Accurate.’
“-I must live vicariously through you now. My single days are done.”
I snorted at her dismay.
“Oh, poor Kette. A loving boyfriend, twin of her bestie, whatever shall you do?” my teasing may have been a little sharp.
“Not make a mess of our friends,” she muttered under her breath. I may not have meant to have heard it, but it stung all the same. “I don’t know, Lette. Watch you find your happiness somehow.”
“College on top of the bakery is a lot already. I’m happy doing my thing. How’s Granny?”
“Granny is well. Day by day, she becomes more fatigued. She missed you. She spoke about you quite a bit. Did you not get her calls?” Kette sounded like she raised a brow, but my eyes wandered beyond the passenger side window.
“No, I got them. Her strange late-night calls. Did the poor woman never sleep?”
“Cat naps. She’ll sleep more when you’re home.” Kette shrugged. She launched into her summer while I was away. I had kept up on her Facebook, which held a lot more memories to swing back to her in a year or three than mine held for me. “...Hans and I barely survived the rush! The tips were niiiiice though! We made it to Seattle to see Alice in Chains! That was a wonderful trip!” The radio played softly in the background as Lockett continued. I nodded along to show I heard her. The bakery was busy with waves that thankfully fit with our school schedules well enough that Granny was never without help in the busiest hours of the day.
“I’m glad you had fun, Kette. Missed you too.” I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Of course I missed you!” she swore.
We drove up to the cabin a mile out of town, surrounded by the now dark forest. Lights flowed out from the windows, lighting the unpaved path Kette professionally navigated, like the native she was.
Kette parked on the gravel driveway, the crunch of the tires a final sound before the engine died. The car door flew open before I could even fully unbuckle, and I was suddenly lifted out by strong arms, the smell of unfamiliar cologne filling my nose.
“Scar!” Strong arms squeezed me, and my ability to breathe halted.
“Hi, Hansel.” What air I had kept in my lungs was spent on my greeting.
“You were quite missed.” He squeezed a little tighter, then released me. He mussed my already well-travelled hair and left to gather my one bag of luggage. Smaller arms wrapped around my waist. I gently rested my arms over Granny’s shoulders.
“Scarlette, I’m glad you’re home. How was your flight?” Her deep brown eyes held mine like tractor beams.
“I’m well. I could use a shower, and a Dungeness crab?” My request was met with a soft smile.
“It’s still warm if you hurry.” She whispered. I kissed her cheek and dashed into the house.
After a cold shower, another round of toothbrushing, and changing into sleeping clothes, I made my way downstairs, towards the wooden kitchen, and watched Hansel help Granny serve a round of late-night crab, with hot fries and lemon.
“We had crossed into Hood County, and the car broke down. I kid you not, Kette had finished using the empty bottle and poured it out on the side of the road, in time to hear knocking on glass as Sherrif Steve came to see if she needed help to move her flat tire before I could get her!” Hansel was laughing so hard, water was dripping from his nose, and he choked on his beverage. I pursed my lips and tried not to laugh, acquiescing to Kette’s glare, though it was a hard-fought battle.
“Oh, be fair, Kette. You did what you had to; I get it. Concerts across state lines are a pain to navigate, but I think you handled it with gra-Please tell me you had hand sanitizer on you or baby wipes or something?” I teased. She frowned at me.
“No, that would have been a good idea. I had make-up remover wipes.” She confessed.
“What ever gets liquid off your hands. A water bottle will also do a trick until you can get to a gas station or something. It was not your night.” I pointed out.
“It was not my night. Nothing was right!” Kette’s cheeks darkened.
It was good to be home.
During the day I slept off the trip. Though jetlag wasn’t an issue I had to deal with, the change of scenery took some adjusting, but by night, I was making dough for the morning shift. I had earbuds in my ear and my phone in my pocket, listening to recordings of lectures from last year as I rolled and kneaded the dough.
