by Sarah M. Awa
As Gavin locked the cabin, Mel scanned the clearing and the woods once more. They seemed tranquil and unoccupied. But the note kept echoing in her mind. She’d studied the ominous words during the past couple of days.
People like us should protect one another.
What might she and Gavin need protection from? Themselves, definitely. And—others? Government experiments or—or something worse.
But if that was the case, why weren’t they approaching more directly, showing their faces? Why use stealth? Didn’t they realize how shady and off-putting that was? Not the best recruiting technique.
Once she and Gavin were on the road, she remembered to turn her phone back on. Unsurprisingly, she’d missed a slew of calls from Pam. Mel gritted her teeth. Why can’t she just let me be my own person?
I’ll never let it be Pam. This curse is mine to bear, and mine alone.
There was also a voicemail from Dawn. “Caldwell, I need those last three articles by this evening,” it began.
Mel’s stomach flipped. What last three articles? Had more been emailed to her after she’d left campus? Why couldn’t people just turn in their assignments on time?
“. . . If I don’t receive them by then, we’re gonna have to print them with possible errors.” Mel knew how Dawn felt about that. “I can glance at them myself, but I don’t have the eye you do. Anyway, I don’t know where you went or why you’re not answering my emails. I hope you’re doing okay and this doesn’t become a habit. Talk to you later.”
Mel deleted the message and hung up. Sticking her phone back in her purse, she muttered, “Great.”
“Everything all right?” asked Gavin.
She sighed. “Well, I missed a deadline.”
“For the newspaper?”
“Yeah.”
“How bad is that? Like, stubbing your toe bad or breaking your leg bad?”
Mel thought about it. She’d never failed to meet a deadline before. “Somewhere in between, I guess—maybe a Charlie horse. It’s only a first offense.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
Yawning, Mel slumped back in her seat. It’ll be okay; my track record is still better than everyone else’s. Dawn will forgive me.
The scenery blurred as it whizzed by. The trees were mostly bare now, and the beautiful, bright colors of fall had faded into drabber greens and grays. An occasional red barn drew her eye, and once a yellow Corvette zoomed past, but there wasn’t much else to see.
Cozy heat poured from the vent. Mel wanted to nap but knew she ought to keep Gavin company and help him stay alert. Sitting up straighter, she racked her brain. Inevitably, her thoughts returned to the Organization.
“Are you going to tell your parents about the note?” she asked.
He nodded. “Of course. How is the group going to find out I did?”
An unsettling thought entered her mind: “Do you think they bugged this car?”
Gavin’s eyes widened, and he was silent for a long moment. Then his voice came back harsher. “They’d better not have—but Dad and I will search the car. Either way, I am going to tell my parents,” he said in a whisper so low she had to read his lips. “We shouldn’t face this problem alone. I don’t keep secrets from my mom and dad.”
Guilt stirred inside Mel. I’m keeping secrets from mine. No way was she going to tell her parents about what she’d become. Or about this Organization. She envied Gavin—Cara and Jeff had always been aware of his problem, had accepted and adopted him knowing. They’d chosen to raise a high-risk kid. Mel’s situation was the opposite; she felt like her parents didn’t know her anymore. There was an “old her” and a “new her,” and they were separated by a deep, rocky, frightening chasm. Her parents were used to and comfortable with the old Melanie, the daughter they’d raised, the promising young woman they thought she was. If they found out what had happened, how would they react? Cross the rickety rope bridge? Burn it?
It had been several days since she’d talked with her mother. Mel called her mom every week, but she hadn’t been home to visit this semester because her parents lived ten hours away, in Indiana.
Her thoughts jumped forward to Christmas break. Crap—what will I do at that full moon? What days is it on? Will I have to spend two full moons at home? The blood drained from her face, and she gnawed her lower lip as she checked her phone calendar. The moon would wax full again on December thirteenth, she discovered, meaning she’d transform on the twelfth and fourteenth too. You gotta be kidding me—that’s during finals week! She was going to have to beg her professors to let her take the exams early. Fantastic. More lies to spin. And less time to study.
