“Yes?” Ivy said.
“He’s clean. He takes care of himself,” I said.
“Are we looking at the same guy?” Ivy asked.
Brandon looked exhausted. He kept his coat on all day and barely stayed awake through class. It was apparent to me that the dreams he was having were taking a toll on his body.
“He’s probably doing drugs,” Abby said.
“He is not!” I defended.
“How do you know?” Ivy wondered.
“I just don’t think we should rush to judgment,” I said.
“But that’s what we do,” Abby said. She and Ivy laughed.
“There are signs,” Ivy said. “He has bags under his eyes. He keeps his hands covered. He’s troubled. This isn’t a pound. You can’t take care of everyone. You might have to let this one go.”
“Besides, you have this hottie waiting for you tonight,” Abby said.
“Ladies,” Mrs. Clark reprimanded. “Time to pay attention.”
Were my friends right? Was I choosing the wrong course? I was always the rational one in our clique—daydreaming and caring, but terminally practical. Though I dreamed of becoming a writer, I really wanted to be a nurse or a doctor. I wanted to help people and have a career that could be stable. But now nothing seemed stable. If I followed my head, I’d get back together with Nash. Not only would I be making the rational choice, but I’d be making my best friends happy. However, if I followed my heart, I was on an uncharted course with conditions possibly unfavorable.
After English, Mrs. Clark asked to see Brandon. Ivy, Abby, and Nash went on to their next classes while I stalled, straightening the contents of my locker.
I hadn’t been able to catch Brandon for days, so this was my only chance.
“Brandon,” I said when he finally came out of the classroom.
He held a slip of paper. It must have been a detention.
“You can’t run away from me here, too,” I said.
“I’m not running away from you,” he said sincerely. “It’s just it might be best—”
I couldn’t bear to hear him finish his sentence. “It’s my fault,” I said. When no other students were around, I pulled him into the crawl space of a vacant stairwell.
“Of course it’s your fault,” he said.
I was hurt. Brandon did blame me—though he was right to do so.
“Yes,” he continued. “I’m restless. Can’t concentrate. You’re not going to make me say any more, are you?” He grinned. He was wickedly handsome, and I was flattered by his romantic implication.
“Then why won’t you see me?” I asked him.
He took my hand. He laughed at my gloves, as they were just like the ones he was wearing. “I just haven’t been myself, and I thought it best if I didn’t complicate your life. I’m still having these strange dreams,” he continued. “It’s probably because I’ve had to make a lot of adjustments to a new school. That’s what Mrs. Clark said.”
“I thought she gave you a detention.”
“No, it’s a slip to see the school shrink. I keep having these bizarre dreams,” he confided. “I wake up exhausted, or I oversleep.”
“Are you waking up in the same condition you were in when you went to sleep?”
“I think so. My memories are still fuzzy, but it’s not like those times after we first kissed and I woke up . . . like I’d slept out in the woods.”
“What are the dreams about?” I asked.
“You’ll laugh. That’s why I haven’t told you—”
“You have to tell me.” I was adamant this time.
He paused. “It was like the one I had after we met on the hilltop. When I wake up I only remember bits and pieces. But by the time I’m out of bed, I forget it. I only remember brief images.”
“What do you remember?”
“It’s the same every night. I’m a wolf. Only when I run, I run like a man.”
He waited for my reaction.
“See—I knew you’d think I was crazy!” he said.
“No—it’s just that—” I began. “I’m afraid, too. To tell you the truth.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear it, but I think I know it.”
“Those first few nights—when the moon was full—those weren’t dreams, Brandon.”
He was startled and let go of my hand.
“I was there,” I said. “I saw it happen.”
“Then for the next couple of days—you said you woke up, and you didn’t come to school. Those were the days the moon appeared full. Then the moon waned and you don’t turn, but you continue to dream as if you are.”
“It’s not real, Celeste. It can’t be—I won’t allow—”
It was hard enough to prove Brandon’s transformation really happened and convince myself it was real. But for Brandon to accept his new fate could be devastating. Mrs. Clark was right. He should see the school counselor.
Brandon shook his head as if he was shaking the truth away from him.
“But you are so gorgeous and powerful,” I tried to convince him.
“But if I don’t remember, then it can’t be real? Right?”
“Maybe it’s best you don’t remember. Until we get you help.”
Brandon choked out the words: “What if I’m a monster?”
“You aren’t. You’re just stronger and more handsome . . . if you can believe that.”
“How do you know, Celeste?”
“I was with you.”
“The whole night?”
“Uh . . . no.”
“So how do you know who I am or what I do when you’re not there?” Brandon’s torment was palpable.
I put my arms around him. At this point, I didn’t care who saw us together. “Uh . . . I don’t. But—”
“Then neither one of us really knows, do we? How did this happen?” he asked. “How did this ever happen?”
“It’s my fault,” I blurted out. “I tried to tell you before. I was warned about the full moon . . . about the woods and the wolves . . . about the kiss. And now the moon, full or not, causes your nocturnal affliction or your bizarre dreams. It’s my fault this happened to you. If you hadn’t been bitten by that wolf. If we hadn’t kissed under the full moon. If I’d listened—”
“Celeste, promise me something.”
