Moon Struck: Book 1 (When, Were, and Howl)

by Raleigh, Jeanette

  Grandma didn't seem to notice or care about Ali's new dog. “Ali, is Jen in danger?”

  Ah, an easy question, but Ali smiled sweetly when she answered. It was the smile that she gave when she was covering something up, her lying smile. She said, “No.”

  Of course, my grandma didn't believe her. “Ali, if you don't tell me where Jen is this instant, I will see to it that you both regret it for years to come.”

  I could only imagine what kind of punishment she would dream up. I may have whined. It was a slip of the tongue. Ali tucked a curly strand of hair behind her ear, a deadly earnest expression on her face. She did not take threats well. This could turn into a full blown battle. And Grandma would call in the troops. I could just imagine my parents and Andrea and of course my brother all lined up to harass Ali and Rob until they spilled.

  “She has Chicken Pox.” Ali blurted out.

  It was probably a good thing Gran didn't look over at me just then. I'd put my paws over my head. Chicken Pox. That was the worst explanation ever. The worst. Seriously.

  She was my best friend. I could let this disaster slide. One had to have allowances for a best friend's quirks.

  “She's at her apartment?” Grandma asked.

  “Well...”Ali hesitated, “Not exactly.”

  “Well exactly where is she?”

  “My mom's house.”

  Here I stood over the abyss, the large pit of lies that Ali had dug in an attempt to keep my Grandma off my scent. It occurs to me that the reason Ali so frequently blurts out the worst truths is because she's so horribly bad at lying. It's the drama. Her poker face is great, and she can weave a fantastic tale. Unfortunately, no one in their right mind would believe her.

  Grandma sure didn’t.” Well, then, we're going to see your mom.”

  “I'm sorry. I can't do that.” Ali said.

  Grandma is not only a werewolf, but the matriarch of the family. Her piercing stare is enough to make the strongest wolf crumble. It's a good thing Ali changes to raccoon. With the whole pack dominance thing, she'd be telling Grandma about the time we cut school in fourth grade to sneak into the zoo. Not the safest thing we've ever done. The zoo is full of the kind of animals that would love to eat a mouse for dinner. You'd think the were-people wouldn't allow the entrapment of fellow animals, but the majority see animals the same way people do, as dumb beasts without emotion or reason. I'm more of a rebel.

  Back to Ali and Grandma. Grandma's eyes had bulged and her face transformed to a feral anger. Oh dear. “What did you say?” The words were enunciated very carefully. Ali had better have a different answer this time.

  I cringed.

  “Grandma Ann, A woman your age can't be too careful. Shingles aren't anything to play with.”

  “Jen does not have chicken pox.” Grandma took a step forward. I could see now why Grandpa always let her have her way about things.

  “Okay, you want the truth?” Ali looked at me again. The way she was glancing at me after every question, I'm surprised Grandma didn't figure it out anyway.

  She took a deep breath, the kind of inhalation a person might take before walking the plank. Whatever Ali was about to say, I knew, I just knew, it wasn't going to be the truth. She'd never be able to crawl her way back into Grandma's good graces if she kept going, not that either of us had ever exactly been Grandma's favorites.

  I barked and jumped to my feet, placing myself directly in front of Grandma.

  Looking over my shoulder at Ali, I couldn't help but notice her relief.

  With a weak wave of her hand and a rather ironic and dismal smile, Ali said, “So this is Jen.”

  If Grandma's brows drew together any tighter, they'd be up and down on her face. I really didn't know a woman could scowl so much. I should have. After all, I've been dealing with her my whole life.

  It's like the boy who cried wolf, except in this case, Ali was the habitual liar who no one would believe, which isn't fair because Ali tells the truth more than most people. She's just a really bad liar and when she lies, it's a rather memorable event. Most people lie softly, with a garnish of the truth to make it palatable. Not Ali.

  “Ali, I don't appreciate being lied to. I'm going to be speaking with your mother. And I don't care if Jen is an adult, when I find her, I'm going to put her on such a tight leash she will wish she was young enough to be grounded.” See how unfair it is. Why am I in trouble because Ali is such a huge liar? But I know why. It's as much a punishment for Ali as for me.

