The Wavering Werewolf_A Monsterrific Tale

by David Lubar

  “Hi, kids. Guess what? I’m taking you all to the circus. You’re invited, too, Norman.” He stared at me, then added, “Nice haircut.”

  “Wow!” Rory shouted. He started jumping around in that special dance that excited little kids have.

  “Great, Dad,” Splat said. He turned to me. “You coming?”

  I hesitated. There was so much going on that I really wasn’t sure what to do. But then again, maybe I needed to take my mind away from all this for a while. Perhaps a little fun entertainment would be just what I needed. “Sure, thanks,” I said. After all, what could possibly go wrong at a circus?

  Twelve

  TENTS MOMENTS

  We piled into Splat’s dad’s car and went across town to a field where the Hull Brothers had set up their tents. It was an all-guy trip. Splat’s mom was out somewhere. Angelina decided not to come, which was a perfect decision as far as I was concerned. She felt that animals should not be used to entertain people. I didn’t agree with her, but I could respect her opinion. On the other hand, she did have a cat of her own, and I really didn’t see why someone else couldn’t have a tiger if she could have a house cat.

  As we climbed out of the car, I noticed that the animal smell was very strong. It wasn’t only one smell—I could separate it into different parts. Just like in a bakery where the smell of bread might mix with the smell of chocolate, here I could sense horse and elephant and other animals. Each had its own scent.

  “Cool,” Splat said as we headed for the main tent. “They’ve got a sideshow over there. Come on.”

  “Not me,” Rory said, staring at posters with gigantic pictures of the Snake Lady, the Human Pincushion, and the Elastic Man.

  “You boys go ahead,” Splat’s dad said, handing us money for the sideshow. “Rory and I will look around out here.”

  “Great,” Splat said, running toward the entrance.

  I caught up with him, and we paid our admission. Then we stepped inside. The thin canvas walls of the tent separated two different worlds. Outside, everything was bright and alive. Inside, all was gloomy and sad. Even the grass beneath our feet seemed half dead.

  In front of me, just sitting watching the crowd, was Fatima, the Bearded Lady. She was, indeed, a lady with a beard. Whether the whiskers were real or glued on, I felt it was wrong of me to stare at her. I moved deeper into the tent. At each spot, some person sat or stood on display, letting the crowd gawk and marvel at a deformity or oddity.

  I looked around at the people shuffling from exhibit to exhibit, and found myself wondering who the real freaks were. Next to me, a boy was stuffing popcorn in his mouth, talking loudly between crunches. This was more gruesome than anything I had paid to see. Near him, another boy stuck his finger in his nose and then in his mouth.

  I hurried away from them, moving still deeper into the tent. I went past the Human Pincushion and Rinaldo, the Fire-Eating Man, and a half dozen others, until I found myself at the very end of the sideshow. A faded sign announced that this was the spot where one could see the Monkey Boy.

  The cage was empty. Nothing stood on the other side of the thick bars but a lingering scent that was totally human. For a moment, as I looked at the straw-covered floor, I had the strangest sensation that I was standing inside, that I was trapped forever to live within and be stared at by a crowd who didn’t know that they themselves were the freaks.

  I turned, wanting to flee from the tent. Two steps and I ran into someone. It was the man I had seen talking to Teridakian. “Easy there, boy,” he said, moving back from me. “You could get hurt running like that. Don’t want no injuries. Nope.” He looked toward the empty cage. “Yup, lost the old Monkey Boy, we did. Going to miss the little fellow. Need a replacement.”

  He stopped and stared at me. “Maybe you’re circus material,” he said, giving me a huge wink. “Want a job? We could call you the Human Boy.”

  “No thanks,” I said, stepping around him.

  I rushed toward the exit, pushing my way through the crowd, desperate for a breath of fresh air. Behind me, I could hear the circus man laughing as if he had just made the greatest joke in the world.

  I waited outside until Splat emerged. “Wow, do you believe all that?” he asked. “I’d bet most of those things were fake. They couldn’t be real. But that guy with the pins in his body—that sure looked real. How’d he do that?”

