Never Cry Werewolf

by Heather Davis

  Oh, geez, my bad. For a second I’d forgotten the old guy was there with me. “Do we have to talk, Mr. Winters? See, I’m pulling a weed,” I said, ripping at something green. “I can totally do this on my own.”

  Mr. Winters dropped to his knees. “That’s a sunflower sprout,” he said, stilling my hand.

  “Fine.” I dropped the torn leaves and sat back on my heels. “Show me what to pull then.”

  “Shelby,” Mr. Winters said, adjusting the straw gardening hat that covered his balding head. “Attraction to boys is part of growing up.”

  “Attraction? Who said anything about that?”

  Mr. Winters waved away a bee that circled the bright red band on his hat. “Why else would you have gone into the woods after Austin?”

  “I didn’t mean to go after him, but no one was doing anything, and I’m probably the only one here who’s actually been in the woods for real,” I said. “Besides—he’s British. What do they know about camping and wilderness survival and all that?” I said, exasperated. “They’re too busy drinking tea and playing cricket. He would have been lost without me.” Okay, so that was a little thick, but I wanted Mr. Winters to let me pull my weeds in peace.

  “Hm…interesting.” He gave me a small smile. “Responsibility is a powerful draw, but not as powerful as sexual attraction.”

  “What? Can we just pull some weeds now? Please?” My skin felt all scratchy and prickly, and I didn’t think it was from the plants. Mr. Winters mentioning sex was even worse than the birds-and-bees talk my dad had tried to give me last year. At least then I could explain that the schools had already taught me all I needed to know in fifth grade. “Tell me, is there a weed anywhere in this flower bed?”

  Mr. Winters pointed at a clump of ugly-looking green fronds, and I yanked them out of the dirt. “Let’s go back to your stepmother,” he said in a smooth voice.

  “Her again?”

  Mr. Winters took the weed from my hand and set it in the small pile by his fat knees. “She said this kind of problem with the opposite sex is what got you into trouble in the past.”

  “She said that?” I scratched at my elbow with one of my gloved hands, in the process smearing dirt on my arm.

  “She told me a lot of things,” Mr. Winters said.

  “My problem is not boys,” I said, dabbing at my arm with the hem of my baby T.

  “Oh no?” he replied. “It’s not boys?”

  “No. But she would say that.”

  “Tell me why you think you’re here.”

  “Because Priscilla is evil?” I muttered.

  Mr. Winters smiled sadly. “Unless you open up, you’ll have trouble here at Camp Crescent, Shelby.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to open up,” I said, searching the ground around me for more weeds.

  “Your stepmother seemed very concerned about you when we spoke this morning,” Mr. Winters said.

  I glanced up sharply. “She mentioned Red Canyon, didn’t she?”

  He nodded. “How does that make you feel?”

  What? Was he serious? “Uh, I’m not a fan.”

  “I can assure you, you’ll enjoy Camp Crescent much better. You don’t want to jeopardize your time here.”

  Despite the warm sun overhead, I felt a chill, as if Priscilla stood behind me, blocking the rays. “I’ll try,” I said in a small voice. “You know, to open up and stuff.”

  “Good.” Mr. Winters hoisted himself to his feet, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “And I want to suggest that you think about putting yourself first, instead of worrying about other people. Austin has his own problems to deal with. And you are the most important person in your life. You can’t help other people if you don’t help yourself first.”

  “Yeah.” I grubbed around in the dirt for another weed to pull. “Sure, that’s probably good advice.”

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Mr. Winters said. He reached down to pat my shoulder and added, “When you hear the lunch bell, you can stop weeding for today.”

  Hours later, I looked up from my patch of dirt, which was now nearly weed-free. Surprisingly, that tiny accomplishment actually made me feel a little good. It’d been a long, long time since I’d pulled weeds. Back in Wisconsin, before Re-Gen, I’d helped my parents with all kinds of yard work. Mom had especially loved planting and watching things grow.

