To Red's pleasant surprise, boarding school was one of the best experiences she'd ever known. Looking back then, it shouldn't have been so hard of a scenario for her to imagine: the past decade of her life was spent like a baby-faced recluse, peerless and cloistered in the crux of nowhere. Suddenly, she was greeted by a whole new world, thrust into the happy hoards of boys and girls her own age. All those years in the forest, Red had never once felt that she was missing out on something, yet it was as she befriended classmate after classmate, youth after youth, that she felt insurmountable joy.

This joy, like any other aspect of life, took some time to accumulate.

On the horse-drawn carriage bound for the boarding house, there was a vibrate chatter among the students, children of varying ages returning for their second, third, fourth, or fifth year. From the very moment each of them stepped into the carriage, our protagonist could feel the cliques formulating. Friends caught up with friends, foes quarreled with foes. A gaggle of girls tittered as they glanced at the boys; a brood of boys whistled and jested as they stared right back at them. Red sat in the back, keeping her sparse luggage close her person, blank-faced and alone.

I shouldn't have agreed to come here, Red thought, her own stare glazing over the heads of the students not daring to look anyone in the eye. She felt overwhelmed by it all, packed into a small cart like sardines and shipped off to be someone else's problem of a while. Red had heard of the term 'claustrophobia,' but one doesn't learn the true meaning until they've been plucked from all that they'd called home and left to fend for themselves in a room full of strangers. Red's cheeks paled, complexion turning a ghostly white; eventually, her chocolate eyes opted to stray on the fleeting landscape just out of her grasp instead of the constant reality before her.

The girl was definitely far from home. Small houses made of brimstone surrounded them on all fronts. Blocks of mortar encased grocery stores and churches like solidified soldiers, protecting citizens from both thieves and the elements. No greenery was visible for miles-no trees to lurk behind, no brush to hide in-absolutely nothing. Running away (an option the feisty girl had weighed several times) was now out of the question. Without a forest to disappear into or a den to secret in, the only thing venturing outside the school would do is earn her a clout to the ear and a swift switch to the bum.

Trees.

Dens.

Woods.

Hiding.

Wolves.

The hearty snap Red heard just three nights prior still rung in her ears, fresh fear rattling her bones as she sat, turbulent mind masked with a calm facade. She waited to hear from him that night, choking back her sobs and straining her ears, afraid that his piercing, beautiful crooning would be drowned out by her own dismay. Red had learned to stop crying by the second night, awaiting some sort of sign with bated breath. When the third night had reached its final hour, dusk turning to dawn, the girl was thoroughly convinced he was dead. Dead or ran away in fear, she reasoned, but even if he was injured, he'd have left me a note before he took off...wouldn't he?

Red sighed and removed a weathered The Wolf Almanac from one of her bags, flipping to a random page and skimming the text. It had been forever since she'd touched the old, crisp pages, let alone read the faded words printed on them. It wasn't a lack of interest that led to the book's neglect-her curiosities were as whetted and insatiable as ever. It was Mr. Wolf's existence that reduced the information to ash, his very being an oxymoron of epic proportions. According to the book, wolves lived in packs: having listened to the number of howls at night with rapt attention, there were no hints of a duet happening, nor did Mr. Wolf ever allude to anymore of his kind. According to the book, wolves always went for the biggest, strongest prey they could find: Red had only ever seen him attack the youngest piglets or the most ill does.

According to the book, Red mused, a wolf never abandons their mate...

Red felt the plush seat beside her give way, the strong scent of various perfumes pervading her nose and making her want to cough. A pointed nose, blushing cheeks, glossy lips, and wide, peeping eyes peered over her shoulder. Those lips emitted light laughter when Red tried to scoot away, uncomfortable with the sudden closeness. Where had this person even come from? Why would anyone come to the very back? "Hey, you," the girl chirped jovially, "Whatcha readin'?"

Red looked up to see a girl slightly older than herself, the powdery, beaming, makeup-caked face paired with a shock of red hair to frame it. Red found herself too startled and burdened to give a coherent response, flashing her the cover instead. Seeing the thick book's title, the girl's eyes flickered with intrigue, bouncing even closer (for, somehow, that was possible) and effortlessly taking it from Red's hands. Red gasped at the forward theft, but couldn't find it in herself to bicker with someone over a who-knows-how-old book. She hadn't really been reading it, anyway.

The stranger's eyes danced as she sped through the chapters, occasionally flitting her gaze from the pages to Red.

"Wolves! I've always liked the stories, but I've never seen one in real life-none of'em dare roam around the good King's castle. They sound scary enough to be good fun, though." Her eyes returned to the page.

