At this point, I would have chosen to be anything else. A giant, or a kapre, or a specter. Even a banshee. Anything that had a clan.
I wanted a clan.
I needed a clan.
You could start your own, Kegan wrote. It only takes one person to turn others.
It does not take only one person! I wrote furiously. It takes a turning stone! Know of any of those?
You could ask your family’s clan to use theirs, Kegan said.
Ha! I wrote. They’re not going to ruin their stone just to loan it to me. People would wind up becoming vultures when they wanted to be hawks!
Just like me.
I swallowed, tears spilling from my eyes. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. Buzzards had their own clan. They were basically the same as vultures. Why was my were species so awful that nobody wanted it?
For the first time, I was dreading the full moon. I didn’t want to find out what kind of instincts I would have. And it was basically guaranteed that I wouldn’t have a unique magical ability, like hawks did, being able to see farther than their eyes would technically allow.
Buzzards had no magical ability. I checked that. And if they had none, but were still a live clan, there was no way that vultures would. Unless, of course, it was something just so unspeakably awful that it actually made being a vulture worse.
I turned off my phone, ignoring several more texts Kegan had sent me, and tore into my backpack to get my homework. Even geometry proofs seemed like an improvement over talking any further, or thinking about this.
Kegan had been right. We matched. We both belonged to a species that nobody wanted to join.
And I had it worse.
Chapter 4: First Full Moon
“You’ll be welcome to stay in our clan,” Dad said quietly at dinner. “We called the clan leader, and we’ve spoken with several others, and everyone agrees: we’re still happy to have you.”
I said nothing. I suppose I should have been glad, but I hadn’t forgotten how they had all backed away from me. Even Mom. Even Dad. I didn’t want to disgust my relatives, and I didn’t want to see their faces when I did it.
True, we were all werebirds. True, we could all fly together, and hunt rodents, and do whatever else they usually did during the full moon. But our instincts wouldn’t be the same, and there was no guarantee that wouldn’t cause problems. Weres with aggressive instincts didn’t always get along well with weres from other species during full moon. And hawks, well, hawks weren’t naturally pack animals, so all my relatives started to be snippish with each other around full moon to begin with.
My first full moon should have been a cause for celebration. Instead . . .
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll just stay at home.”
“Are you kidding?” Collette demanded. “That’s not safe! New weres can’t be left alone during the full moon!”
“I don’t mind,” Annette chirped. “I’ll keep her company.”
“That’s the point,” Collette snapped. “It won’t be safe for you!”
“Vultures aren’t hunters,” Annette informed her. “They’re scavengers. It should be fine. Maybe we’ll watch TV or something.”
“Regardless of your confidence, leaving Lisette behind for the full moon seems unwise,” Dad said. He had that “my teenagers are wearying me” look on his face.
“You’ve left us alone before during full moon!” Annette argued. “Why is this any different?”
“You know why it’s different,” Mom said, serving herself blood pudding. “Lisette’s turned.”
“Well, maybe if you turn me too, you won’t have to worry about that,” Annette said innocently.
Mom stared at her in exasperation and said nothing.
Annette gave me a meaningful look.
“You know, Annette’s almost the only kid in her class who’s not turned,” I said.
“We can’t stop vampires from turning their children too early,” Dad said mildly. “That doesn’t mean we have to do so, too.”
“Maybe I should join another clan, then,” Annette said shrewdly. “I could be a jiangshi.”
There was an aghast silence.
“A hopping vampire?” Mom said.
“I have a classmate who says I’d be welcome to join her clan if I want to,” Annette said, her eyes bright with mischief. “She says being a jiangshi is neat. You have to absorb life force, but you can also give it away, and they make great psychiatrists. That’s a well-paying job, isn’t it?”
“You are not going to become a hopping vampire!” Mom cried.
“Annette, come on, we know you’d never do that!” Collette snapped.
I glanced over at Dad. He had no facial expression.
