Chương 107: AIRING OUR DIRTY LAUNDRY

The moment I got home, Harvey excused himself and returned to school. Flynn and Hank had to rush to report for their patrol. It was as if they sensed I was about to explode on someone, but their excuses sounded so legitimate—who was I to hold them back? I stormed into the house, meaning at first to explode on Dad for calling Principal Laura and getting her involved, or for sending Harvey to pick me up in front of my whole class. But of course he wasn't at home on a Monday morning. He would be in the pack office.

As expected, Savy was at school, but Mum wasn't home either! Why did they take me out of school to leave me all alone at home? I stormed around the house like an angry rain cloud, and then I noticed a note on the dining room table. It was from Mum.

"Dear Sam, I'll be at Florence's place for a while. I'm sure you're tired. Even your Dad was exhausted after last night. Take a nap, and I will be home before you know it. Your muffin is in your school bag with the rest of your lunch. Eat that first if you are hungry; I will fix a hot lunch later. I know you wanted to go to school. I'm glad you're having fun there, but Delta Simon came this morning. He is concerned that your alpha wolf, having just shifted, might leave you disoriented/unstable/weakened.

Your dad and I decided to keep you home for a couple of days until we can be sure you and your wolf are settled and calm. PS. Your new phone was in your pocket. I left it in your room. PPS. Delta Simon will come again this evening for your checkup. Tell your wolf to behave. Love, Mum." I read the letter twice and then brought it upstairs with me. I guess the first thing to do was to change out of my pressed school uniform into something comfortable.

I found an old, faded blue T-shirt with a black cat on it and my favorite pair of torn Levi's. These jeans didn't start off torn... I had worn them so much that they just wore themselves down until they were soft, and then they ripped just above the knees. But I still wore them because I liked the washed-out blue and how they were comfortable for almost any weather, matched almost everything, and I could do almost anything in them without having to spare a thought about my attire. Mum didn't like my torn jeans.

She bought me a new pair, and then another... The second one was actually exactly the same pair, but it just wasn't the same. Savy would say I needed to pair off my clothes—something new with something old. I couldn't dress completely in old, faded, worn stuff because it wasn't cool? Honestly, I had no idea. The only problem with wearing my very old stuff was that it didn't always return after the wash...

Sometimes Mum culled my wardrobe, and for the faded or torn items, every time I put them in the laundry hamper might be the last time I would ever see them again. Except for my torn jeans, because Mum knew I'd go bonkers. Or my kindergarten sweatsuit, because she had admitted it was a nice keepsake. But nothing else in my wardrobe could be taken for granted. Thinking about this, I took off the faded blue cat T-shirt and put it back into the drawer. For some reason, it was kind of tight under my arms.

Was I gaining weight? I dug around until I found a black-and-white striped T-shirt. It was cropped and loose with wide, short sleeves. I also found a black long-sleeved T-shirt to wear underneath. Okay, nice and toasty, and even dressed up enough to show my face at the pack house to throw a tantrum at Dad. But now that I was warm and comfortable, I didn't quite feel like exploding anymore. I simply felt like crawling into bed and catching some shut-eye—which was exactly what I did.

I woke up a little bit later, surprisingly refreshed. I guess the sleep did me good. Downstairs I heard noises—a vacuum cleaner and things banging about. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Martha. Martha was our part-time housekeeper. If any rogue wolf was looking for any dirt on anyone, she would be top on my recommendation list.

Plus, Martha worked as the housekeeper for several notable households and never held back from a chance to air dirty laundry in public. When she first started working for us, the whole pack found out that my mum's underwear not only didn't match, but the panties were all cheap cotton ones that had been washed one too many times. I had no idea my mum lived with such dreadful underwear until I heard Martha on the phone asking why the Alpha did not even care to buy his Luna nice lace.

When I told my parents at dinnertime, all hell broke loose. My Dad said to ignore it and that my mum was sexy in whatever she wore. My mum, on the other hand, was all set to fire Martha, but our house was much cleaner, and Dad started talking about adult complications like providing job security. Eventually, he took out a credit card, which Mum never returned to him. I think that was the beginning. It started with underwear shopping, which was torturous in itself.