"...They're not as scary as you may think. Actually, I find they can be quite sweet, in their own way."

The girl promptly shut the book and returned it to its owner, a surprised and elated expression blossoming on her features. She pointed an accusing, manicured finger at Red's chest-for a moment, it looked much sharper than Mr. Wolf's claws ever had. "You!"

Red gulped, trying to move even farther way from this obviously insane woman. Her shoulder bumped against the side of the carriage; she was cornered. Damn. "Me? What about me?"

"Yes, you! You're Little Red Riding Hood, right? Our new transfer student from off the maps, never seen the inside of a school; you're a lot prettier than I thought you would be. No offence, but I imagined you'd come to class with a dress made of fig leaves and hair knotted with twigs, what with the woods and all."

Red didn't know to respond to her last comment, choosing to ask what was really on her mind. "T-That's not what everyone else thinks, right? That I'm some primitive, uneducated, country bumpkin? An utter, total fool?"

"If you keep talking like a scholar, they won't!" The stomping of the cart horses audibly died down, the cart slowing to a stop. The girl laughed, linking arms with Red without her consent. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Red-got it already? I thought I was being clever!-keep using those highfalutin words, bookworm, and you'll fit in like a glove. The name's Jill, by the way. Just Jill. Last names are for rich folk."

They stepped off the carriage that way, arm in arm. It was in this way that Little Red Riding Hood accidentally acquired her first friend. It felt rather nice, she had to admit.

Looking up at the grand establishment before her, Red recited the boarding school's name to herself. In engraved, proud letters, it read:

HAPPILY EVER AFTER ACADEMY

WHERE D.R.E.A.M.S. COME TRUE!

DILIGENCE, RESILIENCE, EXCELLENCE, ACHIEVEMENT, MAGICIANRY, SUCCESS.

*For enrollment papers, see Mrs. Mother in the library wing.

Glancing between Jill, her new arm candy, the pretentious academy name, and the pool of scrambling kids, Red had her spirits renewed. Slowly, she was embracing this foreign reality, the queer tingle of having to meet someone new. This year would prove to be different, either for better or for worse, and Red eagerly waited for the fun to begin.

~W~

Assimilation was a breeze; Red found her two favorite places within the first week of class: the library and the cafeteria. Jill ate more sparingly than a sparrow, messing over peas with that birdish quirk of her lips. "I don't see how you can eat this rubbish," she'd squeak, "it's fattening and disgusting-probably not even real!" A month or so prior, Red may have agreed with her and sworn off the food completely, if only for the sake of her figure. Now that she was partner-free (as depressing as that sentiment was for her), she felt no shame in annihilating every bit of chips, mince, porridge, and gruel that graced her plate. An entire week of meals without a hint of turnips or turnip juice? Heavenly.

The library was yet another thing that had to grow on her. Jill only accompanied Red the first time she visited, scorning both the librarian and the idea of being totally silent. A white-haired, pruny, batty woman sat at the checkout desk, knitting away at a half-complete-scarf? Blanket?-not acknowledging the two girls standing before her. Red cleared her throat and glanced at the name tag sewn to her sagging bosom, hurriedly making her first rookie mistake.

"Um...Miss Good Mother?"

"It's God Mother," the senile witch barked, raving before the poor student figured out what she had done wrong. "What did you want, illiterate wench?"

"I-I...I need-"

"Stop mumbling. I can't stand it when people mumble. These old ears won't hear a word you're saying."

"Enrollment papers," Jill said, voice even and clear. Mrs. Mother grumbled something along the lines of "should've said it the first time" before donning a pair of spectacles and rummaging through a daunting catalog of names. She flitted through the pages with practiced ease.

"Oh," Red stuttered, "my name is-"

"Riding Hood, Little Red," the woman interrupted, squinting at names without looking up. A saucy smile itched at her crooked, cracked lips. "You're the only student here who's gone into the woods. It's hard to wash off pine needles, dew... and you-know-who." Red blushed, avoiding Jill's curious eyes and focusing on the dusty spines of the many books around them. Unlike the library in the village, there was a myriad of topics to choose from; much like the library, no one was there but them. She absentmindedly traced the titles as they waited.

"Little Bo Peep, Little Boy Blue...Aha! Little Red. You, my pet, are in all beginning classes. The beginning, as they say, is a good place to start."