“That’s your decision, Annette,” he said. “If you want to be a vampire, we won’t try to stop you.”
Annette scowled. That clearly wasn’t the reaction she’d been hoping for.
I helped myself to green beans, a token vegetable that Mom had poured out of a can and into a bowl, glad for the change in subject.
“But really, Lisette,” Dad said, “even if you don’t want to be join our clan, you need to join something. Maybe the buzzards?”
And here the subject was back again.
“The nearest werebuzzard clan is two hours away,” I said resentfully. “It’s not worth the trip when we’re not even the same species.”
“Well, in that case,” Dad said, “you’ll need some kind of supervisor. There are specialists for the newly turned.”
Annette moaned. “Not a baby-sitter!”
Mom gave me a sharp look, as if trying to gauge my reaction.
“Sure,” I said. “Sounds good.”
Anything was better than having to go back to my family’s clan and see the looks of pity and disgust there.
Mom sighed. I could tell that wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear.
“All right,” Dad said. “We’ll call around and find one. Eventually, I’m sure we could just leave you. Maybe in six months or so, once we were sure you knew how to handle your instincts.”
I very determinedly stared at my plate. I wouldn’t cry, or show them any weakness. If I did, Mom and Collette would just keep nagging me to come tomorrow night. They’d say I needed a clan, which was true. But some things were worse than nothing.
I tried to face my second day of school with the same optimism as my first day, but I just wasn’t feeling it.
Fortunately, Kegan seemed to understand, because she didn’t even try to cheer me up at lunchtime. She just sat and ate silently, like I was. At least the school provided good lunches. I gobbled up my spaghetti and orange juice, and I wished I’d had more than one brownie.
At the end of lunch, I got up and carried my tray to the garbage. I knocked the orange juice carton and the plastic that had been around my dessert into the trash, put the tray up on the rack beside it, and turned to leave.
Then I saw it. I saw a brownie! A delicious, yummy, succulent brownie! Right there in the trash, and only half-eaten! Who would do such a travesty?
Without thinking, I grabbed it and popped it in my mouth.
“Eww!” someone shouted from behind me. “Did you just eat out of the trash?”
I turned around and saw a freshman girl staring at me in horror. She was holding a tray, and her brownie was only half-eaten, too. I nabbed it.
“What are you doing?!” she shrieked.
I dove into the garbage, heedless of my fingers squishing through half-eaten spaghetti. I found another brownie, this one barely touched, though it was covered in tomato sauce. I popped it in my mouth and savored it. Mmm. Yummy.
“Miss Vampireclanghoul!” she screamed, running for the nearest teacher. “Miss Vampireclanghoul! She’s eating out of the trash!”
I had to be forcibly pried out of the lunchroom, and I stopped to grab the brownie off a popular girl’s tray as I passed, cramming it in my mouth and chewing viciously. I heard a shriek of outrage behind me.
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Too bad for you! I thought gleefully. Leaving your food unguarded? Stupid thing to do!
It wasn’t until I was in the principal’s office, feeling no shame at all as I hummed and kicked my feet in the chair I was waiting in, that my sanity suddenly returned to me.
I gripped the arm rests in horror. What . . . had I done? What . . . in the world . . . had I done?
“Hello, Miss Wereclanhawk,” the principal said, walking into the office and shutting the door behind him. He was a skinny man with a very thin beard. “I’ve been informed why you’re here. Based on your odd behavior, I’m going to guess this is your first full moon?”
I moaned and put my head in my hands.
“Yes, quite,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, you won’t be the first student to make a fool of themselves, and you won’t be the last. You aren’t even the first today. I had a kodama in here this morning who had insisted he was a tree and buried himself up to the knees in the school garden.”
“But I ate out of the garbage!” I wailed.
“It could be worse,” he assured me. “For instance . . .”
He paused, sounding distracted.
I looked up just in time to see him turn a dial on the wall. The heater turned on full blast.
