by P. J. Night
That’s when the wolf sprang forward, charging at Emily, its eyes wild with rage, its jaws wide open, trailing long strings of blood-flecked saliva.
Emily turned and ran, crashing back through the dense woods. She gave no thought now to being brave, or to proving to everyone else that the wolf was real. Her only thought was to survive.
Branches tore at her face and arms as she ran. No matter how fast she pushed herself, she could hear the wolf close behind. Its powerful legs pounded into the ground, propelling the beast forward, growling and snarling as it ran.
Emily’s ankle caught a low branch. A jolt of pain shot through her leg as she tripped and tumbled to the ground, twisting and landing on her back. The wolf increased its speed, seeing that its prey was vulnerable now. It leaped into the air, ready to come down right on top of her.
In the split second that the wolf was airborne, Emily rolled over, the pain in her back and shoulders matching the ache in her ankle. The wolf slammed to the ground beside her, landing just inches away from her face. It slid along the fallen leaves and twigs and crashed into the base of a tree.
Emily pushed herself up from her stomach and stumbled forward, shoving the pain aside. Behind her, she heard the wolf scramble back to its feet and continue its close pursuit.
Jumping over low branches and ducking under higher ones, Emily maneuvered through the woods like some combination gymnast and high-hurdles track star. Ahead she spotted a thin ribbon of light through the trees. She allowed herself to feel hopeful.
The streetlights! she thought. I’m almost there, almost home.
Emily emerged from the woods into the Strigs’ backyard. She glanced toward the door, hoping that maybe the noise from the chase would have awakened someone.
The Strigs’ house was dark and still.
She glanced back over her shoulder. The wolf was still just a few feet away.
Dashing across the street, Emily made for her front door, like a runner sprinting for the finish line. Her legs felt like lead, her ankle throbbed, and she began to tremble as she ran.
The wolf drew closer and closer.
Emily hit the front steps and took them two at a time. She grabbed the front door, threw it open, and ran inside. But the beast was right there, leaving her no time to close the door and keep it out.
She bounded up the stairs, but the wolf was right behind her, nipping at her heels. If she could only make it to her room. But what about her mom and dad? Even if she could make it to safety, the wolf would surely get them.
Trying to force herself to move faster, Emily stumbled on the top step and hit the landing, sprawled out on her back. The wolf was next to her in a flash, its paw on her shoulder, pinning her down.
The wolf lowered its jaws toward her face and began to change shape. While becoming no less menacing, it morphed into a human shape.
As the creature came closer, Emily got a good look at its face—its human face.
She was stunned.
The face was shockingly familiar. She knew this face. But who? Whose face was it?
The human monster still had long fangs, which it now lowered toward Emily’s neck.
CHAPTER 8
“Yaaaiiii!” Emily screamed, bolting upright in bed, covered in sweat. She flung the covers off and rolled to the floor to get away from the monster attacking her. Then she realized that there was no monster. She was alone. It was not three o’clock in the morning, but rather seven a.m. The shine was shining. Sitting on the floor, panting, out of breath, Emily slowly realized that she had just had the worst dream of her life.
“The whole thing, the howling, the woods, the chase, the changing from a wolf into a person—it was all a dream, a long, terrible dream,” Emily muttered to herself. She looked down and saw that she was sitting on the floor beside her bed, completely tangled up in her blankets. “Okay, Emily, first . . . get up off the floor.”
She rolled to one side, then pushed herself up, tossing the blankets back onto the bed in a heap. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she tried to make sense of the crazy nightmare. She felt as if someone had been shaking her and shaking her, refusing to stop. The actual events of the previous evening slowly came to her, as if a fog in her head was lifting. She could once again begin to distinguish between reality and the dreamworld in which she had been spending far too much time lately.
Emily remembered searching the woods for real—she believed—with Drew and Vicky, and finding nothing. Nothing except for a few small animals that belonged there. She recalled deciding that she had had enough of all this wolf business and vowing to put it out of her mind. But apparently her mind had other plans.
