Soulmate by Lisa Jane Smith, now you can read online.
The werewolves broke in while Hannah Snow was in the psychologist's office.
She was there for the obvious reason. "I think I'm going insane," she said quietly as soon as she sat down.
"And what makes you think that?" The psychologist's voice was neutral, soothing.
Hannah swallowed.
Okay, she thought. Lay it on the line. Skip the paranoid feeling of being followed and the ultra-paranoid feeling that someone was trying to kill her, ignore the dreams that woke her up screaming. Go straight to the really weird stuff.
"I write notes," she said flatly.
"Notes." The therapist nodded, tapping a pencil against his lips. Then as the silence stretched out: "Uh, and that bothers you?"
"Yes." She added in a jagged rush, "Everything
used to be so perfect. I mean, I had my whole life under control. I'm a senior at Sacajawea High. I have nice friends; I have good grades. I even have a scholarship from UtahState for next year. And now it's all falling apart . . . because of me. Because I'm going crazy."
"Because you write notes?" the psychologist said, puzzled. "Um, poison pen letters, compulsive memo taking . . . ?"
"Notes like these." Hannah leaned forward in her chair and dropped a handful of crumpled scraps of paper on his desk. Then she looked away miserably as he read them.
He seemed like a nice guy-and surprisingly young for a shrink, she thought. His name was Paul Win-field-"Call me Paul," he'd said-and he had red hair and analytical blue eyes. He looked as if he might have both a sense of humor and a temper.
And he likes me, Hannah thought. She'd seen the flicker of appreciation in his eyes when he'd opened the front door and found her standing silhouetted against the flaming Montana sunset.
And then she'd seen that appreciation change to utter blankness, startled neutrality, when she stepped inside and her face was revealed.
It didn't matter. People usually gave Hannah two looks, one for the long, straight fair hair and the clear gray eyes . . . and one for the birthmark.