Ivan could hear familiar heated voices engaged in an argument between the trees. He glanced up, and a few seconds later, his friends emerged from behind the school building.

  Cal was talking heartily about something, his muffled voice carrying through the scarcely populated area, and Rohan was yelling something back at him with almost the same heat. Cal's copper hair was as messy as usual, and he was wearing blue jeans and a grey hoodie that matched his silver eyes.

  Rohan took a deep breath. “No.”

  He was wearing a blue T-shirt and black pants, but unlike Cal, his black hair was lying neatly on his head except for a few strands falling loosely over his forehead.

  “But you gave one to Ivan!” Cal threw his hands up in indignation. Rohan, who was walking next to him, glanced down at him and smiled. “I don't have any left, Cal.”

  Cal frowned. “Or maybe you just don't want to give me.”

  Rohan let out a snort and grabbed his phone from his front pocket. “Watch, I'll prove it!”

  “No, leave it.” Cal walked away from Rohan and approached Ivan. Once he saw him, he plopped down in the seat across from him and rested his head on his hands.

  “Hey. What book are you reading?”

  Ivan closed his copy of Anna Karenina and lifted it up so that Cal could read the cover.

  Rohan’s footsteps drew closer, and he took the seat beside Cal, who gave him a heated glare. Ivan raised his eyebrow at Rohan and gestured to Cal. Rohan glanced at Cal, then back at him. ‘Tell you later,’ he mouthed.

  Ivan gently placed the book on the bench table in front of him and grabbed the backpack that had been resting on the floor beside him. He pulled out a pile of textbooks from various subjects and dropped them onto the table with a loud thud.

  He watched Cal's gaze shift from him, then to the books laid out neatly on the table in front of him, then back to him again.

  “Wait. Were you serious about this studying thing? I thought you were joking!” Cal groaned, looking at Rohan, who shrugged in response and loudly opened a packet of chips.

  “The only joke is the current state of your grades, Cal. You need to start studying.” Ivan replied firmly.

  Cal's head slumped onto the table, and he groaned loudly before lifting his head. “But, that's boring. Let’s do fun things, like not studying.”

  After almost twelve years of friendship, Ivan had quickly learnt that Cal had never been into studying. But it had truly never been this bad before. He knew Cal had a lot to deal with, he had seven siblings and parents who were warriors first and parents second and were therefore too busy to care about anything he did.

  Cal's parents were adamant that he become a warrior, but he had voiced many times how much he didn’t want to be one. But Cal’s parents, much like his own, didn’t care about what he wanted, so Cal had just stopped trying altogether.

  Rohan looked at the textbooks mournfully and shrugged “I dunno…. this could be fun.”

  “Only you would say that.” Cal chided.

  “And Ivan,” Rohan added and Cal turned to him and laughed, nodding in agreement. Ivan watched them in disapproval. He didn't like studying— It was just something he had to do.

  Rohan did though. He loved everything school-related.

  “Yeah, I don't think so.” Ivan finally said.

  “Anyways.” He propped up two textbooks in front of Cal, who was looking at the books like he had to pick between drinking poison or bleach. “Math or Bio first?”

  “Is ‘neither’ an option?”

  “No.”

  — — —

  At home, Ivan was sitting at his 8-seat dining room table, eating silently next to his sister, Milena. His parents were sitting across from them, talking to each other in Russian, in low almost-whispers. Ivan could occasionally hear the words “war” and “threats” emerging from their stream of conversation but he had been mostly drowning out their voices as he stared at his food.

  “How did the training session go?” His father suddenly asked in Russian, causing him to abruptly look up. He quickly glanced at Milena next to him, then back to his dad.

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  “I uh…didn’t go. I had to study with some friends.” He replied, also in Russian.

  His dad looked at him with the usual stern look stapled on his face. “Why didn’t you just make time to study after training?”

  Ivan glanced down at his plate instead of at his father. His eyes brushed over the spaghetti and meatballs he no longer had an appetite for and his fork found the chipped edge of the plate. “It was a last-minute thing. We have a test next week and it's a lot to study for.”

  “Then manage your time better. That's not too hard to do, even for you.” Ivan could feel his father's heated glare burning into him. ”You know, when I was younger, if you didn’t train when you were supposed to, they would hit you with a stick…And that wasn't even the worst punishment.”. His father glanced up, as if thinking back to what ‘the worst of it’ was, then trailed off and looked at Ivan again.

