by Amade, Melle
“The kid’s dying, mom,” I say.
Her body stiffens. “I just mean the way the angels are looking after it. You know, I’m a mom, I think of you and Henry and worry about you.” Her hand is on my elbow guiding me down the stairwell. “Especially when we’re not together. I hope the angels are watching out for you.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I mutter.
“It’s okay,” she smiles. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe. What happened to your cheek?”
“Georgia,” I shrug.
“What were you - never mind, let’s get it cleaned up.” She ushers me to the kitchen sink. Mom is quiet tonight. Peaceful. After my crazy day it’s a welcome respite to feel my home life is somewhat normal.
“How was the reception?” she asks as she daubs my face with a wet cloth.
I choke, my mind races back to the wake. Seems so long ago now, but it wasn’t. What can I say? Aiden and Zan are dating, I think Jon and Naomi were executed and, by the way, half those people at the funeral, including my best friends, can shift into animals.
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Her parents must be devastated.” Mom’s eyes have that dewy look, as if it could have been me who was buried today. She kisses my cheek as she finishes cleaning the blood off my face.
“I didn’t see Naomi’s parents,” I say.
“I can imagine,” Mom says and she looks like she really is imagining it.
“There were two wakes,” I say in my most matter of fact voice. I want to snap her out of her dreamy morose state. “I didn’t go to Naomi’s. I went to Jon’s.”
Mom’s hands press hard and flat against the table, her knuckles turning white. “Jon’s?”
“Yes,” I say, but now my face is creased because, well, she’s acting weird. “At Van Arend Manor.”
“You can’t go there,” she says, her fingers worrying a stack of unread, dated newspapers.
“I’ve never been before today.” I wonder what Mom knows.
“I don’t want you going there after today,” she says.
“Mom?” My question hangs unspoken in the air.
Her eyes open wide and she gathers up the papers in front of her. “It looks like we’re going to get an offer on the house.” Her tone is bright.
“After one showing?”
“Topanga is hot property,” she smiles.
My insides are in turmoil. I mean, okay, selling is good, right? Moving is the right thing to do, especially - But… “So, soon?”
“Soon?” Mom’s laughter is forced and loud. “This house was always meant to be temporary since I inherited it. It’s been falling down around us for sixteen years.”
“Inherited? I thought you guys bought the house sight unseen from New York?”
Her hand wipes over her eyes and face. She takes three deep breaths in and lets out one long exhale as she edges towards her stairwell. “It feels like it with all the money we’ve thrown at it, though you can’t tell by looking at it,” she mutters.
“Who did you inherit it from?” I ask.
“Look, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re moving. If the offer comes in, it could be in as little as sixty days. Maybe you should start cleaning your room.”
She disappears around the corner and moments later her bedroom door clicks shut. There’s no getting to her now.
I grab my tablet when I get to my room, type in ‘shifter’. It doesn’t take long to figure out they mean ‘shapeshifter’; humans that can change their shapes into animals. There are almost three million entries. I shake my head. Hadn’t even heard the word before today. I sift through the goth bands, graphic design websites, and Wikipedia. The only familiar ground is mythology. Vampires turn into bats, werewolves transform under the full moon, and Zeus turns into a swan to have sex with girls… a painting comes up that looks a lot like one I think I saw at the Van Arend Manor. The tag says it’s hanging in the Napoli museum, a fresco from Pompeii. So, maybe I’m wrong.
I click forward because there are a million more sites about shifters. Sites about how to tell if your girlfriend’s a shifter, how to catch shifters, and lunatic fringe websites where people proclaim “I’m a marsupial shifter and master of the rightful intelligentsia…”
It’s all crap.
Nothing I find tells me about the real shape shifter world I’ve stumbled upon. All I know about it so far is what I have seen and overheard. It is a brutal world, full of dangerous rules that carry the heaviest of punishments. It’s so deep and so secret there isn’t even anything on the internet about it.
