by C. D. Bell
It was not like singing with kids at school, where everyone was looking at each other and laughing and not trusting. Being with these wolves was like being with Vivian, Nate, and Delphine. She felt at home.
When the song was done, the wolves wanted to play. One of the smaller ones plowed into her, and for a second Nessa stiffened. Was she under attack? But then the wolf bowed to her, lowering its head, its mouth opened into a smile of sorts. Nessa returned the bow. The small wolf’s tail was wagging, and then it rolled on to its back, showing Nessa its belly, and Nessa could not resist. She pounced on it, and the wolf was nipping at the underside of her chin, and then they were rolling over each other. Nessa hadn’t played like this in years, not since she was a little girl. She growled. The other wolf nipped. It was amazing to feel so easily understood.
Another wolf joined in the game—Nessa thought of him as the first wolf’s brother, and then a third, a playful sister. They took turns playing with Nessa and she understood their personalities—super goofy. There was another whose style of play was slow and measured. Nessa thought of her as Mama. And a wolf who was so timid Nessa could barely keep the game going. Everything seemed to make him cower.
A big wolf hung around the edges of the group, but did not play. The alpha. He glided around noiselessly in the shadows and Nessa did not get a clear look at him at first.
He stayed aloof, and the others almost always had one ear pricked in case he made a sound of displeasure or gave a signal that it was time to move.
Finally, he met her gaze head-on and she saw his coat shine even in the dark: the white wolf. The wolf who had bitten her. He was the leader of this pack.
She felt an instant jolt of fear. This was the wolf from her dream, the one who had been causing her to wake up sweating. She froze as he padded toward her, his pace deliberate. He sniffed her nose and tail and, though she knew she was unnaturally stiff, she could not move. She could not return the sniffing though she knew she should.
Then the wolf did something Nessa had not been expecting. He lifted his head and showed her his throat. The gesture emerged fluidly mid-face-sniff. Nessa thought she might have only imagined it. Why would the alpha wolf make himself vulnerable to her?
But then he rolled on to his back, exposing not just his throat, but all his soft underside, and there was no mistaking that.
The gesture wasn’t impulsive or playful but instead felt ceremonial. Nessa felt her fear slipping away, as it had with Chayton. Opening her jaws—but not biting down—she let the wolf feel her teeth on his throat, on the places where his legs connected to his torso. It was a few touches and then the moment was over, the white wolf back to his feet.
What had changed?
Everything.
They had made a pact. He would be her protector. She would follow his lead. Nessa was not exactly a member of the pack; she would not stay with these wolves forever, but she was a part of them for now.
She understood that the pack had been waiting for her. An alpha, a mother, an omega, two brothers, and a sister. They would be her family now.
Chayton had said she could get stuck in wolf form. Would she want that? To be with this group of wolves forever, learning to hunt, play, rest, sing, take her turn at patrol, speak the language she could tell they were using to communicate?
Could she be like this forever?
And then she remembered, like it was a smell, the cookies Bree had made for her, and suddenly, she knew it was time to go home.
But as she turned to leave, the alpha wolf, Big One, blocked her. He wasn’t looking at her but at a point just over her shoulder as if to allow her to look at him, to take in just exactly how much larger he was than the rest of them. She lowered her head to show him that she respected his authority, and he stepped aside, letting her know that she was free to leave.
And then she was running again, covering all the trails she’d been on before, following not what she could see but what she could smell. When she was close to the trailhead, she noticed she was moving slowly, woodenly, without the feeling of dancing. Every step was exhausting and she could hear her labored breathing and feel her heart pounding. She was nearly blind in the pitch-darkness of the woods, and she reached into her pocket—she was wearing clothes again and walking on two legs. She pulled out the flashlight she’d stowed away earlier, and used it to find her way back down the path about fifty feet to the spot where she’d left her things.
She checked her phone. It had been only two hours since Bree had dropped her off. Spreading the cookies out on top of a fallen tree—a thank-you present for the wolves who had welcomed her; she hoped they would find them—she gathered up the rest of her things and texted Bree.
