When I met Sammy’s English teacher, Mr. Wyatt, I felt the typical schoolgirl crush on him, as much as I hated to admit it. His smile lit up the room; I saw him teach one time and he was extremely good with the kids. When I looked at him, I felt like my heart was leaping out of my chest, trying to go to his. Yeah, I know, it’s gross. I hate that I even felt this way about him, and I wouldn’t have done anything about it, even when he asked how old I was. 19 years old, so I’ve been legal. I blushed when he asked and he tried to hide his rosy cheeks from me, but it seemed like he was also a little ashamed to admit his feelings.
Because of this, I didn’t want to push him into doing something he wasn’t comfortable doing, considering it was his livelihood on the line if anything actually had happened, so I left it at that. I was there to find Sam, who had already left. Mr. Wyatt moved the conversation along and said, “Ahem, Sam had forgotten to take his essay. Will you pass it along to him?”
I smiled as I accepted the paper. I snuck a peek at the title: “The Summer My Family and I Killed a Werewolf”. I knew there was a bit of truth to it; well, not just a bit. I skimmed the first few lines and got the notion that this assignment was based on personal experience. Sam just hadn’t lied about his summer adventure like we’d discussed years ago about the life as a family of supernatural Monster Hunters. Just to make sure, I asked, “Mr. Wyatt, what was this assignment about? Was it a creative writing assignment?”
“You could say that.” I quietly sighed of relief. “But I wanted my students to write about how they spent their summer. I didn’t expect this…” He gestured toward the paper. “Work of fiction.” He interrupted his own train of thought, convinced he’d read my mind, and said, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s very well-written. I gave him an A.”
“Yeah, he’s the writer of the family,” I lied. “Thank you for this.”
Before I could exit his classroom, Mr. Wyatt stopped me and said, “Ms. Winchester?”
I turned around and made eye contact with him. Because of my power of empathy, I could feel his desire to be with me in more than just an emotional sense. I replied, “Yes, Mr. Wyatt?”
Just say it, I thought. I know you want to ask. I’m an adult, and I’m not your student, so there’s absolutely nothing wrong with–
“Tell Mr. Winchester he did a great job.” Mr. Wyatt gave me a curt smile.
You know that feeling you get when you really wanted something to happen, you couldn’t believe it actually could, but then all hope is lost? I smiled back at him and nodded, trying to hide my disappointment.
Whatever negative feeling I had for Sam’s teacher at the moment had to wait. I noticed Sam and Dean waiting for me at the bleachers. Dean seemed to be upset about something, and I could tell by his pacing back and forth in front of Sam. As I approached them, Dean yelled, “I’m gonna rip his LUNGS out!”
“What? Whose lungs?” I asked, curiously.
“Get this,” Dean filled me in on the situation. “Sammy’s got a bully in his class, who knocked him to the ground, and he did nothing to stop him.”
I didn’t see the big deal in this, so I said, “I mean, that’s good, right? No normal kid knows how to properly kick someone’s ass. Not at Sam’s age.”
“Yeah, which is why it’ll be up to me to friggin’ RIP HIS–“
“Yeah, we get it, Batman,” I said, rolling my eyes at Dean. I held up the paper in front of Sam. “Listen, kid, we need to talk about this essay that you wrote.”
Sam suddenly got nervous, looking at the piece of paper. He shifted away from me, as if I were going to hurt him. He said, “Oh?”
“‘The Summer My Family and I Killed a Werewolf’?” I read aloud. “Mr. Wyatt told me this was a paper on how you spent last summer.”
“Uh-huh,” Sam mumbled while looking away, shuffling his feet against the seat in front of him.
“‘Uh-huh’, and that’s all you have to say?” I asked him. “Sam, you’re lucky that Mr. Wyatt thought that it was a short story you wrote, but what if he hadn’t, huh? What if he’d actually known about the werewolf pack we took down?”
I didn’t realize how loud I was being until sarcastically told me to “yeah, say it louder, why don’t you?” as he scanned the soccer field for outsiders who may be listening in.
I returned my attention to Sam.
“Sammy…” I continued as I sat next to him. “Just help me understand…why did you do this? Do you have any idea how close–“
“Look, just shut up, okay?!” Sam burst out. “I just wanted to be like the other kids and finally tell the truth about what I did over the summer! I’m sick of lying all the time! Do you know how hard it is to make things up on a personal essay?! All I wanted was to tell my truth this time! Is that too much to ask?! It just sucks that the rest of the world can’t find out what we do, but what’s the use of that, huh?! Why can’t they find out so we can help them become Hunters too?! That way, all of this supernatural stuff, we can have more people on our side!”
Suddenly, Dad had honked on the horn of the Impala. Sam was saved by the horn. He was the first to take off for the car, and Dean and I looked at each other like concerned parents struggling with their rebellious son.
Rowena Whispers 