by Jeff Sampson
I turned back to Dalton and gestured toward the woods. We got down on all fours, our claws digging into the earth. And I led us home.
12
WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TELL ME?
I woke the next morning slowly, and well before my alarm rang. Somehow I was lying upside down on my bed, with my feet on my pillows and my head dangling over the foot of the bed. Through bleary, blurry eyes, I saw my rows of DVDs, my TV, my bookshelf. Misty, gray daylight spilled into my room.
Yawning, I rolled over and stretched my arms. I scrambled across my bedspread to my end table and put on my glasses. My alarm clock came into focus: a little after seven a.m. I had an hour before I had to head to school.
I fluffed my pillows, then leaned back against them and looked up at the ceiling. Okay. Last night. What all had happened last night?
And it came back to me, in flashes. The race to BioZenith. Fighting the guards on the roof. Dalton punching the man until his face was destroyed. Dalton turning into a wolf, then me chasing him. Me going all hybrid again. The girl werewolf chained to her bed. The shadowman watching her. Me dominating Dalton. Because I was his alpha.
Alpha.
Okay, so all of that was a lot to take in first thing in the morning, fresh off fading dreams of a world where I wasn’t some sort of paranormal monster. I latched on to the one that was easiest to process: the realization that, apparently, I was the leader.
I’d never thought of myself as a leader, ever. When it was just me and Megan hanging out all those years, I mostly just let her make decisions for the both of us. It was easier that way. Leading was lots and lots and lots of pressure, and pressure was what I did not want.
Or thought I didn’t want. Because as I lay there, staring at the stubbly patterns on my bedroom ceiling, I actually liked the idea. Here I was, at the moment the only girl surrounded by two boy werewolves, and I was in charge. They could be bigger, they could be meaner, but at the end of the day they’d have to listen to me.
And I realized, ever since I first met Spencer as a wolf, we’d been in that sort of pattern. I comforted and protected him when he was hurt. He and Dalton both looked to my lead when dealing with research, when deciding how to handle all this craziness. The past few nights Dalton had tried to lead me, but I’d made him go to BioZenith. I’d towered over him when he started to get out of control.
This new development maybe should have freaked me out. But I liked it. It made me feel, for the first time in days, like I had some semblance of control. Even the strange, mingling hybrid version of myself—Nighttime, Daytime, and werewolf all aware at once—didn’t feel so horribly strange. I was guessing it was some new transitional state, maybe, between human and wolf. All I knew was, when I first saw Dalton as a fully transformed wolf, being all three parts of me at once felt right. The emotion of Daytime. The strength of Nighttime. The instincts of the wolf.
Though I still wasn’t down with the no-color thing.
This was all programming. Right? I wasn’t a leader. I’d never been one.
But I hated that idea. That I was only strong because someone made me that way. So screw it—for that morning, I chose to believe I was the alpha because I made myself the alpha.
The thought kept me on a high that stayed with me through breakfast with the family, where I actually ate and chatted without my brain seeing strawberry preserves and automatically leaping to thoughts of dead Dr. Elliott.
The high didn’t last for long, though, because when I went outside to meet Spencer, he wasn’t alone.
He was parked at my curb, leaning against the passenger door. And in front of his car was Megan’s white, rusty hatchback. She too leaned against her vehicle, arms crossed, eyes on me as I shut the front door.
I started to walk slowly across my lawn, wanting to delay the inevitable awkwardness as long as possible.
That is no way for an alpha to react, girl.
Of course not. I sucked it up, held my chin high, and strode to face my two friends.
“Hey, guys,” I said as I drew close.
“Hey, Em Dub,” Spencer said. He spread his arms for a hug, but I hung back. Dejected, he lowered his arms.
Megan sauntered over to stand next to us. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of you for a few days,” she said, glaring. “I figured just showing up would help.”
