MoonRise

by David VanDyke & Drew VanDyke

  Chapter 14

  A crisp autumn morning dawned in Knightsbridge. The last of the rising fog was just burning off by the light of the amber sun peeking its way through the clouds and it cast a hazy glow over everything. The leaves had begun to turn and the smells of nature in repose shifted from summer to fall.

  Just past my sixteenth birthday, my body had begun to blossom, a bit late by current standards but that’s common with exercise junkies. Suppresses puberty or something like that. Or maybe it was the change. Who knows, with this thing?

  My metabolism was spiking and I had so much energy to burn that I ended up running just for the meditative aspects of it. I’d finished my early morning climbing run out to the far top of the Canyon – yeah, to the locals it has a capital letter on it, the Canyon – and was taking a break before heading back. I’d found a picnic table that had escaped the moisture of the morning dew and I stretched out on its weathered slats, staring up into the dappled canopy of the sunrise through the spreading walnut tree above me. All was peaceful and quiet out here, even if it wasn’t in the rest of my world.

  I should have known that it was too good to be true.

  The sound of a revving engine broke the silence and I sat up quickly, heart beating faster, my pupils dilating as I focused in on the source of the disturbance. Shane Macdonald sat idling his tuned black Camaro, beaming at me from about twenty yards.

  Shane was a senior at Knightsbridge Christian High, and was also the new standout on our varsity basketball team, having moved to town during the summer. Starting center on defense and point guard on offense, six foot three with a curly mop of auburn that you just wanted to run your fingers through, a stocky broad frame and shoulders, and big hands to palm the ball. He told me he came from a school down in L.A., where he barely ever got off the bench.

  “They were all huge black guys,” he’d joked, and I could see he must have been overshadowed and outmatched – not because they were black, but because despite his aspirations, he just wasn’t as good as he thought he was. Not in a big city like L.A. Now it looked like he was enjoying his Big Fish in a Small Pond status. Our town was mostly white and brown, and let’s face it, Latinos are generally on the shorter side.

  “Hey Amber!” he called. “Wanna ride back to town?”

  I grinned and grabbed my things. I mean, so he’d got my name wrong. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? And when you’re an identical twin, chances are unless people know you really well, they are bound to make that mistake half the time.

  “Hey Shane. It’s Ashlee, not Amber,” I said, leaning down over the open passenger side window and winking at him.

  “God!” he laughed. “You guys are really hard to tell apart.” Dimples puckered his chiseled Hollywood jaw.

  “It’s pretty much impossible since you’ve only been in town what, a couple of months now?” I teased. “Still want to give me a ride? Amber’s probably still snoozing, getting her beauty sleep.” My sister’s idea of the perfect workout was something indoors, with music and a juice bar within reach.

  “Sure, no problem.” He smiled. “But she ought to know, a little less rest and a little more exercise doesn’t seem to be hurting you any.”

  “Oh, she gets her exercise.” I chuckled as I climbed in and belted up. “She just does it through things like cheerleading and being chased by guys like you. I’m the one with the runner’s high addiction.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” He glanced over, scrutinizing my face as if trying to memorize the differences between us by analyzing my laugh lines.

  “Don’t worry. Even most of our teachers can’t tell us apart.”

  “I guess we should be glad that you and Amber aren’t in the same classes at school. That would be impossible.”

  ”Yeah, we worked that one out years ago.” Different home rooms and class schedules whenever possible. Although in a small town, we still ended up with a lot of the same teachers. We sometimes swapped schedules when we were bored and wanted to liven things up. “Never let ’em see you sweat and always keep ’em guessing,” Mom used to say. I bit back a tear and put a smile on my face. I am so not going there today, I told myself.

  Instead, I took the time to examine Shane’s face as he concentrated on the road. There were quite a few switchbacks coming down the Canyon into the valley and I had to admit, the guy handled the car like a dream.

  “So, I guess Amber told you we’ve got a date tonight.”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Second date, right?”

  “No. Third,” he responded.

