Chapter 3
Lunch ends too soon, but as I pack up my things and head back to the battleground that is high school, I carry with me the warmth of my mother's care and the unspoken promise of my own resilience. Today is tough, but I'm tougher. The Wild Rose Pack raised a fighter, and I'll keep fighting, one class, one day, one heartbeat at a time.
I shove the lunch bag back into my backpack, the comfort of the meal already fading as I steel myself for the rest of the day. My secret weighs heavy on me, a burden that's mine to bear alone. A hybrid, born of vampire and werewolf, existing in the shadows of both worlds but not truly belonging to either. It's a dance of concealment and restraint, always careful not to reveal too much, to betray the hunger that marks me as different.
My supernatural abilities feel like a double-edged sword. At times, they are a source of strength, granting me speed and senses far beyond human norms. Yet these gifts are also a reminder of the distance between me and everyone else. With silver eyes that see through lies and ears that pick up whispers meant to wound, my very existence defies the natural order of our pack's world.
As the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, I blend into the stream of students, my sunglasses firmly in place to shield my sensitive eyes. The first class after lunch is History with Mr. Jacobs, and I brace myself for the subtle shifts in body language, the barely audible sighs as I take my seat at the back of the room. Mr. Jacobs gives me a nod that's both acknowledging and pitying — he knows, somehow, he always knows — but his kindness doesn't stop the snickers when he turns to write on the board.
"Skyler," he calls out midway through the lecture, "can you tell us the significance of the Tamsin Moon in supernatural history?"
"Every fifty years," I recite, voice steady despite the heart pounding in my chest, "the moon aligns with specific celestial bodies, amplifying supernatural powers and strengthening community bonds." The words taste like ash, a bitter reminder of the unity and acceptance I yearn for but have never fully experienced.
"Correct," Mr. Jacobs affirms, and there's a murmur of reluctant respect from a few classmates. They can't deny my knowledge, even if they refuse to see past my heritage.
The day drags on, each period an echo of the last. In English, Mrs. Thompson's well-meaning attempt to include me in group discussions only serves to spotlight my isolation. The other students form a barrier of cold shoulders and empty chairs around me, their laughter and camaraderie a world away from my silent desk.
Gym class is its own kind of hell. Coach Stevens pairs me off for a game of badminton, but my partner begrudgingly stands several feet away, tossing the shuttlecock with minimal effort. I move with more grace than they expect, my hybrid agility a surprise they're unwilling to acknowledge. But no matter how many points I score, it won't change the score of their hearts, already set against me.
By the time the final bell rings, I am emotionally drained, yet undeterred. Each pointed glance, whispered insult, and exclusionary act is absorbed and transformed into something harder, something fiercer inside me. This is the crucible that tempers my spirit, shaping the determination that one day, I will rise above them all. Because what they see as weakness is my greatest strength — the power to endure, to adapt, and to hope for a future where I am seen for who I am, not what I am.
I sling my backpack over one shoulder, the weight of it grounding me as I push through the throng of students in the crowded hallway. The last bell's echo fades away, signaling the end of yet another grueling day at school. It's finally over. My feet carry me with a determined pace towards the exit, each step a silent mantra: just a few more hours.
The air is cooler now, the blinding brightness of morning replaced by softer, golden hues that don't sting my eyes as much. Even behind my ever-present sunglasses, I can appreciate the shift. The promise of evening brings a different kind of challenge, one where I’m not an outcast but a trainee, where my strength is tested, not my patience.
"Evening training," I whisper to myself, a reminder that there's no respite for someone like me. Dad will be waiting, expecting me to spar, to run, to embrace the heritage that courses through my veins—no matter how diluted it may feel at times.
My footsteps echo with a rhythm that matches my heartbeat. The isolation I face among humans will peel away under the watchful eyes of the pack. There, my unique nature isn't just tolerated; it's essential, a potent weapon honed by my Betas' blood and something... else. Something they've never understood, something I'm still trying to grasp.
A flicker of hope sparks within me. Maybe today will be the day my skills sharpen enough that I'll catch a glimpse of my true potential. Perhaps this evening's session will reveal a new facet of my power, giving me a hint of the destiny that awaits me beyond the suffocating walls of high school.
I let out a slow breath, feeling the coiled tension in my shoulders begin to unwind. I can do this. I must. Because deep down, beneath layers of hurt and defiance, I know there's a world where I fit perfectly—a place where Skyler isn't just the oddity with silver eyes but a force to be reckoned with.
The horizon stretches wide before me, tinged with the colors of a setting sun. And somewhere beyond it lies the possibility of a different tomorrow. A tomorrow where the whispers and stares are replaced by nods of respect, where my dual heritage is my badge of honor rather than a scarlet letter.
For now, though, I focus on the path ahead, each step carrying me closer to the evening's challenges—and maybe, just maybe, a step closer to changing my circumstances.