I swallowed. “Yeah. Sorry. You know what, I’m glad you did. I’ve been so caught up in stuff that I keep forgetting to call.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Smiling at her, I pulled Spencer aside. Whispering, I said, “Sorry about the awkwardness.”
He shrugged. “It’s cool.”
“I need a favor. Can you go to East Knowe? That’s where the girl werewolf lives. Maybe you can find her.”
“How do you know she’s there?” he asked.
Behind us, Megan cleared her throat.
I glanced back at her, then back to Spencer. “I’ll tell you later. Just let me know what you find.”
We separated, and Spencer climbed into the minivan. As he pulled away, I said to Megan, “We’re all good. Let’s head out!”
She didn’t say anything, just went to the driver’s side of her car. I assumed that was as much of an invitation as I was going to get.
The door to Megan’s car groaned in protest as I pulled with both arms on the handle. It slammed shut loudly, and I cringed. Only a few days in Spencer’s and Dalton’s respective cars and I’d already forgotten how temperamental Megan’s was.
Megan got in on her side of the car and turned on the ignition. “Careful with the door.”
“Sorry,” I said as I buckled my seat belt. “But I don’t think Little Rusty was hurt any.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t call my car that. Not everyone can get a fancy car from their parents for their birthday or whatever.”
“Actually, I think Spencer just drives his mom’s…” I trailed off as she gave me a look. “Yeah, all right. The Little Rusty name is now retired.”
We pulled out onto the street and headed toward school in silence. The car grumbled and shuddered beneath me, and the smell of rusty carpet and cracked leather overwhelmed my nose. I cranked open a window and let a breeze rush in.
Finally, Megan said, “So, when are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”
“Hm?”
She tucked her long hair behind an ear and looked into her rearview mirror, then cast me a glance. “Look, I thought for a few days it was just that you had a thing with Spencer but didn’t want to admit it to me or whatever.” She cranked the wheel hard to turn down a side street. Little Rusty didn’t exactly handle turns like a dream. “But now you’re hanging out with Dalton McKinney of all people, too. A side of beef with the intellect to match. I mean, I heard you even went over to hang out at his house, and you never even spoke to him before a week ago.”
“Oh,” I said. My mind fumbled for a lie, and I felt a twinge of guilt. Was I really about to lie to Megan?
Why not? I had to lie to everyone who wasn’t Spencer and Dalton, didn’t I? My dad? The police? How do you tell the people in your life you’ve become something out of a horror movie?
Megan waited for me to continue, but when I didn’t, she said, “Monday morning you promised me that you would tell me what you were up to. You also said that you never wanted us to drift apart and that you weren’t leaving me for new friends.” She stared straight ahead, her expression steely. “But for the whole week you’ve been blowing me off. You don’t want to drive to school with me anymore. You ignore my phone calls. In the library yesterday, you obviously didn’t want me to be invited to Dalton’s stupid party tonight. Did I do something?”
“No,” I said.
“Did I make you mad?” Her eyes glistened with impending tears, but she brushed them away, defiant. She never wanted to cry in front of anyone. “Did you decide I’m not cool enough for you? Was the whole leaving-my-carin-Seattle thing some prank they had you pull to join their bit
chy little group?”
“No!” I shouted.
Megan slammed on the brakes, and we both jerked forward. She’d gotten so worked up she’d almost run a stop sign. A car that had the right of way on the cross street also jerked to a stop momentarily, then honked at us as they drove away.
We sat at the stop sign, the only car around, the engine gurgling and sputtering as it waited to move.
“What then?” Megan asked softly.
I took in a long, deep breath. I was trembling, and I could feel myself start to tear up. I swallowed, trying to keep the emotion from bursting over.
“I… I can’t tell you,” I said.
Megan slammed her palm against the dashboard, and I jumped. She whipped her head to face me. “Why? Why can’t you just tell me? What is such a big frickin’ deal that you can’t tell me?”
It would have been so easy to just say the words. I’m a werewolf. But I knew she’d think I was just trying to be a smart-ass, making fun of her when she was clearly emotional.