My eyes burn and blur as the night wears on. I’m riddled with questions and the answers rest with my friends, or the people I thought were my friends. Now, I’m sure they’re not. They’re just the people I spent my whole life hanging out with until now, until they started turning into animals.
I scowl at my reflection in the cracked mirror. They’re a bunch of lying jerks. There’s no way I can go to them for answers, and why should I care? We’ll get an offer on the house tomorrow and then we’ll be gone. It’ll be like none of this ever happened.
I hold my tablet to my chest as I lay down against my worn comforter. The only question I need to answer is; how am I going to avoid these shifters until we move? Especially at school?
A roaring scream pulls me from my nightmares. I lurch up in a cold sweat. I’m in my room, but the mountain lion roared right in my ear. My hand presses to my chest where my heart is racing to get out.
“It’s just a nightmare,” I murmur to myself, hoping the sound of my voice will calm me down. But, it’s shaky and nervous.
“Shae?” Henry pushes open my bedroom door. “I pee’d.”
“Are you okay?” I jump out of bed, strip off his wet clothes, and wrap him in his blanket. He’s too old to wet the bed, but I’m not about to tell him that. I’m just going to fix it. I keep spare underwear of his in my room because whenever this happens, he ends up in here. I slip them on him and crawl into bed, pulling him close.
“I heard the lion,” he murmurs.
I frown down at him. “It was a just a nightmare, Henry,” I say, as I rock him to sleep, careful to not press his swollen eye against anything. But, if he heard it, too, then it definitely wasn’t just a nightmare.
10
My head aches in the morning from a restless night of sleep cut by the sharp edges of my fragmented world. My best friends are shape shifting strangers. There’s a mountain lion who wants to hunt me. Aiden is with Zan, so even if they were human, he’s off limits forever.
We need to get out of this place. I hope the offer Mom gets is a good one; or, good enough. If she inherited the house, it can’t have to be that good. It’s not like she’s trying to make back her investment. We just need enough money to move.
And, I have to make it through the first day of school today.
I rouse Henry. He wraps his arms around my neck and snuggles in close, trying to stay in his dreams. I’m jealous. My dreams are all nightmares now. I hold him close and smell his hair plastered against his forehead. It smells like earth, bubblegum toothpaste, and sweet little boy sweat. It looks like he’s getting a sty in the other eye, too.
I unravel his arms and he squishes himself back into the pillow, pulling my comforter over his head. A smile edges my heart as I slip out of bed. Let him sleep.
By the time I get to the kitchen I’ve got my plan. Mom is already gone for the day. For some reason she thinks getting to the studio at seven in the morning makes her life better. Whatever. It makes our life better. No morning moods to navigate. Except, I guess, Dad’s ‘jolly-all-the-damn-time’ mood.
“Where’s the ankle biter?” He grins. Doesn’t seem to matter how long Dad’s in America, his Australian slang never goes away.
“He scuttled into my bed last night.” I gesture towards my bedroom as I sidle up to him with a warm morning hug.
“Thanks for the love.” He gives me a squeeze.
But,
I’m all tactics. “I don’t feel good,” I say.
“It’s been a tough week.” Dad lets me go and pours a coffee into a travel mug.
“It’s not that,” I say, wrapping an arm around my stomach. “Coffee doesn’t even smell good.”
Dad frowns and raises the coffee pot to his nose, inhaling deeply. “You getting sick?” he asks.
“I’ve got cramps,” I mutter and scoot my butt into the rickety counter stool. Dad puts the coffee down and starts digging around the cupboard. I have to quickly convince him this is incurable. I lay my head on the countertop, avoiding as many of the stains as possible and let out a slight moan.
“Hold on, wee one,” Dad says. “I’ll get you fixed up.” He’s taking bottle after bottle of over-the-counter medicines out of the cupboard. Most of the labels are faded and worn.
“I just need one day,” I say as he plonks some acetaminophen in front of me.