It’s one thing to believe you saw a wolf strolling through the neighborhood, Emily thought as she tried to remember what day it was. At least that is possible, even though it’s not very likely. But a wolf shape-shifting into a person?
She had read enough science-fiction books and seen enough scary movies to think that the idea was pretty cool. But the “fiction” part of “science fiction” meant that it wasn’t real! And whose face was that in her dream anyway? She couldn’t recall any details other than the overwhelming feeling that this person-monster-thing was someone she knew.
“Emily! Are you up? Breakfast is ready!” her mother called from downstairs.
“Be right down, Mom!” she yelled back. Emily knew she had better get moving before she missed the school bus.
Hurrying through her shower, Emily tried to wash away the sickly feeling that still lingered from the dream. After dressing quickly, she bounded down the stairs, looking forward, more than usual, to the normal, boring breakfast chitchat that she sleepwalked through most mornings. She, of course, had decided to tell no one about her dream.
Slipping into her chair at the breakfast table, Emily began shoveling spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth.
“So how’s the sleepover planning going, honey?” her mom asked.
“Okay,” Emily replied, guzzling down a glass of orange juice. “Hannah and Ethan have come up with some pretty good ideas for the party. Well, Hannah has, anyway.”
“Well, you just be sure to let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I used to love sleepovers when I was your age.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“What about Drew and Vicky?” Emily’s mom asked.
Emily felt herself tense up. Her mind shot back to their expedition in the woods and then to her horrible dream.
“What’s the matter, honey?” her mom asked.
Emily quickly realized that her expression must have changed.
“Did you and Vicky have a fight or something?” her dad asked, looking up from his phone.
“Have you invited Drew and Vicky to your party yet? Are they planning on coming?” her mom added.
“No, no, we didn’t have a fight,” Emily answered her father. “Sorry, my mind wandered for a second. I did invite them, and I really hope they come. But they haven’t had a chance to talk to their parents. Mr. and Mrs. Strig are kind of funny about Drew and Vicky going anywhere. I guess that’s why they’re homeschooled.”
At that moment, Emily felt as if a lightbulb had switched on in her brain. “Homeschooled!” she repeated. “Of course. That’s it.”
“That’s what?” her mom asked.
“I’ve been going about this all wrong,” Emily said. “I’ve been overlooking the obvious. I’m the one who has to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Strig about Vicky and Drew coming over. They work a lot of nights and weekends, but they have to be home during the day because Drew and Vicky are homeschooled.”
“O-kay,” her mom said slowly, raising her hands and shaking her head.
“Don’t you see?” Emily asked, smiling as her dream begin to fade from her mind. “We have no school tomorrow. Some end-of-the-year teacher conference thing, but for Drew and Vicky it’ll just be another regular day of homeschooling—with their parents! I’m going to go over there tomorrow and ask them if it’s okay for Drew and Vicky to come t
o the party. And I’ll invite the whole family over to meet you and Dad tomorrow night. It’s perfect!”
Emily jumped up from the table and grabbed her books. “Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” she said, kissing each of them. “Thanks!” Then she hurried toward the door.
“You’re welcome?” her mom replied questioningly, wondering exactly what Emily was thanking her for.
That day at school was a bear for Emily. Not only did she have two finals scheduled, but her math teacher sprang one last pop quiz on the class as well. By the time she got to lunch, she was completely stressed.
“Em!” Hannah called out from their usual table. “We’ve got some serious party planning to do.”
“Can’t,” Emily said, pausing at the table but not sitting down at her usual seat. “Gotta cram for the history final. It’s on the Civil War.”
“The North won,” Ethan volunteered, being his usual helpful self.
“Seriously, guys, I gotta study, but no worries. We’re off tomorrow, remember? So let’s hang out, okay?”
“I have my first soccer practice for the summer team in the afternoon,” Ethan said.
“And I’ve got to watch my little brother when he comes home from morning preschool,” Hannah added.