  Grandma turned to leave, and she was so mad her hands were shaking. Only Ali could get that kind of extreme reaction out of people. I flew past her and put a paw on the door. Then I turned and blocked the entrance.

  “Get your wolf out of the way.” Grandma said. Her eyes were lit with fury and I knew

  “Wait. I'll tell you the truth.” Ali sank onto the sofa, her eyes down on her lap. That's not Ali's style at all, which will probably make her believable. She gave a huge sigh, “You're not going to like it.”

  Grandma turned slowly. In the scary movies, she'd be the bad guy who just discovered the hero hiding in the closet. At least, that was my first impression.

  “I already don't like it. Is that boyfriend of hers in on it, too?”

  Boyfriend? Oh no.

  “He's technically not her boyfriend yet, but they're well-suited to one another if it gets to that.”

  “Cut the beans. Where is Jen?”

  Ali grabbed one of the sofa pillows and tugged at the fringe, her fingers weaving in and out. A definite change of tactics. “You have to promise not to yell at her when she gets back. She made me paw swear never to tell. This is a serious breach of our friendship.”

  “I promise.”

  Wow, Ali was totally wrapping Grandma around her little finger. The whole “promise not to yell' and “breach of friendship” elevated Ali's lies to truth. But Grandma's promise came too easy. She never yelled. She just slowly lowered her voice and spoke the words ever more clearly until you had to lean in to hear. Then she'd tell you how disappointed she was. This kind of trick works with pack animals. Not so much with mice, but then I always felt a little bad for disappointing her. That aside. When Grandma promised not to yell at me, she could still give me an excessively long stern lecture and not technically break her promise to Ali.

  Ali must have been quiet a whole minute. Grandma took the seat opposite her on the couch and waited her out. I hoped Ali was using this time to come up with a really good lie, because the truth sure didn't work. Imagining the trouble chair in Grandma's den, I winced. This could be a losing proposition either way.

  “Jen wants to go to college. She's touring schools on the east coast for a culinary arts degree.”

  As lies go, that wasn't a bad one, except for the expectation of a follow-through. Culinary arts was a huge stretch, but it was at least believable. Maybe once I was human, I could convince Grandma that I really had been a wolf for a while. Or that I decided not to go to college because it was too expensive. Too bad she didn't believe I had chicken pox.

  “Why not WSU? That's a fine school.” Here we go. Just because my dad and brother go, I'm expected to as well.

  “Only the finest culinary arts schools will do, which is why she flew to New York.” Ali bit her lip and raised her eyebrows with a hopeful smile, the kind which screamed untruth.

  “But New York. That's so far away. We'll never see her.”

  Ali actually found a sad face somewhere in her acting repertoire and said,” She needs to be her own person.”

  That part was true. Getting a unique identity in a pack family was hard.

  “Why can't she be her own person close to home?” Grandma sounded like she was ready to grab the next flight to New York and track me down. Funny, I practically sat at her feet.

  This is where I expected Ali to start arguing. She surprised me by saying, “I know. That's exactly what I told her. I wanted her to go to Eastern, at least for a few years. She can always transfer later.�
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  And then she and Grandma were discussing how hard it would be if I ended up going to school halfway across the country. Ali had to polish it off with a corker, “Of course, if she attends school that far away, there will be no hope for anything with Rob.”

  It's rather annoying to listen to your grandmother and best friend discuss your love life. I tuned them out and daydreamed about a move to New York.

  Chapter 22

  After Grandma left, Ali threw herself on the couch and said, “Culinary Arts” and started laughing. Reflecting on the last meal I'd prepared as a human, egg noodles and parmesan cheese, I chuckled, too.

  After wiping her eyes, Ali said, “I'd better warn Rob.”

  She gave him the two-minute version. Hanging up the phone, she studied me. “We have the whole afternoon.”

