60 - Werewolf Skin

by R. L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

  “Yes, I understand,” she said into the phone. “Well, it won’t happen again.”

  I took my place at the table beside Uncle Colin. He sipped from a white coffee mug, his eyes on Aunt Marta.

  “It won’t happen again,” my aunt repeated into the phone. She frowned. “I’ll make sure he stays away. No. He wasn’t spying on you, Mr. Marling.”

  So that’s who she was talking to.

  Uncle Colin shook his head unhappily. “I warned you not to go near that place, Alex,” he said. “We don’t need those people calling over here.”

  “Sorry,” I murmured. “But—”

  I wanted to tell him about last night, about everything that had happened to me and everything I’d seen.

  But he raised a finger to his lips, motioning for me to be silent while my aunt was on the phone.

  “No. My nephew wasn’t taking pictures of your house, Mr. Marling,” Aunt Marta continued. She rolled her eyes. “I promise. He won’t bother you again. I’ll talk to him right now. Yes. Okay. Good-bye.”

  She set down the receiver and turned to Uncle Colin with a sigh. “Those people,” she murmured.

  “We have to be careful,” Uncle Colin replied, narrowing his eyes at me. “We don’t want to get them worked up.”

  “But—but—” I sputtered. “I saw things—”

  “They saw you, Alex,” my aunt interrupted. “They saw you prowling around their house late last night. They are very angry about it.”

  She poured herself a mug of coffee and came over to the table. She sat down and swept a strand of gray hair off her forehead.

  “What were you doing outside last night?” my uncle asked.

  “I’m really sorry. But I had no choice. I left my camera out in the woods,” I explained. “I had to run out and get it. I couldn’t leave it out all night—especially with the rain.”

  “But you didn’t have to go near the Marlings’ house—did you?” Aunt Marta demanded.

  “I—I heard animal howls from inside their house!” I blurted out. “And I saw strange footprints going up to the bedroom window at the side.”

  Uncle Colin nodded calmly. He took a long sip of coffee. “The footprints were probably from their dogs,” he said, glancing at Aunt Marta.

  “Dogs?” I cried.

  They both nodded. “They have two huge German shepherds,” my aunt explained. “Mean as they come.”

  “And as big as wolves,” Uncle Colin added, shaking his head. He reached for a slice of toast and began to butter it.

  I sighed. I felt a little better.

  Two German shepherds. That explained the howls and the footprints in the wet grass.

  “Are you ready for school?” Aunt Marta asked. “Hannah will be here any minute.”

  “I’m almost ready,” I replied. I gulped down a glass of orange juice. “When I was in the woods last night…” I started.

  They both stared at me.

  “I saw some animals that got ripped up. I mean, killed.”

  Uncle Colin nodded. “The woods are dangerous at night,” he said softly.

  “We really don’t want you out there at night, Alex,” Aunt Marta said. She pulled a piece of lint off the shoulder of my T-shirt. Then she tenderly brushed my hair back with her hand. “Promise us you won’t go again.”

  “Promise,” I murmured.

  “And promise that you’ll stay away from the Marlings,” my uncle added.

  Before I could reply, the doorbell rang. Hannah came into the kitchen, weighted down under a bulging backpack. “Ready?” she asked.

  I nodded and shoved my chair back from the table. “Yeah. I guess I’m ready,” I told her. “This is so weird. Going to someone else’s school.”

  “You’ll like my teacher, Mr. Shein,” Hannah replied. “He’s very interesting. And he’s really nice.”

  I grabbed my backpack and my jacket. We said good-bye to my aunt and uncle and headed out the front door.

  I glanced at the Marlings’ house as we made our way to the street. The bedroom window at the side had been closed, I saw. The house was dark as always.

  “Did you find your camera?” Hannah asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. But it wasn’t easy.” I told her about my scary adventures.

  She tsk-tsked. “I warned you, Alex,” she said. “You wouldn’t catch me in the woods after dark.”

  A yellow school bus rumbled past. Some kids in the bus called out the window to Hannah. She waved back to them.