“So let’s hang out in the morning,” Emily suggested. She knew that she had to go talk with Mr. and Mrs. Strig tomorrow. But there would be plenty of time to do that in the afternoon. After all, her parents didn’t get home from work until late anyway.
“Okay with me,” Ethan said. “You wanna meet at the lake?”
“Sure,” Hannah said. “Ten?”
“Great. See you guys then.”
Emily slid into a seat at an empty table and pulled out her history book. She hardly ate any of her lunch, cramming Gettysburg and Appomattox into her brain rather than mac and cheese into her belly.
When her excruciating day finally came to an end, Emily was exhausted. She had planned to maybe go play guitar with Drew and Vicky that evening, but she felt herself dozing off at the dinner table. She watched about ten minutes of Attack of the Zombies, a “true classic” as she described it to her parents, then headed up to her room.
Emily checked her e-mail to see how many of her friends had RSVP’d to her party invitation. Two additional people said they would be coming, bringing the total so far to twelve. This was going to be a great party, but at the moment, all Emily could think about was going to bed. She slept like a rock and had no dreams, scary or otherwise, that she could remember.
The following morning she had the great pleasure of sleeping until she woke up on her own. She had remembered to turn off that annoying pest known as her alarm clock. Her parents were long out of the house by the time she stirred. She fixed herself a bowl of cereal, which she ate while watching the rest of Attack of the Zombies. Then she took a shower, threw on some clothes, and hopped on her bike.
During the twenty-minute bike ride from her house to the lake, Emily’s mind focused on the sleepover. She had been so consumed with studying for her tests, not to mention all this wolf nonsense, that she had hardly had any time to really think about the party, which was now just two days away. She was really looking forward to kicking around some ideas with Ethan and Hannah. Then later in the day she would finally officially meet Mr. and Mrs. Strig and work it out so that Drew and Vicky could come to the party. It was all good.
Coasting down the final hill approaching the lake, Emily saw that Hannah was already there. She slowed to a stop beside the dock, then lowered her bike to the ground.
“Hey, Em,” Hannah said, tossing a small rock into the water and watching the ripples spread out. “How was the history final?”
“I think I did okay,” Emily replied. “The North won, right?”
“Cute!”
“Who’s cute?” asked a voice from behind them. Ethan crouched down at the edge of the dock and dangled his feet just above the water. He lived the closest to the lake of all three friends and could easily walk there.
“You are, Ethan,” Hannah said, blowing silly exaggerated kisses at him. “Don’t you think so, Em? Ethan is sooo cute.”
“Guys!” Emily cried, holding up her hands. “Please, no flirting. I just ate.”
“Okay, down to business,” Hannah said. “Here’s what I have in mind for the sleepover. We all agreed on make-your-own ice cream sundaes.”
“Check,” Emily said.
“For a theme—”
“A theme?” Ethan interrupted. “We need a theme for the party? How about summer’s here and everybody hangs out and has fun? Is that a good theme?”
“It’s so sad, Ethan, really,” Hannah said, the fake sympathy practically dripping from her voice. “You obviously know nothing at all about throwing a successful party.”
“Oh yeah?” Ethan said defensively. “Well, one time Roger, Chuck, Sid, and I ate so much kettle corn and drank so many milk shakes that Roger ended up puking all over Chuck’s bathroom. And Sid had to go the hospital to get his stomach pumped. Now that was a fun party.”
“Delightful,” Hannah said. “Sorry I missed that.”
“Yeah, me too,” Emily added. “Be sure to send me an invite the next time you guys decide to test the limits of the human stomach.”
“Okay, back to my theme,” Hannah said. “You ready? Camping out, indoors! We set up tents in your home theater. We eat dinner sitting around that DVD your parents have of a fireplace burning.”
“Ugh, that thing,” Emily said, scrunching up her face. “My dad insists on putting it on every Christmas.”
“But you guys have a real fireplace,” Ethan pointed out.