  I winced.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I told him. What’s a white lie when the truth is a bitch named Amber? Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister. But I don’t even think she’s human sometimes. Like Kim Basinger playing opposite Brad Pitt in Cool World, she rarely spends a day with the rest of us in the third dimension. Speaking of thirds, the third date is when Amber dumps them. She says if a boy’s not the one, she knows it by the third date. She said this when we were like twelve and for the last four years my sister has been nothing if not brutally consistent. I don’t know how she thinks she’ll know he’s the one if she’s never even met a “one” to compare him to, but she seems to think she’s got a handle on it.

  “Yeah,” he continued. “My big sister thinks I’m crazy. Says I’m playing way out of my league.”

  She may be right, I thought to myself. “I don’t think I know your sister.”

  “You won’t, unless you get caught makin’ out on Lover’s Leap. She’s the new chief ranger up at Knightsbridge Canyon State Park. Ex-Military. You know, the one who usually kicks everyone out just when the fun is starting.”

  “Oh, right…” I remembered now. “Amber says she looks like she’s got a cucumber up her butt and she’s trying to scrape off all the pricklies.”

  Shane broke out in a big belly laugh. “That’s so wrong,” he guffawed “and so right. That would be Jeanetta. My dad calls her the changeling. You know, like a fairy child, only meaner. Mom says it’s a recessive gene from my dad’s side of the family. Jeanetta just says that we’re all suckers programmed by society to be good little consumers.”

  “She may be right,” I said. I was thinking of my twin and her addiction to whatever brand-name thing was in the latest Vogue. “By the way, what are you doing out this way so early in the morning? I thought you lived on the other side of town.”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “That depends.”

  “Depends on what?” he countered. This was getting fun.

  “Depends on how good a secret it is.”

  “Oh, it’s good,” he assured me.

  “So, spill.”

  “Promise not to tell your sis.”

  “Promise not to hurt her,” I replied, not entirely joking. After all, she was my sister. In fact, sometimes I thought she was almost me. Other times…not so much.

  “Naw, this is good. Get this, I drove my trailer up to the ranger station and left it parked on the overlook. For once Jeanetta’s ranger status will come in handy, because she said she’d leave the patrol car parked nearby to scare off the townies and catch a ride back home with her creepy boyfriend Sean Gottlieb. She helped me decorate it with Christmas lights, and I had my mom pack us a picnic lunch like they do in the movies. Seafood ceviche, oysters, smoked salmon and capers, the works. I even have a bottle of champagne on ice in the cooler.”

  “Oh my God, that’s so romantic,” I said. And corny. To his face, I oohed and ahhed, but as I was listening to him, I was cringing inside. Here he is, going on about oysters on the half shell and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that besides being allergic to shellfish, Amber was probably going to dump him anyway, third date and all, and she had yet to go out with anyone, and I mean anyone, on a fourth. Oh, she’d say she loved the date afterward, but more like a good anecdote you told to your girlfriends than even for the sentimental value. It just didn’t come with a high en
ough price tag.

  “What type of champagne?” I interrupted his soliloquy. I gotta spare this guy just a bit of heartache, I thought. He is much too nice for my sister. She eats up nice guys and spits them out for breakfast.

  “Dom Perignon.” I breathed a sigh of relief. At least the alcohol would pass muster, but my sister is truly a brand snob. If you’ve got caviar, which she won’t eat anyway, it better be Beluga. “My parents had a bottle left over from the housewarming. Why?”

  “Um, Shane,” I began. How the hell was I going to break this to him gently?

  “Uh-huh?”

  “I’m afraid that Amber’s allergic to shellfish.” Okay, not so gently. Hey, I don’t do gentle.

  He slammed on the brakes and I was really glad I’d buckled my seatbelt.

  “Are you serious?” He looked over at me and I gave him a sheepish grin. Then he put his head between his hands and I swear I thought the guy was going to begin crying, but he was only pounding his head on the steering wheel.

  “Sorry,” I said. “But if it’s any consolation,” I added, “I love seafood.”

  Shane began to laugh, but it sounded more like a choked scream.

  “What the hell am I going to do, Ashlee?” he said. “I am so stupid, stupid, stupid.” Shane repeated the word “stupid” and punctuated with the head-banging-on-the-steering-wheel routine. “What kind of idiot doesn’t ask if his date likes seafood?” he asked. “I spend all of my money on this one idea and I don’t even have a plan B!”

