by Peter Moore
All at once a hammering headache and a tidal wave of nausea hit me.
I make it to the boys’ room and manage to ride out the nausea by splashing cold water on my face. By sheer determination, I manage not to puke. Over and over, I repeat in my mind, “Come, Merinio…they are curs, the filthy wulves…”
The nausea passes, but I’m still left with a pulsing headache. I don’t know why I’m getting these symptoms in the middle of the lunar cycle, with two more weeks before the full moon. The end-of-period bell goes off.
I have to get my books and stuff from Ms. O’Conner’s room before Math, so I work my way through the kids filling the hallway as I head back that way. I feel a firm hand on my elbow and I turn.
It’s Juliet. “Are you okay?” she asks, her voice full of worry.
“I just got this really sharp headache and needed to get out of the room. But it passed.”
“It must have killed. You ran out of class like you’d been set on fire.” She puts the back of her hand softly against my cheek. She has a concerned look on her face, and I feel rotten for lying to her.
“It goes away as fast as it comes on. I’m totally fine.”
“That’s a relief.” She smiles and her eyes crinkle at the corners.
“So you have a free period now, right?”
“Yup,” she says.
“How about that. So do I. Feel like doing something?”
“Hmmm. Maybe.” She pretends to mull it over, then turns to me with her eyebrows raised. “What’d you have in mind?”
A few days ago, Juliet and I found a huge, dark storage room at the top of an unused stairwell that was at the end of a service tunnel at school. It’s not like we were the first to discover it. Teachers don’t typically explore dank tunnels and custodians don’t care enough to check, so it’s turned into a make-out room.
The only light is from a red exit sign by the door, which gives the place kind of a risqué atmosphere. Not inappropriate, given what people are doing in here. Juliet seems to really like kissing, and that makes two of us.
I’ve noticed that her tongue keeps going to my eyeteeth, feeling and exploring them. Today she pulls back after about five minutes and kisses my ear. It sends a chill through me. She makes a hmm sound and bites my earlobe. I jerk like I just got an electric shock.
She laughs quietly in my ear. “I guess you like that,” she whispers, her breath hot and tickling. Okay, this is going to get me going. Since there’s no cold shower nearby, I’d better put the fire out for now, or I’m going to end up with an awkward situation.
I break the kiss and pull a few inches away. “What’s with those teeth?” I ask quietly.
“Which teeth?”
“Um, well you seem to go back to these teeth a lot.” I point with two fingers.
“I’m curious, I guess. Those are the teeth, right?”
“Yeah, those are the teeth,” I whisper.
“They feel the same as your other teeth.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“I don’t know. I just thought they’d be different. I told you, I haven’t really done this before. Not with a vamp.”
“Not with a vamp, but with more humans than you can remember?”
“Yeah, with every guy in Millbrook.” She punches me in the arm.
Down this road lies trouble. Change course. “Anyway. Those teeth are basically the same as all the other ones now.”
“How often do you get them filed down?”
“Depends. Whenever they get longer and sharper than the other teeth. You think I need filing?”
“I can’t remember. Guess I’ll have to check again.” She presses her lips back to mine.
We don’t have much time before next period. I can see fine, even in this low light, so I take her hand and lead her to the steel fire door that opens onto the stairway.
We step out into the light and almost bump right into a couple heading in.
Gunther Hoering and Alana Gibson.
“Well, well, well,” Gunther says. “What were you two lovebirds doing in there?”
“Excuse me,” I mumble, trying to move past him. I grip Juliet’s hand a little tighter.
“Whoa, easy there, Romeo. Slow down. Wait. Romeo. And your name is Juliet, right? How about that?”
“That’s funny,” Alana Gibson says.
“Yeah, hysterical,” I say, trying to move past Gunther again.
This time he puts his fingertips against my chest. “Hold on,” he says.
I don’t push forward. I don’t want to do this in front of Juliet.