And I couldn’t tell her, could I? Not yet. Not when I didn’t have all the answers as to why I was the way I was, why someone wanted to kill me, why shadows followed me around at night. She’d try to help me, of course she would. Megan was many things, above all loyal. She was the one who’d forced me to see a nurse when all this had started, of course, had insisted on watching over me.
But she couldn’t help. This new world I was involved in had guns and fangs. If she got hurt…
I swallowed again and ran a hand through my hair. “All I can say is that I can’t tell you yet. I need to wait just a little bit longer.”
Megan snorted, pushed down on the gas pedal, and drove us forward.
“But soon,” I said, placing a hand on her arm. “I just need to figure some things out and then I’ll tell you absolutely everything.”
She didn’t answer. I pulled my hand back and looked down into my lap.
We drove the last few minutes in silence. She pulled into the auxiliary parking lot at school, spinning into a spot so fast that she sent a sheet of dirt and gravel flying into the air, then she unbuckled her seat belt and pulled her keys from the ignition at the same time, grabbed her backpack, and jumped out her door.
She placed a hand on the roof and leaned into the car through the open door. “See you at the party,” she said.
Then she slammed the door and stormed off toward the school.
I sat on one of the stone benches on the walkway leading to the front entrance of the school, waiting for Spencer to meet me. Kids walked past, laughing and chatting and bum-rushing one another. No one paid any attention to me. For the moment, at least, I was back to being invisible Emily. After the confrontation with Megan in her car, I’d suddenly felt like all the progress I thought I’d made in coming out of my shell was nothing but the world’s biggest sham.
Someone plopped down to sit next to me. I didn’t even have to look to see who it was, the smell was pretty familiar by now: Dalton.
He leaned into me and bumped me with his shoulder, offering me a smile. “Hey, Emily,” he said.
I met his eyes but didn’t return the smile. “Hey,” I said. “Uh, where’s Nikki?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, they won’t attack you this morning. Their coach wanted them to practice. Before classes. The cheerleaders, I mean.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good.”
Peering around conspiratorially, Dalton leaned in close—way too close—and whispered into my ear. His words came rapid-fire. “Emily, I’m so sorry about last night,” he said. “I don’t know what—I went nuts, man, and it felt good last night, but I woke up this morning, and all I could see was that man’s face, all hamburger and blood, and the way I jumped on you, and I felt sick, I felt like the world’s biggest asshole.” He raised a fist and pounded it against the uninjured side of his head as he leaned back from me and shouted, “Asshole!”
Some kids walking by stopped to stare at Dalton’s outburst, then laughed and walked away.
I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” I said.
“I think that guard will be okay. And you did something really good, Dalton. You found the girl werewolf.”
He shook his head back and forth. “That’s good, I guess,” he muttered. “I can’t believe the way I—I did such bad things.”
“Maybe it’s … normal? For people like us, I mean.” Our eyes met. “Did you go that crazy?” he asked me. “When you first started changing?”
I thought back to my first nights as Nighttime Emily. All the wild, uninhibited things I’d done. I had learned to get it under control, more or less.
But I’d never gone as far as I’d seen Dalton go. If I hadn’t been there to stop him from pounding that man’s face in…
“I did get a little wild, yeah,” I said. “You remember me at Mikey Harris’s party, right? I mean, I don’t go crazy in the same ways you do, but we’re all different. Spencer doesn’t even go wild at all.”
Brow furrowed, Dalton asked me, “Why?”
I shrugged. “We’re still trying to find all this stuff out, remember? But… I guess Spencer and I think it’s more like when we go Nighttime, a part of us deep inside comes out since we have no inhibitions.” He gaped at me, and I quickly added, “Not that I think deep down you’re violent or whatever. It may not even be that at all. We don’t really know yet. Hence all the research.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Hence.”
Again, he slowly shook his head. He looked away from me, across the baseball field at the overcast sky.
