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I looked up at her and gestured to the handle. “I did it again.”
“Have you tried not breaking things?”
I made a face at her.
She sat next to me and took the broken handle from me. “Clean break. Bad day or accident?”
I shrugged. “Keep forgetting I’m a little bit stronger now, but I suppose I must be stressed out.” Staying calm in the face of a brand new aggressive streak hadn’t turned out to be easy. I made a face. “I can’t even listen to my music anymore.”
“Byron said it might take some getting used to.”
“The cons list keeps growing, right? Supernaturally hairy, overly-sensitive ears, and an inability to gently close a drawer without breaking it.”
“Pretty sure all of that’s better than dying.” When I didn’t laugh, she nudged me. “You doing okay?”
I had been too ashamed to admit it, but guilt forced me to get what happened at self-defence class off my chest. “I acted like an arsehole to the girls the other day. I was a bully, and I hate that.”
“Are they mad at you?”
“No. They’re great. They’re understanding.”
“Then it must not have been a big deal. Friends argue sometimes.”
“It wasn't like that. They did nothing wrong, but I wasn’t careful, and I lashed out at them. I let myself down. I was warned to expect that kind of thing, but it’s different when it’s happening. I was so smug before, but now I’m even more worried about rehearsals. I’ve missed so many, but I can’t trust myself to control this new thing inside of me.”
“I’m sure it's not as bad as you think.” She brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Everyone’s praised your control, and you’ve been so confident. I don’t understand what’s changed.”
“It’s all sinking in now. The choices I make have consequences. If I’m not careful, I’m a danger to others. I don’t want to disappoint you or dad or Dorian. I want to be perfect at this.”
“Are you kidding me?” She hugged me. “You never disappoint us, and there’s no such thing as perfect.”
I met her gaze. “Are you sure you’re not disappointed by how everything has turned out?”
“I’d be more than happy to enjoy a boring life with you, but that’s gone out the window, so we might as well make the best of what we have.”
“Dorian thinks I’ve been too cocky about the harbingers. He thinks this isn’t over, and the harbingers will come back. Eli will come back.” I glanced at my mother. “When I’m surrounded by the pack, I feel strong and safe, like I can do anything, face anything. But when I’m alone, I still feel like me. I’m terrified of so many things.” I held out my hands; they didn’t look capable of fighting off any threat. “There are all these different parts inside me that are meant to be strong or dangerous, but I still feel like a helpless kid half the time.”
“You’re still you,” she said. “And it’s okay to worry about Eli or rehearsals or the changes in your body. Everybody gets scared. Though I think you’ll be a lot more scared of Tammie than the harbingers if you’re late for rehearsals, so we should get going soon.”
I managed a smile. “You know me so well.”
“I do,” she said firmly. “And that’s why I’m not worried. You’re going to do your best at everything you try, so how could it not work out?”
I wished it were that simple, but if I kept focusing on the things I could do, the things I could change, then it would be harder for the uncertainty to drag me under.
Alison was waiting for me by the front door when I arrived at the community centre for the rehearsal—early for a change. We had originally rehearsed on pack land once the community centre burned down, but we had given up the space as soon as a room became available in the newly revamped building because our rehearsals conflicted with the creche and other classes.
The unfinished community centre was far from ideal though. The scent of fresh paint made me screw up my nose in disgust. “How did you survive rehearsing while the painters were still working?” I asked Alison, trying hard not to breathe through my nose.
“It wasn’t fun,” she said dryly. But she hadn’t complained once. “Ready for rehearsal?”
“No,” I said.
“You are.” She hesitated. “I’m scared. I’ve never done this stuff before, and everybody from town and the pack will be watching.”
“It’s normal to be anxious,” I said, echoing my mother. Why was it easier to console somebody else than myself? “On the night, we’ll all be nervous and excited. Once you get up there, pretend we’re at rehearsal and forget about the crowd. Enjoy it. You’re good at this stuff.”
She shrugged. “You think?”