Neither of the girls laughed. Having found a title that piqued her interests (Werewolves: Fake or Fact?), Red checked out the book, took her papers, and headed to her new dormitory. To mostly Jill's delight, it turned out they would be bunking together. "The best of friends." "Together forever." "Destined, meant to be." She says those things like they mean nothing. Eternity is such an optimistically long time, yet I still can feel the appeal. Promise is the vocabulary of the heart, and it's sucking me in once more... Dear Lord, I hope she doesn't end up dead, too!

They bedded that night, and to Red's disdain, the dorms had no windows. As Jill animatedly snored away, Red shut her eyes and forced her mind to rest. There was no wolf outside her room baying for her, pining for her touch like she did for his. It was time to move on. For the remainder of the year, Red exceeded the expectations of both her teachers and her peers, excelling in all capacities. Each day was spent making life vibrant and beautiful; each dream was squandered on cold, void emptiness. In the first few months, she'd tried to curb her increasingly unimaginative imagination by trying to remember the sound of Mr. Wolf's howls. Those memories began to fade until the name 'Mr. Wolf' itself was foreign to her lips, though not to her heart.

~W~

On the first summer vacation she had ever experienced, Red was informed that she was prohibited from going home due to 'domestic complications'.

Though the name made it sound like a serious case of divorce or abuse, Red knew that her parents had probably asked it be instituted for her own sake. A new problem arose, however: if not home, where would she stay? Of course, the boarding school was an option for obvious reasons, but even the teachers were returning home for the two month long break. If she stayed, she'd need an employed supervisor, and she didn't revel in the thought of inconveniencing Mrs. Mother any longer than she had to, despite the fact that the loony prune had grown on her the past few weeks. No, she needed another plan.

"If you want," Jill suggested one evening, "you could come stay with me for a bit."

"Really? I won't be in the way?"

"Not at all, I think; I live with my Mom and my brother. I know for sure they'll be fine with it. Don't get out enough, anyway, so this should be a good nudge in the right direction for them, too, eh?"

Red considered her predicament: excluding the boarding school, she'd never stayed anywhere other than her own home. She had no fear of it-had no fear of being away from home at all, now that all the clamor had died down and she had the time to rationally think things through again. Graciously, Red accepted Jill's offer, packing her bags and readying to herself to become a temporary part of the girl's home.

And what a home it was.

When Red and Jill arrived at the house, it took a moment of detective-esque observation for Red to even recognize the fact that the house was, in fact, a house. The place was a poor and sickly; a hovel, a virtual sinkhole. Fleetingly, Red wondered if all the people who had insulted her 'outlandish' house had seen this atrocity. Jill approached the mass of mismatched bricks, mortar, wood, and straw like she was accustomed to it (she was accustomed to it) and rapped on the door. She shouldn't knock so hard, Red mused, the door may cave in. The door, thankfully, did not cave in, and Red was presented with the first piece of evidence that the place was livable. An older woman, wiry and grim, swung the door open and wrapped her arms around her daughter's neck in a loving but stern embrace.

"Jillian! How is my little Junebug?"

Jill's face went bright red, almost bright enough for it to shine past all of the powder. "Mom, I'm fine! No coddling right now, we have a guest. Here's that Red Riding Hood chick I was telling you about." Red waved unceremoniously, hesitantly taking a few steps closer to the pair and outstretching her arm for a respectful handshake. Jill's mother openly scrutinized Red with undisguised amusement. Suddenly, her corset and skirt (which were a lot less snug compared to Jill's, mind you) felt like the most scandalous clothes she'd ever touched.

"You must be the scholarly roommate Jill went on and on about in her letters. You're much prettier than I thought you'd be." The woman finally returned the handshake, an approving smile on her lips. Hands worked into knotty calloused, Red found the grip to be a lot more masculine than she expected. After she released, Red silently massage her sore hand behind her back.

"So I've been told, coming form the woods and all."

"The woods? I meant you looked pretty for a scholar, though I knew you had to be from somewhere different; you're accent is quite strange, love. The woods, though; it's full of trees, isn't it? My son always goes on and on about them, the trees this, the plants that! I think you'd like him. Actually, where is he?" She turned back towards the house, yelling,"Jack! Bring your lazy arse out here, you dolt! We've got company to entertain!"

A boy stumbled past the door frame and grumbled, a mop of strawberry-blonde locks peeking out beneath his hat and covering his eyes. He stood tall, about a foot taller than Red, and wore a wool scarf, sweater, and pinstriped pants. After a good ear-pinching from his mother, followed by several strings of curses, Jack reluctantly offered her his hand, which she took just as reluctantly.

"Hi, Miss," he said, disinterest woven throughout every syllable. "My wonderful mother may already have told you, but my name is-"

Nonchalantly, he brushed his bangs to the side, revealing his bright, blue eyes. Both parties paused, truly seeing each other for the first time.

Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

In terms of physique, Red hadn't found Jack to be all that remarkable. Sure, he was by no means repulsive-even beneath the sizable sweater, it was evident he had some slim muscles to boast about-but this was a common trait for active boys at the boarding school, unimpressive by compare. Those eyes, however, were unique. They were large, vivid, and glassy; kind, open, generous eyes, the type you'd happily tell all of your deepest, darkest secrets. Pretty eyes, pure eyes...!

Innocent eyes. Delicious.

Red's ogling was not one sided. Briefly, the young lad wondered how attractive all of the other girls Jill had brought home would have been, had he cared enough to meet them. The way her pink lips parted, making a small 'oh' as he gazed for what felt like eternity, Jack could feel his knees go weak and his heart aflutter. What did he need to say to make her his? The two were so caught up in their spur of the moment reactions, they didn't notice the shaking heads and wagging tongues of the onlookers.

"J-Jack?" Red stuttered. "...That's what your wonderful mother called you, at least."

Jack cracked a smile and laughed. He had the most beautiful laugh.

Jill gave an melodramatic sigh, smacking the lovebirds quite harshly on the back before heading into the house, effectively snapping the two back to reality. The bedraggled mother followed suit, hollering at her son, "Don't just stand there and gawk, stupid boy! Make yourself useful and grab the Miss's bags!" Red briefly wondered if her vocal chords would ever snap from all that yelling.

Abashedly, Jack did as he was told, escorting Red to her and Jill's shared room with as few words as possible. Later, Red discovered that when dinner time approached, everyone would take their cabbage soup-for Red's turnips were their cabbages-and sup in their own rooms. She and Jill would be sleeping in a bunk bed, Red on top, Jill on the bottom. The brash girl would never admit to her fear of heights, and silently thanked her when Red had pity. Jill eagerly closed the door to their room before striking up a conversation in a gossipy whisper; it was no secret that the wall was paper thin, yet the privacy implied by the door was still appreciated.

It was probably Jill that brought the topic up, but even if they hadn't, every teenage slumber party in existence would have made it inevitable. Jill had already gone extensively into her dating history (including the "Hey, Diddle Diddle" incident...ugh), and, to Red's dismay, it was now her turn. Only the waning light of a stubby wax candle lit the room as they spoke.

"So," she giggled, fumbling with her hair and smiling that lip-glossed grin, "you got a boyfriend back home?"

Red was lying on her back, the top bunk giving her a great view of the sloped, wooden ceiling. In her mind, she was trying to decide what species of fungi was seeping through the cracks. Wait...is that a termite? She decided that sleeping on her stomach that night wasn't such a bad idea. Red had nearly forgotten the story of Mr. Wolf, and she didn't enjoy recalling it, even to her own best friend. She opened her mouth to sigh and tell her as much, but a legitimate response streamed out instead. "You could say I do. Or did, I suppose."

A mattress a few feet below creaked, followed by a loud interjection. "What! You, Red?"

"Hush! Don't be so loud, you'll wake up the entire house, you loudmouth."

"Well, excuse me, Little Miss Mack, but I just found out my smartypants best friend was straight pimping back home. Talk about a shocker!"

Red scoffed, letting herself get more comfortable in bed. "I wasn't...pimping, as you put it; it was only one guy. Besides, it ended before it began."

Jill shimmied beneath her covers, mirroring the actions of her summer roommate even though she was as hyper and awake as ever. "What kind of guy was he?"

What kind of "guy" is Mr. Wolf...? The image of a wolf in sheep's clothing glittered in her mind. Ironically, she never felt that he had ever appeared innocent and harmless as a lamb in her eyes. Even as he lay there on the snow-kissed ground, hurt and vulnerable, she could see the edge in his eyes, the danger in his teeth, the deadly promises in his smirk. Mr. Wolf was no lamb, and it enticed her. "He was a real dog," she eventually answered. "Had I spent anymore time with him, I may have become a cat person."

"Ooh, a bad boy! I think I can already guess what went wrong, then. Parents' found out, they always do."

I bet they don't always put an ax through their neck, though. "...Yes, exactly."

After much still silence in the dark, Red spoke without thinking. A costly mistake, indeed. "Hey, Jill, you still awake?"

"Mm?" Jill's voice was injected with yawns; sleep had hit her like a freight train.

"How old is your brother?"

"Um...seventeen, I think, give or take a year. Why?" It was a groggy question that didn't listen to the answer before nodding back off.

"No reason."