  “How much are you out?”

  “A hundred bucks!”

  “Seriously?” I marveled. “Damn!”

  “She’s all I think about.”

  Oh shit. I was really going to have to get Amber to let this one down easy. He seemed really head over hind legs. Infatuated, I think is the word.

  “Tell you what…” I made a decision. “Drive by the bank. I’ve got a Christmas club I can cash out and she will never be the wiser. You can buy something else to make the date special. Maybe a nice filet steak and some fruit.”

  “Yeah, but what will I do with all the seafood?”

  “Eh, I’ll take whatever won’t keep,” I told him. “Yum.”

  So, when he pulled up to the bank, I hopped out, sauntering by my on-again-off-again beau Will Stenfield, as he was watering the grass in front of the branch. He glanced at me, then at Shane’s car, and he almost sprayed a passer-by. It was hilarious. Then I watched him seethe as I sauntered back to Shane’s car. Slam and Dunk, Ashlee Scott. Sometimes I really enjoy being a girl. I shoved an envelope of twenties at Shane as I slid into the seat next to him.

  “You know Ashlee, I really appreciate this.”

  “Just remember your promise.”

  “Promise?” he asked. “What promise?”

  Ah, how quickly they forget. I shook my fist at him. “Hurt her, I hurt you. Capisce?”

  “Capisce.” He was kind of adorable when he laughed. Maybe I was gonna have to go out with this one, I thought. Too bad I’m still stuck on Will.

  “Hey, you and that Will fella still goin’ out?” Shane asked me.

   “Not right now. We’re kind of in limbo.”

  “That’s too bad.” He seemed sincere. “So, who’s your plan B?”

  “I haven’t decided,” I said. “Got any ideas?”

  “Who, me? No, but if I think of somebody I’ll run it by you.”

  “Yeah, you do that.” I smiled.

  “Well, here we are.”

  “Yeah, thanks for the ride.”

  “Not a problem. Tell your sister I expect to see her ass jogging up the Canyon one of these mornings.”

  “Yeah, like that’ll ever happen,” I shot back as I watched him drive away. This guy was much too cute for Amber, I mused as I headed up the walk and went in the front door, only to find my twin sister waiting behind it.

  “Shit, you scared me.” I held my hand to my heart as it pounded in my chest. “And what is that crap on your face?” I eyed her. She was wearing one of our mother’s silky robes, which was always creepy, and like me she had her brunette hair back in a pony tail. It was the gunk on her skin that made her look extra-scary.

  “It’s an avocado herbalesque masque if you must know. And don’t try to distract me. Just what do you think you were doing with Shane Macdonald?”

  Crap.

  “You’re probably going to dump him anyway, Miss Third-Date-Termination Clause. And seriously, Sis, if you don’t let him down gently, he might never recover. He’s really got it bad, and he’s a teddy bear. But what do you care?”

  “I don’t.” She flashed me her most feline grin and flounced back through the entryway into the living room forcing me to follow behind her.

  “Amber, it was nothing. I ran out to the Canyon and Shane offered me a ride as I was heading back. No big deal.” What was I apologizing for?

  My family as a whole can be brutally honest, but when she’s got a mad on my sister can be downright vicious. Her voice rose to that superior mothering tone she affected when she really wanted to get my goat. “As you’ve decided to poach off my leftovers again, let me throw you a bone. I was going to cancel on the guy, but since you two seem so chummy, why don’t you be me for the night?”

  “You know,” I said, “thanks, sis. But I’m really not interested. If I ever go out with Shane Macdonald, I want it to be as myself.”

  Amber lifted her index finger as if to say ‘hold that thought,’ then brought the phone that I hadn’t noticed in her hand up to her ear. “Shane. Hey.” Her morning voice took on a calculatingly manipulative sugary tone. “Hey. It’s Amber. I just want to apologize for doing this on such short notice, but you and me, we’re just not that compatible. Now I know you’re probably disappointed as you were looking forward to our third date, but here’s Ashlee. And she just happens to be free.” She handed me the phone.

