While Mum and Amy spent ages straightening and brushing their hair and God knows what else, I sprawled out on the sofa and relaxed. I’d been fighting sleep all night and I was exhausted. I didn’t have the strength to fight back when my eyelids started to droop. The next thing I knew, I felt myself falling back into that dark place in my mind. I could feel the wolf there, its dreams becoming my nightmares. I tried to crawl out, back towards the light, but the need to sleep was so great, struggling against its pull proved impossible, and every time the light was visible, it pulled me back down until it was swallowed up by the darkness again. Fear threatened to take a hold of me once more when I found myself in another nightmare, but before it could go far enough to cause the same horror as the previous one, I was awoken with a start.
Mum shook me awake. It was time for school, and for once I was glad. At least in lessons I wouldn’t be allowed to sleep. There’d be someone there to keep me awake and I wouldn’t have to face the terrors again that day.
We were running late, partly because of my nap and partly because Mum hadn’t been able to decide what to wear for work, a typical woman. It was raining outside so she decided to go up in the car and gave me a lift. Amy had already walked up with her friends.
Moments later we arrived at school and I headed straight for form, only to find it was deserted. In my zombie-like state I’d forgotten it was Wednesday, which meant our year had assembly. Groaning, I doubled back and stumbled into the hall.
Chairs were arranged in rows with a gap running down the middle. Each form sat together, taking up two and a half rows, with the form teachers sat at the end where they could keep an eye on their students. One of the Deputy Headmasters or the Head of Year usually took the assembly, and that day it was led by our Head of Year, Mrs Redgewell.
“Morning everyone,” she began. “I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome you all back after the summer, as we enter the most crucial year of your time with us here.”
She proceeded to remind us of a few school rules and we were given a message about the amount of litter round school. I don’t remember all the details, bored and not really paying attention as I was.
“Now, let us pray.”
Praying seemed pretty pointless, and even if there was a God to listen, I doubted He wanted to hear from me. I was pretty sure the undead weren’t His creation. But I put my hands together and bowed my head anyway, intoning the words of the Lord’s Prayer as we’d been taught.
With that the assembly was over and I had French, followed by Science. Like Miss Dubois, Mrs Brewins was new to the school and she had no idea how to control a class. Except instead of flicking light switches she stood there at the front of the class with her finger over her lips for silence. When she finally decided we weren’t going to get any quieter, she started the lesson, shouting above us all to be heard. Even if we’d been listening we wouldn’t have learnt anything. We were meant to be doing Biology first, and then later in the year we’d study Chemistry and Physics, or so she told us. Cells were the first thing we’d be looking at, and she was trying to explain how they worked but was failing badly. Apparently she used to be a farmer and I couldn’t help but feel she should have stuck with farming.
After that we had Geography, and then the lesson I had been dreading – English.
I had been taught English by Miss Aughtie for three years running, and to my teenage self it had been torture. She certainly knew how to control the class. Most people were that scared of her, they didn’t dare talk at all in her lessons. Those who risked a quick chat while they were working were easily silenced by a single glare. Every school has a teacher everyone hates and fears, and for us it was Miss Aughtie.
Geography came to an end all too quickly and the bell sounded like a death knell. With a heavy heart, I walked down the corridor and into her room, feeling her eyes on me as I walked to my desk.
I couldn’t help but feel I’d rather face the nightmares again than spend fifty minutes in a room with her. I was convinced she was a witch from the moment I first laid eyes on her in my second year. She had long mousy coloured hair and her brown eyes seemed to pierce right through to the soul whenever she glared at you. They were always so hard and cold, filled with hate. Her face was permanently twisted in a grotesque expression of contempt for everyone around her, both students and colleagues, like a living gargoyle. She had that bad a reputation, even students who had yet to meet her could be controlled with just the threat of being sent to her.
I sat with Ava. There was a strange scent in the room, one I’d been able to smell with my human senses the year before, but it was stronger as a werewolf. It’s something I could never really describe, though Ava once said it smelt like sweaty socks, stale water and wet dog all mixed together. I’d learnt to tune it out with my human senses, but to my newly enhanced senses it remained strong and unpleasant throughout the lesson. The curtains were drawn to shield our eyes from the sun’s glare, but even in the sudden dimness of Aughtie’s classroom my sight remained sharper than ever, and I wondered if my night vision had also improved. I could clearly see Aughtie’s eyes on me in the gloom, but I kept my head down and tried not to draw attention to myself, which was always the wisest course around our most hated teacher. It seemed she still bore a grudge against me, after I’d dared complain about her to Mrs Redgewell for giving us too much homework in Year Nine.
She made us read while she took the register. I read some more of the horror story. Ava was reading some science fiction novel.
When Aughtie finished the register she looked up to find someone reading a kid’s book.
“My nine year old nephew reads more challenging books than that!” she said. She was always going on about her nephew, and how great he was. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the kid, my mind always conjuring up images of him being made to study Shakespeare already.
She proceeded to tell us she didn’t ever want to see us reading childish books again since they weren’t challenging enough for us, and next time it would be a detention. Something inside me rebelled and I amused myself with the thought of bringing in a picture book for the next lesson. I didn’t like being told what I could and couldn’t do, especially not by a tyrant like Aughtie.