“Anything.” This was the moment that Brandon might be asking me to be his girlfriend—to stick by him while he went through his ordeal. He’d want me to bravely confront my friends and make our relationship public so I could finally support him the way he ought to have been supported all along.
He took a breath and stared deeply into my eyes. “Tomorrow is a full moon. Promise me that you won’t see me anymore.”
It was as if I’d just found out I’d failed every class I’d ever taken. I was devastated at the news. “I can’t!” I said. “I won’t.”
“At least until I have this figured out,” he said sadly, cupping my face in his hands. “I understand if you won’t wait . . . but you can’t contact me, Celeste. Don’t you understand? You can’t—”
“I know you. You wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone.”
“I want to be with you, more than you know. It’s just at night . . . it’s best that you aren’t around me.”
My heart broke. I’d finally fallen in love, and I wasn’t able to be with the one person I’d fallen in love with. I felt as if he were being shipped off to an overseas boarding school never to return. But Brandon was here—in my classes, the hallway, and the lunchroom. He wasn’t saying we couldn’t see each other because he didn’t care for me. He was saying it because he cared.
I didn’t want Brandon to leave our secluded spot underneath the staircase. I was afraid I’d never be able to be with him again. He must have felt the same thing because this time he took a chance he hadn’t taken before. He drew me into him and gave me the most heartfelt kiss. It hit me through my heart and down through to the soles of my shoes.
It was as if he was saying good-bye.
/> Brandon disappeared into the hallway as I sat down and sobbed.
I didn’t have anyone to talk about my problem with—no school shrink would have the answers. No one would understand. No person could help. No soul would believe me.
Or was there someone who would?
Chapter Eighteen
The Doctor Is In
Out of breath, I arrived at Penny for Your Thoughts to find the shop dark and a hanging sign with the word CLOSED.
I wondered if Dr. Meadows was sequestered in her back room giving another clichéd reading like she had given to my friends. Or was she giving one like mine—dead-on?
Whatever she was telling her client, it couldn’t be more important than what I had to tell her. I knocked until my hand hurt.
A man the size of several normal fathers combined, with a shaved head and more tattoos than skin, lumbered out from the store next to Penny for Your Thoughts.
“She’s closed today. Can’t you read the sign?”
“Uh . . . yes. It was just that sometimes she puts the sign out when she’s doing a reading.”
“This is her day to stay at home.”
The man could have easy squashed me like a bug. Normally, I would have gotten back in my car and given way to the large, tattooed obstacle obstructing my goal. But Brandon’s life was on the line and I had to drum up all my courage to get to Dr. Meadows.
“Do you know where she lives?” I asked in my nicest voice. “This is very important.”
I’m not sure what that tattooed man deemed important—or if he was going to demand details. I wasn’t about to admit to him that my new love was a werewolf.
He obviously didn’t think I was the type to be hanging around a tattoo parlor and didn’t seem to want to be further bothered by my presence. I waited outside his shop as he popped inside—afraid the tattoo artist was going to ink Dr. Meadows’s address on my back. Instead, he returned quietly and was kind enough to write it down on a piece of paper.
I followed his directions closely.
I arrived at a two-story cottage home that appeared delightfully magical. Wood-carved sculptures lined the yard. Orbs of every color dotted what must have been a summertime garden. Ceramic and mosaic tiles spelled out New Age affirmations. Artistic symbols of every religion hung from the porch. I was met with the tune of a thousand wind chimes clanging in the breeze. I knocked on her door.
Dr. Meadows answered. Her long gray hair was frizzy, and she covered her flowing blouse with a South American shawl.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Meadows. But do you remember me?”
I could see she was trying to place me. I was all bundled up from the cold.
“Were you the one selling candles for your school band?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting for them to be delivered.”
I lowered my hoodie. “No. I came to your store for a reading with my friends.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
“Please, I must talk to you. I need your help.”
“I wasn’t expecting company, but please, come in.”
Dr. Meadows’s house was not unlike her store. It felt warm and cozy, and the scent of vanilla greeted all visitors. Dreamcatchers hung against the walls, and amethysts and crystals lined every vacant space. Expensive-looking African and Native American artwork decorated her home as if it were a museum.
“You were right,” I said forcefully.
“About what?”
“About everything!” I was nearly shouting.
“Calm down, let me brew you some tea.”
“I don’t have time for tea. Do you remember what you said to me?” I asked.
“Uh . . . I do so many readings. . . .”
“You had insight for my friends—about their personalities. But when it came to me, you said, ‘Beware of the woods . . . of the sounds of howling. There could be outsiders who will turn . . . underneath the glow of the full moon.’”
“Ah, yes. I do remember.”
“Why did you say what you did to me?”
“It was just a feeling.”
“When I left your store, I decided to walk home. There was a blizzard. I got caught in it. And then, I was surrounded by a pack of wolves.”
“You must be joking.” She was as skeptical of me as I’d originally been of her.
“I’m not.”