  “You are such a bitch,” I hissed at her as I held one hand over the speaker.

  “Grow up, Ashlee,” Amber tossed over her shoulder as she turned and flounced off.

  “Why should I bother, since it seems that you are mature enough for the both of us?”

  Weak, Ash, weak, but I was never as good at the repartee as she was.

  She shrugged and kept walking.

  “Hey…Shane.” While fuming at my sister, I still felt bad for the guy. “I’m sorry Amber did that to you. But the good news is, I’m not allergic to shellfish.”

  And with that, it looked like I had a date.

   

  My sister spent the rest of the day in bed with a migraine. Serves her right, I thought, if it’s real. Third Date Termination Clause Punishment. And yet, when I looked in on her before running off to volleyball practice, she was tossing and turning with cold sweats and fever. I put our tiff aside and went in to comfort her.

  “Don’t go, Ash,” she said, her eyes unnaturally bright in the room’s dimness. I could see her pupils dilated so far her irises seemed almost black, a deep shiny obsidian.

  “I wish Mom were here,” I told her as I stroked her hair, so like my own. “She was always so much better at this.”

  Amber grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. “Ashlee, don’t go!”

  “Oh come on, Amber,” I said suspiciously. “You’re not going anyway, and the guy bought a hundred bucks of seafood for you. Don’t be like that. I’m sorry you got a migraine.”

  “I’m not being like anything,” she said, angry. “I just have a bad feeling about this, that’s all.”

  For some reason this pushed my buttons and pissed me off more than it should have. Amber was always trying to control me and my life, and now she just wasn’t going to let me enjoy myself out of some twisted passive-aggressive impulse, I figured.

  “Forget it, Amber. I’m going, and that’s that.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead while prying my wrist out of her grip. “Get some rest.”

  She closed her eyes and whimpered, rolling over and pulling the blanket over
her head.

  A part of me was glad she was suffering. I’d sure suffered during the last few years from her bitchiness and rivalry. This was one of the rare times that it looked like I was going to come out on top, to get the guy, to be the winner in one of the innumerable ongoing string of sisterly contests I called life.

  I made sure to tell Dad how Amber was doing, and that I was going to go to practice and then out until my curfew at eleven. He nodded absentmindedly and kept grading papers from one of his classes, as he usually did in the evenings. Ever since Mom died, he’d seemed to live in kind of a daze, even after years, like he was stuck in the denial stage of grief or something.

  As I went out the front door I made sure to lock it, the glass reflecting me as I did. And though it seemed to be a trick of the light, I thought I saw my sister’s face instead of my own.

  Sure wish I’d listened to her.

   

  “So, are you horribly disappointed?” I asked Shane as he picked me up from the school gym parking lot after volleyball practice that evening. I’d dressed in jeans and a layering of sports bra, cotton short-sleeved white button-down with epaulets and a sweater over it all. Instead of a pony tail I opted for a French braid so that the one-carat princess cut diamond earrings showed, compliments of a comatose Amber and her jewelry box.

  Shane was in the typical uniform of jocks at our school – jeans, white high-tops and a baseball jersey. The car gleamed as if he’d polished it since I saw him last.

  “You know, I kinda knew I was hangin’ by a thread anyway. All the guys warned me about the Third Date Termination Clause, but I’m actually not disappointed at all.” It was the kind of humor that could hide a lot of hurt behind it. “I mean, you are the spitting image of each other.”

  “Maybe, but we’re not interchangeable, you know.” I frowned. Guys say the stupidest things and I was really hoping that Shane was more than another dumb jock with threesome fantasies of identical twins running through his head.

  “Right. Yeah. No. I mean, I know that.” He held the door open for me, smiling. “Your chariot awaits my lady.”

  “You’re such a dork,” I told him, and threw my gym bag in the back seat, then settled myself in the already warm car.

  It was wasteful, but there is nothing more comforting than driving out into the country on a nippy night with the windows open and the heater blasting. My feet were warm and my face was cool, just like I liked it. I pulled out my cell to check in with Amber. She was my sister. Though I hated her, I loved her.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re texting.”

