Feral

by Berkeley, Anne

  “What are you doing here?” I grumbled.

  Holding out his hand, he proffered my iPhone. “You forgot your phone.”

  I snatched it from his hand and took a step back, but stood my ground. I wasn’t letting him boss me around in my own home.

  “You ran out in such a hurry,” Icarus continued. “I must have scared you off with my poor behavior. I’m sure it looked harsh, the way I reacted, but as you can understand, it was necessary. I’m not much older than my cousins are. Consequently, I need to assert myself or I’ll lose all respect. If I frightened you, I apologize. In fact, I was just telling your mother how much Hailey enjoyed your company, and asked her permission if you stayed over next week. I have a business appointment on the west coast and I would be grateful knowing I was leaving her with someone responsible. You’ll be compensated, of course.”

  “I’m busy. It’s the end of first marking period, and I have finals.”

  “We have several vehicles at your disposal.”

  “I don’t drive.”

  “One of the boys can drive you wherever you need to go. You’d really be doing me a huge favor. It appears you have the capacity to keep them in line too.”

  “Can I talk to you outside?” I asked. Icarus nodded and met me at the door. Acting the gentleman, he held the door for me. I shook my head. “You first.”

  “Ladies first, Thaleia.”

  “It’s my house.” I ignored my mother who shook her head and turned to leave the room. When Icarus was through, I promptly closed the door behind him.

  “Thale!” my mom scolded, aghast over my manners.

  “I don’t like him,” I explained, simply. While my mom rushed to open the door and apologize, I retired to my room. Flipping on my stereo and adjusting the volume to do-not-disturb, I dropped onto my bed, burying myself beneath my rag quilt, holding desperately onto the brief resolve that was slipping through my fingers. Damn that man for coming here.

  I had everything figured out! Almost. Barely at all. But I was beginning to. Sort of. Geez! Throwing my blanket back, I jumped out of bed and paced to the window. Yanking the cord to the blinds, I slid my window open and climbed out onto the overhang. Bennie’s room neighbored mine, and we often visited each other via the roof. Icarus was pulling away from the curb as I knocked on Bennie’s window. He stopped, watching me from behind the tinted windows of his Porsche as I climbed in, folding my body through the small window frame. I could almost hear his irritation as he revved the engine and sped off down the street.

  “Who was that?” Bennie asked, leaning out the window to get a better look.

  “Trouble, Bennie. I’m in so much trouble.”

  Straightening, Bennie looked at me. “Is that who you spent the weekend with? Mom and Dad thought you were babysitting his kids. He doesn’t look old enough to have kids, not teenagers at least.”

  I flopped down on Bennie’s bed, collapsing against the mattress. “It wasn’t like that. God, I wish that’s all it was. They’re not his kids. They’re his cousins. His parents were killed, and he raised them.”

  “But you like him.”

  “God no! I never met anybody so domineering in my life!”

  Bennie smiled knowingly. “You think he’s hot.”

  “Bennie,” I said, disregarding his accusation. I sat up, looking him in the eye, willing him to take me seriously. “If I told you something so far off the wall, so ludicrous sounding that you might laugh or think I’m insane, would you still believe me?”

  Bennie lifted his shoulders. “Try me.”

  “Promise to hear me out.”

  “Geez Thale, just tell me already.”

  “I was bitten by a werewolf.”

  Bennie laughed. “You’re right—you are insane.”

  “Hear me out, Bennie! Marcus and I went to Jack Medley’s house for the party. I caught him cheating on me with Peyton—”

  “Well that explains it all,” Bennie said, returning to his current work of art. “You were drunk and you caught Marcus and Peyton together. It’s post traumatic stress.”

  “Listen, Bennie! I was buzzed, but I wasn’t trashed! I know what happened! I ran out of the house, but Marcus followed me into the woods. It was him! He attacked me!”

  “Marcus Pera. A werewolf,” Bennie said skeptically. “Seriously, Thale, you expect me to believe this? It sounds to me like someone slipped a hit of acid into your drink.”

