Children of the Wolf

by Rodman Philbrick

  Great plan. There was only one thing wrong with it. The werewolf had just disappeared!

  My heart began to pound. Speeding up, I ran as fast as I could to the spot where I had last seen the monster. But it was really gone.

  My stomach shriveled with fear and worry. The werewolf could be inside any one of these houses. It could be creeping up on a sleeping child right now.

  I had to sound the alarm immediately. I sucked in a huge lungful of air and opened my mouth to scream.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something big leap at me from the shadows. I screamed.

  “AAE—”

  The scream died in my throat as a large angry face suddenly loomed in front of my eyes.

  “Mr. Clawson!” I gasped.

  “It’s the wolf-boy, isn’t it?” demanded the school principal. “What are you doing out here this time of night?” His nostrils flared angrily as he stared at me, waiting for my answer.

  “I-I-I saw something,” I stammered. “In yard. So I follow.”

  “Humph,” said Mr. Clawson. “Likely story. Wolves prowl at night, looking for prey, don’t they? Is that what you were doing?”

  He thrust his face into mine menacingly and I backed away. “No,” I said. “No.”

  “It’s a good thing I was out walking my dog,” said Mr. Clawson. “Or who knows what new mischief you might have caused.”

  I shook my head, looking around nervously for his dog. The principal would be likely to have a dog that liked to bite boys, I thought. But I didn’t see any sign of a dog.

  “My dog ran off,” said Mr. Clawson. “He likes to chase things. Maybe the dog is what you saw—if you’re not just making that up.”

  He frowned darkly at me and I backed up another step. “No,” I said again. “I saw something.”

  Mr. Clawson nodded. “He’s a big dog with a jaw full of teeth. You better watch out for him on your way home. Now, get along and don’t let me catch you out here again.”

  “Yes, Mr. Clawson,” I said, turning to go back the way I’d come. I was relieved to get away but a bad feeling nagged at me. It was something Mr. Clawson had said, something not quite right. But what? I just couldn’t remember.

  I hurried up the street, keeping a nervous eye out for Mr. Clawson’s roving dog. But everything was quiet and nothing moved in the shadows.

  When I got home I quickly let myself in and locked the kitchen door. I was so relieved to be there I just sagged against the door, letting the safe feeling of the house and the sleeping family settle around me.

  But I still couldn’t relax. Something was wrong. But what could it be?

  The house was quiet and still. I chewed at my lip as I went slowly upstairs, trying to figure out what was bothering me. Then, just as I sank into bed, it hit me.

  Mr. Clawson didn’t have a dog! I sat bolt upright, staring into the dark. Miss Possum had told me he didn’t have a dog. “Mr. Clawson doesn’t like animals,” she had said.

  But if he wasn’t out walking a dog then what was he doing?

  Chapter 21

  In school the next morning Miss Possum let me sit next to Paul in class.

  I slipped into my seat feeling good. My reading lesson with Kim yesterday had me looking forward to cracking the books. I figured I ought to be able to sound out just about anything now that I had the alphabet sounds clear in my brain. Wouldn’t Miss Possum be surprised!

  But it didn’t work out quite like that.

  To begin with, she asked us to open our language arts books to page fifty-six. My heart sank right away. I didn’t know how to count. I didn’t even know what numbers looked like! I realized I had to learn a counting alphabet as well as a reading alphabet.

  And then it turned out that hardly any words were spelled the way they should be. And everyone read along so fast they were done while I was still trying to puzzle out “thorough” in the first sentence. It seemed I really couldn’t read any better at all.

  So it was a tremendous relief when the bell rang and Paul told me to leave my books behind. “You won’t need them for this next class,” he said. “It’s gym. No reading. No math. And no girls.”

  All the boys filed into a big room with a wooden floor and high ceiling.

  “We’re doing gymnastics,” Paul told me. “Just watch the other kids and when it’s your turn, do the same stuff.”