  “At this rate, you’ll never become a Beta like me.” His father waved his hands in the air dismissively, as if this were a usual conversation for him. Which it was.

  His father's face was relaxed but Ivan could sense the anger and disappointment in his dark, brown eyes. Brown eyes that were completely opposite to his mom’s ocean blue ones, yet both eyes held the same solemnity buried deep within them.

  Ivan finally looked up into his father’s brown eyes. “Fine. I'll do better next time.” He replied through clenched teeth. He could feel his eyes starting to glow violet so he glanced back down to his plate and closed his eyes for a few seconds before raising his head again.

  “Good. You know, maybe if you were smarter or stronger, you wouldn't even need to study or train so much. ” His dad muttered.

  “Dad!” Milena called, rolling her eyes and looking at their parents with a surprising look of anger and annoyance.

  “Andrey, that's enough!” His mother said at the same time.

  His father shrugged, “I'm just saying.”

  Ivan turned to his mother, the annoyance that was previously plastered on his face now hidden. “Can I be excused?” He asked, now speaking English

  At the slight nod of her head, Ivan grabbed his plate and got up to place it in the sink. He slowly made his way up the stairs, closely followed by another pair of footsteps. Once in his room, he gently shut the door behind him and sank down on his bed, suffocating himself with the faded smell of laundry detergent lingering on his sheets.

  His father had always been a little pushy when it came to Ivan. He expected Ivan, as future Beta of the Night Crawlers, to maintain good grades and be a good warrior to the pack so that he could live up to the imposing reputation that his father had spent many years building.

  Ivan tried hard. He had grown up hearing stories of the great Beta and warrior his father was, and he was determined to live up to this. No matter what.

  He wanted to be even a fraction as decent a Beta as his father was when it was finally his turn, but he wasn't. Not yet anyway. And according to his father, he would never be

  Ivan lifted his head from the bed sheets. He considered going out to get in extra practice, like he sometimes did when his father had commented on how weak he was or how bad his form was. He glanced at the pink-orange hue of the sky outside his window. It wasn't going to be dark anytime soon, a training session wouldn't be the worst idea.

  He walked towards the open window, but as he was about to step outside, he heard the faint squeak of his door opening. Milena walked into the room, closed the door behind her and sat on his bed with a soft sigh.

  Ivan stepped away from the open window and closed it. He walked to his bed and sat down next to Milena. She leaned back on the bed and let out another sigh — a louder one this time — and folded her hands on her stomach.

  Ivan glanced at her, then glanced back at the window, it looked like practice was not going to be happening. She let out another dramatic sigh.

  “What?” Ivan finally asked with unearned hostility, turning to look down at her.

  “You ever consider using magic to, like, get back at dad?”

  Ivan glanced away from her and said nothing. When he was younger, he had definitely had moments when he was so angry that he wanted to do something, anything. But as he had gotten older, he had learnt to deal with his dad and magic slowly became nothing but a distant caution.

  “You ever consider using magic at all?”

  “I have. I do.”

  “Yeah, like barely!” She shot up from the bed in exasperation.

  Before a few months ago, he had been consistently using his magic on mundane things because Milena had been insisting since he was a child. But now, he couldn't even get himself to do anything with his magic anymore. Aside from the essential stuff, he mostly pretended it didn't exist.

  His mind drifted back to that day in the forest. That had been the first time he had used that level of magic in three years.

  “You need to be using them regularly. It's good for your soul or something,” She placed a hand on his shoulder, and her brown eyes bore into his own. “Not using your powers isn't good. Trust me.”

  He knew he should just take her advice and trust her. She had been helping him with all things magic for his entire life. She had taught him how to survive. Without her, he wouldn't know any of the things he knew now: how to control his emotions, to hide his eyes, to do any one of the spells he knew. How to change his appearance. And most importantly, how to hide his powers.

  But he couldn't use his powers after last time.

  “— not just once a month. Like enough.” Milena said and Ivan gave her a blank look.

  He stared straight into her brown eyes, willing her to listen to him. “I have it under control. It's fine.”

  She bit the inside of her lip in contemplation then got up from the bed, giving him a weary glance. “Alright. If you're sure then…...”

  Before he had time to move away, her hand reached out and ruffled his hair before quickly retracting when his own shot up to swat hers away. “Love you. Goodnight!”

  Ivan scowled and ran a hand through his hair “What is your obsession with my hair?!”

  “Don't sleep too late!” She called from down the hallway.

  “Yes Mom.”