  Uh-oh. When Ali starts talking about how much time we have, it's usually because she's cooked up an adventure, which I had to admit was more fun than hanging around waiting for Rob or even worse, hiding because he entertained clients.

  I wagged my tail and lifted my eyes, waiting for the germ of an idea to build.

  “This is the only time you'll ever be a wolf.”

  Presumably that was true. Where was she going with this?

  “The water park just opened. We sneak in, slide down one of the big slides, and sneak out.” Ali's face was flushed and her eyes bright, just like a crazy person's.

  This was an ancient idea. At the age of fourteen, Ali proposed the adventure. I declined. The proposition changed with a dozen variations. We'd paid as patrons, scouted and marked the entries and exits. I'd drown. No matter how many times I slid down the slide as a human, I thought of myself as a mouse, tiny and in the way, and factored in the amount of water—too much. And then the odds that some kid slid down just as I jumped. The adventure would kill me.

  As a wolf, my hesitation wasn't as legitimate. But the collar with the stupid mojo bag was a dead giveaway. Hmm...I watched my own thoughts, my emotions, my excitement. I'm going to do this. After years of fear, I'm going to slide down the superslide as a werewolf.

  I nodded, but then pawed at the collar. We couldn't have anything that marked us.

  “That's a good idea.” Ali said.

  She removed the collar. I can't tell you how good it felt. When this is over, I'm never wearing a necklace or turtleneck shirt or anything like it again.

  “I need to hide it someplace safe.” She walked around her little apartment, opening cupboards. In the end, she taped it to the wall in her closet.

  The protection gone, I started to have misgivings. Not enough to call off the adventure, but a healthy dose of worry. Nothing new. Every time Ali dragged me (willingly) to experience a new way of looking at life, I worried about my health, my status as a law-abiding citizen, and whether my family would find out, usually in that order.

  Ali looked just like a pixie when she readied herself for these things. Her smile spread from ear to ear and with her curly hair, that's all she needs. Wearing her pink pocket shorts and a tank top, she grabbed her keys and her backpack, “Ready to go?”

  I jumped up and followed her out.

  At the water park, Ali drove around until she could get a parking spot by the exit and entrance. An easy escape was key to the success of these kinds of things. “We can't leave together, I'll be back to human. You'll have to sneak out and wait for me.”

  I shrugged, knowing there would be no sneaking, but it didn't matter. The four-legged ran faster than the two-legged. Anyone who has ever chased a dog knows that the only reason a dog is caught is because he's tranquilized or ready to come home.

  “Trunk or door?” Ali asked.

  I nosed the trunk.

  Some of our plans failed when well-meaning passersby 'helped'. They shut the door, forcing a premature change from mouse or raccoon to human. In the end, Ali left the trunk open but down as requested and the doors closed. A trunk was more easily ignorable, and I could jump in to hide.

  “Ready?” This was the culmination of years of thought and planning. Two video cameras in the parking lot, one over the cash register. Three attendants in the front, two at the slides, the concession stands clerks, a lifeguard on every slide. The golden scheme Ali worked toward for years.

  “Let's do this.”

  She set her backpack at just the right angle. Ali loved getting into things. She discovered early on that having a container to carry her clothes around gave her that much added protection. As lookout, I stood on my hind paws and circled once, then gave a single bark. Ali shifted into raccoon and struggled into the backpack, an amazing feat in and of itself.

  We slunk along the edges of cars and then when the cars ran out waited for an eternity until a car load of teenagers and a couple with their children parked. Once the group of teenagers started for the entrance we fell in behind them. They joked about us following, and one obnoxious brat threw his empty plastic bottle at us. So much for mixing in.

  The parents and their three kids paid for their tickets at the front of the line, the youngest two barely old enough to swim. Ali dodged with a loud chitter in front of the nearest group, then slid into the park, leaving the children pointing and the teens laughing. The attendant started after Ali with a walkie-talkie, and I made my move. As a mouse, my entrance would have gone unremarked, but with Ali acting as a distraction, I ran ahead of the groups and into the park.