  I sat back on my heels and glanced over at the guys. Apparently, Mr. Winters had told them to put their shirts back on. In his black T, Austin must have been sweating big-time, but he looked like it didn’t bother him. Charles, on the other hand, appeared about ready to wilt like a daisy. He plunked down on the grass while Austin heaved another rock onto the decorative wall.

  Austin saw me watching him. He gazed back at me, his eyes glinting golden in the sunlight. A little shiver traveled down the back of my neck. Those eyes were dangerous.

  He waved, as if he expected me to come over, but I didn’t. I looked down at the dirt patch in front of me, pretending to look for more weeds. I didn’t want to get involved with anyone who might get me sent to Red Canyon. Not that the old guy was right or anything, but I did need to concentrate on helping myself at the moment.

  Still, I felt bad for Austin. I could only imagine what it must be like to be the son of a rock star, raised by hired people and not by your own dad. That had to hurt. And he was right—something about talking with him in the woods had been kinda cool. In our brief conversation, I’d almost felt like we understood each other somehow.

  I looked back over my shoulder at Austin, expecting to see him still watching me, but he’d gone back to building his wall.

  That was about the saddest thing I’d seen him do yet.

  SIX

  Shelby, you missed all the fun!” squealed Jenna, sliding into the seat next to me at lunch. She’d been assigned to the Muskrat cabin, according to Ariel, but still seemed to think we were going to be BFF. Not to be mean or anything, but she was starting to get on my nerves.

  In fact, several of the people were starting to get on my nerves. So far, in the line for lunch, I’d learned about somebody hooking up with a counselor at some other camp last year, listened to someone cheerfully describe their mother’s shopping addiction, and heard someone else speculate about Cynthia Crumb’s personal life. I’m sure the other kids were nice and all, but so far I was starting to feel like Ariel was the only one worth hanging out with.

  “I totally rocked archery,” Jenna continued. She slipped her paper napkin onto her lap, covering the bright pink shorts that matched her tank printed with butterflies. “I almost got two bull’s-eyes this morning,” she said, bubbling over. “Can you even believe it?”

  Ariel shot her an annoyed look. “Jenna, that’s so mean. You know she was gardening.”

  Ignoring Ariel, Jenna frowned down at the tuna casserole on her tray. “Disgusting. Well, anyway, archery was super fun. You would have liked it.”

  “Yeah.” I stirred the cheesy bits into the noodles, trying to disguise the grayish tuna flakes. Skeptically, I took a bite but found it tasted pretty good. Nothing like the ultra health food Priscilla had our housekeeper whip up all the time. Stuff like bulgur wheat pilaf and mushroom curry that I pretended to eat but mostly shoved in the garbage.

  Ariel, sporting another dark outfit of a gray T and black shorts, stuck a fork in her blue Jell-O and shoved her tray away from her.

  “Pretty gross, huh?” I said, giving her a nod. I really wanted to ask her more about Austin, but lunch surrounded by campers desperate for something to talk about was not the time.

  Almost as if she was reading my mind, Jenna said, “So, Shelby—give us the dirt.” Her loud voice attracted the stares of all the camper girls at our table. “You know, on Austin’s little problem.”

  I gaped at her. “What?”

  Ariel said, “Camp gossip.” She dabbed at her lips with her paper napkin and then balled it in her fist. “The kind people should ignore.”

  Jenna opened her mouth to say s
omething just as a woman’s shout echoed through the packed dining room.

  “Mr. Winters!” Cynthia charged through the dining hall door, tugging Austin by the arm.

  “This is ridiculous,” Austin said, shrugging out of Cynthia’s grasp.

  Mr. Winters rushed up to handle the situation. Well, rushed isn’t exactly the word. Limped in a hurry is more like it. “What’s going on, Cynthia?”

  “I caught this boy hanging around the office.” She leaned in closer, but I could still hear her say, “Trying to pick the lock of your door.”

  Everyone at our table stopped eating.

  Cynthia made a huffing noise and put her hands on her hips. “Sir, he was breaking in to steal back his stash,” she said in a loud whisper.

  A buzz of reaction rose up from the kids. Mr. Winters’s stern gaze swept around, silencing us.

