“But you are,” Jane said, her voice cutting her off. “You can’t change that.”
“But it’s not me,” Alma said, shaking her head. “It’s like it’s … It’s like it’s someone else.”
“Oh no, chica, no,” Jane said, shaking her head as she stepped around the desk. “You’re still you. Nothing’s changed.”
“No, it did,” Alma said. “When I got bit.”
“No it didn’t,” Jane said, taking her hands in hers and looking at her. “So now you can see and smell things you couldn’t before. Now you can hear someone’s heart beating and tell when they’re nervous. So what? You’re still you, even if you do look in the mirror a few times every month and see a face that you aren’t used to. Do you ever look at me and think I’m somehow not me because I’m a lycanthrope?”
“No—”
“Exactly. I’m Jane. Always have been, always will be. Born and raised in Colorado.”
“But—”
“Look, Alma. What would happen if you went out and spent every day working out, and got as strong as you possibly could? Would you be any more or less the same woman you’ve always been if you decided that you didn’t want to let the fact that you could bench twice your own body weight change you? So maybe you’d have to make sure you didn’t flex your arm a little too much when shaking someone’s hand. So what? Would you still be you?”
“Yeah.”
“What if you had a gun?”
“What?”
“You heard me. If you found a gun in your pocket right now, would that mean that you, who you are, had become someone different?” She gave her head a little shake, earring jangling as she emphasized her words.
“No.”
“Exactly. It would just mean that there was a gun in your pocket. And,” Jane said with a slight grin. “You’d also have the mystery of how it got there. But do you see my point? Yes, you are an Unusual now. You have capabilities past anything you’ve had. But you’re still you. You’re not going to turn into some ravenous beast and tear Jonathan’s head off. Not any more than you do already, anyway.”
“Hey …” She tugged her hands away. “How’d you know I was worried about that?”
“Are you joking, Alma?” Jane said with a laugh. “I got bit when I was seven. And I was awake for me getting bit. You know how many times I woke up from nightmares where I’d turned into a wolf and attacked everyone I knew? Nevermind that if I’d actually tried, I’d have been the size of a dog. I was scared all the same.”
“But you know what?” she continued. “It never happened. All the newness, all the differences … it took some getting used to, but in the end, I was still me. And I was in control.”
“What about the woman who bit you?”
Jane shook her head, frowning for a moment. “That’s … I was scared of that too. But she went to jail for what she did. She knew what she was doing. It wasn’t because she was losing control, but because she wanted to be something else. She made herself bite me. No one else. So you?” Jane shrugged, her curls bouncing once more. “You’re strong. You’ve made it what …? Four months without shifting outside a full moon even once? You’re going to be fine.”
Alma nodded. There wasn’t much she could say in response. Why doubt the expert who’d lived with it? Even so … Her gut coiled once more.
“What about Jonathan? Adrien?” she asked.
“Hey,” Jane said, stepping over to the table and gathering up another pile of papers. “I’ll be the first to say that Adrien can probably be out of the loop for a little while. It’s hard for a kid to keep a secret, and it could really rock him. Jonathan, though …” She shook her head. “Chica, if he leaves you over this, I’ll kick his butt myself. Not that I think he would. Jon’s a good man, Alma, he’s not going to stop loving you just because you grow fur once a month. Hell, some guys are into that kind of thing.”
“Let’s not go there,” Alma said, shaking her head. “The last thing I want to think about is biting him.”
Jane shrugged and brought her hand down on the hole-punch. “Couples do it. I’ve known a few. It’s risky—not everyone gets infected and not everyone survives. But some take the plunge. But so what if he did or didn’t, Alma? You’re thinking about all the wrong parts of this equation. You need to see the gifts you’ve been given for what they are.”
“I know,” Alma said, reaching out and picking up the stack she’d dropped. Clicks echoed through the print shop as she lined them up once more. “I’m alive, and that’s what matters. The infection didn’t kill me.”
“Might’ve even saved you; car wreck like that,” Jane said. “But that’s not everything, Alma. What do you think would happen if your house caught on fire?”
Alma wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Smoke smells terrible.”
“Exactly!” Jane said. “And you’d smell it long before anyone else. It’d probably wake you up. And the bad milk in the fridge. You’d know before anyone else, and someone would be saved from sitting on the toilet for nine hours. Power goes out? You don’t need a flashlight to see. You see what I’m getting at? For the last few months you’ve been moping about this whole thing, but there’s a lot of good to it. A lot of skills you can use.”