We were then told to put our books away and she launched straight into the lesson and the poems we’d be studying for the first term, along with the essays to be submitted as part of our coursework. The workload was piling up before we’d even begun. Most teachers would use the first couple of lessons as a gentle start to the year, but Aughtie had us all writing down notes as she went through the first poem we’d be studying.
Ten minutes in and we were disturbed by three Year Seven girls wandering the corridor outside. Aughtie hated any kind of disturbance to her lesson above all else and stormed straight out to challenge them.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked angrily. “Why aren’t you in class?”
“Sorry Miss, we got lost.”
“That’s no excuse to be wandering around while lessons are going on. Why didn’t you ask someone for directions? Planners, now!”
One of the girls began to cry at the strictness and lack of understanding, and above all else the unfairness of the unreasonable woman confronting them. Tears were commonplace amongst the younger students.
“The Science corridor is back the way you came and to the left, now get out of my sight!”
The door slammed as the first years practically ran from the room, one of them still sniffling, and the lesson resumed. There was an atmosphere in the class after that little episode but none dared speak out in defence of the girls. I certainly felt a renewed hatred for Aughtie and the way she treated us all. I’m sure the others did too.
I was so tired by that point. And it was so warm in her room that day, even though summer was coming to an end. My eyelids were drooping again, so heavy I could barely lift them. I forced them open a couple of times but it was no good, I just couldn’t fight the sleep that
was creeping over me, though I knew at any minute Aughtie could explode if she noticed I wasn’t paying attention.
Unable to resist it any longer, my eyelids dropped and locked into place, and I drifted off to sleep while the lesson carried on around me as normal, trapped inside that dark place where the nightmares lurked.
The ground rushed by beneath my feet, twigs snapping and burying themselves in the dirt. My breath steamed out before me and I was panting with the effort, sweat soaking my fur, running over my skin. A thread of drool dangled from my lower jaw and fell to the ground, an explosive vibration for the invertebrates beneath the soil. My prey was just ahead and I was closing the distance between us with every bound. She was beginning to tire: I could hear her heart pounding against her chest, her lungs gasping for air, and no doubt her muscles were burning, in need of oxygen.
I leapt over a fallen log and swerved between the trees. She veered to the left and I almost skidded trying to follow her, my claws digging into the dirt, making deep grooves as I sought to keep my balance. Fast and agile as I was, wolves are not built for sharp turns.
She was slowing now and I was almost upon her. I quickened my pace, readying myself to pounce.
A gunshot came from somewhere behind me. The sound rang in my ears and the smell of the gun powder reached my nostrils. I turned round to find someone aiming a rifle at me, and moments later they squeezed the trigger and a sharp pain in my chest told me they had found their mark. I yelped, turned, and ran, the hunter becoming the hunted. There was no sign of my quarry having ever been there, but that didn’t matter now.
The hunter pursued me. Who it was I didn’t know, since they wore a mask, and there was no scent to give me any more information. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the hunt. And now I was the prey and the only thing that mattered was my survival.
I ran flat out, easily putting distance between myself and the hunter. I was moving too quickly for them to get another clear shot, and they didn’t waste their bullets. I could hear their heavy footfalls behind me, but no human can outrun a wolf, let alone a werewolf.
Blood was flowing freely from the bullet wound, soaking my fur, and I was slowing, growing weaker. Fear had my heart pounding, but that only helped the blood drain away quicker. The world was starting to spin, I was growing dizzy, and finally I collapsed.
Somewhere behind me, the hunter slowed, raising the gun a third time. I lay in the dirt, blood pooling beneath me, my breathing heavy and laboured. I was suddenly a mortal wolf, with no way of saving myself from the death that surely awaited me. And the hunter knew it.
Cautiously at first, they drew closer, perhaps to gloat in their victory or perhaps because it would be easier to kill me with a single shot if they were stood over me. Confident that I wouldn’t be rising from what was soon to become my final resting place, they quickened their pace. I could feel the hunter’s excitement, the finger squeezing on the final shot, and I was powerless. I looked into the cold and merciless eyes and knew that I was going to die.
The hunter removed her mask and confusion and shock clouded my brain, while fear twisted its deadly knife in my guts. For I knew that face well. It was Aughtie.
I awoke with a start to find Aughtie stood over me, glaring down. Memories of the nightmare fresh in my mind, I yelped as if I was still a wolf, and shrank back from her glare, covering my head with my hands as if it would protect me from the deadly shot.
My classmates laughed while Aughtie screamed her rage, until she shouted for silence. The laughter died immediately.
When it became clear my life wasn’t really in danger, I relaxed and let her get on with it. She ordered me to stand and give her my planner, but as I rose to obey I felt the sharp, stabbing pain in my gut that signalled the start of the transformation. I couldn’t hide the pain, doubling over in agony as it continued to throb from within.
“Get up!” she screamed. “You are not getting out of detention by playing sick, now give me your planner!”