  “I don’t know.” I hadn’t looked closely at any of it.

  “Well, boys, we’d better get some seats,” Splat’s dad said as he came up to us with Rory. “The show is about to start.”

  “Up front,” Rory said. “Okay, Dad?”

  “Sure,” his dad said.

  So we made our way to a row near the front and sat and waited for the show to start.

  After a while, the music blared from speakers hung around the tent and the parade began. The clowns marched past us first, waving and smiling. One ran up and squirted Rory with water from a plastic flower on his bright orange jacket. The acrobats went tumbling by next.

  After that, the horses came prancing out, stepping proudly in time with the music. I think I sensed there would be trouble an instant before it happened. The horses stopped dead when they got near our side of the ring, refusing to go past. Their nostrils flared and their eyes rolled back in terror, showing nothing but white. Something in that look of fear made me want to leap on them. I gripped the bench with both my hands and forced myself to remain seated.

  I could see the trainer getting worried. Finally, he urged them to move, but they swung wide of where we sat. The performing dogs turned and started growling at me. I felt my face grow red. People were staring. The trainers finally got the dogs past. The rest of the animals also went wide to avoid me.

  I glanced across the tent. On the other side, standing and staring at me, was the man from the sideshow. The one I had run from. I looked right into his eyes, and I was sure that he knew what I was. And I was sure that I was going to end up in a cage in a sideshow, howling like a wolf and throwing myself against the bars while the public stood on the other side and discussed whether I was real or a clever fake.

  I knew. And I had no idea what I could do to save myself.

  Thirteen

  RABBIT TRANSIT

  I guess everyone else enjoyed the show. Rory seemed to have a real good time. Splat was pretty easily amused by anything. And his dad was the type who was always happy when his kids were having fun. So the whole male portion of the Claypool family had a good trip. As for me, I just wanted to get out of there. I did remember to thank Splat’s dad for taking me. But I was glad to get back to my home.

  “Have fun?” Mom asked when I came inside.

  “Yeah.” I smelled lamb. “Curry again?”

  “Getting tired of it?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t mind.” Actually, the thought of a nice big hunk of lamb made my mouth water. I realized I was starving.

  “Where are your glasses?” Mom asked.

  “You noticed?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “It’s an experiment,” I told her, feeling glad that she, at least, had actually known what was different.

  “Well, just be careful you don’t walk into anything.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Could you set the table?” Mom asked. “That is, if you can see well enough to find the forks.”

  “Sure.”

  “The everyday stuff is still dirty. Just use the good silver.”

  “Uh…” I looked in the drawer to make sure. There were no knives and forks. The utensils from last night’s dinner were still in the dishwasher. The only other set we had was silver. I had images of the knife slowly burning a hole through my hand. “I’ll wash them,” I said, grabbing a handful of stainless steel from the dishwasher.

  Mom stared at me while I cleaned several knives and forks. “Well, this is a surprise,” she said. “And a pleasant surprise, I might add.”

  “Just trying to be helpful.”
Is it in my mind? I wondered. I went over and opened the drawer where Mom kept the silver. I reached in and touched a knife. At first, it felt warm. Within a few seconds, it got hot. I pulled my hand back. If this was all in my mind, I had a pretty powerful imagination. If it wasn’t in my mind, I had a pretty powerful problem.

  Dad had a faculty meeting, so he wouldn’t be joining us for dinner. Mom brought out the food and we ate. Then I went up to my room. I was beyond caution by this time. I had to find out as much as I could as quickly as I could. I logged on to the Net, going through a proxy server that I hoped would keep me from being traced, went to one of the larger interest groups for the supernatural, and posted a question about werewolves. In a few hours, there was at least a small chance I might get some kind of useful information.

  I went to bed, and thought I went to sleep. But soon after I closed my eyes, I woke and I wasn’t me. I was a predator—something between wolf and human. I needed to run, to chase my food, to travel across the land. I snuck downstairs and out the door. I must have still had arms at that point. But it wasn’t me. This was not Norman who was racing through the backstreets of Lewington. I almost felt like I was watching myself. I ran. It might have been on four paws. It might have been on two legs. I don’t remember.

