I crept closer and the sleeping figure rolled over, lifting its head. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was Anna. She said nothing. She didn’t ask why I was there. She didn’t ask why I was crying. She pulled the sheet back and beckoned me to her. I crawled into her bed and she wrapped a blanket around me. I shivered, trying to get warm. She closed her eyes, rolled away from me, and went back to sleep. My bare feet were clean, I realized, which meant everything about the wolves had been a dream, but Anna’s hair was matted with sticks and dirt, which meant maybe it hadn’t.
I shifted and whimpered, so confused. I tried remembering everything I could about the wolves, to hold on to them. The image of the beasts and the memory of their touch, with all their power and brute strength, flooded over me. I still felt it. That power. Inside of me. Like a great wolfish flame that sparked and burned, molten hot, at the very core of my being. It’s who I was. My nature. I knew it to be true.
I remembered their roughness, too, the nipping and the fear, but Anna’s words about my grandmother came back to me.
Love doesn’t always look nice.
So I sighed deeply.
And suddenly, I understood everything. Everything.
I knew what the moon had tried to tell me in the woods.
I was not broken.
I was savage.
*
The girls took me to Crater Lake the following afternoon. Keith wouldn’t talk to anyone when he woke up that morning, so he didn’t come with us.
I felt bold and lay on my back in our grandfather’s sailboat while it remained tied to the dock. The sun beat down crisp, bare, and the blue sky stretched forever, perfectly clear. My ears filled with the jackhammer beat of a woodpecker and the urgent buzz of racing Jet Skis.
A smattering of campsites ringed the lake, and the area swarmed with summer crowds, the inescapable scent of lighter fluid and bug spray. Beside the marina sat a public beach. It’s where Phoebe walked along the rocky shore, swinging a green plastic bucket in one hand and an ancient fishing net in the other, searching for crawdads.
A blustering wind drove tiny whitecaps into the shore with a slap. The sandwich and milk I’d eaten flipped around inside me, at odds with the motion of the boat. I’d have to get out in a few minutes, but for now I liked the wildness of the feeling. The danger.
Charlie and Anna lay sunbathing side by side near the bow. The boat’s mast towered over them. An American flag at the very top snapped and whipped in the breeze. Each girl wore dark sunglasses, and they passed a tiny cigarette back and forth between them. The smoke smelled weird, like the seasonings in my grandmother’s lentil soup.
Charlie rolled onto her stomach, kicked her heels into the air. She pulled a small camera from her purse, gestured for me to sit up, and snapped a picture. “Come on, Drew. Tell us again about your dream.”
I smiled. I crawled close to where she lay. She was being kinder toward me than she’d been all summer. Ever since I’d told her and Anna about my dream with the wolves, the two of them had fawned over me. I liked that. Keith didn’t want me to go to the lake with them, but the girls insisted. They laughed and made me lunch and put sunscreen on my back.
“I think you were there, Charlie,” I said, remembering the red wolf with the fearsome attitude. It felt like that wolf was the one staring at me right now.
The girls both giggled.
I thought of the other wolves. All of them. All those colors.
“Anna, you might have been there, too.”
“Tell me what I looked like,” Charlie said. Smoke came out of her mouth with the words.
“Very strong and fast.” I squinted up at her. “It felt so real. You know, for a dream.”
“Maybe it was real, little Drew,” she said easily.
The hairs on my neck rose. That’s exactly what I’d been thinking, that it was all real, every second. “So do you remember? Do you remember what it feels like to change? Or, you know, do you forget that?”
Charlie pressed up onto her elbows. Her sky-blue bikini looked too small for her. The soft parts of her top threatened to pop out. “Oh, I remember. It’s like, totally liberating to have your body become … what’s the word?”
Anna lay on her back. A group of young men on a passing boat whistled at her. I glared. Anna ignored them. She just put the funny cigarette up to her lips, inhaled deeply, and tossed her hair.
