Chapter 3 The Curse

I found Mom in the kitchen wearing an apron and decorating cupcakes for the neighborhood bake sale.

When she saw me standing in the doorway, she waved a hand toward a large bowl of pink icing before picking up a plain cupcake. "I need you to help me finish these up. I'm already running late and they need it tomorrow."

I didn't move, waiting for her to notice my red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"Come on now, Hailey, it's getting late." Mom turned to place the cupcake onto a pristine-white tray. "Your dad went to get us some Wendy's. It's not exactly ideal, but it will have to do for dinner."

"Mommy?" My voice croaked. I hadn't called her that in years, but right now, I felt scared and craved nothing more but her comfort.

"When is football evening at school, again?" She shrugged me off. "Your dad said he's working that night. Mark will probably be playing, too."

"Mom, I need to talk to you," I tried again.

She picked up a clean wooden spoon and held it out to me. "Come on, there's plenty to go around."

I crossed my arms, staring at her in disbelief. "I said I need you."

"I'm right here, so I'm not sure what you're on about." Her lips thinned, and she dumped the spoon on the table. "Fine then. I'll just spend the whole damn night working again because my teenage daughter refuses to help me."

"Why are you doing all this?" I asked. "No one forced you."

"It's for charity," she answered. "Don't be a brat about it."

"Yeah?" I could feel fresh tears threatening to come. "It's nice to see you're baking for everyone else. I mean, why bother making something for me?"

Mom's head snapped up, and she pointed with the spoon in her hand at me. "Honestly Hailey, how about working for it?"

"On my birthday?" I quipped. "I don't expect to get anything, but wow, it'd sure be nice to hear a happy birthday at the least. Or, a hug. No wait-you don't do those either."

Mom's eyes widened as she picked up the bowl of icing. "It's not your birthday until the fifth."

"It is the fifth, Mom," I bit out.

"So I forgot. I'm sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear? Happy?"

"Wow Mom. Just wow." I shook my head, my vision swimming.

"You started by being catty," Mom snapped. "Don't expect me to be all warm and fuzzy when you act like a brat."

"Well, then I guess you'll be happy to hear I'm moving soon," I announced. "I'll be out of your way. Permanently."

"Don't you dare threaten me with your 'I'm going to run away' crap, you hear me?"

"I'm not running away." I muffled a sob with my hand before I continued. "I got marked."

Mom's head tilted to the side. "What do you mean by that?"

I held up my arm, revealing my tattoo. "I'm turning into a werewolf."

The glass bowl Mom held slid from between her hands and shattered on the floor, splattering icing all over. "W...What?" her voice shook as she spoke. "Oh no, no, no."

Mom pressed her palms to her forehead.

"I know, Mom," my lip quivered. "They're going to take me away to that place."

As in where all the werewolves stayed and got trained, and do other horrid things.

Mom dropped her hands, and her wide eyes settled on me. "What is everyone going to say?"

"That I'm a freak?" I supplied.

"You can't be seen here. They'll kick your father and me out of the committee if they find out I allowed you into this house." Mom rushed past me into the hallway. She ripped open our storage closet and pulled out bags. "Goodness forbid what the church would think. Here, take these. Start packing, quickly, before your father gets home. We need to get you out of here."

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Mom paused, glancing up at me. "Of course I'm serious. We will lose everything being associated with a werewolf." She spat out the last word like something foul. "And what if you turn and eat us?"

I sighed, grabbing two empty duffels. "As my mom I thought you'd try and figure out how to get rid of the mark. Not throw me to the wolves."

Literally.