  “Sure,” I said, but my spirits were plummeting. There was strange equipment all over the floor. I had never seen any of it before and it didn’t help when Paul rattled off the names. “We’ve got parallel bars and a chinning bar and rings and a climbing rope …”

  Right about then I forgot to listen. More boys were coming in and one of them sent my mood plunging the rest of the way down a bottomless pit. It was Rick, the kid who had tried to beat me up.

  As soon as he saw me he nudged a pal and the two of them made a beeline right for me. “I thought I smelled something rank,” sneered Big Rick. “I should have known it was the swamp-boy.”

  I turned away, pretending not to hear. I couldn’t afford to get in any more trouble.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you,” said Rick, pushing me and knocking me into Paul.

  Anger flared. I could feel my eyes blazing as I started to turn toward Rick. But just then a man shouted, loud enough to drown out all the kids’ noise.

  “Okay, boys, line up. Two lines, hurry it up,” said the man, walking briskly alongside the bustling crowd of boys.

  “That’s Mr. Grunter, our teacher,” Paul whispered. “He’s okay.”

  I forgot about Big Rick as I watched the first kids demonstrate their gymnastics. They scrambled up the climbing rope, hung from the rings, rolled over backward and forward, chinned themselves, and did awkward-looking tricks. It looked like fun. Now that I knew what the strange equipment was for, I couldn’t wait to try it.

  Then Big Rick started in again. “Hey, animal-boy,” he hissed. “I hear you lap water out of the toilet bowl. How’s it taste? Pretty good, huh?”

  I pressed my lips together in a straight line and pretended not to hear. The boys in front of us turned around to see what was going on.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Rick,” Paul whispered. “He’s a fart-nose.”

  “What are you saying, Paul?” Rick taunted, coming closer. “I hear your mother puts newspapers on the floor so wolf-boy here won’t mess up his water bowl.”

  I tried to shut my ears and concentrate on watching the class. But most of the class was watching me. And my fingers were balling into fists at my side. My breath was coming harder.

  “Don’t do it, Gruff,” urged Paul. “Stay calm. Remember Mr. Clawson’s detention. Nothing’s worth doing that again, right?”

  Big Rick swaggered closer, grinning around at his audience. “Human food makes animal-boy sick. But he’ll eat anything, so he gobbles it up. And then he throws up on the floor. And then guess what he does?” Rick’s grin got wider. “He licks up his own vomit!”

  The other kids laughed. I kept my eyes facing forward. Anger buzzed in my head. My stomach felt hot and acidy.

  “Actually, the worse thing is he’s not even a wolf-boy. That wolf-boy stuff is just garbage. A pack of lies. Ain’t that right, wolf-boy?” He sneered the last words into my face and I could smell his oniony breath. “You weren’t raised by wolves, were you? I can see it in your face—you were raised by rats. Yeah, that’s it, you’re the rat-boy!”

  I’d had it. Anger was a red curtain all around me. I didn’t care about detention or what Mr. Clawson might do or anything.

  I turned slowly toward Big Rick, my fingers flexing in spasms.

  I’d teach him.

  Rick looked surprised when I stared him in the eye. But he had a bigger surprise coming.

  I raised my fists and charged straight at him.

  Chapter 22

  I saw Rick’s mean blue eyes grow bigger with fright. He let out a startled squeak as I whizzed past, moving so fast my air-wake spun him around.
r />   I leaped onto the climbing rope and raced up it, hand over hand, my feet not even touching the rope. Feet would only slow me down. At the top I pushed off, launching myself through the air and over to the rings.

  The rings looked like the most fun. I slid down the ropes until I could pass my feet through the leather rings. I swung back and forth a few times, building momentum. Then I let go, throwing myself backward. My feet slipped out of the rings.

  Below me I heard a frightened gasp. But the class seemed far away now. I was flying. It was like being in the trees with no extra branches to get in my way.

  I flipped in midair and caught the rings with my hands.

  Below me kids started to clap and stamp their feet.

  My face flushed with pleasure. I swung a couple more times and when I was good and high, I let go.

  Paul cried out in dismay as I shot through the air, right over the floor apparatus. Another boy screamed. I felt like I was flying. Only the floor was coming up fast to meet me.

