Under My Skin (Wildlings)

by Charles de Lint

  "Except everybody's heard about Roswell," I say, "and who knows what really went down there. But for sure the Wildlings outbreak isn't a secret—it's all over the news."

  "Right," she says. "So we probably need to talk to one of those older Wildlings. Ask them if this has happened before."

  "Cory said something to me when I saw him at the mall. That I should look for a mentor to learn more about who I am."

  "Was he offering?"

  "No. I asked, but he told me my politics were wrong."

  "Your politics?"

  "Because I hang with Elzie, he thinks I'm into this whole feral return-the-world-to-its-once-pristine-state thing."

  "Yeah. She's talked to me about it, too. Do you think she really wants that?"

  Josh cocks his head and looks at me. "Wow, I'm surprised that she'd throw that one out at you, given the implications of so-called putting the world back to the way it was before humans came along. But she doesn't seem to have it all worked out in her head."

  "I know. She's pretty hazy on how all that could happen. But she believes that something has to be done and I'm with her on that, so long as it doesn't harm people."

  I nod. "I love that Elzie has such strong convictions about making the world a better place. And she's got way too big a heart to ever hurt anybody."

  Marina glances over my shoulder and grins.

  "Hey lover boy," she says, "your other girlfriend is still staring at you."

  "Shut up."

  "Maybe you should go over and talk to her. Or do you want me to?" She puts on a breathy Valley Girl voice and adds, "So, like, Josh, he really likes you but he's, like, so shy, so he asked me to, like, ask you if you—"

  "If you weren't my friend, I'd have to smack you."

  She laughs. "And get in trouble with the Principal again. And yet you're smiling."

  I am. But that's Marina for you. She always knows how to take your mind off your problems, either by finding something else interesting to talk about or, if that fails, being goofy.

  I haven't thought about what happened to Dillon for at least ten minutes.

  And I'm feeling much more optimistic about this whole business with Erik and him trying to out me to the Principal. If something were going to go down, it would have happened by now. But the intercom's silent and the only people who seem to be paying me any attention are Rachel Armstrong and her friends.

  Marina

  As we go to our last class of the day, the rumour mill out in the halls is in full swing. Everybody's looking at Josh, but strangely, they don't seem to be so concerned about whether or not he's a Wildling.

  Snatches of conversation tell me they're not ignoring the possibility that he's been outed, but are more interested that he supposedly has primo dope that he only sells to certain A-list people. They're also excited about him standing up to Erik and wondering why Gess got a two-week suspension, while Josh only got five days of detention. They think he must have some in with Principal Hayden, and half the kids I'm eavesdropping on say he's probably a customer of Josh's. The other half think Josh has paid Hayden off.

  Where do they get this stuff?

  There's also some gossip about Josh having used some kind of hot new kung fu on Erik, which is so preposterous I don't even know how that started.

  But Josh being a Wildling? Nobody in earshot—and I can hear conversations that are some distance away—has entirely bought that, except for the kids in the Purity Club. And you'd pretty much expect them to side with Erik.

  Josh is walking with his head down, looking perturbed about all this new attention.

  "Give it a couple of days," I say softly at his side. "There'll be some new drama and you'll be old news—just like last time."

  "Gimme old news," says Josh.

  I laugh. "Yet another good song title."

  We get through the last class, everybody impatient and watching the clock until finally the bell rings. Now we can get out of here and Josh can stop being on display.

  Except I remember he's got detention.

  "I'll wait for you," I tell him. "I want to get a head start on my history homework and if I go home, I'll just end up wasting time on the computer."

  We both know I'm not telling the truth, but from the grateful look on his face, I can tell he appreciates the support.

  "Thanks," he says, with a soft smile.

  My heart wants to melt. He's my favourite person in the world. I'll do whatever it takes to get him through this. Normal may never come our way again, but I want to be there with him for whatever does.

  "Come get me in the library when you're done," I say.

  "You got it, surfer girl."

  I obsess about it all the way to the library. Did he call me that because I love to surf, or was it a reference to The Beach Boys' "Surfer Girl" song which is sappy, sure, but so romantic?

  I know he's got Elzie now, but she's not here. She can't be here.

  But I am.

  Josh

  Desmond catches up to me on my way to detention.

  "I know I screwed up," he starts, but I don't let him finish. I need to shut him down before he makes a worse mess of things.

  "We're cool," I say under my breath. "Just ... you know. Next time try to think before you open your mouth."

  "There isn't going to be a next time."

  That seems unlikely, but I let it slide.

  "Do you have detention today, too?" I ask.

  "Nope. I'm the clean-cut one in our little group. Why would I have detention?"

  I roll my eyes.

  "Marina's in the library," I tell him as we reach the door to the detention room.

  He nods. "Maybe I'll go keep her company. Later."

  He gives me a punch in the shoulder, then heads off. I walk alone into the room, feeling like a character in some old Western movie entering the saloon, where everybody's gaze turns in the direction of the newcomer. I see Henry Still—one of the Ocean Avers—sitting by the windows and he flashes me a grin. Nobody's sitting near him. I hesitate for a moment, then take the desk in front of him.