Three hours standing around with Savy dying of boredom while my mum shopped. Well, now our wardrobe was refreshed rather regularly. Nobody was allowed to own anything with holes in it, except for my torn jeans. Our home was clean. Martha kept her job. And we all lived happily ever after. Mum said that having Martha around helped her realize that we didn't live to meet other people's expectations, but she also realized that she never liked wearing ugly underwear either.

I'm quite sure that the only other headline news we provided for Martha since the underwear reform was how Savy trashed my bedroom during her first shift. Or maybe how the younger sister shifted before the elder one? I'm quite sure that could be sensationalized. Everyone knew that we were color-coded, so much so that if we received any gift, it was usually color-coded too. Mum had color-coded our clothes at the time because we were both girls and only a year apart. It was just easier to sort out laundry.

I'm not sure how it got around, but our school bags, mugs, toothbrushes, and anything else that someone else helped pick up at the store or gave to us as presents were now always similarly color-coded. It started with Martha. I'm sure of it. And like our home slowly but surely getting color-coded, the pack was slowly but surely getting regular doses of the Alpha's family.

I suppose, though, if the newsfeed of your alpha's family had to do with ugly underwear, holes in socks, or color-coded personal items, I guess it meant that your alpha had a very undramatic home life. Sometimes Martha would dish out gossip about the other households she kept clean for. Some of them were rather shocking. But Mum said an Alpha had no business repeating gossip... unless it pertained to our own underwear. Just let it in one ear and out the other, Mum would tell me. But it wasn't just Martha.

Dean's mum, Florence, who held dance lessons and vocal training sessions in our pack, also kept tabs on everyone. Ironically, Martha and Florence did not get along. Dean himself often shared troubling things he heard from his mum with us kids. And among us kids, we did exchange notes on our parents now and then. Because of these stories, I've come to realize that while many families looked like mine at first glance, every family was different.

I shouldn't take my family for granted, and I needed to be kind to my friends because sometimes they just had a bad day at home. {Wolf approaches} Uh-oh. Martha knocked on my door and then cracked it open just a bit to peep inside. It was a good thing I was dressed properly, although it was not my clothes that caught her attention.

"Oh my, oh my! Sam, look at you!" Martha exclaimed, and then she was off, her mouth running its usual course.

"I was wondering if you were awake. Your mother isn't home today. I heard you had your first shift—well, it's about time! We were all anxious that you still hadn't shifted. But would you look at you!" Martha kept looking at me and then quickly looking away again the moment she met my eyes.

"What a special color your eyes are! Oh my, is your hair blue?" Martha stared at my hair for a long time.

"Did you want to clean this room?" I asked politely.

"I can leave to get out of your way." Martha laughed.

"Nonsense, child, you're not in my way at all! But yes, I should freshen your room. It won't take long. I'm sure you would like to rest."

"It's okay. Thanks. I'll just be downstairs." At the last minute, I saw my phone blinking on my dresser. I picked it up and left the room quickly. From what I've heard, the Alpha's daughters were really well brought up. The elder one was particularly like her Alpha father, distant but polite. (That's me, btw) The younger one was shy like a flower, very much like her lovely Luna mother. They were good at school and extremely obedient. You'd never see boys staying overnight at the Alpha's home.

The Alpha was very strict with his daughters. They were not allowed to have phones or boyfriends or wear skimpy clothes or too much makeup or talk back to their elders. They were seen and not heard, like proper young ladies should be. Sometimes it's funny to hear about yourself from someone else. Sometimes when Mum gets exasperated with me, I would quote Martha to let her know what a proper young lady I was. Mum would then be torn, not having the heart to tell me I wasn't, but not quite agreeing that I was either.

"One day," Mum decided to tell me instead, "you'll grow up and have kids of your own, and then you'll understand." Savy and I have coined them as "retribution kids" and how the Goddess would one day punish our sins with kids just as frustrating or stubborn or annoying to us as we had been to our parents.

"I didn't mean it that way!" Mum had protested. But Savy had decided not to have kids until she was old enough to deal with it, maybe after retirement. And I had decided to be the Alpha and leave my Luna mate to deal with the kids. Maybe my Luna would be a merman of the seahorse variety and carry the babies.

"You girls just like twisting what I say into something absurd." Mum had thrown her hands up in exasperation. I think she wanted grandchildren. Pups, not fish fry—and not anytime soon, of course, but eventually, although not anytime too late either. Very particular, my mum. Women like her were hard to please. XD