School hadn’t started yet, but those who came in from out of state would fly or drive in to settle. New faces would come into the bakery during town exploration, and it sometimes felt like we were in a people zoo when new people came around, but it was all part of the yearly cycle.
Once I finished the last of my tasks, the last of the dishes were cleaned, covered the bread with damp towels, and the ovens freshly scrubbed, I began shutting down the bakery for the few hours rest before Granny was back in three hours to preheat the ovens and serve the early morning rush of those who worked in the city roughly an hour east.
Musical jingling beeped from the coffeemaker, signaling that coffee was on its timer for Granny when she arrives, before I locked the back door. I set my bag down and gazed out into the dark enticing woods. Untying my apron, I folded it and neatly set it in the bag, followed by my shirt, pants, socks, and shoes.
My skin melted away, spiking and softening. It felt as if I was slowly being stabbed by a long, thin sewing needle. I heard my bones break, and my limbs went numb. The numbing spread to my face as my nose changed to a snout. It was always weird to feel my ears slithering around until they stretched and pointed. Brown-gray colored fur occupied my forepaws, and my tail swished behind me. A howl escaped from me. My bag strap was easy to hold in my gentle bite and dashed through the forest.
The shadows of trees seemed to move out of my way as I leaped over rocks and streams. Twigs snapped under my paws. The moon peeked out from gaps in the tree canopy. The wind in my fur, the space under me as I leaped over shallow streams. The patter of small galloping paws, softly shooing crunching leaves from its path. Unfortunately for the rabbit, the breeze that blew through my fur carried the smell of tender flesh, and I was quite peckish.
The sounds of tearing, talons ripping through skin. The warmth of blood pouring from between my teeth soothed my dry throat. The exposed meat surrounded by fur was soft and juicy. The texture was much like heated cheese. This was only my first bunny of the night.
The rays of early dawn spilled over my bare skin the next morning. The leaves crunched satisfyingly under my hand as I dragged it back, a crisp, dry sound. Pushing myself up, I felt the brittle, dried leaves clinging to my skin, their texture indistinguishable from the dried sweat and blood. After checking to see that my skin was absent from gore and cuts. I gathered my bag and checked to see if any of my clothes had survived the “walk home”. My apron survived, and only scraps of my other clothes remained. The apron covered enough to pass through the woods and leave only a few confused early morning hikers in my wake.
Tip toeing into a creaky old cabin was the worst way to sneak home after staying out far later than the usual curfew. It took some time to wipe off the crust and dirt from my eyes. Instead of trekking upstairs to the second floor of our cabin, I took the stairs behind the couch that lead to the basement we didn’t inform guests about. My bag audibly exhaled when it landed on the ground, before I removed my apron. The washing machine clunked to life when I commanded it to work. The cold shower in the corner wasn’t pleasant, but it did the trick, and it meant that Lockett was less likely to stumble upon me in the middle of washing blood off.
Once clean, I grabbed a towel fresh out of the dryer and took my empty bag upstairs. Granny was rushing out the door when I pushed up the trapdoor to the basement. The door closed, and the house had lost a third of its usual liveliness. The trap door closed quietly, and the stairs thankfully held silent as I tiptoed slowly up to my room, squarely set beside Lockett’s.
String lights, wound around my brown wooden framed loft cabin bed and hidden among plastic leafy vines, decorated it. Under my lofty pink bed was a glass topped wicker desk, with my laptop charging peacefully atop the clear glass surface. My black Norwegian Forrest cat, Persnickety, slept half on the warm laptop and half on the cool glass surface.
The stained pine wooden floor was cold under my dry feet. Dressed in heavy flannel shorts and oversized shirt, I climbed up the stairs, plopped onto the bed for deeper sleep.
It felt like seconds before the annoying blaring of my alarm ripped me out of my dreams. Damn. Persnickety complained of the noisy contraption, which only confirmed my need to rise from bed, no matter how much I fought it.