  “Cynthia,” he said, stepping closer to the counselor, “we’ll speak about this privately.”

  “I should hope so!” Austin protested. “An unfair accusation…”

  “Let’s take a walk,” said Mr. Winters.

  As he and Cynthia marched off with Austin, the buzz took over the room again. Sven hopped up and flapped his arms around, trying to quiet the campers but really looking like he was doing aerobics, so nobody paid attention.

  “Everyone knows his drugs are locked up in Winters’s office,” Jenna said with a wicked grin. “Along with all the other contraband they find.”

  “I can’t believe he’s into drugs,” said Ariel quietly.

  “Charles totally saw him,” Jenna said.

  “What a gossip,” I muttered.

  Jenna shook her head. “Shelby, don’t you know? Charles’s dad just acquired Celebrities Exposed. Charles is digging for stories so he can bargain with his dad to get out of here. He totally bragged about it at breakfast.”

  Ariel shook her head sadly. “A Bridges scandal would be front-page news again. Austin’s dad’s a freaking rock legend.”

  Uh-oh. I felt creepy-crawlies run up and down my arms. Great. Just what Austin was afraid of, more tabloid gossip about his family.

  Jenna leaned over and whispered, “So, you were there, Shelby. What did he have?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  “Fine. Take all the fun out of this boring old place,” Jenna said, getting up with her tray. “Maybe you should work on your communication skills, Shelby.”

  “Maybe you should work on your drama addiction, Jenna,” countered Ariel.

  “Maybe you should work on your antisocial tendencies, Ariel,” replied Jenna, flouncing off.

  “She’s guessing,” Ariel said in a bored voice. “Spend enough time at these camps, you start to be able to guess why people are here.”

  I frowned. “My communication skills are fine,” I said.

  “Actually, I had you pegged for defiance issues,” Ariel said with a little smile. “You communicate okay.”

  Bingo. I bit my lower lip. “Well, you’re definitely not antisocial,” I said.

  “I know. I’m shy and misunderstood, but I come from a family of extroverts. That means there must be something defective with me, right?” She laughed it off, but I saw sadness in her eyes.

  “Families suck,” I said.

  Ariel shrugged and twirled the fork in her blue Jell-O. “You want any of this crap?”

  “No. I never eat anything blue.”

  She smiled. “Good rule.”

  We left the table with our trays and dumped the garbage in the trash can.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I can’t believe Austin would use drugs. He’s not a partier, from what I remember,” said Ariel.

  “He says the drug is some kind of medicine. Would he lie about something like that?”

  Ariel shrugged. “He doesn’t seem like a liar. He’s totally normal—especially when you compare him to his dad. His dad’s insane or something.”

  We stuck our trays in the pile on the counter and headed out the door.

  “Insane?” I asked.

  Ariel nodded, putting on her sunglasses. “Completely mental. Once, at my parents’ Christmas party, I saw his dad bite the head off a parakeet,” Ariel whispered as we rounded the corner of the dining hall. “A live parakeet.”

  “No way. Eww.”

  “Yep. Crazy old rocker dude.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  Ariel grimaced at the memory. “Austin thought so, too. He ran out of the party looking like he was totally going to puke.”

  “Why is his dad so crazy?”

  “He’s always been nuts. He’s nothing like Austin.”

  I nodded. “Austin seems so different. Kind of sad, even.”

  Ariel sucked in a breath. “You don’t know, do you?” she said.

  “What?”

  “Austin’s mom died.”

  “She did?” Oh, man. My heart started to beat harder. I hadn’t mentioned my own mom. Usually people didn’t get it—what it’s like to lose a parent. It’s easier to let them assume my parents are divorced like everyone else’s. I tried to keep my face normal while Ariel went on.

  “She was shot a while ago in some kind of hunting accident in Scotland. At least that’s what my parents told me.”

  A little shiver passed through me. Shot. No wonder Austin had problems.

  “Are you okay?” Ariel asked, raising her sunglasses to scan my face. “You look really white. Like beyond-help-of-bronzer white.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. “I’m fine.”