  Frustrated, I stood and paced the room, trying to find some way to make him believe me. How did I do that when I could hardly believe it myself?

  “It’s true. I swear it. Yesterday, I woke up my neck was in shreds. Marcus mauled me for God’s sake! I’m telling you, Bennie, I looked like Jack freakin’ Goodman! When I saw it, I passed out, and when I woke again only a few hours later, I had healed completely.”

  “Just saying, Thale. It sounds like a bad trip.”

  Grabbing Bennie’s pallet knife from his easel, I pinched my eyes shut and counted to three. Opening them again, I took a deep breath and thrust the blade into my forearm. I wasn’t a masochist by any means, so at the first stab of pain, I faltered. The blade skimmed over the surface of my skin, slicing a deep gash about three inches long. Blood welled and spilled in rivulets onto Bennie bedroom floor. Fat drops splattered down, staining the area rug with large red circles. Staring , in chock, the palette knife slipped from my hand and onto the floor.

  “Jesus Christ!” Bennie exclaimed. Grabbing one of his tees, he wrapped it around my arm, clamping his hand over it to stop the bleeding. “What the hell is wrong with you, Thale? You really are crazy!”

  “I am not crazy! Look!” Prying his hand away, I lifted the tee away and showed him my arm. The bleeding already slowed, and the laceration began closing itself up. Bennie released my arm, stumbling away from me, his blue eyes wide with astonishment.

  “Do you believe me now?” I snapped, thrusting my arm in his direction.

  “Well, it’s not like I can argue with that, can I? Jesus,” Bennie said, pushing a hand through his dirty blond hair. That was Bennie for ya. Already rationalizing. “What are you going to tell mom and dad? They’re going to freak when they find out.”

  “You think?” I said acerbically.

  “I wouldn’t suggest you break it to them the same way. You almost gave me a heart attack—you could kill them if you go stabbing yourself in front of ‘em.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the support. Was that meant to bolster me?”

  “Geez, sorry. It’s a lot to absorb.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Returning to his comfort zone, Bennie took my hand again and raised my arm to get a better look. He twisted and turned it, watching as what was left of the gash seal into a nearly flawless stretch of skin. “Have you done it yet—changed, I mean—like into a wolf?”

  “No, Icarus says I have another week and a half, but I don’t know if that’s before I can change or before I don’t have a choice anymore.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Scared shitless.” Tears pricked my eyes, and I turned my head so that Bennie wouldn’t see them. I stared up at the ceiling until it passed. It was a little trick I’d learned from Peyton. I don’t know why it worked, but it did. I guess it was the same reason I couldn’t rub my head with my left hand while patting my belly with my right. I could pat my head with my left hand while rubbing my rubbing my belly with my right. It made no sense. It’s just the way it worked.

  “This Icarus guy, he’s one too?” Bennie asked, bending and picking up his palette knife. He turned it in his hand, looking at the odd angle in which it had bent.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is he friends with Marcus?”

  “No. They’re rivals. We were in his territory when Marcus attacked me. He—his cousins—they might’ve saved me. I can’t be sure because I blacked out, but Marcus wasn’t himself.” Which was a serious understatement. “I think he would’ve killed me.”

  “Then he can
help you?”

  “He doesn’t really want me around. The only reason he helped me to begin with was because he thought I was gonna die. I was nothing but a sympathy case. I told you, he’s a domineering jerk.”

  Bennie traced the silver hoop circling his lip with the tip of his tongue, a habit of his when he was problem solving. “Thale, if he didn’t want to be burdened, he would’ve washed his hands of you. You’re out of his territory now. You’re not his problem anymore. Yet, he came here today and invited you to return.”

  “He came here under his cousin’s duress! They’ve threatened to disown him!”

  “Does that matter?” Bennie asked. “What alternative do you have?”

  “None, Bennie!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “What part of ‘I’m in trouble’ don’t you understand?”