  The morning sun still floated low in the sky. A silvery frost clung to the lawns. The air felt crisp and cold.

  “One more block to school,” Hannah said. “Are you nervous?”

  I didn’t answer. I was thinking about the Marlings. I told Hannah about the howls I’d heard inside their house. “Uncle Colin says they have two German shepherds. Really big and really mean,” I told her.

  “No, they don’t,” Hannah replied sharply.

  I stopped walking. “Excuse me?” I cried.

  “The Marlings don’t have any dogs,” she repeated. “I’ve lived here as long as they have, and I’ve never seen them.”

  “Then why did my uncle tell me that?” I demanded.

  “So you won’t be scared,” Hannah replied.

  “I—I don’t understand,” I stammered. “If the Marlings don’t have dogs, what made those weird footprints outside their window?”

  Hannah shook her head. Her olive-green eyes locked onto mine. “Alex, don’t you get it?” she cried. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

  “Figured what out?” I asked.

  “The Marlings are werewolves!” Hannah declared.

  15

  Why is everyone in Wolf Creek obsessed with werewolves? I wondered.

  I laughed at Hannah and teased her the rest of the walk to school. I mean, how could anyone actually believe in werewolves today?

  “You’re only trying to scare me,” I told her. “But I don’t scare easily—remember? I saw one of the German shepherds. It was howling in the Marlings’ window.”

  Hannah shrugged. “Believe what you want to believe,” she murmured.

  “Don’t try to scare me with werewolves anymore,” I told her.

  But I had a surprise when we arrived at school. Even Mr. Shein, the sixth-grade teacher, wanted to talk about werewolves all morning!

  He was about forty, short, and chubby, with thinning brown hair and thick black eyeglasses perched on his round pink face. He wore a yellow sweater that made him resemble a ripe pear.

  But Hannah was right. He was very nice. Very friendly. He welcomed me eagerly and introduced me to the other sixth graders, and really made me feel at home.

  He assigned me a seat near the door in back. Hannah sat in the front row.

  I spotted Sean and Arjun near the windows on the other side of the classroom. They nodded, but didn’t say hi or anything.

  They both looked rumpled and kind of tired. Their baggy clothes were very wrinkled. Their hair was wild. They look as if they’d been up all night, I thought.

  Weird thought…

  After taking attendance and making a few announcements, Mr. Shein sat on the edge of his desk. His eyes traveled around the room. He waited for us to settle down.

  “Does anyone know what the study of lycanthropy is?” he asked. Behind his glasses, his dark eyes glowed.

  I had never heard the word. But to my surprise, several hands shot up. He called on Arjun.

  “It’s about people changing into wolves,” Arjun said.

  “Werewolves!” Sean exclaimed.

  Mr. Shein nodded. “Yes. Werewolves,” he repeated. “That’s what lycanthropy is the study of.” He cleared his throat. “Since Halloween comes later this week, I thought we might spend some time discussing lycanthropy.”

  “There is going to be a full moon on Halloween night this year!” a tall, athletic-looking boy interrupted.

  “Yes, there is,” Mr. Shein agreed. “Many people believe a full moon is nee
ded to bring the werewolf to life—but they are wrong. Although a werewolf’s powers do grow stronger as the moon grows fuller.”

  Crossing his legs, he leaned back and began to talk. He explained how the werewolf legends began over two hundred years ago in Europe. A normal person, bitten by a werewolf, becomes a werewolf himself when moonlight shines on him.

  “It is a curse that cannot be removed,” Mr. Shein said, speaking in a low, steady voice. Trying to sound spooky. “No matter how much he tries to live a normal life, a man inflicted with the curse turns into a wolf under the light of the moon.”

  “Girls too?” Hannah asked.

  Some kids giggled.

  “Yes. Girls too,” the teacher answered seriously.

  “The werewolf must rage and howl,” Mr. Shein continued. “And prowl the woods or forest in search of victims.”

  “Cool!” a red-haired boy in front of me muttered.