A quick brush through my hair, and a brush through Persnickety’s thick fur, gave me the pause I needed to gather my thoughts and wake up. Dragging myself to the bathroom was a physical chore. The door swung open to a wide room, floor to ceiling wood. A stone sink stood to my right, with a coral framed mirror above the black waterfall faucet. Across the room, under a wide picture window, was a white stone tub with black knobs and waterfall faucet. Beside the tub in a darkened corner was a stone set walk-in shower, still dark with wet stones.
My brown-gray hair, thick and wild, was a new addition to my appearance. My hair once resembled Kette’s in the shiny blonde-ish hair I contained in a low ponytail. Amber-Orange eyes, once meadow green, stared back at me through the mirror. The toothbrush I grabbed was a week old out of the package. The bristles were harsh upon use.
SNAP!
That was the third toothbrush this month! Damn!
A heavy sigh of defeat escaped me.
Atop a package of tampons on a floating shelf stood my collection of toothbrushes. The next toothbrush, to be claimed from it, got that last bit of rabbit tendon that hung between two molars in the back of my jaw. After flossing out the rest of the bunny bits and a quick minty mouthwash, I considered my reflection fit for the public.
Once dressed in jeans and a rainbow striped sweater, I considered myself ready and yanked on my boots. A kiss planted between Persnickety’s ears was my silent goodbye as I took my bag downstairs. I filled my bag with wrapped roast beef and cheese sandwiches, apple juices, and a cup of homemade tomato soup before dashing out the door.
Despite dressing minutes prior, I removed everything and packed them neatly into my bag, before my skin melted into prickled fur.
My bag between my teeth, I took the long route through the beautiful forest, stopping only behind the big grey buildings with a few windows covered in sheets of cloth to block out the sun, rendering the window entirely useless. Nose to the ground, I sniffed out my usual hole in the gate, behind some taller bushes that were usually forgotten by the groundkeepers. I slowly changed back into my human form and donned my clothes before ducking onto campus.
The buzz of activity from the student body and faculty helped to ease my wild side in favor of a more civilized state of mind. The tall red and white striped u-shaped building was as welcoming as it was confining.
’It’s temporary. Temporary.’ I chanted to myself.
The walk to the cafeteria was short-lived. Drowning out the conversation of my fellow students was an extra task; made easier by the coffee I purchased before walking out into the quad outdoors to enjoy the sun peeking out over the distant mountains.
“Scarlett!” I spun on my heel to see Gretel’s brown hair swish side to side like a loose broom through the air. Gretel’s bright blue eyes and wide smile behind dark red lips made her hard to miss. She tied a blue plaid coat over black jeans with holes in the knees, and knee-high red boots.
“Gretel! Good to see you.” I gave half a smile.
“Are you coming to our concert this Friday?!” Gretel nudged.
“I’d love to, but you know how I am about the full moon and being outside after dark. I’m more than happy to come early and help with setup.” I offered.
“Bring doughnuts and you may be forgiven.” She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowed her eyes, and frowned slightly.
“Maple cake doughnut?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.
“Fine.” She pouted. My heart broke a bit, but it was for the best.
“Gretel!” One of her band mates called, and off she skipped to answer.
“Damn it! She got away!” Zelle pouted. She braided her long dark hair back, a few escaped strands framing her heart-shaped face. “I’ve been trying to give her my hair care kit for a day now!” Zelle huffed, slightly out of breath.
“You’ll see her again. You have History.” Another sip of coffee. Zelle swiftly stole my beverage and took a swig before returning it.
“You’re right. I’m ready to get rid of this box.” She stuffed the bulky pink box into her lime green camel bag that already contained her silver laptop, and a wide-toothed comb. She wore tight khaki capris with zipped pockets, carrying a full iced water bottle clipped to her belt loop by a shiny orange carabiner, a camo green tube top and black cardigan.
“You can’t be considering winter climbing this year. I can’t afford the heart attack.” I pouted. Zelle often went on solo climbs across the mountain range, usually out of cell range, and doesn’t tell a soul until she returned.
“Get some Beyers, my dear. Some of us were born to bake pies, and some of us were born to risk our lives. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. Or you can check my vlog,” she sang lowly.