“Dangerous,” she said.
Charlie twisted around to look at the guys. She waved wildly. “Hey, Ricky!”
A blond one leaned out over the water. “Hey, babe. When’s your sister gonna let me hit it?”
She laughed. “What about me?”
“You? You’re still a kid, babe.”
She got to her feet. Shimmied her hips. “Do I look like a kid to you?”
He roared. “Hell, no.”
The guy next to him called out, “If there’s grass on the field, play ball.”
Charlie lifted her middle finger.
The first guy returned the favor. They’d almost drifted past our slip. “I’m serious. You tell her I’m only up here for two more days.”
Charlie sat back down and looked at Anna. “Ricky’s only in town for two more days.”
Anna kept her eyes pointed heavenward. “I know.”
“He’s cute.”
“He’s only after one thing.”
“What’s he after?” I asked.
Both girls giggled again.
“Come on,” I whined.
“Ask your brother,” Charlie told me.
“Ask him what?”
She pushed her glasses back. “Hasn’t anyone explained sex to you?”
I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, although this was only partially true. Sure, I knew some stuff, but no one had really explained anything. Not even after that embarrassing debacle in first grade when I got caught telling Siobhan she’d grown inside Mommy’s tummy because Mommy ate her. Everyone laughed and no one told me the truth. But I’d seen things on the computer that had to do with sex. Things that left me feeling weak and queasy despite the fact I’d gone looking for them in the first place. Even now, as I thought about it all, my stomach hitched. I put a hand over my mouth.
“You okay?” Anna asked.
I nodded. Put my hand down.
“If you feel sick, you should try this.” Charlie waved the cigarette beneath my nose. “It’s medicinal, you know.”
Anna kicked her in the shin. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Tell me how you knew,” I said.
Charlie wriggled onto her side. “Knew what?”
Anna crawled from the boat onto the dock. Then she adjusted her suit. “I’ll be right back.”
Charlie didn’t watch her go. She didn’t take her eyes off me. Her cool gaze took in my every movement. Her wolf floated very close to the surface. I could feel it.
Nothing felt cool or composed about me. I wanted what Charlie had. I wanted her power. “You knew you were going to change, right?”
A sly smile crossed her lips. “Yes,” she said.
“How?”
“It just made sense.”
“So will I change?”
“Of course.”
“But how will I know when it’s time?”
“When you’re ready, you’ll know,” she told me. “You really will. Your mind, your body, will tell you.”
“It’ll be obvious?”
“Oh, sure.”
“But what does it feel like exactly? Tell me.”
Charlie giggled again in her throaty way, then broke into a coughing fit. The boat bounced in the wind. I felt sickened and thrilled. I thought of the whispering trees in the forest as I rode on Keith’s back. The talking stars. The moon. Could everything speak to me? Did I just need to listen?
“Drew!”
My head whipped up. Keith marched down the dock in green swim trunks and no shirt. His voice held a tone of warning.
“Drew!” he snapped again. “Get out of the
damn boat.”
A flush of anger washed through me. I didn’t answer.
Charlie gave a languid stretch. She turned toward Keith as he approached.
“He’s fine,” she said, although she hastily dropped the little cigarette into the lake.
Keith saw her do it. He frowned. “He doesn’t look fine. And he knows better.”
I shot him a look of pure hatred.
“Don’t take your anger at me out on him,” Charlie called.
Keith blushed and ignored her. He jumped onto the cabin floor, causing the boat to sway wildly. He knelt on the wooden bench and reached across the bow for my arm. Just before he touched me, I leaned over and vomited up everything inside my stomach. It went all over my lap and part of Charlie’s towel.