All in exchange for misery.
As for the January full moon nights, they would fall on the tenth to the twelfth. Mel’s calendar said Wellsboro’s spring semester didn’t begin until the sixteenth. She would have to find a hideout back home. Crud. There didn’t seem to be a way of getting around that; leaving a week early for school would present complications. First, her parents wouldn’t be thrilled. They’d want to enjoy her company for as long as they could. Second, the dorms wouldn’t be open yet. Where would she stay if she returned here early? The Doyles’ cabin? For a whole week? She didn’t want to impose on their hospitality.
I can’t let it be my family, though.
Maybe she could ask Gavin, but not right now. Her forehead was throbbing, right between her eyes, and she didn’t want to think about anything. Slouching back in her seat, she rubbed at the ache and prayed it would fade soon.
Melanie and Gavin rode in silence for miles and miles, afraid to say much lest their conversation was indeed being listened to. The sun sank lower and lower behind them, and in the pearlescent sky, glowing threads of coral and goldenrod wove through murky violet and cobalt.
Headlights blinked on around them. The freeway had become an artery pulsing with red and white sparks. Normal people heading home from work to their ordinary families and horror-free lives.
It was fully dark—except for the glow from the streetlamps—when they reached the huge lot where Mel had parked her car. Relief washed over her to see the Honda sitting there, apparently untouched. What if the Organization bugged it? She didn’t have a clue how to search for a bug or what one looked like, but she could have Gavin and his dad help her.
She and Gavin stepped out of Cara’s car to say goodbye, and once again, he urged her to be vigilant. “Call me if you notice anything or if they contact you. I’ll do the same.”
Mel agreed and tossed her bag into her back seat.
Gavin started to climb back into the Nissan but added, “Don’t go walking around alone after dark, either. Please . . . be as careful as possible.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted smartly.
The corner of Gavin’s mouth twitched. “Gotta look out for each other.”
It was hard to tell in the dark—was he blushing? Her own cheeks blazed like a bonfire in the crisp autumn air. “I appreciate your concern. You be careful, too.”
He nodded seriously and said, “I am. I will be.”
Pulling up at the campus guard shack, Melanie saw Luis Vargas sitting inside the tiny building. When did he become a guard? She lowered her window a few inches to greet him.
Luis flashed her a charming white smile. “Hi, Melanie. How’s it going?” His smile vanished as he studied her face. “You okay? You look really tired.”
His polite way of saying “You look like hell.” Which I do. “I’m all right.”
I’m not all right.
“You gonna be in the library tonight?”
Crap. Tuesday. Tutoring. Melanie had a job and responsibilities, though they hardly seemed real at the moment. Or not as real as the wolf. She held back a sigh. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Will you?”
“Yep. My shift’s almost over. See you there.” With another friendly grin and a wave, Luis activated the gate, and it rose to let her pass.
She drove to her dorm first to drop off her bag. Hartman was dark and em
pty, a gloomy silhouette against the black forest. In the bathroom, Mel combed her hair, scrubbed at her face to put color in it, and dabbed concealer under her eyes. Then she trudged down to the cafeteria.
Dinner dragged dismally. Mel hardly tasted her food. She spent the half hour avoiding Jocelyn’s piercing green gaze, and Pam spent the time avoiding eye contact and conversation with Melanie.
Tutoring hours didn’t start until 7:30, and it wasn’t even 6:00, but Mel fled to the sanctuary of a far, deserted corner of the library. A musty tan armchair sat by itself, hidden behind a bank of tall, solid oak bookshelves. Curling up in the chair with one of her textbooks, she tried to read the assigned chapter. Before long, though, her eyelids grew heavy and slipped shut.
The sound of laughter woke her an hour later. She couldn’t see the people on the other side of the shelves, but her ears immediately registered that Timmy was among the coed group. Great. Mel attempted to resume her reading despite the distracting voices. Turning pages noiselessly, she prayed that no one from the group would need a book from back here.
