Full Moon by Marisa Maichel (read novel full .txt) 📕

Zoe Westerfield used to be an It Girl. She used to have everything. A big house, parents who loved her, a great job she loved, loads of friends. And then her parents died in a car accident. When she moves in with Aunt Winifred Bones, her mother's eccentric older sister. When she goes to Boke High School, she meets Prentice, a mysterious guy with serious potential. Prentice gives her mixed signals, confusing her. When her new best friend Tiffany introduces her to a boy named Vladimir Trent, who happens to be a vampire searching for his soulmate. Zoe feels an undeniable attraction to both of them, but according to her aunt, she's only supposed to date one. As it turns out, Prentice Timberwood is a werewolf searching for his female. Now Zoe is afraid to make the wrong decision. Will her choice cause a war? And what is this Heart of Gold that Aunt Winifred keeps mentioning?

Chapter 1 - Zoe

The fragile moon stared back at me. It seemed to be talking, telling me something important. It was especially beautiful tonight, here in Boke, Maine. I stared out the window, picturing myself flying up and over the clouds, over the moon, all the way into space.

A year ago, I wouldn't have pictured my life like this. Standing in cotton shorts and a tank top, staring at the moon, full of wonder about its magical properties.

It all began six months ago, when my parents died in a car accident. I was bounced from home to home, never settling in long enough, never staying at a school long enough to even make a friend.

Then I got a call from my social worker saying that she found a long-lost aunt. I moved in that week. It's been a week since I moved into Aunt Winifred's house. The moment she saw me, she hugged me and said “Zoe! It's been years! I haven't seen you since you were three!"

That resulted in an hour of trying to remember my toddler years.

"Of course, the accident probably affected your memory," she said.

"I wasn't in the car," I'd told her.

"No no, I mean the accident that happened when you were three." After my blank look, she said "Never mind. Let's get you settled in."

Now I was stuck wondering about the accident when I was three.

I finally decided to go to bed around eleven. Just as I was settling into bed, I heard a howl. It was deeper than a normal wolf howl, and louder. I got up, closed the window, and then went back to bed.

The next day was a rush. I had to shower, wash and condition my hair, shave, and choose an outfit. Something that was universally chic. Coolness changes from school to school, and I had become an expert at singling out the popular groups.

I applied foundation, powder, a coral blush, eyeliner on both waterlines, mascara, dark brown eyeshadow, and a strawberry lip gloss that was slightly shimmery. I brushed my long blond hair and teased it into a side fishtail braid. My clothes were chosen carefully. A grey tank top, a magenta cardigan with ruffles on the sides, and dark blue skinny jeans. After some consideration, I chose a pair of suede ankle boots.

Everything I owned was already packed away, so I didn't need to worry about that. Aunt Winifred had gifted me with a gold tote bag for school. I quickly shoved all my notebooks, binder, pencil case, and planner inside. I grabbed my favorite gold faux-leather purse and shoved an extra makeup bag inside that. I needed to be prepared for anything.

My cell phone was charging on my nightstand. I grabbed that, posted a first day at new school status, and walked downstairs. Aunt Winifred was already sitting down and drinking herbal tea.

"Good morning, Zoe," she said. "Well, don't you look cute?"

"Thanks," I said, grabbing a couple strips of crispy bacon.

"I was thinking," Aunt Winifred said, "I won't be able to drive you to school very often, and your old car is, well..." She winced, and so did I. My old car was the one that my parents were driving in the accident while theirs were in the shop. "And you're seventeen, and I know how teenagers don't like to be seen without a car. So, I'm giving you my extra one."

I thought my ears were deceiving me at first. "Really? Thank you!" I said. Aunt Winifred smiled at me, her blue eyes crinkling.

"I'm giving you my Honda. I don't need a Honda and a Thunderbird." She smoothed back a piece of her platinum blond hair.

"Thank you!" I said, hugging her. She produced the keys and gave them to me. "Thanks!" I glanced at the clock. "Yikes, I have to go! See you later!"

"Have fun!" she called.

I entered the Honda and got a feel of the wheel and the pedals. It had been too long since I'd driven a car myself. Not since before the accident. I put the key in the ignition and turned it. The car purred to life. It was comfortable and reversed nicely.

It wasn't hard to find the school. I'd downloaded a map of the town on Google and followed the directions carefully.

The school was a huge red brick building that was surrounded by trees on either side. I found a spot in the parking lot. I walked into the office, where giggling middle-aged women were laughing about one of their colleagues.

"Can I help you?" said a grey-haired secretary.

"I'm Zoe Westerfield," I said.

"Ah, yes, I have your schedule and a map of the school right here." She produced two pieces of paper. I looked at the schedule. "And a little tip: you might want to move your car. That's the teacher's lot."

I looked back and realized she was right. "Crap."

Moving the car didn't take long, thankfully. I found the student lot after a couple minutes and parked by a black pickup truck.

After walking back into the school, I looked at the schedule and realized I didn't know where any of these classes were. I decided to ask the next person I came across.

"Excuse me," I said to a balding man, "I'm new here and I don't know where any of my classes are."

"You're in luck," he said, looking at my schedule. "I'm Mr. George, and you're in my first period class." I looked at the schedule again. World History. Ugh. At least I had a nice teacher.

