We are wolven, lupine, running across the playground as if nothing else exists, skidding on dandelions and cracking knees into plastic slides. The games seem genetic, inherent to us. “Miss Suzy had a steamboat” not learned so much as encoded. Then wolves evolve into dogs by Pavlov’s recess bell, and dogs evolve to children in classrooms wiping stuck wood chips off of leggings and shorts.

Substitute teacher to distract. Work as one. Stare into nowhere when he tries to teach fractions, sit rapt when asked question about UFOs. Classes move. Onto history. Rewards for good penmanship. We hold pencils with claws. Smell the wood of it, the timber in it. Think about this pencil rooted somewhere.

Fracturing the next year. New packs at new school. Rearranging. Tightening. Loosening. We begin to realize our bipedalism, realize our blunted canine teeth. But the animal still there. New fur. Betrayal. A friend lost to Teen Vogue, more. Hunt down the traitor and bring them back to me alive! Feelings of dominance, superiority. We mistake alpha for alone. We get taught alpha over everyone else. We become I. I am lost. Ranging loneness. Body changing traitor. Friends away. Excellent penmanship. Be the best One. Be the first One. Fight all else. I try to rid the we from I. All for none.