“How on earth did you survive?” she asked.
“The outsider. He saved me.”
Even Dr. Meadows seemed shocked by the accuracy of her prediction.
“But why did you say what you did to me?” I pressed again.
“I just had a feeling, that’s all.”
“But it came true.”
“Predictions are often left to the individual’s interpretation.”
“You have to believe me. It happened just as you said—just as you warned me.”
Dr. Meadows was speechless.
“But it’s true,” I said.
“Are you sure? One message could be interpreted many ways.”
“Not in this case. Snow is snow. Howling is howling.” I tried to persuade her.
“It couldn’t be,” she argued.
“But it could. It did. You knew.”
“I did?”
It was then we both realized the impact of our situation.
She rose, her face glowing like a crystal in the sunlight. “All these years . . .” she muttered to herself.
I couldn’t believe it. I was having to convince Dr. Meadows that she was psychic.
“No one has believed you?” I asked.
“But you have free will,” she said in a daze.
“Yes, I do. But you predicted it. And I should have listened.”
She sat down as if her energy had been spirited away.
“It’s true, Dr. Meadows. Everything you told me came true. And now you have to help me.”
“Help you?” she asked, confused. “But you made it safely out of the woods.”
“Well . . . It’s not me who needs help, really. But before I tell you . . . is there some sort of psychic-client privilege—like an attorney-client one?”
“I don’t think so . . .”
“I mean this must be a secret.”
“Maybe you should tell a priest. Or a rabbi. Or a school counselor.” She was shying away from taking any further responsibility in the matter.
“No—I have to tell you. No one else will understand.”
Dr. Meadows was hesitant. “All right. Go ahead.”
“You said beware of a kiss underneath a full moon.”
“Yes?”
“I kissed a guy. And he changed . . .”
“Go on.”
“Into a . . .”
“An animal?” she asked.
“Well, sort of.”
“Honey, they all do.” She laughed. “That’s all you wanted to tell me?”
“Dr. Meadows, you have to believe me. There is a guy in this town, and when there is a full moon, he turns . . .”
“Turns into what?”
“A werewolf.”
“A werewolf?” Dr. Meadows was incredulous. This time she let out a laugh that shook the candles flickering on her coffee table. “Honey, now I think this may be something for the school nurse. . . .”
“Dr. Meadows—you have all those books in your store about witches and warlocks. I thought you believed it all.”
“I do believe in some—I’ve based my life’s work on the supernatural. I’ve seen and felt apparitions and other paranormal events. But I’m sure that I’m not the first person in the world who doesn’t believe in werewolves.”
“But you must. You are the only person I know who can help him,” I urged. “Dr. Meadows—” I pleaded. But the psychic remained silent.
“I only know what I told you.”
“You know things that others don’t. You need to help my friend. Before it’s too late. The moon will be full again soon.”
Now Dr. Meadows grew concerned. “This isn’t s
omething I can change with a moment’s notice. I have to consult books and spells. And . . .”
I saw dollar signs in her eyes. “I just have a small allowance. But I’ll give you all of it—”
She studied me, as if now realizing that I might be telling her the truth.
“This must remain a secret,” I said. “You are the only person I’ve told. Not even my best friends or my parents know what happened.”
“I will need to observe him. Both when the moon is waxing and of course when it is full.”
“I don’t think that is possible now. He’s forbidden me to see him.”
“He is angry?” she asked. “He blames you? Us?” She was suddenly afraid. “You haven’t told him where I live, have you?”
“Of course not. And besides, he’s not mad or vengeful. That’s the point. This guy is different from anyone I’ve ever met before. He refuses to be near me at night because he’s afraid he’s dangerous.”
“Well, if what you say is true and he is a werewolf, you must stay away from him. For your own safety.”
“So, you believe me?” I asked.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “But I must see him. As soon as possible.”
I gave Dr. Meadows a huge hug. Her warm personality crept through her embrace. Finally, part of my guilt was assuaged. “Thank you. I feel better already.”
As she opened the door for me, the wind outside was still. Dr. Meadows grasped my shoulder as if something overcame her. “You must never kiss a werewolf,” she warned vehemently.
She shut the door behind me, and the chimes rang out wildly. Suddenly I didn’t feel so at ease anymore.
I wasn’t sure how I’d convince Brandon to let Dr. Meadows meet him with the full moon approaching. He wasn’t keen on me being with him under these circumstances, and she wasn’t the kind of doctor who was certified by the medical board. How was I going to let a perfect stranger hang out in the woods and watch him transform into a lycan? There was so much Brandon was dealing with at once—but perhaps he’d be comforted by someone trying to help him. I decided to text him with my news. As I waited for his response, I continued research on my essay. However, I didn’t find any information on the effects of kissing a werewolf. I was so attracted to Brandon—by day and by night—all I could do was imagine kissing him. If I was warned not to, I wasn’t sure what the implications might be. Maybe I’d turn into a werewolf, or maybe it would be his demise. It wasn’t fair that I wasn’t supposed to kiss the one guy I was desperate to be with. Instead, I clung to his shirt as if it were him.
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