8: Hobo Hoodie

Quincy St. Martin

My roommate, Layla, is still sleeping. She got back pretty late last night, so it’s a good thing that she doesn’t have any classes this morning. Even though she told me that she’s a heavy sleeper, I try not to make too much noise when I’m getting ready.

“First day of college, Nana. Wish me luck,” I whisper as I gently touch a framed picture of my Nana on my study table.

Nana’s warm brown eyes gaze back at me. I wonder if Nana is proud of me now.

“I’ll study hard, but not too hard. I'll make sure that hot human men here won’t know what hit them,” I assure her. “Love you, Oliver. Try not to miss me too much today.” I pat my teddy bear’s head.

Layla has a big mirror hanging near the door and I decide to give myself a quick once-over before I go. “Oh, there you are!” I greet myself. “Hello, you sexy beast.”

I point two fingers as if I’m holding two guns at my reflection and wink. I know it’s lame, and I don’t necessarily think that I look sexy, but Nana told me that if you keep telling yourself that you look great, then you will look great…eventually.

I want to look and feel sexy, so sometimes I call myself a sexy beast. Mostly in my head.

I hear laughter coming from the bed next to me.

“That’s it! I can’t hold it in anymore. The hell are you up to so early in the morning, Quincy St. Martin?” asks Layla, poking her sleepy head out of her cotton sheet.

I am mortified that Layla saw my lame move, but I scowl, put my hands on my hips, and accusingly say, “Hey! I thought you were a heavy sleeper! Have you been listening in all this time?”

She laughs again. “How can I not? You are so funny, and strange. Do you always talk to yourself like that?”

Funny and strange? This girl doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I am so normal. No, scratch that. I’m beyond normal. I sassily flip my hair.

“Pshhh…but you love me. See you later, bitch,” I tell her.

“Yeah, see you later, skank,” she answers with a laugh.

It feels great to have a friend like Layla. We get along well, and we can joke around like we’ve known each other for ages. She’s another person who can make my swear jar prosper.

I grab my bag and step outside our shared bedroom to come face to face with Jonah, who is standing right in front of the bedroom door as if he’s been waiting for me to come out.

“Oh, hey, Jonah.” I smile up at him. “Good morning!”

He stands there just staring at me for a second, nonplussed.

“Here,” he says gruffly, handing me a rectangular object wrapped in colorful wrapping paper.

“What is it?” I ask him even when my hand is already reaching for it. “Is it food?”

~Please, tell me it’s food~.

He looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. I’m sorry that my tummy rules my head sometimes. Okay, most of the time.

“Jorden told me it’s your birthday today. So…happy birthday,” he says, looking very uncomfortable.

Oh God! I forgot my own birthday! I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind these last few days, that the last thing I could think of is my own birthday. I’m eighteen today. That’s a magical number for werewolves since their instinct will be opened to sensing their mates when they reach that age. Not for me though. I have no mate.

A thought suddenly occurs to me. As old Mr. Maddox, the former alpha, had wanted to claim me, today would have been the day to formally do that. I shudder at the thought. I escaped just in time.

I stare at the badly wrapped gift in my hand and picture Jonah struggling to tape the paper together. That’s so hilarious but oh, so very sweet! I can’t stop the big smile that breaks across my face. I fling my arms around him with a giggle and exclaim, “Thank you! Thank you, Jonah! You are so sweet!!!”

His body is stiff, and he sounds strangled when he says, “You don’t know what it is yet.”

I loosen my hold and look up at him. He’s scowling again, but he doesn’t look at all scary. “And I’m not sweet,” he adds gruffly.

It really doesn’t matter what the gift is. The only people who ever gave me anything or ever wished me happy birthday were my Nana and Jorden, and now Jonah.

I’m a very lucky girl.

This is the first birthday I have had without my Nana. I suddenly feel tears prickling at the backs of my eyes and something hard lodged in my throat. My smile slips. I blink rapidly, push the thought away, and force a big smile back on my face.

“True. I don’t know what it is yet, but I bet it’s great!”

I eagerly rip the wrapping paper apart then stare at the book in my hand in surprise. ~Skulduggery Pleasant, Midnight~, the latest in the series by Derek Landy.

I don’t even have to ask how he knew that I wanted this book. Jorden must have told him.

I’ve been reading ~Skulduggery Pleasant~ since I was in middle school. I’d never been able to afford to buy them, so I had always borrowed the books from the school library.