“You know you can’t stay home on the first day of school,” he says, filling a glass of water from the tap.
“This is out of date.” I throw the bottle in the waste basket.
“Your mother will never have it,” he says, returning to scour the medicines.
“She doesn’t have to know,” I say.
Laughter erupts from deep within him. “Your mother knows everything,” he says. “No matter what you or I try to do.”
I shake my head as he hands me another bottle. “C’mon Dad, I just need one day.”
“Impossible,” he says. “You know the rule: Only a fever keeps -”
“- you home from school.” I finish the stupid rule for him.
He plonks two pills and the water in front of me. “Take it,” he says. “You’ll feel better. I promise.”
“Dad, I can’t go to school today.” I look up at him with my best ‘little sick girl’ eyes.
“Y’ know I’d let you chuck a sickie,” he laughs, “but, it’s not gunna fly with the boss. Besides, I know you. You’re as tough as she is. You’ll get through the day.”
“Please, Dad?” I make one final attempt.
He holds out the coffee mug in one hand and a banana in the other. “Not possible,” he says. “Your mom makes the rules, but I have to enforce them. Now go get ready unless you want to go to school in your pajamas.”
I’m fighting a losing battle.
“But, I’ll be switching schools soon,” I say. “What’s the point?”
“It could be months,” Dad says. “Now go.”
A sigh escapes me. Months? I don’t even know how I’m going to avoid them today.
***
Topanga High School is a red brick building about a hundred years old. It was a hospital when it was first built. The front is covered in dark green ivy, which ends at the corners. It looks like some place the Addams Family might use as their summer home. I’ve always liked it, even though, or maybe because, it’s a bit creepy.
I shove my bike in the rack and head to the picnic table under the tree. Our usual spot is as good a place to hang out as any. Can’t imagine they’ll come here. It’s not like they’ve been dying to hang out with me. I stare at the tree. The truth is; they’ve been avoiding me. We’re no longer friends. They are all shifters and I’m not. Maybe it’s not going to be too difficult to sidestep them. I’ll just have to find someone else to hang out with.
Someone…
How is it that in this small school, the only close friends I’ve made over the years are the shifters? I look around as students trickle in, I know them all well enough, but wouldn’t say any of them are friends. This morning, no one is looking chatty. They huddle in small groups talking quietly.
Are they still talking about Jon and Naomi? I’ll never know if I keep sitting here like a bump on a log. I stop still, in mid-rise from the picnic table as Aiden, Zan, and Roman appear around the corner of the building. They talk and laugh as if everything’s normal. None of them even glance over at me as they head up the stairs to the school. My heart catches in my throat.
I might just end up a loner.
A shadow moves in on my left. “You coming to class?” Callum asks. His pale green eyes bore into me.
His sharp good looks catch me off guard. He holds out his hand to help me off the picnic table, his skin looks so pale against the black leather sleeve of his jacket. I push away thoughts of our kiss, but fear races into its place, he really is a shifter. He can turn into a raven.
Aiden and Zan are still in conversation, but both have their eyes trained on me.
“Yeah,” I say and grab his hand because I have to look normal and because, well, maybe it’ll torque Aiden just a little bit. Callum drops my hand the minute I’m on the ground. I’m flooded with a confusing mix of loss and relief. But, he falls into step next to me.
He’s so easy to hang out with; makes light, casual banter about the start of school as we walk up the stairs and into the building. He doesn’t make any mention of our kiss.
It’s a little disappointing.
I want to talk about it. Maybe apologize and tell him I don’t know what got into me. I’m not sure, but I definitely don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t figure out what to say, though, and then we’re at the door to our English class.
“See you at lunch.” Callum smiles as we enter the room. An unexpected rush of delight moves through me, but I push it away. Just because I can’t have Aiden doesn’t mean I should jump on the first guy who’s nice to me. Especially not Callum, for so many reasons.