  “Ok, ok,” Bennie ceded. “We’ll figure something out. We have a week.” Bending his palette knife back into shape, he returned it to the tin can holding his oil brushes beside the easel. “We could get you a shock collar, and every time you try to leave the room—ZAP! No? Ok. I see that was a bad idea.” Again, he circled his lip ring. “We could muzzle you?”

  “Not funny.”

  “We could do clicker training. If we start now, maybe some of it might stick when you turn. If you don’t like that, I heard a squirt bottle works too.”

  “Squirt bottles are for cats, lame brain.”

  “Then we’ll chain you in the basement. I bet we could find a stylish pink leather collar with spikes on it. Pet smart has everything.”

  I scowled in response.

  “All kidding aside,” Bennie said earnestly. Dropping beside me onto the bed, he took my hand. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “I know, Bennie,” I said, hugging him. “I can always count on you.” Letting him go, I turned for the window. “I’m going to take a nap. Do me a favor and don’t let me sleep too long. I don’t want to be up all night.”

  “Quid pro quo,” Bennie qualified.

  “Shoot.”

  “Try to remember what you dream of. I always wondered. Frank has a Labrador, and when he dreams, his legs start twitching like he’s chasing something. Sometimes he barks too. I just want to know if it’s rabbits or sheep he dreams about.”

  I paled. The answer was neither. It was people.

  Chapter 5

  Mom didn’t argue with me about skipping school. I told her I would go back Tuesday when most of the rumors had waned. She acquiesced, citing the dark circles beneath my eyes were surely the start of the flu. Wink wink. Maybe I could squeeze Tuesday out of her too.

  On the other hand, she did seize the opportunity to confront me about my accusations upon my return the day before. “Thale,” Mom began, and I sighed, dropping my head dolefully over my breakfast plate. “What I said to your father was taken out of context. I hadn’t expected anyone to hear.”

  I ground my teeth. “Well, they did.”

  “I know, and I’d like to explain myself. Your father, as you can wholly imagine, was concerned about leaving you with all those boys. They are all exceptionally good looking, and close to your age.”

  “And you assured that it was a moot point since I was gay?”

  “I also expressed the possibility that you were the reincarnation of St. Agnes, the patron saint of chastity. I was being facetious in my effort to console your father. I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings, but the truth is I allowed you to stay there unsupervised because I trusted you.”

  “Oh,” I said meekly.

  Mom smiled. “The boys hadn’t heard that part, huh?”

  “No,” I said, stabbing at my scrambled eggs. “I’m sure they heard you; they just chose to believe I was gay rather than virtuous. It’s so typical that boys think that because you’re blonde and buxom that you’re dense and easy too.”

  “Oh honey!” Mom cooed, reaching between her Mealey’s mug and my glass of orange juice. Grasping my hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Try not to be bitter. You’re too young to take life so seriously.”

  “At this point, I have fair right to be bitter, Mom.”

  “Yes, I suppose you do,” Mom concurred. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “I was young once too, Thale. I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

  I glanced at my mom apprehensively, but gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Do you think that if I had slept with Marcus, that he wouldn’t have cheated on me?”

  Mom hesitated, contemplating the question. She took her time, sipping her coffee. “I think the question you need to ask yourself is did you love him?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t all teenagers think they’re in love with every boy they date?”

  “I suppose, but you were vociferous about Michael Dougherty back in your sophomore year, and you had dreamy eyes over him. I’ve never seen you that expressive over Marcus in the year that you were together.”

  “So you think I was too reserved with Marcus.”

  Mom sighed plaintively. “What I’m trying to say is that maybe, if only subconsciously, you recognized that you weren’t in love with him, and that kept you from pursuing a physical relationship with him. In that, I’m proud of you, honey, because when you sleep with someone, it’s because you care for him, and you want to celebrate the love you share. You need to feel it here first.” My mom patted her heart. “Not the other way around. No amount of sex is going to make you feel something you don’t. It’s when you’ve ignored that, that you regret your relationships.”

  “Funny, I still regret our relationship.”

  “Betrayal hurts no matter what level of relationship you shared.”