  My stomach flip-flopped. Did I do this right? But there wasn’t time to think.

  I landed, just as I’d planned, right in front of the chinning bar. I let my motion carry me into a standing back flip and at the top of it, caught the bar with my hands. I swung around the bar a couple of times, keeping my legs straight and stiff.

  Then I stopped at the top. My handstand was so steady my body hardly quivered. I balanced there, relishing the “oohs” and “wows” from the watching class.

  How’s that for an audience, Rick? I said to myself.

  When I’d done the handstand long enough, I walked on my hands to the end of the bar, flipped around a couple of times and did the handstand thing again.

  I let my weight carry me under the bar, let go at the top and rolled in the air, coming down perfectly astride the horse. I rolled off that and onto the parallel bars where I did some handstands and one-hand twists, then leaped up onto my feet and ran the length of each bar, like a tightrope.

  I finished with a backward flip and came to a perfect landing in front of Mr. Grunter.

  The teacher was trying to frown but there was an excited smile in his eye. The class stood in stunned silence for a few seconds and then burst out in wild clapping and cheering.

  Mr. Grunter held up his hand for silence. “That was quite a display,” he said. “Very skilled. Where did you learn all that?”

  “In the woods,” I said. “With wolf family.”

  “Very impressive,” said Mr. Grunter. “But, you know, we have rules here. It wasn’t your turn. Discipline is very important.”

  Paul came rushing up. “But Mr. Grunter, it was Rick’s fault. He kept taunting Gruff, calling him rat-boy and trying to get him to fight. Gruff couldn’t help himself.”

  I shot a fierce look at Big Rick. He dropped his eyes and looked at the floor.

  “Is that true, Rick?” asked Mr. Grunter.

  All the kids were staring at Rick now. He stuffed his hands in his shorts pockets and shrugged. “I was just kidding,” he muttered.

  Mr. Grunter nodded. “I see. Don’t you think an apology is called for?”

  Rick took a couple of steps forward, biting his lip. “I guess you’re not a rat-boy,” he said in a low voice.

  “Is that all?” Mr. Grunter sounded steely.

  “I’m sorry I called you names,” said Rick grudgingly. “You really are a wolf-boy.”

  I wasn’t sure how Rick meant that but Mr. Grunter nodded, satisfied, and Rick went back to his place.

  “Class dismissed!” shouted Mr. Grunter.

  I started to edge away but the teacher put out his hand. “Not you, Gruff. I want to speak to you a minute.”

  I waited as the class filed out. What did the gym teacher want with me? Was he going to give me detention after all?

  Finally everybody was gone. Mr. Grunter started toward me across the gym floor. I couldn’t tell a thing from his face except he looked very serious.

  Then just before he reached me the gym door burst open with a bang!

  Mr. Clawson strode in, his face purple with rage.

  But there was a sly, secretive look in his eye.

  Chapter 23

  “I heard there was trouble in this class, Grunter,” said Mr. Clawson, making straight for me. His heavy footsteps were loud on the polished floor. “I suppose this wolf-boy troublemaker was responsible?”

  He jutted his big jaw at me, looking pleased that I had messed up again.

  “No trouble,” said Mr. Grunter, moving to my side. “Oh, another boy was taunting him a bit, but Gruff proved he’s got the right stuff.” Mr. Grunter clapped me on the shoulder. “This boy knows how to channel his aggression into sports, Mr. Clawson. In my book he’s headed for an A.”

  The principal frowned. Thunderclouds of displeasure formed over his eyes. He jerked his head at Mr. Grunter. The gym teacher gave me a reassuring look, then followed Mr. Clawson to the side of the room.

  Mr. Clawson spoke rapidly for a few minutes but, of course, I couldn’t hear a word. All I could do was watch Mr. Grunter’s face anxiously. He looked concerned, then alarmed.

  When Mr. Clawson finished talking he shot one fierce look at me across the room, turned on his heel and left. Mr. Grunter came slowly toward me, scratching his head in puzzlement.

