Red/Wolf (Working Title)

Prologue: I'm Not Okay - Kenyon

Prologue: Kenyon

I was sitting in my last period before school let out for the day. It was always the class that I learned the least amount in because she was in it. She looked like a small angel. She wore a yellow dress with a yellow ribbon tying her beautiful crinkly brown hair that complemented her caramel skin perfectly. Many times it hung over her face, but today it was pulled back in a loose bun. Most of the class had been dressed up for picture day. Normally she was in tomboyish clothes, which consisted of hand-me-downs from her older brother, trying to conceal her beauty, but to no avail.
She had a loving family; a mother, a father, an older brother and a twin brother with Downs Syndrome. I used to see her family at award ceremonies because she was always a straight A student. I was generally an A and B student. Even though we were in the same school for two years, she never even knew I existed because I could never strike up the nerve to talk to her. Like me, she was teased but still came to school; this happy-go-lucky girl she always was. That was why I admired her so much.
I never liked anyone before her. I was a 13 year old boy. Liking girls was a fairly new concept for me. She was a few months younger than me so it was probably puppy love at best. That's what I took it as.
I was a tall scraggly kid with feet that seemed too big for my body, not to mention I had gotten my adult teeth earlier than other kids and my teeth protruded out of my mouth so bad that I wore a retainer. You could probably guess I had it pretty bad for a middle school kid. I was always the last person to get picked for team events but the first to get picked on for everything else.
The bell rang, rattling me out of my day dreaming. Once again, I did not get an ounce of lesson. I shuffled to my feet and headed toward the door of the classroom. I always took a little longer than the other kids because of the size of my enormous disproportionate feet.
When I walked out to the school yard there was a big commotion over at the far end of the school. It was hard to hear anything over the kids hollering but there was one voice that I made out perfectly. It was the girl in the yellow dress.
"Leave him alone!"
"You wanna get thrown into the mud too little girl?" came the menacing voice of Steve, the seventh grade bully.
I ran into the direction of the commotion, broke through the crowd and there she was in a puddle of mud with a kid, who was three times her size, standing over her with her twin brother under his arm trying desperately to fend him away from his sister.
"Hey!" I yelled in my wobbly pubescent voice, the crowd then parted on its own and all eyes were on me.
He let out a diabolical chuckle. "So the little freak wants to play super hero." He dropped the girl's brother to the ground and walked toward me.
"Don't call me a freak!" I grit my teeth and clinched my fists trying to look as threatening as possible.
He stomped up to me, clutched my collar and held me to his face."What are you going to do about it freak?" his breath smelled of pickled onions. My stomach turned. I felt like a zebra in the grip of a lion. I was terrified but didn’t try to show it.
Before I knew it I pulled back my fist and connected with his face. There was a collective surprised gasp that waved over the crowd of students. I had surprised even myself. Before I even had the opportunity to wind up for another blow, or even think about turning and running, I was over his head. He was just about to throw me half way across the school yard when the sound of Mrs. Alby’s less than threatening voice came over the crowd.
"Put him down!" I don’t know how she found out about the commotion, but I was glad she did.
"Fine!" He said. I then stole a swift blow on top of his head that threw him off balance. When he regained his balance he flung me into through the air and I came down into a shallow puddle of grass and mud. I could have sworn I heard every bone in my body crack as I crashed into the ground. Another collaborative gasp waved through the air and was followed by a roar of laughter. I just lay there with my face in the mud a moment until I felt a hand over my shoulder. At first I thought it was the little girl, I turned over just to find Mrs. Alby and no one else. The crowd was walking away. The fight was clearly over and I was not the victor. I looked around for the little girl and her brother but could not see them anywhere on the playground.
"Kenyon? Are you okay dear?"
The noticeable tone of concern in her voice made it seem worse than it was. I was surprised myself that nothing was sprained or broken, just my pride.
"I'm fine!" I said trying to not sound embarrassed. I got up, brushed myself off and started walking away, trying to act as if nothing happened.
"Are you sure? Should I call your parents, an ambulance, or something?"
"I am fine!" I yelled. I took off running leaving Mrs. Alby to deal with her own confusion. I wanted to put that as far behind me as I could so I ran all the way home which I had done usually anyway.