  I dropped my head and shoveled my mouth full of eggs and potatoes, hoping Mom would take the hint. I didn’t feel like taking the conversation any further. We usually broached any uncomfortable subjects with humor and sarcasm and then moved on quickly to a less painful topic. This was the most intense conversation we’d exchanged in my eighteen years of life and I was glad for it to be finished.

  “I need to get to the office,” Mom said, standing and placing her mug in the sink. “If you need anything, or if you just want to talk, give me a call.”

  “I will.”

  Mom gazed at me thoughtfully and ran her fingers through my hair. “It’ll get better, honey. I promise.”

  “I know, Mom. I love you. Drive safe.” Having lost my appetite, I saw her off to work. I gave her a kiss and a hug. A long hug. The kind that said ‘I appreciate you’ even when I’m acting like an unruly teenager. I didn’t dole those hugs often enough.

  As she pulled out of the driveway, I locked the front door. My house never felt so vacant, with only the tick of the grandfather clock and rustle of leaves to fill the silence.

  Dropping my iPod in the dock, I selected Radiohead and turned up the volume, infusing the silence with the droll melody of Fake Plastic Trees.

  Filling my parent’s Jacuzzi tub to the rim, I sank to my neck in the hot water and kicked the jets on. My resolve was that when I returned to school tomorrow, I’d look like a million bucks. I refused to be the tragic victim of Marcus’s infidelity, walking around zombie-like in my best sweats with dark circles beneath my eyes. I didn’t want the whispers and stares, or the fake pity of my classmates. Gloria Gaynor began belting out ‘I Will Survive’ in the back of my mind, bolstering my self-esteem. I liked Cake’s cover better, but it did the job.

  Unfortunately, an indeterminable time later, after listening to ‘Karma Police,’ ‘Creep,’ and ‘How to Disappear Completely,’ I wondered if it wasn’t some kind of sign from a higher being. Yes, Higher Beings. It would be stubborn of me to discount the possibilities now.

  Werewolves, yay. Gods and celestial higher beings, nay. I’d be a hypocrite.

  Disparaged and wrinkled as a prune, I climbed from the tepid bath. That’s when I heard the track change in the middle of a song. Puddle of Mud began spouting ‘She Fucking Hates Me’ and I knew it
was no coincidence. None other than Lord Icarus had broken into my house for an unsolicited visit. Broiling, I snatched a towel from the vanity and strode toward my bedroom, detouring to my dad’s dresser along the way.

  “What are you doing in my house?” Icarus, facing the stereo, turned toward me, his smile fading as he saw the Beretta nestled expertly in my grip. I lowered my aim at his crotch. The gun was unloaded and I had the safety engaged, but he didn’t need to know that. “You know this is breaking and entering. If I shot you right now, it would be self defense.”

  I thought he was wearing the same clothes as the day before, but maybe he had multiples because they weren’t wrinkled. I knew guys like that in school, who owned dozen black tees and a dozen matching holey jeans. Only Icarus chose khaki linen chinos and a white tee.

  “I brought you breakfast.” As a peace offering, he held up a small, white bakery box tied with a thin ecru string. “If I’d known you felt so strongly against muffins, I would’ve brought you doughnuts instead,” he quipped.

  “Why are you here? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want your help.”

  “Thaleia, I know you’re angry with me, but I swear I didn’t come here to argue. Now, can you please put that down? My testicles are ascending back into my abdominal cavity. They haven’t been there since before birth and it’s altogether an uncomfortable feeling.”

  “Well it’s altogether an uncomfortable feeling when someone you barely know is threatening to poke you in the ass.”

  “You’re inclined to hold grudges, aren’t you?”

  “It’s a newly acquired habit.”

  “It was necessary at the time. I was trying to teach you a lesson.”

  I smiled dryly, refining my aim. “Lesson learned.”

  “Touché.”

  Sitting the Beretta atop my bureau, I fished my best pair of panties, a cami and a pair of satin pajama pants from my drawer. I had soft fleece pants I liked much better, but it appeared I had company. And I didn’t think he would take me seriously in florescent pink bunny pants.