Here&apos;s another chapter, as promised.
I won&apos;t have another chapter up on Monday because of the holidays, so the next update is next Friday.
If you need something to read in the meantime, check out my interactive werewolf story! It&apos;s a lot like Sold to a Wolf Pack, but I don&apos;t write it until Friday, so you get a say in what happens next.
This one&apos;s dedicated to all of you! You guys are absolutely amazing, and I hope you enjoy reading Sold to a Wolf Pack as much I enjoy writing it!
"Alright, new kid." The teacher shoves the banana into my hand and I end up standing in front of the class holding the orange-tinted, condom-covered fruit. It feels all rubbery and sticky. Gross!
The teacher hands me a blue condom wrapper, holds up the stop-watch and gestures for me to begin. I look down at the wrapper, which reads blueberry-flavored. Flavored? As in... I blush and quickly drop the packet on the table.
Logan whistles and I really hope he&apos;s not getting any ideas. Then, Zara and Jasper join in and cheer, and I focus my attention back on tackling the red condom that&apos;s already on the banana. I remove it as quickly as I can, aware of the stopwatch in the teacher&apos;s hand. I also feel everyone&apos;s eyes on me, watching me work the condom off the banana.
The more time passes, the more my hands start to shake... and the more condom I unroll, the stickier it gets and the more gross my hands feel. When I finally remove the red condom, I toss it in the trash and hold on to the slippery, sticky, and absolutely disgusting banana. There&apos;s absolutely no way I&apos;m doing this with a guy, ever.
The banana is a little squished, from all the students handling it, and covered with bits of green, blue and red sticky stuff. I quickly drop it on the table and pick up the blue condom wrapper. I start to tear it open, but I&apos;m so nervous that I use some of my wolf strength, and end up tearing it and the condom in half.
"Forty-three seconds," the teacher comments, tossing me another condom. "You can do better than that, new girl."
The class hoots and shouts and I pick up the yellow wrapper. Banana flavored, according to the label, and totally ironic.
I open the foil packet more carefully this time, and then it&apos;s time for the part that I&apos;ve been dreading. If I want to get the condom on, I&apos;ll have to sit on the table and hold the banana between my legs. It&apos;s literally the only way anyone has managed to do it so far, and now is so not the time to improvise.
My entire face feels like it&apos;s on fire when I perch on the edge of the table. I place the banana as close to my knees as possible, and as far away from, well, there, and try to hold it in place. It sort of wobbles back and forth, and Logan and the others hoot with laughter.
I resist the urge to fling the banana at his head and focus on the task at hand. I really wish I&apos;d have at least worn my old, baggy clothes instead of these tight, form-hugging jeans and tank top. Even more, I wish I was back at OPS. It&apos;s no wonder teen pregnancy is so high at Mapleton. After what I&apos;ve seen at this school, and at the pack house, it&apos;s obvious there&apos;s no real supervision.
Literally two seconds after I arrived at the pack house, some couple started making out on the couch where anyone could see. Then, Logan thought it was totally okay to hang out in the bathroom while I was taking a shower. Oh, and POW just left Jasper and Zara in bed together like it was perfectly normal for two teenagers to be doing it under his roof.
All the teachers at this school are complete pervs, too. We never had to put on condoms in health class at OPS. We just watched a bunch of videos and listened to the teacher drone on and on about STDs and puberty. I bet we didn&apos;t have a pervy school nurse at OPS either, not one with naked people on her walls and condoms in a bowl on her desk like she thinks they&apos;re candy.
I look down at the condom in my hand and try to roll it onto the banana. I bet I&apos;ll never be able to forget this moment, no matter how hard I try. Nightmares of sticky bananas and flavored condoms will haunt me for the rest of my days. I&apos;ll probably never be able to actually do it with a guy, because I&apos;ll be way too traumatized and I&apos;ll freak out the minute I see a condom. Which actually isn&apos;t all that hard to roll on once I&apos;ve braced the banana.
I keep rolling and when it&apos;s on all the way, the teacher shouts "one minute, fourty-three seconds," but I hardly hear her. The moment she lets me go to the bathroom to wash my hands, I toss the banana on the table and run.
It&apos;s my first time on the second floor, and it takes me a few minutes to locate the girl&apos;s bathroom. Because my hands are dirty and sticky and absolutely gross, I have to push the door open with my shoulder and enter backwards. There&apos;s no one inside, thankfully, and I rush to the nearest sink and turn on the tap. I leave the metal all sticky with condom, but I hardly notice as I pump a gallon of soap to try and get the gunk of my hand.
I keep scrubbing my hands until all remaining traces of condom are gone, and then get another handful of soap for good measure. I&apos;m so focused on the task that at first, I don&apos;t even notice that someone else is in the bathroom. Then, I hear a sniffle and pause to listen. It&apos;s hard to hear anything over the running water, so I quickly wash off the remaining soap and turn off the tap. For a second, the room is silent and I think I imagined it, but then I hear it again. A sniffle, followed by a hiccup.
"Hello?" I call, peeking under the stalls. I don&apos;t see any feet, and start to think the condom trauma has driven me insane, when I hear another sniffle. "Are you okay?" I ask, narrowing the sound down to the second stall from the left.
"Sofie?" a familiar voice asks.
"What do you want?" Jess demands from inside the stall.
"Nothing. I just heard crying..."
"I waited for almost an hour last night," Jess yells. Her white sneakers come into view and the door swings open.
"I&apos;m so sorry, Jess. I was going to—"
"I was freaking out," Jess cries. She has mascara and eyeliner running down her flushed cheeks, which makes her look like a zombie cheerleader in uniform. "I so was worried something went wrong, and you got caught..." she trails off, wringing her hands.
"I was going to come tell you. I swear I was. I just didn&apos;t know how to find your room, and then—"
"And you couldn&apos;t ask Zara?" Jess doesn&apos;t let me finish.
"I&apos;m sure she was," Jess spits. "She completely forgot about me. I thought you got caught. I was so freaked out I barely slept all night! And then neither of you showed up for breakfast... do you know how scared I was, Sofie?"
"I thought I was her best friend," she shouts. "And she didn&apos;t even care enough to tell me."
Jess is back!!! Who&apos;s happy? Who wishes she&apos;d ran away? Was this what you expected? and what do you think she&apos;ll do next?
For anyone who missed the news, Jess eventually gets her own book. I already started writing it, so I hope there are at least a few Jess fans out there!