“Please. Don’t I know it,” Emily said. “But you know my dad. He thinks the fire looks so real in HD that he insists on playing it every year. It’s so silly.”
“But for us, it can fill in as our campfire,” Hannah jumped in. “Sleeping in tents, eating around the fire.”
“Making s’mores in the microwave!” Emily chimed in, starting to get excited about the idea. “And—oh, this is great!—we can tell scary stories! Just like a real campout. Hannah, I’m loving this!”
“Have you been getting replies to your invite?” Hannah asked.
“Yup, we’re up to twelve, including you guys,” Emily reported. “My mom said she’d like to limit it to about fifteen.”
“Oh, I know what I wanted to tell you, Em,” Ethan said, picking up a stick and poking it into the water near a school of small fish. The tiny minnows scattered, moving as a group. “My cousin Declan will be visiting me the weekend of the party. Okay if I bring him along? He’s pretty cool, like me.”
“I don’t know if we could handle two kids who are as cool as you, Ethan,” Hannah joked, playfully poking Ethan in the ribs.
“Sure, you can bring Declan, no problem,” Emily replied. “So that brings us to thirteen.”
“Does that include Drew and Vicky?” Hannah asked.
“No, not yet. I’m hoping that they’ll fill in the last two spots.”
“What’s taking them so long to get back to you?” Ethan asked.
“They haven’t been able to get their parents to give them permission to come,” Emily explained. “But all that is going to change.” She told her friends about her plan to talk to Vicky and Drew’s parents later that day. “I’m telling you, after today, everything with Drew and Vicky will be different. You’ll see. You’ll like them.”
CHAPTER 9
Satisfied with their party planning, Emily, Hannah, and Ethan left the lake, heading their separate ways. Hannah hurried home to watch her little brother, and Ethan ran off to the school for soccer practice.
As Emily rode her bike home she began to get excited, but also nervous, about her plan to barge in and introduce herself to Drew and Vicky’s parents. In the months she’d been hanging out at Drew and Vicky’s, she’d called up to them a bunch of times, but she’d never actually met them face-to-face. What was she going to say to them?
“Hi, Mr. and M
rs. Strig. I’m Emily Hunter,” she rehearsed aloud as she pedaled toward home. “I’m your neighbor, you know, from across the street. The house with the green shutters and white—”
Emily smiled to herself. They don’t need a detailed description of your house. They’ll know who you are. You’ve been hanging out there, like, every day for the past few months.
She tried again. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Strig. I’m Emily Hunter, you know, Drew and Vicky’s friend? You’ve probably heard me playing guitar with them? I hang out at your house sometimes?” Jeez, Em, just get to the point!
“Mr. and Mrs. Strig, I would like to invite you and Drew and Vicky to my house so you can meet my parents. And I would also like Vicky and Drew to come to my sleepover party on Saturday. Well, Vicky will actually be the one sleeping over. All the boys will be leaving at eleven and—”
Emily sighed. Forget it. You’ll figure out what to say when you get there.
A few minutes later she turned into her driveway and slowed to a stop. Leaning her bike against the garage door, she took a deep breath and walked quickly across the street.
Emily climbed the lopsided steps leading onto the Strigs’ porch and walked across the creaky floorboards to the front door. Then she knocked on the door.
No reply.
Again she knocked. Again, no sound from within.
“Maybe they’re in the back of the house. Of course, if they had a doorbell . . .”
Emily thought about turning around and going home, but she knew she would regret it. She’d gotten herself psyched to do this and she would not get another chance before the sleepover.
She grabbed the ancient doorknob and turned it. The door squeaked open with a pitiful groan.
“Drew, Vicky? Is that you?” a woman’s voice said.
“We’re upstairs,” added a man’s voice.
Why aren’t Drew and Vicky home being homeschooled? Emily thought.
“Mr. Strig! Mrs. Strig! It’s Emily Hunter from across the street. Drew and Vicky’s friend. May I come in and talk with you?”
The Strigs remained silent.
What is with these people?