When I made it to my front door I opened it to find my grandmother, my brother and sister already home. My grandmother was usually only in town for holidays but today was not a holiday. As I made my way into the house an eerie feeling suddenly came over me.
"Kenyon! What in the world happen to you?"
My grandma was a tall, 6 foot, woman with brown and white hair that was so bright, the sun made it shine like a faint copper, which complemented her beautiful tan skin. She was 76 and looked about 40. She had known me all my life and remained seemingly unchanged since my first memory of her.
"I got into a fight." As I walked toward the kitchen she grabbed my arm.
"Now you know better. Can you please get cleaned up before you step into that kitchen?"
"Yes grandma!" I huffed and stomped up the carpet stairs toward my room.
"And, after you get back down here, you are going to get on your hands and knees and help me scrub all this mud that you’re tracking into your parents house, young man!"
"Yes Grandma!" I answered from the top of the stairs.
I was on my way to my room, when I began to hear my dad's voice from the other room only it didn't really sound like my dad. He was screaming out crazy things about someone kidnapping my mother.
"Just ignore your father." My grandmother called from downstairs, "He just isn't feeling well today."
I was going to let it go, and go to my room, but I had felt the unyielding urge check on him, just to see if he was okay.
When I had walked into my parent’s bedroom, my dad was laid out on the bed, his eyes were closed. His arms were twitching by his side. I began to approach slowly. His ashy matted tresses dangled over his Indian cheekbones. My dad was generally a handsome man that always kept up with appearances. I remembered I would always be happy when people would tell me that I resembled him but now his chestnut skin was two tones paler, and his face was extremely sunken in like he had not eaten in days.
"Dad?...Dad? Where's mom?"
Before I knew it his hand were clasped around my neck squeezing tighter and tighter, I was struggling to unlock his grip from my throat.
"Dad, it's me Kenyon!" I said as I was gasping desperately for air and trying to unlock my dad's fingers.
"You have her! I know you do! Give her back!" He screamed.
"Dad, what are you talking about?"
Just then Grandma, Randy and Sanda came in and immediately tried to pry his hands from my neck.
"Kurt, let go! He is your son!" My grandma cried.
"He is not my son! He has my Cara and I'm gonna kill him!"
"No you won't dear because he does not have your wife! He is your son now let go!" she hollered still trying to wrestle away his grip.
I began to feel light headed. I started fading until grandma was able to shoot him in the arm with a sedative tranquilizing him like a horse until he passed out releasing his grip. I fell to the ground clinching my neck. Grandma helped me to my feet.
"What’s the matter with you?!” She yelled at me. Didn’t I tell you to leave him alone?! Still feeling a little light headed, I struggled to find the words. She took a deep breath and said to me
“You'll be just fine Kenyon. Now go get in shower."
"You are kidding right?" I said. "What’s going on here? Why did Dad just try to kill me?"
"Kenyon, you take your shower and I will tell you and your brother and your sister everything okay? Now go get cleaned up and let your father rest."
The hot water in the shower had seemed therapeutic. The heat felt good as it massaged my neck. When I went in my whole body ached, but the healing waters of the shower made me feel like a new man. I was refreshed but there was still a confused state of shock that stayed over me, like a cloud of despair. An unnerving thought went through my head.
Was my father really trying to kill me?
I threw my robe around me and went directly to my room. My father was mumbling a little still feeling the effects of the sedative. I walked a little faster to my room remembering what had transpired earlier.
I felt safe there, with my blue painted walls and bunk bed that I shared with my older brother Randy. I dug in our wood chestier drawer for my fleece Transformers sleep pants, a white cotton T-shirt, and my navy blue house shoes. I got dressed and made my way down stairs guided by the scent of Grandma's cooking.
When I got into the kitchen, instead of seeing Grandma, there was Randy standing over the stew pot on stove with a small wooden spoon taking a taste.
Randy was only a year older than me but judging by his size and mass he looked about five years older. Unlike me he looked more like my mother. He and Sanda, our baby sister, seem to share the same light bronze colored skin as our mother. My brother and I had black wavy hair. Randy usually kept his cut short, but I preferred to grow it out like my dad. My mom put it in either cornrows or plats.