Yes, no reason at all.

Outside their door, a heart clenched, face flushed, and nimble feet tiptoed back to their room.

~W~

Two more summers went on like this, with Red staying with Jack, Jill, and their mother, sending the occasional letter home to her beloved parents. Like a bird taking wing for the first time, Red and Jack's relationship soon took flight, slow at first, but quickly picking up altitude. Red learned through Jill that Jack was a dropout due to both the boy's inherent idiocy and the poor state of their family. This only made the gratuitous insults to his intelligence even more callous. During her first summer, Red made it a point to spend as much time with Jack as he would allow. The conversations they shared were filled with talks of farming, gardens, books, and food. Uneducated though he was, Jack wanted to be a botanist.

Upon Red's return the next summer, many books about biology and plant life were scrounged up and given to him. It had cost her a few favors and a pretty penny, but the childish smile that pinched his cheeks made it well worth it. Their first kiss had been the first day of her third summer; Red had brought him more books about botanical studies, and Jill and her mother had gone to the market to get food for dinner ("Cabbage and fish heads don't grow on trees, dumb boy!"), leaving Jack to press an innocent kiss against her love-parched lips by way of thanks.

Let it be said, in all of Red's giddiness, that Jack had very few firsts left by the end of that summer, and his eyes were a lot less innocent.

It was in a letter that Red received the news that, since they felt enough time had expired since the faithful accident that started it all, Red was allowed back home. She could bring a friend, the letter ventured to say, because they were truly indebted to Jill's family for all they had done. Naturally, Red's first choice was Jill, but since the girl was caught up in her own relationship affairs (Hey Diddle Diddle strikes again?), Red toted along her year-long boyfriend, Jack. She had enough foresight to ask about bringing a man-a lover- into the house; if they were expecting a smiley girl and received a brash boy instead, Dad would blow a gasket. Both parents were elated at the idea of really getting to meet Red's boyfriend and, of course, consented.

Seeing her parents was cathartic, homesickness she had long suppressed bubbling to the surface. When she got a hold of her dad and, later, her mom, Red felt like centuries had passed until she'd let go.

The very moment Red stepped into her house for the first time in three years, a wave of sickly-sweet nostalgia infested her lungs and weighed down on her chest. For the first time in forever, she felt herself fighting back tears. Red felt two reassuring hands pat her back and urge her past the threshold; one her father's, the other Jack's. Seemingly nothing in the house had changed. If anything, the furniture was a bit dustier than it had been in the past, the candy closet fuller than normal, but the entire living space seemed untouched, almost like a memorial.

Speaking of things that never changed, her parents could be just as naive. They'd fed her to the wolf in the woods, all those years ago. This time, they were letting her sleep in the same room with a completely new one.

To their credit, there really was no where else to comfortably room a person in their house besides Red's room. The two were lovers, and whatever happened would happen under their roof. Though Jack had crassly hinted to having some 'fun times' that night, Red refused to go further than a heated kiss. She felt...wrong for doing such naughty things with him here. They laid side by side on the mattress of her childhood years; somehow, it felt sacred, and to desecrate that mattress was to deface her heart's religion. Such ideas are difficult to explain to a horny man in the heat of the moment, however. Dissatisfied, Jack fell asleep, leaving Red awake, alone, and reminiscing.

Over the course of her three years, Red had thought about her shape-shifting teacher and partner in crime less and less. Right then, surrounded by memory after memory, reminder after reminder, Red felt like she was suffocating beneath the emotions of her 11-year-old self. Invisible notes on the wall stained her eyes; late night visits via the window permeated her ears; thoughts of a love she couldn't have sullied her soul. Red hated it so much. After so many months of believing she'd conquered her obsession, she'd slip back into this slump, only this time, her sole remainder that her past life was gone wasn't pleading his case, snoring, frowning, and still half erect. Deep down, that night, the cry of her wolf was most vivid, the most vivid it had been in a while. Why, she could almost hear it...

A low, throaty howl erupted outside and tore through the sky. It opened her window and made her howl, too.

A/N: Heeeeey. Been awhile, hasn't it?

Don't worry, I'm not axing the story (Get it?). I had a good chunk of this finished last Saturday, but I wanted to give you a bit more than usual, so...Happy Belated Valentine's Day? I hope you enjoyed this, because it was thoroughly fun to write. Especially the D.R.E.A.M.S. part. I should be a comedian. Oh, and hooray! This story made it to double digits! :D

(Hey, if you all could leave a joke in the comments, it'd be greatly appreciated. I just finished reading The Book Thief yesterday. My heart bleeds on.)