Holy crap, Nessa thought.
I am a wolf.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When Nessa’s alarm went off at six the next morning—she was sleeping at Bree’s—Bree woke up only enough to groan, “You have got to be kidding me.” They had stayed up really late talking—Nessa describing what it was like to be a wolf, or trying to, and Bree asking a million questions.
Now, Nessa smacked at her phone until the alarm turned off and then got dressed as quietly as she could, sneaking out of Bree’s front door to wait at the end of the driveway for Vivian, who was driving Nessa to the cross-country bus.
Nessa’s happy mood from the transformation lasted through the drive with her mom, who didn’t seem to notice anything different about her daughter.
But when Nessa took her first step onto the cross-country team bus, scanning for an empty seat where she’d be able to unpack her pillow and sleeping bag and get some rest, the mood faded.
She was riding with the team, but because of the doping accusations, she wouldn’t be running. She would just have to tough it out.
Everyone on the bus was already curled up and tucked in, but Nessa couldn’t get herself to sleep, instead leaning against the window, her forehead cold as the bus bumped along, staring at the farm fields, woods, and one-gas-station-towns they passed through.
Overnight, the orange and red and yellow foliage had dropped from the trees. The bright days of early fall were over, and Nessa had started to dress for winter in the mornings. The sky turned light purple even at four in the afternoon. Nessa should have been getting serious about her grades, her race times, her chances for applying to college next year. Instead, here she was, along for the ride but not dressed to compete.
It was worse when she had to watch Cynthia run, taking second place overall. Hannah was not too far behind. Nessa recognized the look on her face, the look you get when all you are thinking about is passing the one person ahead of you, and when you finish and it’s all over, you don’t know what to think about anymore.
Rumors of Nessa’s doping had spread through the cross-country world. Just as at school, Nessa could hear whispers not meant for her ears. As she cheered for the Tether freshmen, JV, and varsity, standing at the finish line, a hand over her eyes as a shield from the glare, she heard, “That’s her.” And, “How desperate can you be? So much for the one-race wonder.” And, “In high school already? What is wrong with the world?”
At the end of the girls’ varsity race, Cynthia stepped up next to Luc and swung her second-place medal on its ribbon. They were almost 80 feet away but Nessa still heard her say, “I could have beat her. I wanted it so bad.”
Luc said, “Yeah, I know that feeling,” (though Nessa had never seen him lose any race that she could think of).
When Cynthia then whispered, “Maybe I should try taking what Nessa’s been taking,” Nessa had had enough.
“Hey!” she yelled, fast-walking toward them. “Stop talking about me behind my back. We’re supposed to be on a team.”
Cynthia seemed surprised and just stared.
Nessa turned away. She missed the wolves, the way she’d felt included and protected when she was with them. They had been accepting of her, no matter what they thought she’d done. With them, she had been more accepting of
herself.
To let off some steam, Nessa joined the varsity boys on their warm-up jog, finding herself quickly moving to the front of the pack, next to Luc. Everyone was conserving their energy, but Luc’s conserving speed was Nessa’s sprint and Nessa was sprinting because she was going to lose her mind if she didn’t.
She’d never run next to Luc before, and she found it both calming and terrifying to see how perfect his form was, how strong his body. He was somehow relaxed and intense all at the same time, his shoulders back, his legs flashing at an impossible tempo.
For a while they ran side by side without speaking. Nessa started to feel guilty for disturbing his alone time. She knew what it meant to try to get focused before a race. She was thinking of falling back when he checked her impulse by speaking.
“You okay?” he said, as if he understood what was going on with her—all of it, not just the doping accusations, but the fact that they were unfounded and no one believed her, that she couldn’t compete, and that she could hear exactly what people were whispering about her.
“No,” she said. She laughed. “I’m really not.”
He grunted.