“Let’s look at this situation for a minute,” Gunther says. He slowly wags his finger at Juliet, and talks like he’s solving a calculus problem. “Now, you’re human, I know that. And he’s…well, we know what he is.” He shakes his head, frowning with exaggerated disappointment. “Didn’t you two pay attention in health class? Don’t you know about the dangers of interspecies coupling?”
Juliet’s cheeks are going red. I turn back to Gunther. “We have to go to class. Can you please get out of the way?”
He’s standing one step below me and we’re eye to eye. I can smell pizza and cherry Synheme on his breath when he talks. “Now, just relax. I’m doing a public service here. A little Sex Ed to make sure everyone stays safe.” His eyes locked on mine, he says, “I mean, don’t you think it’s only fair that Juliet here knows what risks she’s facing? Do you know, Juliet? Do you realize what genetic filth your little friend has in him? It’s in every cell in his body. It’s in every hair. And every body fluid.”
I’m trying to keep my breathing steady, but my heart is pounding and I’m trying hard not to lose my temper.
But Gunther isn’t done. “You don’t want to be contaminated by him, do you? I mean even from just casual contact…you could get rabies. Or at the very least, fleas.”
My hand clenches into a fist. I’d love to punch those stubby fangs right into the back of his throat.
“Don’t do it,” Juliet says. “He just wants an excuse to hurt you.”
“Oh, I’m not going to hurt him,” Gunther says. “I’m a lover, not a fighter. I’ll let him hit me. And then he’ll get expelled. And we’ll be one step closer to a scum-free school.”
Juliet puts both of her hands on my arm and moves in close, her mouth next to my ear. “Don’t. He’s right, you’ll get expelled.”
“I don’t care.” My voice is low. Quiet, but shaky.
“Well, I do. I don’t want to be at Carpathia without you. And who knows where you’ll end up?”
I swallow. She’s right.
“I’m not going to hit you,” I say. “I’ll just stand here until you decide to get out of my way. You can spend the rest of the period talking to me instead of going up there with your girlfriend.” I fold my arms in front of me.
Gunther tilts his head a little to the left, confused. I don’t think he’s used to things not going the way he plans.
Alana tugs at his arm. “Let’s just go. This is boring.”
Gunther looks frustrated, but he steps aside, pulling Alana by the hand. He makes sure to push his shoulder against mine as he passes. I ignore it.
The fire door shuts behind them with a clang.
Juliet smiles at me and squeezes my hand. I’m not sure if I won, but I know I didn’t lose.
Juliet had to hurry to her locker, and I have to get to mine before Org Chem. At least the halls are mostly empty now, so I’ll be able to get there faster. Then, from the cross hall, I hear a female voice call, “Hey, stop. I need to talk to you.”
Jessica. She never talks to me in school. She’s going to want to know where I’ve been, but I can’t get into the whole thing with her, not until we get everything worked out.
“You know, people can see you talking to me. We’re in public,” I say.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Not much. I’m going to my locker.” The kids in the hallway walk faster as it gets closer to second b
ell.
“Don’t be funny.”
“Can’t help it. But I really am going to my locker, so if you want to talk to me—again, right out in public, where anyone could see—then you’ll have to walk with me.”
I start off down the hallway, and she follows. “Seriously,” she says. “What’s the deal? Why are you staying at…his house?”
We get to my locker. I shove my books under her arm and start turning the dial.
“Stop being a jerk. Did you move out permanently?” She frowns at my books.
“That would be a dream come true for you, huh?”
“Mom is all in a bitchy mood, yelling at me and Paige…She’s snapping at Troy, too. And it all started the second you left, but she won’t tell us what it’s about. So what’s the deal?”
I start digging through the mess to find my notebook for Math. “I guess that’s between you guys and her,” I say, wondering why Mom would be irritable. Guilt, maybe? Whatever.