“Like the metabolism,” Alma said, nodding.
“Exactly. You realize that you’ve been so caught up in how much you didn’t want what you’d been given you stopped harassing me about how much I eat? You used to tell me all the time how unfair it was.”
“I …” She paused. “I hadn’t noticed. Oh, Jane, I’m sorry. I—”
“Relax,” Jane said, holding up an open palm. “You underwent a major shift in your life. It’s understandable. Also, you’ve been eating almost as much as me, so you probably didn’t notice. But my point stands. You’ve spent long enough moping over this.”
“And you couldn’t have told me earlier?” Alma asked. To her surprise, Jane laughed.
“Alma, you wouldn’t have listened. I’ve talked with members of The Pack who help people deal with this kind of thing—”
“Wait, you did? I mean you have?” Alma asked. “They have people for that?”
“They’re an organization of registered lycanthropes,” Jane said, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “Of course they have people who deal with the newly-bitten.”
“And you were talking to them about me?”
“Well, I left out any specifics, but yeah,” Jane said. “You’re my friend. Anyway, they said I just had to let you come to terms with things, so that meant—”
Alma jumped forward and wrapped her arms around Jane, tugging her tightly into her chest. “Thank you,” she said. “I know I haven’t been the best with—”
“Oh come on, chica, you know I’ve got your back,” Jane said, patting her on the back. “And on this, you needed it. I know what it’s like, remember?”
“Yeah, I know,” Alma said, as she pulled away. “But you’ve really gone above and beyond the call of duty on this one.”
“Aww, you know me,” Jane said, flashing a smile at her. “And you’d do the same for me. Remember the time when I went streaking across the football field in the middle of the game and then you pretended to be blind while I acted like a seeing-eye-dog to hide?”
“I …” She snorted. “I still can’t believe you did that. And that’s hardly an equal comparison.”
“Meh, whatever,” Jane said, rolling her eyes. “We’re friends. We have each other’s backs. Even when it takes months.”
“Jane?” Alma asked.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” She felt … better, somehow. Not at ease, or relaxed. The whole thing still felt foreign. But she felt … better … about it.
Maybe I just needed to get used to it myself, like Jane said, she thought as she looked back down at her work. She’s … right, after all. It’s been four months, and I’m still me.
It was still weird, knowing that she was eating more. Knowing that she was smelling her perfume in entirel
y new ways, seeing the nooks and crannies of her home with new eyes … but at the same time, Jane was right. She was still her. She’d just changed a little. It was like breaking a bone: there would be a period of adjustment, and then she’d be all right.
“So,” Jane said, interrupting her thoughts. “Now that you feel better, are you going to talk to Jonathan anytime soon?”
A faint icy twinge of worry rolled through her stomach. “Maybe not just yet,” she said as she punched out another stack of papers. “I’ll think about it … but it’s still big news. Sorry. And a lot to get used to.”
“All right,” Jane said, acting like she’d just announced that she was thinking of having lunch. “So, what are you going to do if Adrien really is acting up?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Alma said, her shoulders slumping and the twinge of worry fading. “Who knows? Jonathan and I are doing are best to figure this out as we go. Probably figure out what’s causing it and go from there. I don’t know. I’ll question him this weekend, though, and see if his story stays the same.”
“Good call,” Jane said. “Any plans?”
“Not much, we’re going hiking. Cleaning the garage. Usual stuff.” She lifted another pile of papers, shifted it into alignment.
The rest of the afternoon passed smoothly.
* * *
“Principal Halkias will see you now,” the secretary said, giving Alma a flat glare over her glasses. The woman looked like she’d spent her entire life sucking on sour foods, leaving her mouth in a perpetually pursed position that combined with her grey hair, made it look as though she was a candidate for children’s nightmares where someone pinched their cheeks endlessly while cackling. Or rode a broom around.
Time to get this over with, Alma thought as she looked down at Adrien. He didn’t look happy to be there. He’d been pulled out of class the moment she’d arrived at the office, a notice going out over the intercom summoning him to the office. Probably embarrassing to him in front of his classmates. Ah, public school. As questionable as I remember it.
“Come on, Adrien,” she said, rising from the small bench seat. “Let’s go get this cleared up.” Adrien just nodded as he followed her past the desk.
