Fletus Lupus (Crying Wolf).

It was mid November at the moment, and I was luckily human as summer approached.
I was working in the bookstore in the city, about fifteen kilometers from Cato’s house, where we lived. It was late Thursday, and there weren’t many customers. I was sitting on my stool behind the counter, reading one of my favorite books –Maximum Ride by James Patterson- when the bell on the door jingled as it opened, a group of girls walking in.
There were about four of them, two of them twins –I couldn’t tell them apart. The third was a tall girl with long, blonde-brown hair, who seemed the most energetic of the lot.
The fourth girl really caught my eye. She had shoulder length, side-parted blonde hair, with deep green eyes. She was fairly short –about 165, maybe 170cm, which was about shoulder height for me and my 193cm. She hung towards the back of the group, and had a distant look on her face. She was wearing a plain black T-shirt, with loose pale blue jeans, with a plain black satchel bag across her shoulder. She hadn’t said a word since they walked in, whereas the others were arguing about where to go first.
There was something about her that I found amazing. I was paralyzed, sitting there blankly.
“Hey Ange, come over here!” The tall brown-blonde girl called. The girl –Ange, apparently, but I think that was a nickname- spun around, heading to where her friend had called from, the twins already there. The tall one was holding up a book, showing Ange.
“I think you’ll like this one. It’s about wolves.” She said, and it was instantly in Ange’s hands. She read the blurb on the back, then held the hardcover open and began flicking through it.
The twins and the tall girl had walked off, and were browsing the store –the twins stuck mainly to looking at fiction books, and the tall brown-blonde was looking at everything ecstatically, ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ at everything. I just sat there watching.
About ten minutes passed before they came to the counter. The tall one didn’t by anything, just stood there chattering aimlessly, the twins each bought different books from the same series, and who I found out was actually Angela (Due to the tall ones chattering) bought a fiction book about a girl who made friends with a wolf cub.
“Hey. Just that one?” I asked her, taking it from her to scan it. She nodded, and reached into her bag to get her wallet out. I put the book in a plastic bag and put it on the counter for her to grab. She handed me a twenty, and I gave her ten change. She frowned.
”But… “Her voice was a wonderful, quiet, tender sound. I loved it. “The tag said nineteen. You gave me-“I held up a finger, and she stopped talking, looking slightly startled and confused. I gave her a half-smile.
“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” I said, and she nodded, a small almost unnoticeable smile on her face.
“Come on, Ange! We still have to get to the sweet shop before we go home!” The tall one called. Angela took a step, then stopped, looking back at me.
“How often do you work here?” She asked me shyly.
“Everyday but Sunday,” I replied. She smiled, a little broader, then walked out.

The rest of that day passed fairly quickly, me being engrossed in my book and full of thoughts of Angela. I started to wonder what school she went to, then realized there was only one school in Danfel that took people our age.
I’d finished my Maximum Ride book and started on the latest one in the series, Fang. We only got eight more customers in those spare four hours before closing time.
I noted the page number in my book, then closed it and left it on the desk. I started closing down the register and locking up, grabbing my jacket before picking my book up and heading outside. I walked to the bus stop at the end of the road and waited for the bus back to Cato’s place. It was a fifteen minute walk from the stop to the house, but I like walking next to the woods like that.
I was fourteen when I fist saw Angela that day.
And I forgot to tell her that I wasn’t there in winter.