Claire passes behind Jessica, does a double take, and widens her eyes like she saw a ghost. I shrug, like, Don’t ask me. Claire smiles, shakes her head, and moves on.
“Something’s going on and nobody’s talking about it,” Jess says.
She is my sister, and she probably has a right to know. I could tell her. That is, if I want the girl with possibly the biggest mouth in school to know stuff that could put my life in jeopardy.
There goes second bell. Well, I’m late now, and I have five more minutes before another point is taken off my grade, so I might as well slow down. I take a long look at my watch. “Now it’s almost a minute we’ve been talking. I’m thinking they’re going to banish you from civilization.”
She turns red. “Danny, I’m serious.”
“You’re serious? I thought you were Jessica. When did you change your name?”
Now I can see the muscles in her jaw clench. “I’m asking you to please tell me what’s going on.”
“Please? Wow. Okay. Basically, my werewulf genes are coming out, so I’m going to Change any time now, maybe next month, which means I’ll have to register or something, maybe go to a compound every month for the rest of my life, and our mother is disgusted and embarrassed, and that’s why I’m living with Dad for now.”
“You know, just once, it would be nice to get a straight answer from you.” She looks at my books in her arms with an expression like, Why am I still holding these? and dumps them on the floor. Of course my binder pops open and papers spin out all over the hallway. She uses her six-hundred-dollar shoes to push a few of them even farther out of my reach. Now, there’s the Jessica I know and don’t especially love.
“So thanks for leaving me and Paige to deal with her all alone. Have a good time hiding at Dad’s.”
“Listen. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I can.”
“Whatever. I hope you’re happy.”
She walks away. I start pulling the papers together, realizing I’m going to miss the next five minute interval and lose another point. Damn.
I’m packed in with all the other kids pushing to get out the front doors of the school. The cool night air feels good. Claire is waiting, leaning against the principal’s car.
“Was I hallucinating, or did I see Her Highness Lady Jessica condescending to talk to you in public today?” she asks.
“I’m as shocked as you are.”
“Did you tell her what’s going on?”
I laugh. “I might as well put it on the evening news.”
“Why are we still standing here? Let’s go.”
“I’m not walking to my house today,” I tell her. “I’m still at my dad’s.”
“You’re no fun.”
“You can come over if you want,” I say. “But it’s a farther walk for you to get home. And we need to be quiet; he’s on a day schedule for work, and he needs to sleep a few more hours.”
“And then you have the place to yourself?” she asked.
“I guess.”
Claire thinks for a minute. “I’ll come for a little while. I can’t stay out too early.”
We walk a few blocks to the bus stop, then sit on a bench and wait.
After a while she says, “I know this wasn’t exactly your choice, but maybe it’s better for you to be with your dad for a while.”
“Why do you say that?”
“No offense, but your mom isn’t exactly what I’d call easygoing, and your dad must understand what you’re going through.”
“Maybe,” I say, probably not sounding too convinced.
“I mean, there are worse things that could happen than having to live with your dad, right?”
“You mean like going through the Change and having to be locked up every month for the rest of my life?”
“Right. See, if that were…oh, wait. I forgot. That is going to happen.” She snaps her fingers and shakes her head. “Oh, well. Too bad for you.”
Only Claire could say a thing like that at a time like this and get me to laugh.
We watch TV with the sound turned down low so we don’t wake Dad.
Keeping my eyes on the TV, I say, “Anything new with Virginia?”
“It’s Victoria. And you know that’s her name.”
“Close enough,” I say, trying to keep the smile off my face. This is one area where I definitely have the advantage over Claire. Mention Victoria, and she goes all soft. “So, anything up with her?”
“She’s awesome,” Claire says. “I miss her so much when we’re not together. Let’s see. Right now, she’s sleeping. She’ll get up in a few hours.”
I don’t look at her while she goes on about the awesome things Victoria will do when she gets up—things like brushing her teeth and trying to decide what she’s going to wear—because I still find it disturbing to see Claire in love, or whatever it is.