  "Yo, Saunders," he whispers. "Way to put that prick Gess in his place. He's had it coming for awhile."

  It's kind of funny. Henry and I were friends in elementary school, but then in middle school, he got jumped into the Avers and it wasn't cool for him to hang out with me anymore. He went from being a guy I played pickup baseball games with, or we'd mess around on our boards, to a guy who sneers whenever he sees me coming down the hall. Where he used to have a cool retro-Afro, now he's got a buzz cut with designs shaved on the sides of his head. A half-dozen tattoos and a gangbanger attitude complete the change.

  Today—whether it's because all the Ocean Avers must know that Chaingang's been talking to me, or because of this business with Erik—it looks like I'm okay for him to relate to again.

  "The guy's a tool," Henry goes on. "Brothers are good enough to put track and field in state finals, but then he turns around and says how there ain't going to be no homeys in Heaven."

  "No talking!" Mr. Waggoner calls from the front of the room. He's frowning at Henry and me. "Unless you want another detention on top of this one."

  "My bad, Mr. Waggoner," Henry says. "It won't happen again."

  "See that it doesn't. I'm tired of seeing your face in here."

  I look out the window for a moment—doing my usual check for government cars and men in black—then open my history textbook. I might as well give this essay another go.

  Marina

  I'm at our usual table, facing the wall at the far end of the library with my textbook open, but it's pretty hard to concentrate on history when I feel like we're making history here in Santa Feliz. As world events go, this Wildling phenomenon must rank right up there with any of the big stories. There's never been anything like this before—unless it has happened in the past and it got covered up.

  Elzie told me that some of the older animal people, like this Auntie Min, have been around for centuries. H
ow's that even possible? More to the point, will it happen to us? Will we just stop aging? Ever since I took up the drums, it's been so hard to wait to be old enough to finally play in the bars, but I've never liked the idea of turning into an old person like our teachers and parents.

  Living forever. How weird would that be? It'd be like you were a vampire without the icky blood-drinking or having to hide away all day from the sun.

  Jeez, what if there really are vampires?

  There's so much we don't know. We really do need to seek out a more experienced animal person—though I suppose I should call them what they call themselves. Cousins.

  A big hand ruffles my hair from behind. I twist around to see Desmond standing there, grinning like a fool. We haven't been out of a group setting all day and it's been hard to keep suppressing the fury I feel toward him for outing Josh. I knew he was going to mess up, but I'd still been hoping like hell that he wouldn't.

  "Cool takedown on Gess, dontcha think?" Des says. He plops his big frame into the seat beside me. "Erik's been cruisin' for that since middle school. I love that it was Josh who set him straight. Did you see his face? It was hilarious."

  I can't believe what I'm hearing.

  "You can't possibly be proud of what you did," I say. "All you did was add to the crap that Josh's already had to deal with today. You owe him a huge apology."

  Desmond licks his index finger and chalks one up in the air. "Already done, dude. Josh says we're cool. No biggie."

  "Come on. Do you really think it's as simple as that? Josh could get beaten up by Erik's gang of jocks or disappeared by the Feds or expelled from school. And stop calling me dude."

  "Hey, ease up," Desmond says. "I call everybody dude. And didn't you see how strong Josh is? I'll bet he could take on all of Erik's dorkmeisters at once. And," he finishes with a satisfied smirk, "Hayden went easy on him, so he's cool in school."

  "This isn't some big joke, Des. It's a massive problem for Josh and he's already really hurting about Dillon."

  "Yeah, that sucked."

  "Try to respect how Josh wants to handle this. He needs our support, not the clown brigade."

  Desmond pushes his long blond mane back with his fingers, finally looking contrite.

  "I know I wasn't cool," he says. "That's why I told Josh I was sorry. It really isn't going to happen again, you know. I've got it under control."

  "You'd better."

  My anger is still bubbling under the surface, just waiting to vent, but I try to calm down. No one is perfect and discretion isn't one of Desmond's strong points. And I can't stand the hangdog expression he's wearing now.

  I take a deep breath.

  "Listen," I say. "It's been an insane day and we're all just trying to deal. Sorry for getting on your case, but it's hard to watch Josh going through all of this. You know how he likes his low profile and he says he just wants to have a normal life. That's starting to seem less and less possible."

  "Like I told Josh, I'd probably try to start over somewhere else if I were him. But man, it sure would suck if he really did take off. Love ya, dude, but The Gang of Two just doesn't quite cut it."

  "I'm with you on that, dude," I say.

  Then I punch him on the arm.

  Josh

  Henry falls in beside me as I'm leaving the detention room on my way to the library. I'm not sure I suddenly want to become pals with him, but there's no point in being rude.

  "So what's the deal?" he asks.

  "What deal?" I say, slipping my backpack onto my shoulder with one strap.

  "You know, you and Chaingang."

  I shrug. "There's no deal." He gives me a knowing look, but I stick to the story I gave Desmond and Marina. "He was just asking me about my band."

  "I forgot about that band of yours. You guys ever play anywhere?"

  "Just in Desmond's garage."

  "And you're still into surf music?"

  "Yeah, but also spy and hot rod."