  Everyone laughed.

  “At daybreak, the werewolves must shed their wolf skin,” the teacher explained. “They return to human form. They must hide their wolf skin until the next night. They must hide the skin in a safe place. Because if someone takes the werewolf’s skin and burns it… the werewolf will die.”

  “Cool!” the red-haired boy repeated.

  More laughter. Kids started talking excitedly.

  It took a while for Mr. Shein to quiet everyone. He jumped to his feet, pulled down his yellow sweater, and paced in front of the chalkboard.

  “Does anyone in this class believe that werewolves really exist?” he asked.

  I snickered. I didn’t think any kids would raise their hands.

  But to my surprise, every single hand in the room shot up.

  “You all believe in werewolves!” Mr. Shein declared.

  “Yes, we do,” I heard Arjun murmur softly.

  “Yes, we do,” Sean repeated.

  I turned and realized they were both staring hard at me.

  I felt a sudden chill. What is their problem? I wondered. Why are they acting so weird?

  16

  After school, Sean and Arjun came up to me at the back of the classroom. Outside the room, lockers slammed. The tile walls echoed with shouts and laughter.

  The two guys studied me solemnly. “What’s up?” I greeted them, zipping my backpack.

  Mr. Shein waved and walked out, carrying a bulging briefcase. The three of us were alone in the room.

  “How’s it going?” Sean asked.

  “Is it weird being in a new school?” Arjun said.

  “Yeah. Kind of,” I told them. “Especially since I know I’m only here for a few weeks.”

  “You’re lucky!” Arjun joked. “Sean and I are stuck here.”

  “Wolf Creek isn’t so bad,” I said. I swung the backpack onto my shoulder.

  The two boys stared at me intently. They didn’t say anything. Sean shoved his hands into his baggy jeans pockets. Arjun fiddled with a silver ring on his little finger.

  Finally, Sean broke the silence. “You don’t believe in werewolves,” he said softly.

  “Huh? Well…” I hesitated.

  “You didn’t raise your hand,” Arjun added. “Everyone else did.”

  “Yeah. I know,” I replied. “I really don’t believe in them. I mean, come on, guys. It’s practically the twenty-first century. See a lot of guys with fur on their faces walking around the streets? I don’t think so!”

  I meant it to be funny. But they didn’t laugh. They kept staring at me with their solemn faces.

  “Werewolves exist,” Arjun said softly. “We can prove it to you.”

  “For sure,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “The Easter Bunny exists too. I saw him riding a bus back home in Cleveland.”

  “We can prove it to you, Alex,” Arjun insisted. “We can show you a werewolf.”

  “A real one,” Sean added.

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I really—”

  “You can take pictures of it,” Arjun interrupted.

  “Yeah. You can take a whole roll!” his friend cried.

  That made me stop and think. I remembered the photo contest I planned to enter. I needed a Halloween photo—a really good Halloween photo—for the contest.

  They moved closer, surrounding me, forcing me to back up until I bumped into the windowsill.

  “Want to see a real werewolf, Alex?” Sean demanded.

  “Want to take photos of a real werewolf?” Arjun asked.

  They stared hard at me, challenging me.

  “What do I have to do?” I asked.

  17

  Aunt Marta laughed. “Hannah—you look dreadful!” she cried, pressing her hands against her cheeks.

  “Thank you!” Hannah took a low bow. “Thank you!”

  After dinner, Hannah had come over to show off her Halloween costume. She changed her mind about dressing as a pirate. The costume she chose instead was hard to describe. She had taken a lot of old clothes, torn them all up, and sewn them back together.

  Her baggy pants had one brown leg and one green leg. And they had checkered patches at the knees. She wore a ragged shirt of yellow, blue, red—every color you can imagine. An even more colorful jacket over the shirt. And a floppy rag hat that kept falling over her face.

  “What are you supposed to be?” I asked. “A junkyard?”

  She didn’t laugh. “I’m a rag doll,” she replied. “Don’t you get it?” She tugged at the jacket. “Rags?”

