“And you didn’t.”
He smiled weakly. “No, I didn’t.”
“I should have trusted you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“I had to earn your trust.” He shrugged, wincing from the movement. “And frankly, most girls would have run away from me after what I told you.”
I nodded and reached toward his dressing. We didn’t have any time to waste. Austin grimaced as I pulled the cloth away from the wound. Ugh. It didn’t look good.
“We need to get you some real medical help,” I said, tying the makeshift bandage back in place.
“I feel fine,” Austin insisted as he rose to his feet. He swayed a little, then reached out to steady himself against me. I caught him around the waist, not letting him fall. He was in much worse shape than I’d first thought.
Austin shrugged me off and tried to stand on his own again, this time successfully. “I have to get to town.”
“No, we’re going to camp,” I said.
Austin nodded, and I saw a look of pain cross his face. “Shelby, I don’t know about this. What if I change at camp?”
“Austin, you’re really hurt. You need a doctor.”
“But what if I—”
“Stop! I’m not going to let you die. You’re bleeding badly. This is serious.”
He nodded weakly. “I’m afraid,” he said.
“I know, but we have to take our chances if it means you live. I’m not going to lose you. Not after…all this.” I bit back a tear and focused on holding Austin steady.
“We can’t,” Austin said. “I can’t let you—”
“You still think camp is this way?” I asked, pointing.
Austin nodded. “But what about Red Canyon?”
I helped Austin to his feet. “Don’t worry about that.”
He wrapped his right arm around me and we started walking in the direction of camp.
Sometime later, when I saw the fence, I almost keeled over with joy. But Austin and I were shuffling along at a steady pace, and keeling over with joy was pretty much out of the question. Painstakingly, we moved along through the thick brush that bordered the fence.
At last, like an answered prayer, we came to the gate. After I screamed into the intercom for help, the electric fence rattled open. Like some kind of desert wanderers, Austin and I staggered into camp.
Seconds later, Mr. Winters zoomed toward us in a golf cart. “Shelby! Are you all right? Oh, dear. Austin, what’s happened? Where are your clothes?” He stomped on the brakes and nearly fell out, scrambling toward us.
“Take us to the infirmary,” I said as I helped Austin into the passenger seat and then climbed into the back of the cart.
Mr. Winters hit the gas pedal and we whizzed off. We screeched to a stop in front of the infirmary. Austin moaned, holding his shoulder, and I hopped out of the backseat so I could help him out of the vehicle.
“Listen, Mr. Winters,” I said, feeling that the explaining needed to happen right away. “We didn’t mean to run—”
“Later,” he said. “Let’s take care of you kids first and then we’ll talk.”
“That’s my camper! Oh, Austin!” Sven came running over, looking ready to hug Austin to death.
“Sven, go get some clean clothes for Austin,” Mr. Winters said.
Sven ran off, and Mr. Winters and I each took one of Austin’s arms and helped him up the steps of the infirmary.
The nurse, an older blond lady still rubbing sleep out of her eyes, opened the door. Her jaw dropped. “What the heck happened?” she said, taking in his condition.
“He lost his clothes in a cougar attack,” I said, realizing I could tell the truth, partway at least. “He was protecting me.”
Austin rolled his head toward me, a weak smile on his pale face.
“Come on, son,” Mr. Winters said.
We got him into bed. Under the blankets, Austin started to shiver violently.
The nurse carefully peeled back the T-shirt fabric. “Wow. That doesn’t look good.” She unlocked her medicine cabinet and rummaged through it, coming up with something she injected into his arm.
“Is he going to be all right?”
“Honey, let me do my job.” The nurse slipped a thermometer into Austin’s mouth.
Mr. Winters caught my arm. “You need to get that looked at, Shelby.”
“Huh?” I glanced down at a scratch on my arm. It was one of probably a hundred on my body from trekking through the woods. “It’s from the hike.”
“It could use some ointment and a bandage. Sit down.” Mr. Winters pointed me to the chairs near the nurse’s desk.
I kept my eyes on Austin as the nurse tended him. He’d gone very pale and his forehead was beaded with sweat. It didn’t look like he was going to be out of the infirmary by tonight. What would the wolf do, injured and scared and locked in a room with the nurse?