“Everyone thinks they know me,” he said softly. “The guys on the team, they make fun of me sometimes ’cause I don’t party hard. I don’t like it when they pick on people. I don’t get in fights.” Looking back at me, he continued. “But I get real angry sometimes. Real angry. I can usually make it go away with lifting weights, working out till I’m ’bout to pass out. I need to make it go away. I don’t want to be like him.”
“Like … ?” I asked.
He ignored me. “Lately, though, ever since all this started, I can’t bench-press it gone. And when that nighttime shift comes, man, Emily, it’s amazing. I can let it all out. Let it all go.”
Falling silent, he picked up his backpack from where he’d set it in front of his feet, opened it up, and pulled out an apple. He took a bite and went back to staring out over the baseball field.
“Well,” I said after a moment, “I’m glad it helps you. Our crazy shenanigans and everything.” I swallowed, not sure if I should admit what I was about to say. But if it would help him … “I can’t lie, I kind of like it too. How I have no worries when I’m her.”
I grabbed his chin, made him meet my eyes. “But Dalton, you have to start letting your daytime self seep in. You have got to keep yourself in check.” The command was as much for him as it was to remind myself.
Dalton took another bite of apple. “I know,” he said with a full mouth. “I will.”
“Okay,” I said, letting him go. “Good.”
“And there’s you too,” he went on. “I don’t know what it is, but when I’m around you during the day, I get all calm. Not even being around Nikki is like that. Not anymore.”
“Oh,” I said. “Dalton, I’m pretty sure that’s just—”
“Pheromones, I know,” he finished for me. “You told me that already. That’s why you’re always leaning on Spencer, isn’t it? He makes your brain stop running like you do mine?”
I didn’t answer right away. I somehow felt embarrassed. Because even then I was wishing Spencer was there to transport me away from my incredibly awkward morning.
“Yeah,” I finally said. “I like Spencer. He’s a nice guy. He makes me laugh.”
The first bell rang then, echoing over the schoolyard and mercifully cutting short the conversation. Any kids still straggling outside began to head inside. I grabbed my bag and stood up. Dalton did the same.
“Hey! Guys! Wait up!”
Dalton and I both turned to see Spencer racing up the walkway toward us, his hair mussed and a giant grin on his face. He stopped in front of us, panting as though he’d run the whole way here.
“I found her,” he said between gulping breaths. “I know who our mysterious werewolf girl is. You’ll never believe it.”
“Who?” I said. He wagged his eyebrows at me, so I grabbed his shoulders and playfully shook him. “No holding out! Who is it? Is it Mai?”
Spencer leaned in and looked between both of us.
“Nope, it’s not Mai. It’s none other than Carver High’s very own super-uptight class president, Miss Tracie Townsend.”
13
JUST LEAVE ME ALONE
Tracie Townsend. Perfect, prim, and perfectly, primly perky Tracie Townsend. She of the honor roll, the top of every class, the head of half the academic after-school clubs, the junior class president. Unfazed by the kids who made fun of her for being so… Tracie. Always hyper focused on being the best she could be.
And I’d seen her, the night before, chained to her own bed, in agony.
The girl had been going through everything I had. Not a crack in her summery armor during the school days. Well, not that I’d seen anyway.
“Whoa,” Dalton said. “I never would have guessed it was her.”
“Do you know for sure?” I asked Spencer. “Before we start calling her a werewolf, are you sure?”
Spencer nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah, I’m sure. Her smell was all over the place. I’m guessing all the perfume she wears at school gets washed down the drain when she showers. I saw her walk out of the exact house you told me.”
“Does she have any sisters it could be?” I asked.
“Nope, only child,” Dalton said. He stood tall, hands on his hips, staring at the front of the school. “Tracie…” A smile appeared on his lips. “Guess she’s not so perfect after all, huh?”
Biting my lip, I met his eyes. “Well, we both know that no one here at school really knows the real us. Why wouldn’t it be the same for her?”