And then Nessa hacked up and spat a loogie. She wasn’t like Cynthia. She wasn’t cold and calculating, planning her every move to try to get in with some guy. She was done trying to impress everybody. And for the first time—ever?—she heard Luc laugh.
“You’re disgusting, you know that?” he said, though she knew he was teasing her. She suspected that he was really thinking that she wasn’t afraid to be herself.
Nessa looked at her feet and smiled. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
By Saturday afternoon, Nessa was feeling the effects of not sleeping Friday night. She was at the clinic with Bree.
“You’re sure Sierra’s appointment’s at the same time, right?” Nessa said to Bree as they sat in the waiting room with Nate absentmindedly knocking beads together on a toy designed for one-year-olds.
“Obviously!” Bree said, smiling and rolling her eyes. “Maybe Cassian wants to leave a little mystery for the big date tonight. Don’t worry so much.”
A little bell chimed, signaling someone crossing the threshold to enter the clinic. Bree, Nessa, and Nate sat up straighter, looking at the door, and then studiously looking away from it.
But it was only the Larks: Billy and his mom.
“Hey Nate,” Billy said in greeting. Nate didn’t look Billy in the eye or move over to make room for him near his seat.
“Nate, remember your manners,” Nessa said, which was the code that Nate’s occupational therapist had taught Vivian—sometimes kids like Nate had to be trained to do things that came naturally to most people. Smiling to show pleasure. Laughing when someone makes a joke. Making eye contact to establish trust.
Nate looked at Billy and smiled. A little robotically, but, as his therapist had explained, it didn’t have to look natural. It just had to happen. At Nate’s bit of encouragement, Billy smiled wider and said, “I remember this!” about the toy that Nate was playing with. Nate piled all the beads down at the high point of a wire that looped all around like a roller coaster track, and then pushed them down so they would follow the wire. Billy took a turn next.
Mrs. Lark was checking in with Mary, Dr. Raab’s ever-present nurse, and Gina, the receptionist. Nessa and Bree could not help but overhear their conversation.
“I called and left a message for Dr. Raab,” Mrs. Lark was saying. “I called three days ago, and no one called me back, so I checked in again this morning. I thought I’d better come down in case he wanted to take a look at Billy? Now, remember, he already had a strep test and it was negative.”
Bree gave Nessa a sympathetic look as Mrs. Lark insisted Billy had been running a low fever on and off since the last visit, and she’d been trying to get someone on the phone, wondering if maybe they should skip a treatment until he was better.
“Ann, it’s okay,” Mary was saying. “Billy’s going to be fine. Dr. Raab’s been busy. I’ll get an answer for you today, though, if I have to force it out of him.” She smiled warmly. Mrs. Lark took a second before she politely smiled back.
“Hey, do you think she knows?” Bree whispered. “About Dr. Raab being this major big deal scientist in California?”
“Yeah,” Nessa said. “When was the last time he gave a kid a strep test?”
Nessa looked at Billy—he and Nate had stopped playing. Nate found prolonged interactions with other kids exhausting, and Billy looked like five minutes with the baby toy had knocked him out. His eyes were a little glassy and his cheeks were red. He went over to his mom and sat next to her, putting his head on her shoulder.
Just then, the chime dinged again and this time it was Cassian and Sierra. Nessa could feel her heart pick up speed and her own cheeks color at the sight of them. Billy seemed reenergized, searching for the soccer ball. Nate was talking a mile a minute about how he was going to use blocks to build the goals and Cassian was saying, “I’ll be there in just a minute; you guys get it all set up for me.” The reason he wasn’t helping them was that he’d taken a seat, the one right next to Nessa, so close their legs and shoulders were touching and she could feel sparks shooting up from every point of contact and her heart was in her throat. Strangely, the feeling reminded her of being with the wolves, and at that thought, she blushed even more.
“Hey,” Cassian said. “What are the odds of running into you here?”
“I suspect coincidence,” Nessa said, laughing.
“Cassian, come play!” Billy called and Cassian stood up.