Mr. Winters took a seat next to me and said, “I know you’re worried about him.” He sighed and scratched at his thinning hair. “You liked him well enough to run away with him into the woods,” Mr. Winters said.
“No—that’s not why we went over the fence. Charles was harassing Austin and threatening to have his dad print stuff in the tabloids.”
Mr. Winters held up a hand. “Shelby, we’re aware of that. After everyone noticed you two were missing, Charles slipped a message to a food delivery truck driver, promising him a reward if he’d make some calls for him. Apparently, the little turd—ahem, I mean, Charles—was trying to buy his way out of camp with tabloid headlines.”
I resisted the urge to say duh. “See!”
“All famous families have to deal with the press.”
“You don’t understand! Charles could have ruined Austin’s family.”
“Charles won’t be causing any more trouble,” said Mr. Winters. “We sent him home this morning. But whatever he had threatened, it still doesn’t excuse your running off.”
“No, but Austin’s different. The Bridges family is different!” Geez. How could I explain it, without explaining it? I couldn’t.
He put an arm around my shoulders. “Your heart was in the right place, but you have to help yourself before you can help other people, remember? You have to take care of you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing back all the frustration welling inside me. “I’m going to be sent to Red Canyon, right?”
“We don’t know that for sure. We’ll have to discuss it with your parents.”
Even though I knew it was coming, I still shuddered at the thought. I didn’t want to spend the next two months in a desert hell. If I wasn’t cut out for wimpy Camp Crescent’s rules, how would I do at a place where there were more rules, military drills, and even solitary confinement?
And Austin needed me here. Even if he was going to be okay, he still didn’t have his serum for next time, and for sure they’d be keeping a closer eye on him, thinking he was definitely a runner now. He had two more full moons to make it through during the camp session. But more important, what was going to happen when the moonlight streamed through the infirmary windows tonight?
Austin was still in deep trouble. And it was my fault.
If I hadn’t been with him in the woods, he’d never have had that run-in with the cougar—he’d have made it to civilization and called the chemist. If I hadn’t been there he’d have been home free. My hands clenched at my sides. It was my doing. My bad choice. My decision to go over the fence had brought us to this awful spot. To these consequences. I’d totally screwed up, and Austin would be paying the price.
Tonight he’d become the wolf. Tonight the world would learn the truth about the Bridges family.
I swallowed against the tight feeling in my throat. There had to be something I could do. Before I was bussed off into the Utah wastelands, I had to think of something, anything to get me closer to Austin’s serum. Which was in Mr. Winters’s office. Bing. Lightbulb.
“Um, can I call home?” I said, playing sad. “To tel
l them what happened. You know, to make sure they know I’m okay.”
A smile brightened Mr. Winters’s chubby face. “Of course! I’ll walk you over there.” The guy seemed to take it as some kind of a therapy victory or something. He jumped right off the chair and hurried over to his office with me.
As he unlocked the door, I said, “I’m gonna need some privacy. I’ve got a lot to tell my dad.”
He paused. “I’ll be in the hallway, then. If you need me, just holler.”
Great. Well, maybe that wouldn’t be far enough away for me to try to locate Austin’s serum in peace, but I nodded anyway, figuring at least I’d be in his unlocked office. He dialed the phone and then handed it to me.
Priscilla answered with her typical breathless, “Hell-ooohh?”
I said, “Hello? Uh-huh. Yeah.” I pretended to talk, waving Winters toward the exit. Then I smiled at him till he went out into the hall and closed the door nearly all the way.
Meanwhile, Priscilla was all “Who is this? I’m going to look you up on caller ID. Is this one of Shelby’s friends? She’s at camp.”
I held the phone tighter. “It’s me.”
Priscilla paused. “Shelby? Is that you?”
Mr. Winters ducked his head around the door. “Everything all right?” he mouthed.
“Great,” I said, sending him a forced smile.
“Shelby! Where are you? We’ve been so worried!” Priscilla babbled.
Whoa—it actually sounded like she was happy to hear from me. It was too weird and I couldn’t deal, so I set the phone down. I had work to do, anyway.