At 7:25, she could still hear the girls and guys gossiping and giggling. Why wasn’t the librarian scolding them? It was time for Melanie to go downstairs and sit at the central bank of tables, where students could approach her for help with their Spanish homework. But there was no way out of this corner except to walk past Timmy and the others.
Mel grumbled to herself but stood up. Ignore them. Don’t look at them. Pretend they don’t exist. She clutched her book tightly to her chest, straightened her back, and held her head high. She strode around the corner of the shelves as if she owned the library, as if she hadn’t been cowering in the corner—
She froze when she heard Pam’s voice. “Hi, Aaron.” Mel recognized the flirtatious tone and pictured her best friend batting her eyes. Rolling hers, Mel decided to wait and listen. She didn’t relish seeing Pam right now, although better her than Timmy. Mel prayed one or both of them would leave soon.
“Is it true your roommate disappeared for the past few days?” said a male voice Mel assumed was Aaron’s.
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Alexis. Timmy. Bunch of people.”
Pam sighed. “Yes, it’s true,” she admitted, her voice heavier than a stack of dictionaries.
“I knew it!” That was definitely Timmy. Melanie imagined him leaning forward, triumph gleaming in his eyes.
She fumed. Mind your own business, you little—
“I thought you guys told each other everything,” said Aaron.
“I thought we did too. Guess I was wrong.” Pam sounded forlorn.
Snidely, Timmy put in, “She also missed a deadline—didn’t proofread all the articles she was supposed to. I wonder if she’s getting sloppy in her other classes, too.”
Mel clenched her fists and ground her teeth. You stupid, arrogant, misogynistic—
A female voice asked, “Where do you think she went, Pam?”
“Damned if I know.”
“She get a boyfriend or something?” the girl continued. “Luis hasn’t been missing. Some guy from off campus?”
Oh, God. Melanie squeezed her book even more tightly, the blood draining from her face. Her knees threatened to buckle, and she leaned against the sturdy bookcase. Please stop talking about me. Please, Pam, don’t mention—
“Not that I’m aware of,” Pam answered slowly.
Good. Forget that conversation. Forget his name.
“I think she’d go out with Luis if he asked her. I think he’d like to ask her, too.”
Shit. Pam!
“Wait, I forgot,” said her roommate. “There’s another guy. Gavin. Yeah, I wonder if she’s been with him.”
I am going to kill you, Pamela Jane Grazziano! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!
“OoOOoo.” Melanie could hear, smell, and taste the intrigue radiating off the girl and whoever else was listening. “Tell me about him.”
“He goes to Brookside. She met him at a volleyball game a couple months ago. . . .”
Blood rushed in Mel’s ears, drowning out Pam’s words. Rage burned in her gut and surged upward through her chest like lava. Her body shook with it, the warning tremors before a violent eruption. The air seemed to compress and then ignite around her.
She stomped around the corner of the bookshelves, eyes flashing.
Her footsteps faltered. Pam, Timmy, and the others weren’t right on the other side of the shelves. They sat at a table about thirty feet away.
It didn’t matter. She knew what she had heard. She marched on, a vengeful storm goddess.
They noticed her when she was about ten feet away. Timmy’s smirk broadened. Pam stopped in the middle of a sentence, her face turning bright red. “M-Mel. Hi. I didn’t know you were—”
“Some best friend you are!” Melanie growled.
“I—I’m sor—”
“What I do in my free time is nobody’s business! My relationships are nobody’s business! My life is nobody’s business! You nasty, backbiting vipers had better get that straight!”
Some of the people at the table had the grace to look ashamed, casting their gazes down at their laps. Tears welled up in Pam’s eyes. But Timmy kept grinning as if Melanie were the most entertaining spectacle he’d seen all week. “Good speech,” he said mockingly. “Maybe it’ll win you an Emmy.”
“Shut up, dumbass! Your vapid, egotistical, poisonous personality is a disgrace to humanity!” Mel spun on her heel and stalked away, huffing like a bull, ignoring the gawking from everyone she passed. She stamped down the stairs to the ground floor and headed for the table where Luis sat, but she couldn’t bring herself to face him. She couldn’t stay in this building. Correcting her course, she skirted around the bank of computers and hurried toward the front doors.