Just then, Nurse Mary came out from behind her desk with a file in her arm. “Billy, your turn!” she said brightly and there was a collective groan from Billy, Nate, and Sierra. Leaning forward, Cassian held out a hand for Billy to grasp on his way by, and said, “Next time, man, I want to see everything you’ve got.” Billy ducked his head and mumbled something that Nessa didn’t realize was, “I’m going to kick the ball so hard the goal is going to get all knocked over,” until he’d already followed the nurse into the exam rooms.
Cassian met Nessa’s eyes and they shared a genuine isn’t-Billy-Lark-cute moment.
But then Nurse Mary came back for Sierra, and quickly after for Nate, changing the feeling in the room the way it always did when the kids were being examined.
Mary never allowed adults into the exam rooms with the kids, claiming that Dr. Raab needed to move quickly, that the room needed to be kept perfectly sterile, and that kids were by and large better behaved and less afraid of the needle stick when their parents weren’t with them.
It was okay now that the kids in the study were older, but back when the study began, when the kids were littler, it had been hard to let them go, especially since some of them really were scared of the needles and cried as they were being led away. If Mary didn’t have the disposition of a saint, they probably would have raised more of a concerted objection. All of the kids loved her.
When Mary came back to get something from her desk, Mrs. Lark approached her again. “I really do need to speak to Dr. Raab,” she said. “I let Billy go back there because I didn’t want to make a stink, but honestly, I don’t understand why I’m not getting any answers from him. It’s fine if he thinks Billy’s fever won’t be impacted by the tests, but I need to know that he’s made that decision.”
“Dr. Raab is planning on seeing you,” Mary said. “He told me he thinks Billy is totally well enough for the exam, and he doesn’t want to compromise the data by having him skip a visit, but he’s going to want to talk to you as soon as he is done.”
“I’d been hoping to speak to him before, actually,” Mrs. Lark said, and Nessa could see Mary’s posture change. Usually Mrs. Lark was pretty timid. Nessa could tell that Mary was surprised by Mrs. Lark’s intensity.
The nurse’s smile was frozen on her face as Mrs. Lark pushed around the desk and headed for the door to the study room. “I know this isn’t
your fault, Mary,” she said. “But I just can’t let this happen.”
“Ann,” Mary was saying. Then louder: “Mrs. Lark!”
But Ann Lark wasn’t stopping.
Exchanging worried looks, Bree, Nessa, and Cassian rose to their feet, moving to the edge of the waiting room where they could see down the hall to the exam rooms. They had a view of Mrs. Lark getting to the door Billy had passed through, and pushing down on the handle with some force, Mary right behind her. Clearly she thought the door would open—she half slammed herself into it and seemed to almost bounce back before she caught herself.
“Can someone please tell me why this door is locked?” Mrs. Lark hissed. It wasn’t clear whether she was talking to Mary or straight into the exam room.
She rapped on the door sharply. “Let me in, please. This is Billy’s mom, and I absolutely insist on seeing my son.”
The door opened from the inside, and Nessa suddenly became aware of noises that she had not heard before. The whirring of a ventilation system, tiny glass pipettes clinking against one another, the sound of papers shuffling, the tapping of keys on a computer keyboard. Later, she realized how weird it was she hadn’t heard any of this before. She could hear everything usually. For some reason, the doors were made of something that blocked all sound. For Nessa, the question became: why?
“Please come in,” Dr. Raab said cheerily, opening the door wide to Mrs. Lark. “Billy’s in here. He’s just fine!”
Nessa slipped down the hall to look through the door that had been opened for Mrs. Lark. There Mrs. Lark stood, just inside the door, staring into the room.
Nessa could see why. Dr. Raab’s cheery welcome belied the fact that Billy wasn’t sitting at the exam table, as they’d imagined—the way it would have been if he were at a doctor’s appointment. He was lying down on it, his tiny body held in place with heavy leather straps fastened with large brass buckles.