“Who keeps turning this off?” he muttered. “That blasted secretary . . .”
Sweat rose on my forehead, and I was glad I wasn’t in my half-form, with my arms covered in downy feathers. I felt sorry for the principal’s secretary, who I was pretty sure was a lorelei. Maybe a mermaid, or a naiad, or an undine? Either way, she’d be drying out under this temperature.
“Anyhow,” the principal said briskly, taking a seat behind his desk, which thankfully blocked some of the heat from blowing on me, “it could be much worse. I’ve actually seen a were attack another student before! There was an incident just two years ago with a hawk and a mouse —”
I decided not to tell him that had been my sister.
“Really, relatively speaking, attacking the garbage is quite minor,” he assured me. Then he reached under his desk to pull up a thick blanket, which — unbelievably — he snuggled into. “There’s no need to worry, Miss Wereclanhawk.”
I stared at him morosely. Principal Kapreclanleshy might think he was being understanding, but he really didn’t get it at all. Sure, Collette had earned an enemy, but she hadn’t earned a reputation that would encourage mockery.
“It’s not Wereclanhawk,” I said.
“Hmm?” he asked.
“It’s not Wereclanhawk,” I repeated. “I’m a vulture.”
“Ah,” he said, bobbing his head. He shivered slightly, and then reached under his desk to pull up another blanket. “That would explain the garbage. Miss Wereclanvulture, then.”
I pursed my lips and said nothing. That was my rightful surname now, but it was a bitter lie.
“Hmm, if you’re a werebird, would you like to sign up for Flyers’ Ed?” he asked, peeking one of his hands out from under the blankets to reach for the mouse by his computer. “We might as well do that now. There’s a new session starting immediately after the full moon, since there are always new people who want to join right away.”
My heart lifted. Getting my flyer’s license was definitely a top priority. “Definitely,” I said, nodding.
The principal moved the mouse around and did some clicking. Then, looking reluctant, he pulled his other hand out of the blanket and typed something on his keyboard for a few seconds, maybe my name. As soon as he was done, his hands snaked back under the blanket.
“Ms. Specterclanaura will be teaching you, starting tomorrow. Because it’s not a new semester, I can’t sign you up for a session that takes place during school hours, so it’s immediately after school. If you’d rather have one during school hours, we can sign you up for next semester’s instead?”
“After school will be fine,” I said. It might cut into my time to hang out with Kegan, but she’d understand. My schedule was unexpectedly empty, anyway, what with the whole not-having-a-clan thing.
“Perfect,” he said, smiling and bobbing his head. Was it just me, or had his thin, wispy beard grown a lot more straggly over the past few minutes? He also looked a little shorter.
Did leshies get shorter during the full moon? I thought I’d heard they could grow taller. There was a cyclops in my class who’d complained that Principal Kapreclanleshy always looked him in the eye to scold him, and giants usually towered over the rest of us even when it wasn’t full moon, probably on purpose. Maybe leshies could grow shorter or taller depending on their mood, like some kind of weird mix of giant and abatwa?
“… is a difficult time for all of us, and no one’s going to judge you for that,” the principal continued, and I realized I’d been tuning out a reassuring lecture that was apparently supposed to make me feel better. “Why, when I was a young sapling . . .”
Oh, great. Now he was going to reminisce about his time in high school, which he was way too fond of doing. As if any of that would be relevant. They hadn’t even had cellphones then!
“Thank you, Principal Kapreclanleshy,” I said hastily. “I think I’d better go get ready for class. Lunch ends in four minutes, after all.”
He glanced behind him at the clock on the wall, and turned back looking disappointed. “All right. Just remember: we all go through this!”
You all go through this with a clan, I thought. I don’t have one.
But I didn’t say it. That would just be asking for another lecture to make me feel better.
“Thanks, Principal Kapreclanleshy,” I said. “I appreciate the Flyers’ Ed.”
