The Tattoos

Elena.

For some unknown reason, my brother pulled me out of bed early and practically forced me to get ready. This meant I had plenty of time to get scolded, and eat pancakes before heading off to school.

"Elena, you are punished," my mom said, crossing her arms. I chewed my pancake without realizing it, pouring quite a lot of syrup into each bite.

"You already punished me, remember," I countered, taking another bite. My mom narrowed her eyes, her perfect eyebrows drawing together as she looked at me. I swallowed, looking at my father for help from the inevitable.

"You know dear, she is not at fault. I don't think she meant to be rude," my father tried to defend me with a gentle tone.

I sighed, resting my chin in the palm of my hand. My father was not much help in the argument.

My mom turned from me to my father, her anger turning to annoyance. Then I put one forkful of pancake into my mouth while observing them with interest.

My mom came to the conclusion that I should be punished a second time after thinking about it all night. I didn't think I was that rude, but my mother thought otherwise, and it was her way or the highway.

I stood up, stepping away from the table as quietly as possible. Her eyes immediately fell on mine as I reached out to pick up my bag. She stopped her argument with my father for a moment.

"You should definitely go straight home tonight!" my mom said, before turning to my father, who was trying to counter her argument but failing miserably.

I waved goodbye as I walked away, but I knew they were not looking. Their argument could be heard all the way outside the house and only faded away when I walked closer to the car. In a huff, I put my bag on the passenger seat, before getting into the car.

I allowed myself to breathe in the air, something I had almost neglected. I always seemed to be holding my breath, afraid of what would happen next. My attention is suddenly distracted when I smell vanilla cake. I hated that scent because it reminded me of something I couldn't have. So tragic.

I raised my eyes, looking for her in the distance. There was a street that separated my house from his house. He was on the sidewalk, leaning against his fence while taking a deep breath. His face was flushed and his body was sweating.

When he took off his shirt, I immediately shook my head. He pulled it over his head and clasped it in his hands. And suddenly my gaze drifted down over his body, from his shoulders to his stomach. My chest felt tight as I saw his V-line, which could only be seen because of his low-slung shorts.

I narrowed my eyes at his side when he moved, then pulled his cell phone from his pocket. What was that?

I leaned my face slightly forward, narrowing my eyes to see it more clearly. That must be a tattoo. It's not what I thought it would be, like a wolf or a dragon, or anything... But a cat?

Subconsciously, I couldn't stop the laughter that came out of my mouth. He had the worst cat tattoo I had ever seen on his body. The lines were irregular and dull, not to mention the demonic eyes the cat had.

Then I held back my laughter again and took out my cell phone, pointing it at his side. I only had a few moments before he made his move- he was currently doing something on his phone. Within ten seconds, I had a picture of his tattoo saved in my phone's camera gallery.

I quickly pulled out of the driveway, throwing my cell phone onto the passenger seat. I was going in the opposite direction of Killian's house, but I could catch a glimpse of his figure in the rearview mirror as I pulled away. He must not have realized how late he was.

Feeling confident about the timing, I finally decided to stop by a coffee shop and buy a donut. Well, I had already had breakfast, but I'm a girl going through a growth period, so I needed some nourishment!

As I was tapping my foot, waiting for my food, I got an idea. Taking my phone out of my bag, I logged into InstaSnap, a popular social media app at my school. The reason: is confidentiality. Anything could be said, posted, or shared, with complete confidentiality. It's a great place to breed all sorts of rumors. True or not, no one cared enough to check the truth.

It only took 3 clicks and then the photo was posted.

Ouch — a crude tattoo of our favorite new asshole, Mr. Lockwood. Someone should tell him how bad it is.

Then I rolled my eyeballs at my bad description and uploaded the photo, tagging my entire friend's list. The good thing about this app is that the picture gets posted but there's no way to trace it back to me.

I got my donut as soon as I put my phone down. I could hear my phone vibrating, but I decided not to look at it. By the time I got to school, I knew the donut would be everywhere. That's for sure. Everyone was busy.

I slowly drove the car to school, my cell phone buzzing incessantly. I turned it off at the red light, and only saw it when I pulled into the parking lot. Taking my phone out of my bag, I looked at the app once more. The comments were just as depressing as I had imagined.

If I was not still burning with rage because of everything Killian had done to me, I might have felt sad. But my one very small trivial act could not even match what he had done. Maybe it's sadistic, but I hope he feels ashamed of his own stupid tattoo. Then I walked casually with a lopsided smile gracing my face.