I didn’t hear anything else that was said as I was lost in the pain, an internal battle raging in my head. I just about managed to hand her my planner, but then to my horror I noticed the fur growing out of my hands and panic gripped me. I had to regain control or I was going to transform right there in the classroom, but I had no idea how to stop it, so new to my powers as I was.
Luckily Aughtie hadn’t noticed the fur. If it were any other teacher I’d have run out of the lesson without bothering to ask permission, but it just didn’t seem an option with Aughtie, such was her power over us.
“Please Miss, I think I’m gonna throw up. Let me go to the toilet and I’ll stay behind in break.” I fought to keep my voice calm despite the sheer state of panic, which wasn’t helping. It was only making the change happen quicker, and I felt sure that a whole room full of people witnessing me turn into a wolf meant my life was over, with or without the Slayers somehow becoming involved.
At first I didn’t think she’d let me go. Once Ava had asked to be excused and Aughtie had told her she could wait, since there were only ten minutes left of the lesson. Of course, when you need to throw up waiting isn’t really an option so she couldn’t help puking on the floor. It was only then Aughtie let her go to see Matron, and then she had the cheek to ask if anyone in the class would clean it! I’d refused, since it was her fault.
She glared at me, and I felt sure she’d pull the same stunt she had with Ava, but then she surprised us all by saying “Make it quick; if you’re not back in ten minutes I’ll have you in isolation!”
Relieved, I ran for the boy’s toilets at the base of the Maths stairs. There was a first year in there, but he took one look at me and ran out. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, afraid that the transformation would be noticeably visible, but my features had barely changed. Whatever had scared him, it wasn’t the change. My friends might have noticed a slight difference, but a stranger wouldn’t.
My eyes had just started to turn amber. They still looked mostly human but they were definitely tinged with amber, rather than their usual brown. My nose had changed shape slightly, but again not enough to make it unrecognisable as human. Judging from the pain, changes had happened internally, but the only real visible change was the fur that had started on my hands, which felt like it had now spread along my arms and across my chest.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Lady Sarah had said the transformation could be brought on by strong emotions, and I supposed that included fear, so I needed to calm myself. It wasn’t easy but somehow I managed to conquer the fight or flight response my body had so suddenly gone into, and as I calmed the fur sank back into my skin, and the pain quickly eased off.
Minutes later I walked back into class, fully human again and free of fear. I was surprised the nightmare had affected me so badly. The previous one during the night had scared me, where I had killed my own sister, but I still didn’t really fear my own death, even after the experience of being attacked by the werewolf who turned me. Yet the wolf evidently feared death, for that could be the only reason why I’d started to change. The dream had scared it and it had tried to take over, wanting to run. It was a strange dream, and I wasn’t sure I really understood it, but my best guess was the wolf had caused me to dream I was hunting someone again, so I’d fought back, creating a hunter to stop it killing anyone else. Aughtie had been stood over me towards the end of the dream, and aware of her presence I had given the hunter her face. That had to be it. But why it had felt so afraid by the dream I didn’t know. It was intelligent enough to know it wasn’t real, so why it had felt the need to run was a mystery to me. I could feel its fear, even once I was sat back down. I decided to make it another topic to question Lady Sarah about. It had been a dangerous situation, and I felt I needed to speak to her sooner rather than later. There was no guarantee it wouldn’t happen again that day, tired as I was. Forgetting she needed to sleep through the daylight hours, I resolved to visit her after the lesson, through lunch bre
ak. After Aughtie had finished shouting at me, of course.
The lesson dragged by. Aughtie had me sit right by her desk so she could keep an eye on me while she was going through the first poem with us. Five minutes before the end she informed us we’d have homework to do, in the form of an entire essay to be done in two nights. Other teachers might have given us something that would take little more than ten minutes, or none at all during the first week while we eased back into school life after the long summer holidays, but not Aughtie. She delighted in giving us as much homework as she possibly could, and she expected six pages of A grade material, otherwise you got it back to do again and again until she was satisfied with it. And she always under marked our work. Ava had found an essay submitted as part of a GCSE exam and it had been given an A. We could just tell by reading it Aughtie would have given it a B. I could hear my classmates complaining under their breath so Aughtie wouldn’t hear, but I was too preoccupied to join in the grumbling. I just hoped I wouldn’t be kept too long into lunch break so I could make a quick trip to see Lady Sarah.
Finally the bell sounded to signal salvation would soon be at hand, but first I was made to stay behind ten minutes while Aughtie screamed at me some more, then she let me go with a comment in my planner. It would have been detention, but another teacher had been in to see her and suggested to her that perhaps that was a bit harsh for so early on in the year. I silently thanked him and hastily left the room before she could change her mind.
If I left without telling anyone I probably wouldn’t be missed, but I went back to form anyway and found Becci there. I told her I was going home for lunch in case anyone went looking for me. We were meant to get permission to go home, and with Mum working at the school, if anyone did notice my absence they would know I didn’t have it, which meant I’d be in big trouble. Even at lunch break, you could get isolation just for leaving the school without permission. But I wasn’t sure if Dad would be back home by then so even if I asked Mum, they would know I’d not gone back. I would just have to hope no one questioned it if I was missed.
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