  “Amber’s sick.”

  “Aw, tell me you’re not texting the evil twin. That would just be adding insult to injury.”

  Crap. He was right.

  “You know what? You’re right. Cell phones off,” I said, and hit the power button, then made him turn off his.

  “Satisfied?”

  I smirked.

  He laughed and pulled away from the school, my volleyball teammates watching. “So, tell me about yourself.”

  An open-ended question. Point in favor, Shane Macdonald.

  “Well, let’s see. If we’re talking stereotypes, then I’m the tomboy and Amber’s the vapid cheerleader.”

  “And…?”

  Score another point for Shane Macdonald. “Well, while I’ve got my sights set on being Valedictorian, Amber is busy securing the popularity vote for Homecoming Queen.”

  “Ouch!” He laughed. “Sounds like a little sibling rivalry run amuck. Must be weird having a twin. Well, if it’s worth anything, I think maybe I got the better deal.” He motioned. “Oh, and your cash is in the glove box, as I didn’t need to buy anything after all.”

  “Thanks!” I pulled on the handle and the envelope flopped out. I took it and slid it in my back pocket. I’d thrown my gym bag in the back seat and I was so not carrying around a purse.

  He looked at me funny.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re not going to count it?” he teased.

  “No. Should I?” The verbal sparring was kind of fun. It was the kind I did with my dad and my brother Adam before Mom died of cancer a couple of years ago. The family had seemed to lose its center, flinging us all away from each other. I winced and tried to put it out of my head.

  Shane laughed again, bringing me back to the now. He had a nice laugh. Musical, I thought.

  “So, what kind of music do you like?” he asked before I could.

  “Believe it or not, I’m kind of a country girl,” I told him. “Oh, I like most genres, not really into rap or hip-hop unless it’s got a melody you can sing to. And though I like alternative rock and contemporary Christian when it’s not all ‘Jesus is My Boyfriend,’ I also like pre-80s classic rock.”

  “Wow. And here all I wanted to know was what station you wanted to listen to.” He hit a few buttons and some crossover country sprang from the speakers.

  “Oh.” I looked sheepishly at him as he slid his hand into mine. Amber says guys don’t like girls who are chatty, but I’ve got a lot of guy friends, emphasis on the friend instead of the guy, and I was comfortable with them, mostly. Unless things became all, you know.

  “Aw, now you’re turning red,” he needled.

  “It’s dark, nimnoid. You can’t possibly see my cheeks.”

  But the funny thing was, I could, just fine. See his cheeks, I mean. Over the course of our drive through town and up the Canyon, my vision had taken on an incredibly acute clarity. What had seemed only a pale wash of illumination before had taken on a solidity of the full moon’s beams in patterns that I could easily discern. The stars seemed to wink at me, dazzling to my eyes as I gazed out the window and yet when I focused, I could see eerily into the underbrush as it sped by. My senses opened, and I could smell Shane’s musky scent overlaid by the acrid tang of evaporating alcohol.

  Evaporating alcohol? Huh. Mexican beer is more like it. Corona by the smell, I concluded as I tried to get the cloying taste of it off my soft palate with my tongue. I sneezed, reflexively pulling both our hands toward my face.

  “Ew!” He pulled his hand from mine and wiped it off on his jeans. “Bless you!”

  “Oh my God! I’m so sorry.” Mortified, party of one.

  Shane laughed and yanked some tissues from the glove box and handed them to me, taking some handy-wipes for himself. How guys manage to multitask in vehicles when their hormones are cavorting is beyond me. After using the lemon-smelling towelettes, which he told me his mom made him take along, he held out his hand again for me to hold. Good hygiene but not freakishly OCD about it. I chuckled. Gotta give the guy props.

  His hand was huge in both of mine and for some reason I became fascinated with it, running my fingers against his palm, exploring every crack and crevice of his skin. His palm was both smooth and rough, a mixture of textures that told a story with every scent and taste that came with my indrawn breath.

  “Ashlee, what are you doing?” I realized that we had stopped and I was nuzzling his palm with my face. He stared at me and pulled his hand away.