I watch his lanky frame move down the aisle between the desks. He stoops a bit in the shoulders. If he’d walk with his back straight he’d be the tallest guy at school. Well, maybe not taller than Aiden.
Callum’s a shifter! I shake my head to clear it as the final bell goes off. I just have to stay cool and get through the day. Shouldn’t be a big deal. The school is safe. It’s not like Vasquez is going to come here and hunt me down or anyone is going to shift into a bird.
Aiden’s at his desk, his face buried in a book. We sit right next to each other, but he turns away from me, towards Callum, who sits on the other side of him. My back stiffens. From here on out, Aiden and I are strangers.
I plop my English book on the desk, but the sound reverberates in the oddly quiet room. I glance around, but no one is paying attention.
It takes me a moment to notice Ms. Steinberger isn’t there.
“Who do you think they’ll get to teach?” A whisper drifts up from the back. I turn to find out what’s going on, but my gaze gets stuck on Aiden. I click my nails together. He used to swat my hand when I did this. But, now his head is buried in his book. Loneliness grows like mold inside me. I glance up at the clock.
It’s been two minutes.
The door opens and I know it’s not Ms. Steinberger. I hear the snap of his ebony cane.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
It’s Murtagh.
He wears black like he just finished a shift at the morgue. His priest collar is gone, but he still wears solid black; ruffled sleeves and a black velvet coat that reaches halfway down his legs. His sharp nose leads the way straight to the front of the class without turning to acknowledge a single student.
Every eye in the class follows him, except mine. I look at Aiden. But, he’s not surprised. Just keep his eyes glued on his book. What did Vasquez do after they left me in the woods? Did he attack Mrs. Steinberger to get Murtagh in this classroom? Aiden’s dad must have something to do with the attack on Ms. Steinberger. Murtagh works for his dad.
“I can’t have anything happen to you…”
He distracted me from the truth. From finding out what is really going on here.
Murtagh’s shoes squeak on the linoleum floors as he pivots by the desk. Black hair falls forward, but he tilts his nose a little higher and the offensive locks drop back.
“I am Professor Murtagh,” he grates out. The air smells faintly of musty old feathers.
Nobody says a word.
“I
’m sure you’ve all heard by now about Ms. Steinberger’s accident.” His gaze sweeps across the room, but lands on me.
Now.
This is the moment I have to keep my face as natural as possible. I know what he’s going to say next.
“She was attacked by a mountain lion.” A guy at the back of the class shouts out as if it’s the extra credit question on a pop quiz.
“I heard it,” I murmur, my eyes prickle, but I clench my teeth together. Aiden’s head whips up from his book, his eyes frowning at me.
“You heard it?” Murtagh asks, his raven-headed cane drums a few times against the linoleum floor. “How interesting. I heard it happened near her house, which I believe is quite remote.”
I turn to the student at the back of the class. I have to get away from Murtagh’s gaze. Callum’s head is cocked at a quizzical angle.
I condition my expression to hold the precise amount of shock and compassion without a single ounce of deeper knowledge.
“Is she all right?” I ask pop quiz guy at the back. I dread the answer, but the sound of my voice steadies me.
“She -” The student begins, but Murtagh cuts him off.
“She’s alive, but in the hospital.” He clarifies.
I realize I’ve set my own trap. I have to turn back to the front of the room and face Murtagh. I swallow the huge lump lodged in my throat.
“It was a brutal attack.” He parses the words out to me. “It amazes me she survived at all.”
I don’t know why Murtagh is suddenly at our school. Maybe it’s to keep an eye on the shifters. Aiden made it pretty clear at the wake that he didn’t trust Murtagh. He even seemed to think it was Murtagh who was responsible for Jon and Naomi’s death. I just hope him being here doesn’t have anything to do with Vasquez tracking me last night. I hope that was just a random act of aggression and will fade away. But, right now, Murtagh is looking at me as if I own the key to something. I just don’t know what that is.
“When will she be back?” I throw the words into the room with a measure of concern.