“Of course,” he said, nodding his head and beaming.
I escaped the office to find Kegan hovering outside in full banshee mode. She turned substantial again so she could talk and swooped over to me.
“How’d it go?” she asked in a whisper that was like a piercing shriek of the wind. “Did you get detention?”
“For eating out of the garbage?” I asked. “Nah, Principal Kapreclanleshy was cool.” Well, as cool as anyone who was older than my father could be. I walked beside her as we headed down the hallway. “Why were you insubstantial? Please tell me you weren’t listening in.”
“Well, I was thinking about listening in,” she said, “but I thought maybe I’d get in trouble.”
“Yeah, I think he would’ve noticed your ear poking through the wall,” I snorted.
“Or another teacher might’ve walked by and seen me doing it,” she said. “I only wanted to get detention if you were in it.”
That was some weird solidarity, but I sort of appreciated it.
“Do you want to come to my house tonight?” she asked. “For full moon? Since you won’t have a clan? Even if you wind up with bad instincts, there’s nothing you can do to hurt us, since we’ll all be insubstantial.”
I was touched, but I shook my head. “Mom and Dad have already hired a supervisor to come watch over me.”
“Ugh,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “A baby-sitter.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but maybe I can go to your place next month.”
“Door’s always open,” she said.
“You mean door’s always shut and locked, because you and your parents never bother to open it to go through.”
She giggled. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” And I appreciated it. If my parents wouldn’t leave me alone next month, going over to Kegan’s house would probably be the next best thing.
“Have a good time!” Mom said, hovering in the doorway. “Don’t eat too much junk food! And don’t watch too much TV! It rots your brain!”
“My brain is immune to rotting,” Annette sniffed.
“Let’s go,” Dad said, taking Mom’s arm.
“But the supervisor’s not here yet,” Mom said, hesitating in the doorway. She still hadn’t budged. “What if she’s late? What if there’s no one here to supervise you?
I don’t like —”
“Mom, okay, we get it,” Annette complained. “Would you get out of here before the full moon rises?”
“But —” Mom protested. k12
Dad put his hand on her arm and gently pushed her out the front door. Collette was already transformed and perched outside on the mailbox. She rustled her wings impatiently.
Dad’s arms melted into black-and-white banded feathers, and an orangy-red tail sprouted out of his behind. His mouth was the last to change, leaving a pair of human lips incongruously on a bird head before they shifted into a beak.
“Just take care,” Mom said. “And don’t let Lisette go out and talk to strangers. And —”
“Mom!” Annette exclaimed.
My arms were starting to feel itchy. I scratched them, having the nervous feeling that I was about to wind up in my half-form, whether I wanted to or not.
Collette fluttered down from the mailbox and shifted back, glowering. “You have your phone, Mom. Annette will call if anything goes wrong. Now come on. The clan is waiting.”
“I love you both,” Mom said, and shrank down to the size of a small, feathered human. She blew us both a kiss before the rest of her body changed.
Collette’s shoes shifted to bird feet, and her nose turned into a beak. Her arms twisted upwards at what should have been an unnatural angle, and they turned into wings.
A moment later, my parents and older sister were flying away into the last of the thermals before the sun set and the moon rose.
I stared up into the sky, feeling rather desolate.
“It’s brain-rotting time!” Annette called gleefully from behind me, wiggling a remote control in front of my face. “Which terrible, forbidden, trashy talk show should we watch tonight?”
I turned around, starting to feel like I had hiccups that would turn me into a vulture at any minute. “Whatever you want to,” I said, with some difficulty. My throat kept changing shape. “I think I’m going to . . . I’ll hide in the bathroom.”
“Only if I get to watch,” Annette said, folding her arms. “I’m the only one who hasn’t seen you turn into a full vulture yet.”
Trials of a Teenage Werevulture (Trilogy of a Teenage Werevulture Book 1) Page 3