  Rabbit!

  Near me. Knows. Frozen. Fear. Where? Stop and smell. There. Don’t run. My one small human spark wanted to warn it. Don’t run and you might survive. Run and I will follow.

  It ran. A flash of white, up, down, lop, hop, run. I had no choice but to chase. Glad. Free. Running. Rabbit smell, fear smell.

  Chase.

  Leap and catch.

  Mine.

  I held it in something midway between a hand and a paw. It wriggled for an instant, then stopped. It knew the laws of the chase. There are rules for prey. I held it up toward the near-full moon and howled a cry of joy and triumph.

  A human jolt shot along my arm to my brain. Or maybe it went the other way. I relaxed my grip. The rabbit dropped. It landed softly but remained frozen, waiting, trembling.

  “Go, scat!” I spoke. Words. Human tools. “Get away.”

  It ran. I looked aside and counted slowly to ten, so I wouldn’t be forced to chase the fleeing prey, then looked back. It was gone.

  I turned and loped back home. I went inside to my bed, lay on top of the sheets, and shivered. What was I? The beast wrestled with the boy. The time was close. The moment of decision. What did that mean? Where had I heard those words?

  I slept.

  The rising sun woke me. The memories rushed back, but I was unsure if they were real or dreams. I looked at my hand. There were several loose hairs on my fingers—short white hairs, like rabbit fur.

  From below, words drifted into my room. “Time to get up, Norman. You don’t want to be late for school.”

  Somehow, all of that seemed unimportant.

  What am I thinking?! How could school be unimportant? It was the only thing I was really good at. My grades, my tests—that’s who I was. I got dressed and went down for breakfast.

  Mom had left a plate of pancakes for me before running off on an errand. Dad was at the table, sitting by a cooling bowl of oatmeal, giving all his attention to a book that lay open in front of him.

  “Dad,” I said when I had joined him at the table, “I’m different.”

  He looked up from his book and smiled. “Of course you are, Norman. We all are. That’s what makes humans so wonderful—our diversity. That is what we should celebrate and cherish.” He turned his attention back to his book.

  I was about to try to explain what I meant. But in my mind, I could hear myself telling him that I was a wolf. While I was sitting there, trying to think of any way of bringing up the subject, he snapped his book shut and said, “Good golly, I’m going to be late for my lecture. By the way, nice haircut.”

  With that, he dashed off, leaving me alone with my breakfast. As I crunched into a piece of bacon, my mind filled with the image of a struggling rabbit.

  The bacon tasted wonderful.

  Fourteen

  PLANT PROBLEM

  I was almost afraid to go to school. There was no way to know what I might do. At least we didn’t have gym today, so I wasn’t in danger of tossing anyone across the room or accidentally removing the head of one of my classmates. I don’t think I could talk my way out of that one. What could I say? “Gee, look at the interesting sheathing of nerves surrounding the vertebrae. Wow, heads really are intriguing. Notice the structure of the arteries? Fascinating…”

  Once inside the building, I also made sure to avoid walking past the music room. Foolishly feeling that I had sidestepped any possible problems, I headed into my science class. I noticed that a couple of the kids were carrying boxes, trays, or big pieces of poster board. It must have been their biology projects. I’d done mine several weeks ago, of course, as soon as it had been assigned.

  “Check it out,” Danny Wilkins said, holding up a box. I peeked inside. There were several animal skulls lying on the bottom. He’d pasted labels in front of them. “My dad and I find these on the road by our house all the time.” There was a sign on the front of the box: ANIMALS THAT DON’T KNOW HOW TO CROSS THE ROAD.

  He put the box on the table next to some of the other projects. Just then, Dawn came rushing in, carrying a big tray with plants on it. There was a sign in front saying: POISONOUS PLANTS WITH ANIMAL NAMES. I was impressed by her linking of toxic nature and nomenclature.