Keith waved his hands helplessly. Charlie muttered, “Nasty,” and bolted from the boat, quick as lightning.
chapter
twenty-seven
matter
A little part of me hears the familiar whisper of the trees as I thunder down the hillside, across the meadow, and it’s so hard to tell: Am I on two legs or four? The capacity of my heart to pump blood to every part of my body is unparalleled thanks to years of tennis, years of running, years of striving for excellence. More than one person calls my name as I streak past the bonfire, but I don’t stop. I don’t slow down. I round the sharp turn past the cliff wall and really put on speed as I pass the caves. It’s like I’ve entered the bell lap of a race that really matters. A race with the highest stakes. A race in which I have everything to lose. I run faster. My lungs contract and expand. There’s no light, but I don’t need it. The moon is more than enough.
If Penn hears me bearing down on him, his reflexes are too slow. He’s drunk. He’s high. He’s horny. A strangled cry escapes me. I launch myself into the air, picturing talons and teeth, and slam against his back. Our bodies collide with a thud. We fall to the ground. I am skinny but tall. He’s strong but slow. We grapple. Limbs twine. I writhe and throw punches and kick and grab and scratch. I’m yelling, but I don’t know that until I realize I can’t hear what Penn’s yelling back. Then I wrap both hands around his throat to shut him up.
I squeeze.
Harder.
White pain explodes on the side of my face. I crumple like a felled stag and Penn wriggles away from me. He mutters, “Goddamn … goddamn,” over and over. I lie on my side, feeling nauseated. I hear the thunder of approaching footsteps.
“What happened?”
“It’s goddamn Win! He jumped Penn.”
“Jesus.”
“The guy’s nuts. Total fucking psycho.”
“Remember that stunt he pulled on the tennis court last year?”
“You good, Riggsdale? You knocked him the fuck out, didn’t you?”
“Hell, yeah, I did.”
I lift my head. I pant. Penn’s lying, but I don’t care about that. He’s not the one who knocked me out. My good eye, the one that’s not bleeding and impossible to open, flickers to the person standing back from the crowd. To her steel-tipped motorcycle boots with the silver buckles that flash and gleam in the night’s lunar glow.
Jordan.
Her hands are on her hips. Her nostrils are flared. She’s glaring right at me.
*
Penn’s friends drag him off, back toward Eden, all while blabbing about how fucked up they are and whether or not they should just crash up here or risk sneaking back into the dorms during the night. Both plans have their pros and cons, and I can’t help hoping they get busted. I have no problem saying it: I’m pissed.
As they walk away, I hear a voice say, “Dude, why do you even talk to that guy? He sucks.”
“Fuck off,” snaps another voice. It’s Lex. He kneels beside me. “You were too fast for me, Win. Seriously. I had to miss watching you get your ass beat by Penn Riggsdale, of all people. You should’ve been able to take him, you know. I mean it. I hate that asshole.”
I curl into a ball. The flashlight shines right in my eyes. Lex’s face is like two inches from mine. His breath is awful. Cigarettes and Early Times make for an unpleasant combination.
“Jesus. Did he kick you?”
I don’t answer.
“Holy crap,” Lex says. “That’s low.”
“I kicked him.”
I hear the crunch of pine needles as Lex sits back on his heels. “What?”
“I kicked him,” Jordan repeats. She sounds drunk, sort of shrill. “He was killing that guy.”
“Yeah, right.”
“He was! He had his hands around his neck. He couldn’t breathe.”
“Just shut up!” Lex explodes. “He was trying to protect you, by the way. If you hadn’t been slutty enough to go off with Penn in the first place—”
“I didn’t go off with Penn!”
“Then what were you doing out here with him?”
“I don’t know what he was doing. I went for a walk. I was … upset about something.”
“Yeah, what?”
“None of your business!”
“Don’t flatter yourself, love. Like I care.”
“You’re an idiot,” she spits.
“I’m an idiot? You’re the one standing around arguing with me over nothing. And you’re the one who fucking kicked Win in the face!”
“I told you!” Jordan screams. “I had to!”
“Whatever.”
“Is he okay?” Jordan’s voice sounds closer, but I’ve closed both eyes again. I can’t see a thing.
“Oh, now you care?”