“Uh-huh. Yeah. I know. Everything’s fine,” I said in a loud voice so Winters would think I was actually talking to and listening to Honey Bun.
I tried all the drawers of Winters’s desk and went to the small closet at the back of the room. Inside was a large box, like the kind of footlocker my dad had in the basement with all his old college stuff in it. Of course, Dad’s wasn’t padlocked like this one. So there had to be something good in there, right? But how to get in? I mean, obviously I had to break the lock. But that would make, like, a huge noise. Winters would come running, natch.
“Shelby? Shelby?” Priscilla’s voice shrieked from the phone.
“Yeah. Well, let me talk to him,” I said, still playing like I was talking on the phone. I was almost out of ideas, but then I spied a camp walkie-talkie on the desk. Bingo. I clicked it on.
“Sven? Come in, Sven,” I said, pinching my nose so I could imitate Cynthia Crumb’s voice.
“Ya, dat’s me,” he came back.
“There’s a golf cart crash at the front gate! Get Winters right away!” I clicked off the walkie-talkie and set it on the desk. “Uh-huh?” I said, picking up the telephone where Priscilla was squawking away in case Winters checked on me.
A second later, I heard Sven burst through the admin building’s doors and shout, “You come now! Fire!” at Mr. Winters.
“I’ll be back,” Mr. Winters said, poking his head around the corner. “Stay here!”
I nodded, imitating a teen totally engrossed in conversation. As soon as he was gone, I set the phone down again, then picked up the brass statue of an eagle on Mr. Winters’s desk. Grunting in effort, I dragged the footlocker from the closet.
What I was about to do would be the nail in my coffin at Camp Crescent. But saving Austin was more important. I took a deep breath and made my choice. After a brief apology to the eagle, I swung at the padlocked latch on the box.
Crash! The head of the sculpture fell off and rolled under the desk, but the lock didn’t budge.
“Stupid bird,” I said, winding up for another swing.
Crash! I slammed the birdie down, which bent the metal holding the lock sideways. “C’mon.” I bashed it with the bronze bird again. This time the padlock came loose.
I dropped the headless statue on the floor, narrowly missing my toes, and then pulled the latch and lock totally off the box. I knelt in front of the box like some kind of treasure hunter and opened it.
It was treasure, all right. Bags of chocolates, Doritos, glittery eye shadows, dirty magazines, and all kinds of other contraband filled the locker. Enough junk to supply, like, five 7-Elevens. There were also cell phones and, I recognized, my own PDA.
Nearly drunk with the smell of Hershey’s Kisses and fruity gummy worms, I dug around in the stuff until I found a plastic bag buried under a stack of manga comics. Holding it up to the light, I saw the clear vials Austin needed. Yes!
I stuffed the plastic bag into the waistband of my shorts, along with my PDA. Then I threw the headless eagle into the footlocker. “Gotta go!” I yelled into the phone, then I hung up and ran. I only had minutes to get to Austin with the serum before they’d be back. Before they’d find out what I’d done.
“Help! Help! Flaming golf cart crash at the main gate!” I shouted as I burst into the infirmary.
“Oh, no!” The nurse grabbed a first-aid kit and then dashed out the door.
Austin moaned in his bed, turning over.
“Hey,” I said, touching his cheek.
His eyelashes fluttered, then opened. “Shelby?”
“Hi. I got it for you. Do you hear me?” I said, digging the vials out.
“You have the serum? How?” Austin murmured.
“Hurry, tell me what to do!”
“Here.” Austin opened his mouth wide.
I uncapped one of the tiny vials and poured the clear liquid down his throat.
He swallowed, then whispered, “Another, please.”
After a glance toward the door, I uncapped a new vial and poured it in his mouth. “They’ll be coming soon. I’ll hide the rest of your vials in the shoes and clothes Sven brought you, okay?”
Austin nodded weakly. “Thanks,” he said with a wheezing breath. His eyes closed again, and I walked over to the pile of clothes.
“Oh, one more thing,” I said, looking up from stuffing his shoes with the vials. “I’m putting my PDA there, too. Keep it safe. Call someone who can help.”
