took quite a bit of work to get the ground ready for the endless rows of strawberries, sweet corn and who knew what else.
Personally, I thought stewed tomatoes tasted like mushy sour dirt. Every year, I considered sabotaging the crop so I wouldn’t have aunties trying to shove them onto my plate.
I shuddered at the thought, even with the pleasant warmth of the sun on my shoulders.
I didn’t mind working in the garden. It was nice out here, and when I was alone, it was quiet enough that I could think. As it was, my cousins were chatting loudly about sports and town gossip and whatever else could fill the silence, but I could mostly tune them out as I moved down my row. I would have worn earbuds, but on previous gardening excursions, I’d been told it was rude.
I wondered what it said about me, that I was supposed to be a pack creature but clearly preferred my own company. Well, that wasn’t true. I preferred the company of the vampires I’d met, and that was probably even weirder. Why was it so easy for me to be accepted by creatures who were supposed to loathe me, but my own blood, the people who were genetically disposed to like me, seemed to find so much wrong with me?
“So how’s school going, Ty?” Eugenelene asked from two rows over.
Eugenelene, for whom we’d never come up with a decent nickname, was one of the closest cousins to my age. My parents considered her damn near perfect, what with her recent engagement and persuading her husband to move on to our packlands instead of taking her to his own. I’d resented her quite a bit when we were kids. Eugenelene always did what she was told. Eugenelene ate every bit of venison on her plate. Eugenelene always took care of her baby brothers and sisters without complaining. But as I got older, I realized that Eugenelene gave up a lot for those compliments. By comparison, I wasn’t as well-liked, but I was happier.
“Oh, just fine,” I lied. “Classes are interesting. Professors are really cool. Nothing crazy.”
Eugenelene, who had dreamed of opening her own café when we were kids, gave me a soft smile. “Sounds nice.”
“You know, the technical school has culinary classes.”
She shook her head, even though I could see longing in her eyes. “Oh, I couldn’t, not with the wedding coming up.”
“You never know until you try,” I told her. “You could start classes next semester, maybe finish a certificate before you start having kids. It’s not selfish to do something for yourself. It’s your life.”
Eugenelene stood, ripping off her work gloves. “Not everybody’s like you, Ty. Some of us put a priority on the pack.”
She stomped down the row and started working next to her sister, Shaylene.
“Three minutes and I managed to piss her off enough to storm off,” I muttered. “That’s got to be a record.”
Interactions like this were what kept me so isolated from the family, while still living within ten freaking feet of them. And even bigger fights were coming. I didn’t want this date that my aunts were setting up for me. I didn’t want to marry some nice werewolf boy and settle for a life where happy kids and a clean house were the most I would hope to achieve. But at the same time, I knew – as sure as the sun would rise and fall —I would go on the date because otherwise the constant pressure, the snide remarks, the scenes like this morning would become so much worse. I was only delaying the inevitable, but it felt like my only power lived in that delay. I didn’t want to give that up any more than I wanted to give up the work I loved.
I was drawn out of these gloomy thoughts by the sounds of footsteps through the grass to my left. I scented pipe tobacco on the wind.
“It’s real nice of you to plant the tomatoes, even when you hate them.”
I glanced up to see my Uncle Lonnie standing at the end of the row I was working. He was wearing an old work shirt and battered jeans with his muck boots. The garage advertised on his hat—McClaine Auto Repair—had closed when I was a child, but I’d never seen him wearing another.
I stood up, taking off my UK cap. I swiped my forehead, ignoring the dirt it left smeared across my skin. Uncle Lonnie and I had never been close,