  “The principal is worried about you, Gruff,” said Mr. Grunter. He didn’t seem nearly as pleased and enthusiastic about me as he had a few minutes ago. “He says you have a wild imagination and violent tendencies.”

  He paused, as if what he had to say next was even worse.

  “Mr. Clawson thinks you’ll have to be locked up during the full moon. Now why would he think that, Gruff?”

  Chapter 24

  That night I sat at my bedroom window, keeping watch. But no men slipped down to the woods to change into werewolves. No monsters prowled the yard and taunted me. No dreams came to lure Kim from her safe bed.

  At school I kept quiet, trying not to be noticed. The other kids looked at me funny sometimes but at least Miss Possum didn’t say anything more about making me leave sixth grade. Every day after school, I practiced talking and reading and writing. I even learned some arithmetic.

  And every night I kept watch at the window. It was exhausting.

  But after a couple of weeks when nothing happened, I started to think maybe the werewolves had gone away. They knew I was onto them so maybe they decided Fox Hollow was too dangerous for them. Maybe they’d moved to a town where no one suspected there were monsters roaming the night.

  But meanwhile the time of the full moon was coming closer. And when the full moon rose I would become a monster, too. Before that happened I would leave this house and my new family and disappear into the swamp. Deep in the swamp I would hide until the beast in me was driven out. I would never harm the people of Fox Hollow. I would never let them learn my true nature.

  That’s what I promised myself.

  Then one night I fell asleep in my chair at the window.

  And when the moon rose, my eyes popped open. The moon hung as yellow as a plump lemon in the sky. The light was cool on my face but every muscle in my body was coiled tight as a spring.

  I jumped up from my chair and leaned forward to look out the window. What had awakened me? Was it a werewolf?

  The backyard was quiet. No one was on the street. But the hairs on my arm prickled as a distant sound reached my ear.

  “Aaaaaaoooooh..… Aaaaaaoooooh.…”

  The howl of the werewolves!

  Then I saw something dash across the backyard. A werewolf? It ran into the road and I saw it was only a dog. But the sight of the dog jangled my nerves.

  There was something I had to do. I’d put it off as long as I could. I had to find out if Mr. Clawson really had a dog.

  I jammed on my sneakers—I was dressed except for them—and quietly slipped out of my room. Before leaving I checked Kim’s room. She was sleeping peacefully.

  Nobody woke as I tiptoed downstairs
and let myself out. Locking the back door behind me I pocketed the key and set off. Out on the street I paused to gaze up at the house.

  It was my home now. I felt safe there, even loved. Inside, life was peaceful.

  But the Parker family was in great danger. I looked up at the golden moon and trembled at the thought of anything harming them.

  They didn’t know a monster lived in their midst. Me.

  But I wasn’t the worst of the nightmare. Oh, no. It would get worse.

  Much worse.

  Chapter 25

  Keeping to the patchy shadows, I made my way to Mr. Clawson’s house. The moon was bright and I didn’t want anyone seeing me.

  But as I sneaked along, scurrying from the shelter of a tree to the shadow of a bush, I wondered if what I was doing was foolish as well as dangerous.

  Maybe there was nothing sinister about our school principal. It could be just like Mr. Clawson had said—that he thought I was a troublemaker and he didn’t want trouble at his school. He hadn’t said two words to me since that day at the gym when he told Mr. Grunter I might need to be locked up during the full moon.

  And since then I’d been careful to do nothing that would attract attention. I’d stayed away from Rick and studied hard.

  If Mr. Clawson was really concerned about protecting his students, maybe he’d had an instinct about me. Even normal humans could sense dangerous creatures. Mr. Clawson might have sensed the beast in me right from the start.

  Sure, the werewolves prowled Fox Hollow in the darkness. But maybe I was the only monster who lived right in the midst of the unsuspecting people.

  I turned down Mr. Clawson’s street, feeling sneaky and low. All the houses here were quiet and dark, just as they were all over town. Mr. Clawson’s house was the same as the others, no different.

  And then I heard it. So close I almost jumped out of my skin and into the tree I was hiding under.