  I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, and pulled an Amber.

  “Sorry. I just think hands are fascinating, don’t you?” I giggled and exited the car before he could respond. I think hands are fascinating? OMG! Again, what the hell is wrong with me?

  “I think you’re kind of kinky is what I think.” Shane said it as he joined me in leaning against the hood. “It’s all right, it’s cool. I like it,” he continued, as if he was such a worldly senior.

  I took a few deep breaths and we watched in silence as the clouds passed patches across the moon. A mouse looked at me from the shadows and my lip curled up in a snarl. Better run, little morsel, I thought as I watched him scamper away.

  Shane caught me by my arm and wrenched me to a stop. I was actually moving to follow the mouse. What the – was I insane?

  “Hey, Ashlee. Where you going? Camper’s over here.” He pulled me toward him and it wa
s then that I noticed our now illuminated dining spot. It was enchanting, really. They’d done a good job. Then my stomach began to growl.

  “Oh good,” I breathed. “I’m starving.”

   

  Later I found out that Amber had woken up screaming, my Dad and brother at her bedside holding her down. She was babbling about blood and death and wolves and Ashlee and danger. When she’d calmed down sufficiently she dialed my number, which of course went straight to voicemail.

  Sure wish I hadn’t turned my phone off.

   

  Shane held the door open for me and I entered the camper. I have to admit, the place was cozy, like a redneck version of a Moroccan restaurant. No chairs, just a couple of matching futons, throw pillows, a fabric-covered makeshift table in the middle and a small refrigerator against the wall. A mass of Christmas lights followed the lines of the flexible A-top and he lit a few candles that let out a waft of evergreen and bayberry. A picnic basket sat on the table waiting and there really was a bottle of Dom Perignon chilling in the cooler on melted ice. A mass of Christmas lights followed the lines of the flexible top and he lit a few candles that let out a waft of evergreen and bayberry.

  I promptly blew them out. “You don’t use scented candles when you’re eating, doofus.” I told him. “Messes with the palate.” I cringed inwardly as it came out sounding like something Amber would say.

   “Duly noted. Now, get comfortable,” he told me, handing me a flute. After popping the cork on the champagne, he caught the foam in my glass.

  “To Plan B,” he joked, and we toasted.

  We dug into the smoked salmon with gusto and polished off the champagne with abandon. Maybe I was trying not to feel so guilty about being here with Shane instead of Will because I drank more than the two glasses we were allowed ever since we turned sixteen. Dad was pretty cool that way, but had warned us never to come home drunk unless somebody else drove.

  Funny thing is, I was actually enjoying myself. Shane was cute, kinda dorky, very jock-hunky and we were funny together in a city-boy-meets-small-town-girl kind of way. Don’t ask me what we talked about, but I seem to remember a similar taste in science fiction versus science fact. The champagne was nice and bubbly, but to be honest, a bit dry for my taste and I kept downing bottles of water like a reverse fire hydrant.

  “Damn, Ashlee, you’ve gone through six of those in the last half hour!” Shane laughed as he threw me another that I caught deftly out of the air.

  “I’m sorry! I love seafood, but the salmon is incredibly salty. And it’s a bit stuffy in here.” I motioned around the cloth-top camper. We sat across from each other, our dwindling gourmet feast between us.

  “I can fix that,” Shane said as he pulled back the blinds and left the fabric screens in place. I still decided to peel out of my sweater and maneuvered around him to the door.

  “I’m gonna get some fresh air. Join me when you’re done,” I teased as I slipped down the steps and out into the night. I pulled the shirt-tail out of my jeans and unbuttoned my button-down, tying it in a knot at my sternum. I still had my sports bra on so I was perfectly covered, I told my inner critic who sounded just like Mom.

  In fact, besides hearing her in my head, I could almost see her ghostly form walking down the trail. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, but she wasn’t there, thank God.

  The night blazed stunningly clear; the pine trees and eucalyptus opening up into a vast expanse of velvet sky. The breeze felt cool against the patches of my bare skin and my head throbbed with a twinge of a headache. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to draw in the serenity.