  “Hi, Norman,” she said. “You look very mature without your glasses.”

  “Thanks. Nice project,” I said. I took another look at it. In front of each pot there was a smaller sign: ELEPHANT EAR, FOXGLOVE, WOLFSBANE.

  Wolfsbane! As I stared at the plant, something seemed to push me back. I felt a force shoving me away. At the same time, I was suddenly violently ill. It felt as if I had jammed a finger down my throat. No, make that a hand. Yikes, make that an arm. I ran from the room, trying not to throw up.

  Just outside the door, I crashed into Splat. He was carrying a box full of pieces of moldy bread and cheese. The label said: HOW TO GROW MOLD.

  “You have to help me,” I told him.

  “Sure,” he said, looking slightly amused.

  “Dawn’s project. She brought in wolfsbane. I can’t go near it. You have to get rid of it.”

  “That again? Come on, Norman, the wolf thing is getting pretty tiring. How about pretending you’re a mummy or something for a change? You’d look good in white.”

  “Please.”

  He sighed, then said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I watched him walk into the room. Then I heard him yell, “Oops!” and stumble into the table.

  An instant later, there was the crash of a clay pot hitting the floor. An instant after that, I heard Dawn shout, “Sebastian! Look what you did.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it.”

  There was some more skittering around and other sounds. Then Splat came out of the room carrying a garbage can. “You owe me,” he said as he took the can down the hall.

  I walked back toward the room. Ms. Clevis met me as I was coming in the door. “You shouldn’t let the animal skulls bother you like that, Norman,” she said. “It’s just part of nature—nothing to be afraid of.”

  “But I wasn’t…” I stopped. Maybe it would be better to let her think I’d run from the skulls. “You’re right, it was a silly reaction. I should just confront my fears.” I walked back up to the table and stared at the skulls for a minute, then turned to her and said, “Yes, I see what you mean. These are certainly fascinating samples. Notice how the mandible on this one is much more extended than on the other, while the occipital lobe—”

  “Yes, Norman, very true. Now, you’d better take your seat so class can start.” She backed away from me and went to her desk.

  I glanced back at the skulls. They were pretty interesting. But part of my mind suddenly jumped not to the wonder of biology, but to the thoug
ht of fresh meat lying on the roadside. Hunting was better, but sometimes it was necessary to scavenge.

  Scavenge? Where’d that thought come from? I managed to push those images from my mind when Ms. Clevis began talking. But soon after that, something else intruded on my thoughts. If I’d had my choice, I’d sit in the front row. But we’d been given assigned seats at the start of the year. That was about to become a problem. In the seat ahead of me, Bud Mellon was leaning back in his chair—leaning far back. His head was almost over my desk. He was in my space. He was encroaching on my territory. I had to defend it.

  My hand curled into a claw. I hauled back and slashed across at the head of the invader.

  He rocked forward just as my hand ripped past. My slashing blow streaked through the empty spot where his head had been a second ago. I nearly fell off my seat with the momentum.

  “Norman,” Ms. Clevis said, pausing in her lecture to stare at me. “Is something wrong?”

  “A bee,” I said. “I was trying to hit a bee.” I looked across the room. “There it goes, out the window. It was probably the honeybee, you know, Apis mellifera. It’s really a fascinating insect. I shouldn’t have acted aggressively toward it, since by nature it is well known to be docile and—”

  “Thank you, Norman. Now, as I was saying…” Ms. Clevis resumed her lesson.

  That was close. I hadn’t been sure whether I could pull it off twice in a row, but my magic was still there. I sank down in my chair, trying to get control, hoping no one else would invade my space. This would not do. I was a rational human being, not some sort of animal that had to defend its territory.

  I looked at the clock. Still two hours until lunch. I hoped they had something good. I hoped they had something with a lot of meat in it. I needed to sink my teeth into something warm—blood warm—and juicy.

  Fifteen

  BACKTRACKING

  “You’re turning into a real pig, you know.”