Mr. George led me across the school, down a flight of stairs, and into the third classroom on the right. It was already full of students, all of which quieted down when Mr. George entered the room.

"Settle down, children," he said. "Today we have a new student. Young lady, why don't you introduce yourself and say a few things about yourself?"

"I'm Zoe Westerfield," I said. "I moved here from Las Vegas."

"And what was the reason for the move?" Mr. George asked.

"Um...my parents...got into a car accident..." I stuttered, blushing. "They...um..."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Mr. George said. "You may take a seat by Tiffany. The other blond girl."

I locked eyes with a blond in a cute pink shirt and skirt combo and sat beside her in the empty seat.

"So, are you, like, really from Las Vegas?" she asked, smacking her gum.

"I am," I said, smiling softly.

"What was that like? Living in the desert and all?"

"Las Vegas is an oasis," I said. She looked confused. "A patch of green."

"Oh. So, did your parents, like, own a casino?"

"My dad was a scientist at a technology plant," I said. "He worked with computers all day. My mom made clothes."

"So, she was, like, a fashion designer?"

"Sort of. She worked for Laurel Klaire."

"The Laurel Klaire?!" Tiffany was excited now. "The famous fashion designer?!"

"Yes," I said.

"All right, now that we've all gotten to know Zoe, we might continue," Mr. George said. "The main exports of Colombia are oil, coal, coffee, gold...."

While Mr. George rambled on about Colombia, I got out a notebook labeled History and started to take notes. I could feel some staring, though. The feeling of being stared at was so strong that I looked up.

There was a guy staring at me. He was different from the others I'd seen, who all wore athletic clothes and t-shirts. This guy wore a black leather jacket over a pair of black jeans. His eyes were a light sky blue, and his hair was long, blond, and tied black into a ponytail. He kept staring at me all throughout the class period.

I didn't get a chance to ask Tiffany about him, and when the bell rang, he was the first one out the door. I headed toward my second class, Creative Writing with Mrs. Stevenson. Tiffany caught up with me.

"Looks like you caught the eye of Prentice Willis," she said.

"The guy who kept staring at me?" I asked.

"Staring?" she giggled. "He was practically undressing you with his eyes!"

"Weird. Is he usually like that?" I asked. Tiffany giggled.

"No way! Not with anyone here, even though all the goth girls have tried." m

"And how many goth girls are there?"

"OMG, like, a ton! There's Z, and Patrisha, and like, a whole lot more! I think it has something to do with the Wolf Woods."

"The Wolf Woods?"

"Yeah, I mean, there's a ton of werewolf legends around here. Just like Salem! Except with less witches."

"And how does Patrisha think about that?"

"Her name is Patricia, but with, like, an SH instead of a C. Patrisha is like his ex-girlfriend or something." Her voice lowered. "It's that girl there." She pointed to the right to a girl who was slamming her locker shut. Patrisha had blond and purple hair, wide green anime eyes, and wore a black beanie, a black tank top, a red flannel shirt, and black skinny jeans that only exacerbated her skinniness.

When she saw us, she gave us an icy glare and said "Nice cardigan, prep."

"Ignore her," Tiffany said, then she squealed and hugged another blond girl. A whole group of girls squealed and started hugging her. "Ladies, this is Zoe," she said, gesturing to me.

"Nice to meet you, Zoe," said the first blond girl. "I'm Ember."

"Maggie," said a dark-haired girl wearing a pink sweater.

"Christina," said another blond.

"And I'm Kristi," said a red-haired girl wearing a dark purple blouse. "Christina's BFF."

"Hello," I said.

"So, where are you from?" Ember asked.

"Las Vegas," I told them.

"Her mom worked for Laurel Klaire!" Tiffany squealed. More screaming and bouncing around ensued.

"Can your mom, like, make me an outfit?" Christina asked.

"I'm afraid she can't," I said.

"Oh? Too busy?"

"No, stupid, her mom's dead," Tiffany snapped. They became silent.

"I'm so sorry," Christina said.

"It's okay, it was six months ago," I told them. "Car accident."

"Dude, that's so sad," Kristi said. "Was your dad in the car too?" At my nod, she gasped and her hands flew up to her mouth.

"So, you're an orphan? That's sad," said Maggie.

"I live with my Aunt Winifred," I said. Tiffany looked aghast.

"Winifred Bones? The creepy middle-aged lady?"

"She's cool," I said, feeling a need to defend my family.

"She didn't mean that," Ember said, frowning at Tiffany. "It's just...Winifred Bones is so...um...different, and you know how small towns gossip."

"She's definitely eccentric," I agreed. "Do any of you know where Mrs. Stevenson's room is?"

"That's my next class, too!" Ember squealed. "It's just down the hall to the right, by the entrance to the art wing."

Giggling, she excused us from the group, who would no doubt continue to gossip about me and ask Tiffany for details, and led me to a hidden classroom with a sign over it that said, "Mrs. Stevenson's Room". Mrs. Stevenson herself was a stout woman with dark hair. I told her who I was, and Ember asked if I could sit next to her. Mrs. Stevenson agreed, it was time for a new seating arrangement anyway.

Creative Writing flew by. Mrs. Stevenson