  “It’s shocking, I know. Could you even imagine losing your mom?” Ariel said. “I would freak.”

  I just nodded.

  She said, “Even if you hate your mom, you know, you can’t grow up without her.”

  Yes you can—I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I didn’t need Ariel feeling sorry for me. I didn’t need her making imaginary connections between Austin and me just because we’d lost our moms.

  Lost. Yeah, right. Why do we always say lost when we mean people died on us? Mom was not lost. And I’d spent the last three years trying hard not to lose myself. That’s what really happens when people die—the family left behind loses a part of themselves. A tiny piece. A tiny piece you never get back.

  Ariel slid her glasses back into place. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah.” I recovered a smile. “My stepmom’s pretty bad. She sent me here.”

  “Uh-oh.” Ariel stopped on the path to the cabin, putting her hand on my arm. “That happened to a friend of mine. It’s a stepmother trick. Your dad totally fell for it.”

  “She sent me here to get rid of me. I guess I really am normal.”

  Ariel shrugged, and we started walking again. “You know, I don’t think anyone is normal anymore,” she said. “Everyone’s got something weird about them. Something they think they ought to hide.”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, look!” Ariel said, pointing at a squirrel skittering up a pine tree.

  I shook my head at her. “I thought you’d been to a lot of camps—didn’t you ever see a squirrel?”

  She blinked at me. “My dad’s apartment overlooks Central Park. I’ve seen squirrels before. Not that I’m a super nature girl like you. That stuff about living in Wisconsin is true, isn’t it?” She lowered her sunglasses, giving me an appraising look.

  “Like I’d make something like that up to impress the girls of Spotted Owl?”

  “You’d be surprised at some of the stuff campers lie about.” Ariel smiled. “Anyway, I like your style. What are you doing here at the ‘most exclusive teen therapy facility in the West’ anyway?”

  I laughed at the little quote marks she was making with her fingers and said, “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

  “I can’t make it,” wailed Ariel two hours later.

  I glanced up at the massive rock wall in front of us. Handholds jutted out every few v
ertical feet, but even that wasn’t a comfort to Ariel, who was only partway up. I tightened my hold on the rope threaded through the harness and belay device I was strapped into. From me, the rope ran to stays at the top of the rock and then down to Ariel’s gear. By controlling the slack, I helped steady her while she climbed.

  “Come on! You’re doing really well!” I called out, trying to be a good partner. Actually, she was doing okay for someone who was afraid of heights. She’d begged the counselors to let her out of the activity, but they hadn’t budged. Everyone had to take on Crescent Rock, or so they said. Conquering a natural obstacle was part of our transformation stuff.

  From a platform at the top of the wall, Mr. Winters waved his hands. “You can do it, campers! Let’s go.”

  “You’re almost there, Ariel!” I yelled.

  “Oi!” Austin was at the top of the pack of ten campers on the wall. He must have worked everything out with Mr. Winters from the look of things. So maybe he was doing fine all on his own. That was a relief. “Ease up on the rope, mate!”

  His partner, Charles, let out more of the rope from the belay device, easing it through his guide hand, and Austin reached for the next handholds.

  “Check out this fake,” Charles muttered. “He acts like he’s never been to a brat camp in his life. He’s probably been sent away every summer since he could walk.”

  “Dude, what is your problem?” I’d been listening to Charles babble ever since we harnessed up with our partners and walked to the wall.

  “I don’t have a problem, not compared to the loser on the wall.” Charles ran his free hand through his short hair. “Judging by the goods in his backpack he’s up to his father’s old tricks.”

  “Maybe you should mind your own business,” I said, stepping away from him.

  Charles shrugged. “Common knowledge is everyone’s business.”

  “Uh…Shelby?” shouted Ariel.

  I glanced up and realized she’d actually gone up a few feet. Her face was pale and she looked like she was about to cry. I released the rope a little through my guide hand. “Good job!” I yelled. “Climb on!” It felt better to focus on something other than Charles and his gossip.