  The water park was busy enough that a crowd formed a line at each of the slides. Ali in her plans decided that a direct run to the slides was the best case scenario. The park was designed to make use of a natural hill, which made our infiltration of the water slides possible. A twenty foot climb up a ladder wouldn't do for a raccoon or a wolf, but a five foot ladder for the twirly slides or a platform for the straight and fast slides were entirely doable.

  The last plan to my knowledge entailed a single slide into the pool and a brilliant escape. But we cut in line and jumped easily onto the slides and the water gurgled and sprayed onto our fur and suddenly I just didn't care that a dozen lifeguards were yelling and congregating at the side of the pool to watch. We swam to the lip of the pool and pulled ourselves out. Ali first. But I was right behind. I shook myself and grinned.

  And we ran back up the hill, just the way we did as little kids pulling our sleds up the hill at Brierson's Farm. A few of the guys wearing company polo shirts positioned themselves to block us. I bared my teeth as if to bite and then dodged at the last minute, and we went again. And again. And again. Studies show that heady emotions can make a wereanimal more apt to forget themselves. Something akin to hyperactivity where decision making and logic became subdued in favor of emotion. Personally I think it's just because we've discovered a taste of freedom and feel more likely to escape without getting caught.

  Now the crowd was calling across the pool, giving advice to the life guards, some running around the pool to catch us, others watching the crowd to make sure people were safe. My head said it was time to go. My heart wanted to stay and play until the park closed or they caught us.

  Criminals always regret that last score, the one that got them thrown in prison. It was time to go. With a howl to Ali, I sounded the retreat. We fled the pools, running down among the concessions. One lady with a hotdog came around the corner, and I skidded forward, bumping into her. She screamed. I'm talking an ear-piercing scream, and dropped her hotdog.

  After all the playing, I was hungry. Now, I've never been a believer in the five second rule. Normally if it hits the ground, I throw it away. But the hotdog hadn't been bitten yet, and landed right inside that little checkered carton that hot dogs come in. I snatched the hot dog, gulping it down and scrambled out of the way.

  The problem with grand retreats is that there is always some poor soldier who gets stuck behind. I lost Ali. She's quite good at evasion. And when she decides to go incognito, she disappears into the strangest hiding places and quickly, too. One minute she's there. One minute gone. I ran.

 
Once the retreat had been declared, our agreement was to meet back at the car, and wait for the other party to show. Not that waiting would be a problem for me. I couldn't drive the car home anyway. And no matter how many times I'd been stuck waiting in an awkward place, Ali was always there waiting at the end. Our friendship existed solidly on trust and similar interests.

  Most of the crowd nearest the slides lost interest once I was out of view. They went back to the lines at the slides, eager to resume their own play, at least I assumed they did because I didn't end up with an entire horde following me. However, a few very determined lifeguards chased me.

  I decided to circle back to the concessions in a large loop. This would give me time to watch for Ali, and create more distance between myself and my would-be captors. I slipped in between the two concessions, listening to the chatter.

  Catching my breath, I waited until I heard, “Here! The dog's here.” A little girl, probably around seven pointed at me. Panting, I grinned, poking my head out the back of the concessions. I dove around the corner and down to the next stand and sidled in between the two, waiting, waiting.

  “Where'd he go?” So just because I'm a wolf I'm a he. Well, I didn't have time to set the record straight. Most of the voices came from the front side of the concessions. I poked my head around back again. No one in the back. The bathrooms were just down the way. I would sprint down back down the hill again, behind the bathrooms, and out the gate. I waited just one more second, and one more.

  “There he is.”

  And bolted.

  So fast the fence was a blur. By the time anyone had pointed me out, I was down the hill and swerving around the corner. The men's bathroom door stood open. Ali held the door. “Get in here.”

  I slid across the wet floor, totally grossed out. The place stunk and paper towels overflowed from the receptacle and littered the floor. Bad enough I peed on concrete at the beginning of this wolf fiasco, but now I was probably sliding all over it. Perhaps karma had come full circle.