His eyes opened again. “Shelby?”
I moved back over to his bedside to say good-bye.
He reached out for my hand and squeezed it weakly. “I won’t forget you. Ever.”
My heart did a funny lurch in my chest.
Guys say that kind of forever crap all the time, but this time I believed it. Even if Austin wasn’t exactly a regular guy, he still counted. In fact, he more than counted—he mattered.
Looking at him, with his damp bangs plastered to his forehead and his eyelashes quivering as he struggled to keep his eyes open, I realized how much I cared about him. In fact, I thought I could maybe love him in the right circumstances. If things were different.
I sucked in a breath, feeling sad all of a sudden, which was totally wrong—I was saving Austin and that meant I needed to be brave. “You need to get better, ’kay? Just rest,” I said in my most confident voice. “I have to go now.”
Austin’s amber eyes looked a little glassy. “Tell them it was my fault. I broke into the office, I pinched the serum. You can’t take the blame,” he said sternly.
“Yes I can. This time it’s all mine.” I kissed him on the forehead. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go eat some major worms.”
He gave me a funny look, because of course he didn’t know I was talking about the gummy-worm stash in Winters’s office.
Yeah. To distract them from what I’d actually taken, I was going to stuff myself silly.
And then turn myself in.
SIXTEEN
Move it, move it, M-OOO-VE IT!” Sergeant Scabwell, his face red as a baboon’s butt, shouted in my ear for the, like, ninetieth time that mile. “SHELBY LOCKE! ARE YOU LISTENING?”
I swayed on my feet, the heat of the afternoon getting to me. The Utah desert is not kind to fair-skinned Midwest-to-Beverly Hills transplants. After ten days at Red Canyon Ranch, I was pretty darn sure hell did exist.
“LOCKE!” shoute
d Scabwell again.
I lurched forward but not fast enough for the girl behind me.
Her name was Randi, a skinny kleptomaniac whose bunk was next to mine, and she picked that moment to be a freaking bulldozer. “Go, Locke!” she said, pushing with her hands.
My morale, or whatever you want to call it, was so low that I hadn’t even complained about the T-shirt she’d stolen from my bag two days ago—but nobody pushes me.
“Hey!” I halted and whirled around, ready to rip her a new one.
Sergeant Scabwell popped up next to me again. “WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, LOCKE?” This time, little spit drops flew at me, speckling my face. Eww.
“Nothing,” I said. “There is no problem.”
Scabwell stepped closer, his pudgy belly making a shadow over my toes. If the dude had actually been in the army, it’d been, like, forever ago. He stuck his red pockmarked face right in mine and said, “Don’t you give me any sass, Locke. Drop and give me twenty!”
“Um…” I glanced down at the sand around my feet, where a scorpion skittered past a pile of jagged rocks and a shriveled-up snake skin.
“LET’S GO, PRINCESS! HERE! NOW!” the sergeant yelled.
All the girls in my platoon had stopped running and were staring at me with utter disgust. Like it was my fault stupid Randi had smashed into me. It wasn’t like the sergeant was making them do twenty.
But then Sergeant Scabwell blew his whistle and yelled, “Quit your gawking, Beta Platoon! Just for that, all of you lollygaggers can give me thirty!”
Grumbling, all the girls thudded to the ground and started the push-ups. Next to me, Vanessa, a heavyset black girl from Ohio, swore under her breath each time her belly hit the sand. By the time we were all done, nearly everyone was swearing at me and sweating. Like, ugly-guy sweating. Soaked T-shirts. Slimy hair. The works.
“LET’S GO, CUPCAKES!” the sergeant bellowed, smoothing the front of his green uniform. “GET ON DOWN THE TRAIL—MOVE IT!”
We slogged across more sand dunes, until finally the camp came into view, small in the distance. The huge green tents we bunked in stuck out among the Quonset buildings used for the dining hall—well, “mess hall,” they called it—the administrative offices, and counselor quarters. Around all of it were miles and miles of desert surrounded by heavy-duty electric fencing that made Camp Crescent look like a bunny pen.
Never Cry Werewolf Page 15