I walked into the classroom, observing everyone. They were all on their phones, laughing about the picture. Sharing it with each other.

Jane and Sasha bumped into me in class, hunched over one desk, staring at one of their phones.

"El, have you seen this?" Jane said, chuckling. She held out her phone for me to see. The photo attracted a lot of attention.

"Yeah," I replied, keeping my voice steady as I held back my laughter. Jane smiled, and when I saw her perfectly white teeth, I smiled too. Her smile was contagious.

"This is not going to go away," Jane said, glancing at the photo. "Everyone can never get enough of this."

"Well, I'm sure he will be fine," Sasha spoke lightly, her eyes staring off into space. Jane and I looked at each other, with our eyebrows raised.

"Why do you say that?"

Sasha shrugged, crossing her arms. "Because he has a smoking hot body that girls will fall in love with."

Lexi growled softly at the thought of other girls staring at him, but that ship had already sailed. Sasha wasn't wrong, although there wasn't much to see in the photo, it was enough to make your mind wander.

"Yeah, but what girl would want a guy with that horrible tattoo on his side," Jane said.

Then we laughed, just as the school bell rang. He still hadn't come, the door was still open and the desk was still empty.

"Maybe he saw that picture," says someone near the back of the class.

"As if he had an InstaSnap," Reid's voice echoed in the classroom. We nodded in agreement, waiting impatiently for him to appear.

The students were scattered around the classroom. Many were sitting at their desks, talking loudly with their friends. Some soccer players were also throwing the ball near the back of the class.

I felt a bland pleasure running through my bones as we slowly fell into chaos.

"Elena, my dear, I have a party tonight, and I want you to come," Reid said. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to his side.

Reid was the class clown, always succeeding in making me smile. We had been friends since middle school, and there had never been a chance for anything more as he was open about his identity as a gay man from the very beginning.

Reid loved throwing parties, and he was the only one who could pull them off. He was the golden boy of the school, a star football player, and an outstanding farewell speech giver. He threw parties like he was addicted to the thrill, and somehow, he never got into trouble for it.

I pondered the question for a few seconds, my mind weighing the pros and cons. It would distract me from the situation I was facing, at least for one night, but I also felt trapped. Like being sentenced.

However, I found my lips twisting into a smile as I looked at Reid. "Sure, Reid."

He hugged me before being called by one of his friends. Reid's parents were medical professionals in our pack, but he had none of their seriousness. He was the most frequently injured among all pack members.

I heard his footsteps before I saw him. Then, his blue eyes surveyed the room as he reached the front door. They widened for a moment as he observed the commotion inside.

Just a few days ago, we would sit quietly, barely breathing. Now, it was different. His tardiness combined with the emergence of a silly photo made the class bolder.

"What's going on here!" Killian exclaimed loudly, closing the door behind him as he entered.

"We all really like your tattoos, Mr. Lockwood," one senior boy shouted.

Killian, looking at us in confusion, tried to understand what they meant. Jane took the photo and showed it to Mr. Lockwood.

His confusion disappeared as realization dawned on his face. With fiery eyes, he stared straight at me, knowing that I must have taken the photo. Under his gaze, I sank further into my seat, my eyes fixed on the floor.

His thunderous voice echoed through the room, silencing everyone. "Everyone, sit down! Now!"

It was the voice of an alpha. A very strong one, at that moment. Since our first meeting, I knew he was powerful, and there was no doubt he had alpha blood. I knew that the wolves in the room submitted, even without looking.

His voice was more like a roar, and everyone followed his instructions. My stomach twisted as I gripped my necklace, squeezing it hard enough to feel the indentations in my palm.

He waited impatiently as everyone sat before leaning against his desk. The air in the room felt thicker as we waited for him to speak.

"I expect more from my students than this foolish behavior. Now, I understand that I am a substitute teacher, but I expect you to treat me with the same respect you show your regular teachers," Killian looked around the class as he said this, his voice calm and flat. It was almost frightening how effortlessly he remained calm.

Killian took a slow breath before his eyes focused ahead. He stared directly into my eyes.

"I expect better," he said coldly, before turning his face away from me. "From all of you."

I felt anger surging within me. He wanted me to be better? Are you kidding me?

I took a deep breath as I looked at him, something bothering me in my chest. I felt like unleashing all my anger, screaming at him and telling him how wrong he was.

The atmosphere in the room became extremely tense as he stood up straight, walking around his desk.

"Macbeth," he wrote on the board, and all the students groaned uncomfortably.