Luis spotted her and called to her across the lobby. “Melanie, where are you going? What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t look back. Outside, she sprinted through the freezing air toward her dorm. The wind bit her face, and she stumbled on uneven pavement, but she kept running. Tears burned in her eyes; sobs built in her chest.
Can’t go back to Hartman, she realized halfway there. Pam will come eventually. Mel dreaded facing her roommate again. How could she do that to me?!
Where on earth am I going to go?
The Sentinel office had a couch. She didn’t have her key, but the room might be unlocked; Dawn frequently worked there late into the evening. Mel didn’t want her “boss” to see her this upset or ask what had happened, so when she slipped inside the communication building, she headed directly to the bathroom.
The tears burst from her eyes as she stood in front of the mirror, gripping the cold porcelain edges of a pedestal sink. Her shoulders shook and her knees wobbled. The truckload of her exhaustion, pain, and fear crashed down.
Why is all this happening to me? Why did Pam have to gossip about me? Why did that stupid Organization have to bother me and Gavin? Why can’t everybody just leave me alone?! Why . . . why did I have to get bitten?! Everything’s gone to hell.
Her knees gave way at the remembrance of her dream about St. Peter. She slumped to the floor and bawled harder. Her chest felt ready to squeeze out black ooze at any moment.
Minutes passed like hours. Cold from the hard tile floor seeped through Mel’s jeans. Her emotional torrent ebbed into sniffles and long, shaky breaths like rippling waves. Embarrassment swam to the surface, but it was accompanied by relief. Good thing I came in here. That meltdown could’ve happened in front of Dawn.
Slowly, she picked herself off the floor. Puffy red eyes gazed mournfully back at her in the mirror, and she looked away. Oh. It’s a good thing I’m wearing my contacts. No doubt there would have been a golden blaze in her eyes, and what if Pam or Timmy or anyone had seen that?
My ears, she thought, realizing—her sense of hearing was still amplified. That had to be how she’d overheard the group’s conversation from thirty
feet away through a solid wood barrier. Maybe they had been talking quietly, since the librarian hadn’t shushed them.
Now that she was thinking more clearly, Melanie became aware of the putrid stench emanating from the stalls behind her. She wrinkled her nose, and her stomach churned. Got to get out of here.
She composed her features into a neutral expression. She had to keep up the mask. No one could know about her anguish and fear, and no one could help her if they did know. Not even Pam.
Mel clenched her fists as she walked to the newspaper office. Pam didn’t deserve the truth. She’d forfeited her right to it.
The Sentinel room’s light was on, and Dawn Fincher sat at one of the computers, clicking away with the mouse, arranging files in folders. “Hey, Caldwell,” she said, taking in Mel’s appearance without comment. “When’d you get back?”
Melanie blushed. “This afternoon.” She scuffed her toe and stared down at the floor. “Look, Dawn, I’m really sorry—”
The editor waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, don’t sweat it. Everyone slips up every now and then. Didn’t expect it from you, but I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
Finally meeting Dawn’s gaze, Mel wondered if her words contained a mild, veiled threat. “It won’t,” she said.
“Good!” Dawn gave a rare smile, but her businesslike expression quickly returned. “Speaking of good, you arrived at a good time. I got this idea for the next issue. Let me run it by you.”
“Okay.” Mel sank onto the couch, welcoming the distraction.
Around 8:30, she started to yawn.
“Sorry to bore you to death,” Dawn said wryly.
“Nah, you didn’t. I needed to get my mind off some stuff.”
“You sure you haven’t switched from decaf?”
Mel chuckled. “Nope. I mean, yeah; I’m sure I haven’t.”
“Well, hey, I’m not your mom, but you should probably go to bed.”
The thought of returning to her room made Mel stiffen. “Um, I kind of had a fight with Pam,” she admitted. “I’d like to avoid her for a while.”