“Yes. Like you’re one to talk. You’re a jerk to him every chance you get.”
“You don’t know anything,” Lex says. “You don’t.”
I flip onto my belly and push to my hands and knees. The entire left side of my face throbs and the tightness I feel must be swelling, but when I blink and squint, I can see. Jordan’s boot tip landed on the side of my eye, and while my cheek might be fractured, my vision is fine.
There’s a momentary weight lifted, a tiny sense of relief. I am not blind. I breathe deeply but cannot relax. I catch sight of the moon in the far corner of the night sky. It’s dipping behind the mountain. It won’t be long before it’s gone, before the day returns. I shake my head with sudden clarity. It’s now or never. It’s time to stop wishing, to stop dreaming, to stop waiting.
I crawl forward through tree litter. Sap and rocks stick to my palms. Lex and Jordan do not look at me. They continue to argue, their voices contentious and heated. Moving hurts. I’m bruised in places other than my face. I haul myself to my feet with a groan. I place one hand on the cliff wall to keep from falling. With my other hand, I begin to unbutton my shirt.
“Winston!” hisses Lex. “Are you okay?”
The shirt falls to the ground. Still leaning against the rock, I use the toe of one shoe to wedge off the other. I have to reach down to remove the second shoe. The socks come next.
“Win!”
I begin walking, sliding my pants down my hips and thighs while I do so. The crisp bite of the night surrounds me. My boxers come off last.
“Seriously, what the fuck,” Lex calls after me. “Win, why are your clothes off?”
I keep walking.
“You’ve got one bony ass, you know.”
I walk faster.
They follow. The wind carries their voices.
“What’s he on?” Jordan says.
“I don’t … nothing. Win doesn’t do drugs. Ever. He won’t even take medicine for his damn motion sickness because he doesn’t like things that mess with his head. Guy’s a total lightweight. I mean, he had, like, one shot of whiskey tonight and fucking yakked everywhere.”
“I thought he didn’t drink.”
“Yeah, well, good point. But I don’t think he’s on anything. Seriously.”
“Maybe someone slipped him something.”
My pulse skyrockets. I struggle not to lose myself in a rising swell of panic.
Lex grunts. “Is
your name someone? Because he hasn’t been with anyone but me and you tonight, love.”
“Where’s he going?”
“I don’t know. But we can’t just let him go off alone. He might…”
“Might what?”
“He’s got issues, okay? He shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
“What kind of issues?”
“Forget it. It’s none of your business. Just go. I can take care of it.”
“You mean like he’s going to hurt himself?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. Earlier, you said he was a danger to himself and others.”
“That was an exaggeration. I was just screwing around.”
“Really? He’s already been a danger to others. I told you he would have killed Penn. I’m serious.”
“Look, I’m serious when I say it’s none of your business. I’m sure you’re trying to be nice or nurturing or something, but you don’t know Win like I do. So why don’t you just go on back to the party. Drink some more. Make out with Penn Riggsdale and his friends. And forget all about Winston Winters.”
“No way,” Jordan snarls.
I do my best to tune them out. Their arguing is irrelevant. It is white noise. I do not want or need them. My wolf is in me, so close, and what I need to do now is chase my own destiny. This much is clear.
I break into a run.
I am driven.
I no longer believe it’s up to the moon to tell me what to do.
chapter
twenty-eight
antimatter
I wouldn’t give Keith the satisfaction of making me cry. I let him haul me by one arm back up to the main road that led toward our grandparents’ cabin. People walking downhill to the lake from the parking lot took one look at the mess and stench that was me and skirted to the far side of the trail, their faces pulled back in disgust.
“Why can’t I trust you to be, like, at least semi-responsible every now and then?” His black flip-flops slapped on the pavement in a way that didn’t appear to fully satisfy his anger. He stomped harder.
“You’re acting like I’m a baby!”
“No. You’re acting like a baby. It’s really annoying.”
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