  Aunt Marta and Uncle Colin both laughed. I was happy to see them enjoying themselves. They had both seemed tired and low at dinner. They had barely spoken to me.

  “There used to be a song about a rag doll,” Aunt Marta said. “Remember it, Colin?”

  My uncle shook his head. “I don’t remember anything anymore,” he replied. “I’m lucky if I remember to get up in the morning!”

  “Oh, give me a break, Colin!” Aunt Marta scolded. She gave him a playful shove. She began singing a song about a rag doll.

  Hannah did a silly dance, twirling her hands above her head. One of her jacket sleeves fell off, and we all laughed.

  “Where’s your costume, Alex?” my aunt demanded. “Go put it on. Come on. Let’s have a preview.”

  “I—I haven’t put one together yet,” I stammered.

  “Well, let’s get some old clothes and make you a costume tonight!” Aunt Marta insisted.

  “No. I… need to think about it,” I told her.

  I didn’t have my mind on costumes. I kept glancing out the front window at the darkening sky. Thinking about what I planned to do later.

  I planned to meet Sean and Arjun in the woods by the creek. At school, they told me to take my camera and meet them there.

  They said that the werewolf comes to that spot every night when the moon is at the highest point in the sky. “It howls up at the moon,” Arjun said in an excited whisper. “And then it lowers its head and laps up water from the creek.”

  “Wait till you see it!” Sean exclaimed. “It’s a man and a wolf at the same time. He’s half-human, half-animal.”

  I narrowed my eyes at the two of them. I tried to decide if they were goofing or not. Their expressions were so serious—and so excited—I decided they were telling the truth.

  Was it possible? Did werewolves really exist?

  I pictured the howling creature in the Marlings’ window. And I pictured the two animals in the woods, ripped to pieces.

  By a werewolf?

  The back of my neck tingled. I’d never believed in werewolves. But I’d seldom been out of the city.

  Here in this small town surrounded by woods, they began to seem real.

  “Will you meet us at midnight?” Sean asked.

  I didn’t want to return to the woods at night. Not after what I’d seen there.

  But I didn’t want them to know I was afraid.

  And I really needed a great photo to win the contest. A photo of a werewolf would definitely win! What else could come close?
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br />   So I agreed to sneak out of the house and meet Sean and Arjun at midnight in the woods. But now, as it grew later, I began to feel really nervous about it.

  As I glanced out at the darkness beyond the window, I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. And my hands were suddenly cold and clammy.

  “Alex, what are you thinking about?” Aunt Marta’s voice broke into my thoughts.

  “Huh?” I blinked and shook my head.

  Everyone laughed. “You were staring out the window with the strangest look on your face,” Hannah declared.

  “Oh. Just watching the moon,” I said with a shrug.

  “It’s Moon Madness!” Uncle Colin joked. “OOOH. Looks like a bad case!”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “How should I know?” my uncle replied. “I just made it up!”

  We all laughed again.

  Everyone was in such a good mood. I wished I could relax and have fun too. But all I could think about was sneaking out to the woods.

  Hannah went home a short while later. I said goodnight to my aunt and uncle and closed myself up in my room.

  I glanced at the bed-table clock. It read ten fifteen.

  Nearly two hours to wait.

  I checked out my camera. Made sure I had it loaded with high-speed film.

  Then I sat down to read a photography magazine—and wait—hoping the time would pass quickly.

  My eyes stared at the pages of the magazine. But I couldn’t read. I couldn’t concentrate.

  Every few seconds, my eyes went up to the bed-table clock.

  Why does time move so slowly when you’re waiting?

  Finally, at about ten to midnight, I closed my magazine. Pulled on an extra sweater and then my jacket. I grabbed my camera case and slung the strap over my shoulder.

  Then I tiptoed to the bedroom door.

  My aunt and uncle were probably out in the woods, photographing night animals. But in case they decided to stay in tonight, I didn’t want them to hear me sneak out.

  I clicked off the lights in my room. Then I reached for the doorknob and tugged.

  “Hey—!”