“Anyway,” she says, leaning her head back against the couch pillow, “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. You think about Juliet all the time?”
“A lot, yeah.”
She laughs. “Who would’ve thought we’d both get girlfriends at the same time?”
“Not me. I wasn’t even sure if one of us would ever manage it.”
“It’s pretty great, isn’t?”
“Couldn’t be better,” I say. We watch TV for a few minutes without talking. I’m thinking about it, and if I can talk to anyone, it’s Claire. “Actually, it could be better.”
She turns and glares at me. “If you say there’s something wrong with her, I’m going to hit you so hard in the—”
“Take it easy. There’s nothing wrong with her; she’s great. The problem is with me: this whole Changing into a werewulf is going to be a real issue.”
“And you can’t tell her.”
“I want to, but I can’t. And I’m lying to her by not telling the truth.”
“So what are you going to do?”
I lean forward and rub my eyes. “I don’t know, Claire. We don’t even have a plan for my Change.”
Claire sighs. “If I had a solution, I’d tell you.”
I nod. We just watch TV for about an hour. Dad gets up around five thirty so he can get to the lumberyard when they open, pick up some materials, then get to a work site. We hear him getting dressed and going into the kitchen. The crawl on the bottom of the TV screen turns red and flashes the words Sunrise in 29:55, the seconds counting down with each flash.
“I’d better get going,” Claire says.
“I’ll give you a ride home, Claire,” Dad says, coming into the living room.
“Oh, thanks. I can take the bus, though.”
He holds a doughnut in his mouth while he puts on his jacket. Powdered sugar snows onto his shirt. I point to it and he brushes it off, onto the floor. “It’s no problem. Get your stuff.”
Claire gets her backpack and they leave.
After doing my homework I get bored and start wandering around the apartment. Since it looked like I was going to be staying for a while, Dad put Sol-
Blok shields over the windows that he hadn’t already bricked over.
In Dad’s room there are a couple of paperback mysteries on the table next to his bed. A metal urn sits on top of his dresser. It used to hold the ashes of his father, but he spread them in the woods years ago. Now the urn is filled with spare change.
There’s something I want to look at. I open the top drawer, and there it is.
The collar is made of Fibrex that can stretch to triple its size and still return to its original shape without losing elasticity. Almost indestructible, it’s tear-proof, with titanium clasps. It’s a faded light green, like all of the collars in this region, with faint rust-colored stains that didn’t wash out, clearly old blood. “Gray, Edward” and his Lycanthrope ID number are printed on it. It smells like sweat and animal musk.
I put the collar on. It’s loose, though my neck will probably thicken a lot when I go through the Change. Feeling with my fingers, I find the embedded plastic square with the computer chip inside. My dad’s entire medical history, blood type, ID info, next of kin—his whole life is encoded in there. It also holds the tracker.
“They keep track of where each werewulf is all the time?” I asked him a while back.
“Not every minute. It’s more for making sure that nobody stays out on the compound grounds after their Change. And for recovery.”
In other words, if someone gets hurt or killed in the woods or a cave, the tracker in the collar is used to find the body.
I take the collar off and put it back in his drawer.
After a shower I walk around the apartment in my boxers and T-shirt. I sure couldn’t do this at home. Mom would have a fit. I feel like a bachelor or something.
The refrigerator doesn’t have a whole lot to offer, so I heat up some leftovers and take the plate into the living room. Eating in front of the TV.
I can watch whatever I want, walk around in my underwear, eat when I feel like it, and nobody’s going to tell me what to do.
This isn’t bad at all.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll start to believe it.
The loud buzz of the doorbell wakes me up. The clock says 7:43 p.m., which means I’m going to be late for school. It takes a second for me to remember that it’s Saturday. There’s another buzz. Who’s here at this time of night? And where’s Dad? Then I hear the sound of the shower.