Jorden wasn’t really big on reading, but I got him hooked on the series too. He knew that I had been waiting for this book to come out for ages.

I open the book and touch the printed pages reverently. Then I bring the open book close to my nose and breathe in deeply. Oh, the feel of the smooth and crisp paper, that magical smell of a book being opened for the very first time. Nobody else had ever opened it. Just me.

“Thank you, Jonah,” I say, and I give him another hug.

I know he doesn’t like hugs, but I don’t care. I know he said he’s not sweet, but he totally ~is~. He doesn’t say anything this time, but he clears his throat and pats my head awkwardly.

“Now, put this on,” he says brusquely as soon as I let go of him.

A strange, sickly sweet and pungent smell assaults my nose as soon as he pulls a thick black piece of material from out of a plastic bag. I unfold it and hold it up. It’s an ugly, big old black hoodie with some white stains on the arm, near the chest area, and at the end of the sleeves.

I’m afraid to ask what the stain is. The bottom edge of it is a bit shredded like it had been chewed on.

“Is this my birthday gift too?” I ask him, feeling very confused.

Why would he give me this ugly stinky hoodie as a gift? My cousin is obviously not as normal as I am. Or maybe there’s something seriously wrong with my family gene pool. I think we should stop procreating as a gift to all humankind…and werewolfkind.

“No, but just put it on,” he insists.

“Seriously?” As if I hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes trying to look this awesome only to cover myself up with an ugly-ass hoodie.

“You want me to wear this on my first day of class and in this weather?” I’ll be sweating worse than a pig wearing the hoodie in this heat, not to mention it smells funny. “Why?” I try to give it back to him.

“Just put it on, Quincy.” He shoves it back to me, and I scrunch up my nose.

“Why?” I repeat. I know there’s something he’s not telling me.

He needs to know that I will not follow orders blindly even after an awesome gift... or food.

He sighs as if he’s trying to summon his patience. Like he didn’t just ask me to do something unreasonable like wearing a big, thick, ugly hoodie in eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit.

“Quincy,” he says in a warning tone.

“Jonah,” I say, mimicking his tone. “Why?”

He stares at me like he has some magic power to control me with his eyes, and I stare right back at him without blinking. His jaw ticks just like Jorden’s when he’s pissed off. I take it back. Jonah is not sweet. He looks more threatening than Jorden, but I will not back down.

“Damn it, Quincy! You’re just like Nana!” he bursts out, breaking eye contact.

And that’s an insult, how? Like I said before, my Nana was awesome.

“Thank you,” I say with a sugary-sweet smile, and I fold my arms across my chest to let him know that I’m not wearing that hoodie unless he has a good reason for it.

“Jorden told me that they sent trackers after you. If they’re here, this... will hide you and mask your scent.”

He looks at the garment as if he wants to murder it. It’s obvious that he doesn’t like the hoodie either.

I sigh in defeat. I thought that I was finally free from them here. I almost gag when I put the hoodie on. The cloyingly sweet and pungent smell is overwhelming. Oh, God, they don’t have to find me. The smell alone might kill me.

“Wow, is this the original eau de toilet?” I say. Seriously, the smell is bad. I’ve no doubt that Satan himself would gag at the smell. It will totally repel any hot normal man on campus. “There goes my chance of ever marrying a normal human man and having cute normal human babies.”

He shakes his head as if he’s dealing with a silly little kid and ignores my little comments.

“Jorden thought that you’ve managed to shake them off, but I want you to wear it just in case,” he explains. “At least until after I scout the area out to make sure that they’re not here.”

To be honest, I’d rather die soaked in my own sweat, choking on the awful saccharine smell of this big ugly hoodie, than be hauled back to the pack house. The thought of being mated to old Mr. Maddox makes my skin crawl, and I quickly pull the hood over my head despite the smell and the sweltering heat.

Jonah gathers the front of the hoodie together and pulls the zipper up.

“I look like a hobo,” I tell him. Not to mention smell like one. “Don’t you have anything prettier?” The bottom of the hoodie almost reaches my knees. I fold the sleeves up several times. “I like purple better. Remember to get purple next time.”

“Try not to draw attention to yourself,” he says, ignoring my remarks.

Seriously? Wearing this thing in this heat? “Sure, I’ll blend right in. And the smell… Yeah, totally won’t be drawing attention.”

Jonah stares at me like he’s unsure if I am losing my mind or being a total smartass.