  I felt a cold wet trickle of water against the skin of my arm and gasped, then laughed aloud as Shane handed me another bottle of water. I turned to look up at him.

  He was so beautiful.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, ’cause you look a bit flushed.”

  “I know it’s considered cool to be doing it, but I’m really not much of a drinker,” I confided.

  “Yeah. Unless you count spring water. Wanna walk a bit? Might cool you off. Clear your head.”

  “Sure,” I said, and then immediately strode away, suddenly eager to see if I could find the mouse I noticed earlier.

  Shane grabbed his jacket and caught up with me and tried to hold my hand, but the minute we touched, it was like a combustion wave of heat flowed through my body.

  “Damn, Ashlee. You’re hot!”

  I scoffed, “Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “No, I really mean it, Ashlee. You’re burning up, like you got a fever. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I laughed, and I was. In fact, I felt great. Sure, I maybe felt a bit warm and I decided that if I took my shirt off, I was still covered in my royal blue sports bra. I tied my shirt around my waist and kept walking.

  Shane jogged up behind me as I finished pulling my hair up and off my neck. It was then that I put on some speed.

  “Race you to the promontory!” I shouted, and then took off running flat out.

  Now normally I am a distance runner, but at the time I had no idea what it was: the bubbly, the night, a hot handsome guy chasing after me. Before I knew it I’d rounded the bend at the place they called Lover’s Leap overlooking the Canyon. Story has it, many people have jumped to their deaths from these rocks over the years, pining for loves they couldn’t have.

  Only now I was the one out on the tip of the jutting rock past the sign that warned me not to.

  “Um, Ashlee, what are you doing?” Shane called from behind the wooden barrier.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights,” I teased, but when I looked into his eyes, I knew he was. “You are afraid of heights! Oh, that’s so…cute.” Actually I wanted to say “chickenshit,” but decided not to spoil things by being the bitch that I sometimes am. I walked back toward him smiling. “Now, catch me!”

  I don’t know why I was being a show off, but I decided to do a gymnast’s dismount off the rock like it was a balance beam. And I gotta hand it to him, he did try to catch me, but it was more like cushioning my fall with his body.

  The air rushed out of him as I landed in his arms, taking him to the ground and straddling his solar plexus. He moaned and wheezed, trying to get the oxygen back into his lungs.

  When he did, I kissed him.

  I didn’t plan it. It just happened. I’d meant for tonight to be a simple let-down, a consolation date to offset the wounding of my sister’s callous disregard for real people’s feelings, but it was turning into a bit more than I expected.

  His arms wrapped around me as he gave himself over to the lusts of every teenage boy. Though I normally would have taken it a lot slower and been more hesitant, I wasn’t a virgin back then, but almost. I’d only ever been with Will, a couple of times.

  I felt like my whole body had turned to heat.

  We made out like a couple of bandits, him kissing me and our tongues twining and before I knew it, I was nibbling on his ear, lathering my tongue and teeth upon his earlobe – until I heard a screaming sound, felt a ripping, and smelled the metallic tang of blood in the air.

  It was then that I realized that the screams were my own.

  Waves of excruciating pain washed through me as my stomach clenched around itself and my body curled up in a fetal position. Shane slid back and away from me and held his head, a look of abject horror on his face as blood poured from where I’d bitten off a chunk of ear.

  The pain inside me subsided for a moment. I caught my breath and had the wherewithal to say “9-1-1” through gritted teeth before my body betrayed me again. I would have wondered what was happening if it didn’t hurt so bad as I felt my spine snap and my ribs rearrange themselves. I heard in the background a very frightened Shane punching numbers on his phone.

  “No. No. No. NO. NO,” he cried. “Just hold on, Ashlee, I can’t get a signal,” I heard him say, and his voice got farther away.

  Now, I don’t know what
it is, but hearing his feet pounding down the trail seemed like the last straw that broke the camel’s back and with a primal scream, my body vomited itself into a new configuration. My face broke out into a long muzzle with extremely sharp teeth, a nose for blood, and a hunger for chasing down prey.

  I bounded after him on four legs.

  On four legs? A miniscule part of me wondered about that, but for the moment, the chase was all I knew.