I was still growing it out again because last summer we were force to go out to my aunt's house and she made me cut it insisting that I be more like my brother. I hated my aunt with an inhuman passion.
"Grandma is going to get you if she catches you in her pot!" I taunted
"Randy, get out of my pot!" Grandma yelled from the other room
"Such a tattle-tale." He laughed and then punched my shoulder, He then looked up at me apologetically. He must have remembered what happened to me in the room, "Sorry Ken, are you okay!"
"You know nothing can hurt me! I am He-Man!" I bent my elbows showing off my biceps or what I would interpret as them.
"Sure." He chuckled. "And I am Prince Charles."
"More like Queen Elizabeth." I quipped.
"Are you boys washed up for dinner?"
"Yes Ma'am!" Randy and I said together.
Grandma and Sanda both set the table, me and Randy washed our hands and came back to the table that was full of what seemed like everything in the house, warm collard greens, fluffy buttery cornbread, honey glazed ham, fried chicken and so much more.
I always loved Grandma's cooking it was as good if not better than my mom's. Not that we did not love my mom's cooking, my mother was a great chef, but when Grandmas came on special occasions we all looked forward to her culinary brilliance. She could make the most common dishes taste other worldly delicious.
I couldn't wait to dive in, but Grandma popped my hand away from my fork. "Kenyon why don't you say grace."
I let out an aggravated sigh, the aromas made my stomach rumble, I was starved. I would hurry through my grandmother's stipulation so I could satisfy hunger.
"Um Dear God! Thank you for the meal! Thank you for my family! And Thank you for everything….Amen."
"Amen." Everyone else said in unison and then everyone dug in.
"So grandma, what is going on?" Randy quickly asked.
"After you finish eating."
"Grandma, come on," I cut in, "Where's mom?" I had a mouth full of greens and they were falling out of my mouth.
"Kenyon, don't talk with your mouth full, honey."
I swallowed. "Grandma, Where's Mom?"
"Alright, you guys deserve to know and I am going to tell you." She dropped her fork. "The Phalans are not like normal families." She searched each of our expressions and waited for a response. No one responded s+
o she continued. "We are a very special family that is why we never get sick, never break bones, or anything like that. Some of us even have the special ability to shift into wolf form."
Before she continued I busted into uncontrollable laughter."Right. Very funny grandma." Realizing that I was the only one laughing I stopped.
"Your teacher, called today, Kenyon. Now can you explain to me why you were able to be thrown into the air and not break a bone, or even have a scratch on you. And your father choked you pretty hard, and you couldn't tell that by looking at you."
I felt my neck. It didn't even hurt anymore, but that could have meant anything. I would believe that fast healer part , but the wolf part. I could not believe.
"We are spiritual warriors." She confessed. "Generally it is the males in our family posses the ability to shift into wolves, that means it is very likely that you and your brother Randy will be shifters and your because your father is very ill and I am sending you two to live with your Aunt Talya."
"I hate Aunt Talya." I muffed. Aunt Talya was mean, self-centered and controlling, when our parents sent her to stay with her one summer, we spent the entire summer, being maids and butlers. Making drinks, food, and cleaning her ugly cottage. When we told our parents they told us we would never have to go back.
"Kenyon, your Aunt knows a man that will help you control your abilities, he is a shifter just like you."
"I thought you said we couldn't get sick." Said Randy. "So, why is Dad sick?"
"Good question Randall." She smiled. "This is a different kind of illness. He went looking for your mother, and he couldn't find her, and well, it drove him crazy."
That doesn't make any sense. I thought. None of it did. Grandma promised that later on when we began our training that it would make more sense, and we just had to accept that, at least for now.
We left that night, Sanda stayed behind. Sanda was very tearful saying good bye, she always was. Even when our father was better, when he took his business trips for weekends, she would cry and beg our father to stay, and he almost did. We could tell he wanted to, because he loved us.
"I will write every day." She promised.
Randy and I, each took turns giving her our hugs and good-byes, and then we both headed together toward our terminal, into the unknown. I was unsure what I was prepared for, but all I knew was that from that point nothing would ever be the same.