  He shakes his head. "Why would Chaingang give a rat's ass about any of that crap?"

  "How would I know? You should ask him."

  That shuts him up.

  When we get to the library, he tips a finger against his brow and gives me a little salute with it.

  "Good slam on Gess," he says and saunters off.

  Marina and Desmond are close enough to see.

  "Apparently, I'm his new hero," I tell them at Desmond's raised eyebrow, "for taking Erik down a peg."

  "Good for you," Desmond says. "But he's not going to help your rep."

  "What rep?"

  "The one that says you're dealing dope."

  "I didn't think of that," I say.

  Marina gives me a sympathetic look. "Life's way too complicated."

  "No kidding," I say. "Right now I just want to get out of here and forget this place."

  Desmond nods. "Music or boarding?"

  "How about just vegging in the backyard? Your place, mine, Marina's—I don't care."

  "Sounds like a plan," Desmond says as we walk down the hall.

  He pushes open the front door and we all step outside. Desmond stops so suddenly that I bump into his back.

  "What's going—?" I start.

  But then I see them. A half-dozen men in dark suits are waiting for us, holding Tasers in that classic pose I've seen on way too many TV shows and movies like Men in Black. I don't know how many times we killed ourselves laughing over that movie. Turns out it's not so funny when it's happening for real and the weapons are aimed at you.

  How did this become my life?

  The day started bad with the news about Dillon and that business with Erik at lunchtime sure didn't help.

  Now it feels like the ground's disappearing underfoot.

  "Joshua Saunders," one of the men says. "FBI. We have orders to take you in. Surrender yourself and no one has to get hurt."

  I don't see Matteson or Solana or any of the agents I'd recognize. These are all strangers, their eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses.

  I have a wild impulse to change into the mountain lion, to just take off and leave them in my dust. But then I remember Chaingang's advice.

  Don't ever change where they can see.

  And I remember what happened to Elzie's friend Danny, how easily they took him down, even in his Wildling shape. Yeah, supposedly it was put on, but it still showed me how easily it could happen for real.

  Marina grabs my arm. "Oh, Josh ..."

  I shake off her grip. Moving away from my friends, I drop my backpack on the pavement and put my hands in the air. I step forward and it's like I've hit the slow-motion button on an old VCR. I'm being careful to not make any threatening gestures, but they open fire with their Tasers anyway. Three of them.

  I hear the whuft of the nitrogen cartridges in the handsets as they're discharged.

  One. Two. Three.

  I lose count.

  But I can see the darts coming for me, trailing tiny electrical wires.

  My body jumps involuntarily as the electricity hits me.

  Every nerve feels on fire.

  My vision strobes.

  There's a high-pitched whine in my ears.

  And then it all goes black.

  Marina

  When I see Josh jerking on the ends of those Taser wires, I almost lose control and shift into my Wildling shape. Not that a sea otter could do much good against six FBI agents. But that isn't the point. For one moment, I'm purely in my animal brain, seeing a pack mate in need and desperate to help and I just know I have to do something. I can't bear seeing Josh go down, twitching on the pavement like a landed fish.

  I don't know how he keeps from shifting into his animal form. I wouldn't be able to stop myself. Maybe the Taser charge is too strong. I smell the charge in the air, the electricity arcing through his nervous system, burning as it goes ...

  Desmond grabs my arm as I lunge forward.

  He isn't stopping the Wildling in me. He's stopping the girl whose skin I wear.
I'm stronger than him, though he doesn't know it. Faster, too. I know I could shrug him off and attack the agents, but there are too many of them and I don't want things to escalate. If I attack, it's possible some of the other kids might follow suit and then more people will be hurt.

  So I let Desmond hold me back while I helplessly watch Josh twitch on the ground. It's all I can do not to run and throw myself on top of him to protect him from the FBI.

  There aren't a lot of students around the front of the school at this time of day. Most of them just stand around in shock, but several have their phones out, recording the action. While some of the men in suits run up to Josh, a couple of the other agents try to grab those kids and confiscate their phones, but there are too many of them. As soon as the FBI agents begin their approach, the kids scatter in all directions. I know what that means. In minutes, Josh's capture will be on the Internet, where it'll go viral.

  Didn't these stupid agents even consider that? The PR fallout is going to be huge because people aren't going to see brave FBI agents taking down a fierce and dangerous Wildling mountain lion. They'll see bullies in suits Tazing some helpless school kid.

  No—not just some kid. They'll see Josh. My friend, whom I never even told that I'm a Wildling, too. And it's all because of Desmond and his big mouth.

  I have to contain my frustration and anger toward Des, though. There's something more important to worry about. Once this incident goes viral, the FBI will immediately go into denial mode. They'll hide Josh somewhere so deep and far from view that we'll never be able to find him. Whatever we do to help him, we'll have to do it fast.

  We watch as two of the agents grab a now-limp Josh under the arms and drag him down the walk to a black van parked at the curb. The other agents get into a pair of black SUVs parked in front of and behind the van. Moments later, the little cavalcade pulls away.

  "This is all my fault," Desmond says as they drive off.

  "Yeah," I tell him. "It is."

  He turns to me with a hurt look, but I don't cut him any slack.