“I’ve been worried sick,” my mom said as I unzipped my now-white hoodie. Flakes fell on our tiled foyer. I shook the snow off my boots on an inside mat, but I couldn’t feel a thing — my legs and toes were numb. Our dog, Champ, bounded up to me and sniffed my pant legs.

“I called several times,” my mom continued, “but you didn’t answer. I was just getting my keys to come and look for you.”

I was so happy to be home, I was speechless. So much had just happened to me since I left Ivy and Abby, I couldn’t process everything. All I knew was I was finally home.

My mom pulled off my gloves. “Your fingers are frozen.” She warmed them in her hands.

“I got caught in that snowstorm.”

“I can see that. Are Ivy and Abby okay?”

I nodded. “I think they missed the storm.”

“They weren’t with you?” she asked, surprised.

I leaned against the staircase railings and my mom pulled off my boots. I was too tired to hike the stairs to my room. Instead, I sat on them and peeled off my jeans. My mom handed me warm sweatpants and fuzzy slipper socks from the laundry room. Champ licked my cold fingers.

I’d never been so happy to be home in all my life. The smell of pasta wafting in from the kitchen was the most pleasant scent I could have imagined. It normally bothered me when my mom fussed over me, but I was so fatigued and cold, I welcomed her care.

I followed her into the family room. I plopped down on a sofa and she covered me with a fleece blanket, and Champ curled up at my feet.

My mom turned on our gas fireplace and I gladly gazed at our family pictures displayed on the mantel.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said.

I could hear her fiddling in the kitchen behind me, but I couldn’t focus on what she was doing. I would have pinched myself to see if I was dreaming — being in the safety of my house with a fluffy family pet instead of staring at a pack of salivating wolves — only I still couldn’t feel my skin.

“She just got home,” I heard my mom tell my dad when he entered the house.

“That blizzard came out of nowhere,” he said.

I was glad to see my dad and gave him puppy-dog eyes. He touched my face. Even though he’d been outside, his warm hand heated my chilled cheek.

“I think that caught us all off guard,” he said.

“Dinner’s ready,” my mom called.

Still wrapped in my fleece blanket, I sat down at the dining table and immediately scarfed down an Italian roll.

“I didn’t realize I’d been gone so long,” I announced, glancing at the clock.

“Take your time,” my mom said. “You don’t want to choke.”

“So why weren’t you with Ivy?” my dad asked.

“I wanted to go straight home. But obviously that didn’t happen.”

“You walked home?” my dad asked.

“Yes. Then it started snowing and I ended up in the woods. I saw a wolf. And just at the last moment —”

“What?” my dad asked. “Slow down. Why were you in the woods?”

“I got lost.”

“Which woods?” my mom asked, just as concerned.

“The ones along Riverside.”

“Riverside?” she asked, horrified. “What were you doing there? Where were Abby and Ivy?” my mom wondered.

“Ivy was driving Abby to her practice before tonight’s game.”

“This still doesn’t make sense,” my dad said. “What were you doing walking in Riverside alone?”

“Abby, Ivy, and I were getting our fortunes told.”

“Didn’t the psychic tell you you shouldn’t go into the woods?” my dad asked, joking. “Seems obvious enough to me.”

As a matter of fact, Dr. Meadows had warned me. Beware of the woods… of the sounds of howling, she had said. My stomach turned, and it wasn’t from eating too fast. It was strange — her prediction. But it just had to be a coincidence, I assured myself.

“You didn’t answer your cell phone,” my mom said sharply. “I was about to drive around when you came in the door.”

“I tried calling you — but I couldn’t get a signal,” I defended. “Then I dropped my phone in the snow….” I realized I still didn’t have my cell phone. “I’m really sorry— I think I lost it.”

“Your cell phone can be replaced,” she said.

“So… you said you saw a wolf?” my dad asked.

“Yes. Closer than I’ve ever seen.”

“How close?” my mom asked.

“Only a few feet away. And it wasn’t one wolf. It was a pack.”

“You’re so lucky they didn’t see you,” she said, relieved.

“See me? They almost ate me!”

My parents froze.

“They were as close to me as you both are and staring at me like you are now.” As soon as I said that, I realized it was a mistake.

My mom covered her mouth. Then she took my hand. My dad’s brows furrowed.

I could see by my parents’ horrified expressions as they imagined their daughter being torn to shreds, I would be lucky if I was ever allowed out of the house again.

“Honey, I’m so happy you weren’t bitten!” my mom said gratefully. “Or worse.”

It was then I thought of Brandon. He was bitten and he didn’t seem concerned. He’d been more interested in my well-being than his.

“It’s odd to see a wolf up close like that — so close to town,” my dad said. “They usually like to avoid people.”

“I must have stumbled on their den. They didn’t appear too happy to see me.”

“I’d think their den would be farther outside of town. That’s where they’re mostly spotted,” my dad added.

“I don’t know,” I said, taking a drink. “I only know I saw them and they saw me.”

“Are you sure they were wolves?” my mom pressed.

“Do squirrels have fangs?” I asked.

“Well, we’re glad you’re back home safe,” my mom continued.

“I’m not a forest ranger,” I said. “I just know what I saw. I’ve never seen wolves up close. It was terrifying!”

That hit my mom hard. She always wanted to protect me, and I knew it hurt her to have me be in a situation where I’d been afraid and alone.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there—” she said.

“How did you manage to make it out?” my dad asked. “Alive? Without a scratch?”

My parents waited for my answer.

A guy saved me. Risked his life for mine. A handsome Westsider.

I was too exhausted to tell them any more, and it would only add to their endless questions. I always told my parents the truth, no matter what the truth was, but in this case I felt funny about telling them about Brandon. I knew they’d make a fuss — show up at his house, thank him, and insist on taking him out to dinner. It would be embarrassing for him, and I wanted to spare him the gushing parental gratitude. So instead I just skipped to the end. “The snow began to let up. Eventually I could see our house.”

“Well, thank goodness it did!” My mom sighed. “Thank goodness it did.”

“I still don’t understand why you were getting your fortunes told,” my dad said. “Don’t you girls have homework to do?”