“If you get back.” I frowned. Zelle pinched my cheek affectionately.
“I love you too, you grouch.” She kissed my nose and reclaimed my coffee.
“If you ask nicely, Gretel will pick up some coffee for you, too.” I raised my eyebrow at her.
“Yours tastes better.” She returned it, and off she dashed to catch up with Gretel. Zelle was animated as she spoke, arms flailing wildly, dangerously. Gretel seemed amused and dodged with some grace. Her unsuspecting brother wasn’t usually so lucky. Zelle passed over the pink box, and all was right with the world.
After English, my essay turned in three days early, and my history paper nearly completed, I dug through my bag to find my phone. The lip of the fountain invited me to my usual spot.
’You’re not coming to Gretel’s GIG?! For shame!’ -Zelle
’No, she’s afraid of the moon!’ -Gretel
’I’m sorry. It’s a full moon.“-Scar
That read a little bitter, and although I understood, I had a date with a herd of antlerless elk.
“Lette!” Kette lead poor Hansel by the sleeve on her path to me.
“Kette! Hello, Hansel.” I smiled at them both as she jogged up, impressive as she managed in four-inch heels. Hansel wore a red flannel shirt, unbuttoned over a black undershirt and jeans and brown hiking boots. Lockett wore a periwinkle turtleneck under a yellow cable knit shawl. Kette always dressed to kill and never disappointed. She carried a travel mug of what I could only assume was green tea with lavender honey. The crisp autumn air entered my nose and carried with it a fruit scent of the berry variety.
“You added blueberries to your tea?” I noted aloud.
“Gretel dropped the tip. How is my tea girlie?!” Kette beamed.
“She has a gig coming up this Friday around nine. If you want to make her night, you should go.” Kette was never one to miss out on a social gathering, especially when her boyfriend’s twin sister was to take the stage. It would make Hansel’s night to see another one of Gretel’s concerts.
Zelle jogged up and didn’t even look out of breath. Her thick, black braid swung from one side to the other as she moved. Her bright earth-brown eyes were wide with excitement.
“Hansel, clear your schedule!” Kette cheered. Dark circles hung under Hansel’s eyes.
“Can’t I hang out with Scar?” Hansel yawned. Kette took a power plant’s worth of energy to keep up with. Plugging an electronic device into her would charge it in thirty minutes or fewer.
“More horror movies?” How many times could I sit him through Joe Dante’s ‘Dog Soldiers’ ?
“Your choice then. ‘Cursed’ directed by Wes Craven.” I crossed my knees and tapped one finger over the other. ‘Ginger Snaps’, directed by John Fawcett, or ‘An American Werewolf in Paris’ directed by Anthony Waller.” I tapped on my fingers as I spoke.
“Nerrrrrdddd.” Kette shivered uncomfortably. The humor was lost on her. Hansel would be fast asleep on the couch before the worst parts of ‘Cursed’. He’s seen the beginning fifteen times but never made it to the end before he was off to Snoozeville. A decision had yet to be reached on whether I was jealous of his ability to sleep so deeply and so quickly or not.
No, the joke was mine alone.
“Anyway, Gran says you’re due at the Bakery. I’m meeting a project partner in the library. Pick me up at eight?” She gave me the keys to the family car.
“Kette, are you sure?” The keys jingled sharply during the exchange. “I don’t need the keys.”
“How do you get here every day without me? You’re gone when I wake up and the car is still there. Are you hiking now, or something?” Kette pursed her lips and raised a sharp brow.
“It’s good for you. You could stand to reforge a bond with Mother Nature.” Though my bond with nature is drastically different, we’ll keep that quiet.
“Yeah, when Mother Nature has a heel-safe alter, we’ll talk.” Kette shrugged dismissively.
“You should check on Gretel if you want to score free tickets to the concert.” It wasn’t hard to find Gretel and Jack. If Hansel was the ‘boy next door’ type, Gretel was the ‘punk rebel’ type.