As she went, she caught a whiff of lemon-scent from the secretary’s desk. Maybe there was more to the woman’s perpetually pensive look than just an attitude. Either way, she didn’t look friendly.
“Ah, Mrs. … Parble?” The man behind the desk looked up at her and then rose, one hand coming out to shake hers. Adrien’s principal was a heavyset individual who smelled of sweat and cigarette smoke, the latter of the two scents faint. The sweat, however, smelled fresh, though his hand was dry as she took it. “Principal Halkias.”
“Alma Parble,” she said, giving his hand a firm squeeze. The principal flashed her a smile, but as he did she caught another faint whiff of sweat. Yuck. Buy some deodorant. There was an almost acid undertone to the man’s odor, one she couldn’t place. “I’m here to talk about my son, Adrien.”
“Ah, yes,” Halkias said, releasing her hand and motioning for her to sit. He dropped back into his own chair with a creak of metal. “You realize, of course, that as a zero-tolerance school we have very little choice in this matter. Your son’s behavior is grounds for suspension and a meeting with school authorities, like we’re doing—”
“Then why was he in class today?” she asked, glancing at Adrien. “Isn’t the policy immediate?”
“Your boy has a clean record until now,” Halkias said, spreading his hands. “As long as we kept him isolated from the other students, his teacher felt that—”
“You mean from his instigators?” Alma asked. Halkias frowned, probably at being interrupted more than once in the span of a few minutes. She could hear his heart starting to speed up, too, though she tried to push the realization out of her mind.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Halkias said. “Instigators?”
“It’s a group of girls,” Alma said, leaning forward. “Nikki, Alice, Kimberly, Faith, and Jiang. They’ve been bothering Adrien and ganging up on him, and then going with sob stories to the teacher when he tries to get them to quit.” She and Jonathan both had questioned Adrien quite carefully over the weekend. If there were any inconsistencies in his story, he was smart enough that neither of them were catching them.
“That doesn’t seem to be what Mrs. Slant has reported,” Halkias said, shifting in his seat. “She insists that your son is the instigator, not those girls. Your son has shouted at them—”
“He was telling them to leave him alone.”
“—pushed one of them into a desk—”
“She stepped back and tripped.”
“—and now, punched Nikki when she wouldn’t give him her pencil.”
“That’s not true!” Adrien said, speaking up for the first time. “She punched me, and I pushed her back.”
“Quiet,” Halkias said, his tone changing slightly. Alma felt her body tighten as he spoke. “You wanted Nikki’s pencil, and you hit her when she wouldn’t give it to her.”
“There wasn’t a pencil,” Alma said, pulling the principal’s attention back towards her. “It was this girl, Nikki, trying to cause trouble. She hit Adrien when he wouldn’t do what she told him.”
“That’s ridiculous, a girl hitting a boy,” Halkias said, shaking his head. “Why would she do that?”
“Well, why don’t we bring her in here and ask her?” Alma said. She could smell the sweat again, rolling off of Halkias, along with the acidic undertone she couldn’t pace. His heart was beating harder too. “Why not get both sides of the story?”
“That’s not necessary,” Halkias said, shaking his head. “Mrs. Slant’s version of events is clear. Your son violated our school’s zero-tolerance policy, and we’re here to discuss how you are going to deal with that, not try to shift the blame to other students for your failings to control your child. So, Mrs. Parble, are we going to have in-house suspension or at home? Or will this continue to be a problem until we need to expel your son entirely?”
Something doesn’t add up. The pieces weren’t fitting together. For someone acting so calm, Halkias’ heart was racing, and the sweaty scent had only grown. It was like he was … nervous. But why would he be nervous, not to mention defensive, about a girl who claimed that Adrien had hit her first?
“Well, Mrs. Parble?” Halkias asked. His heart was beating faster now. Why? “I’m waiting for an answer, but your silence is both damning and failing to reassure me that you’re taking this situation seriously.”
His heartbeat was getting faster as she spoke, the acid smell growing. Something about it was shouting at her to pay attention.
He shouldn’t be this off-out about this, she thought. Nor trying to hide it … unless …
“Well,” Halkias said with a shrug. “Seeing as you seem to be speechless in the sight of your son’s abhorrent behavior, I’m afraid my course of action is clear.”
Then it clicked. She knew. He was afraid. Adrien’s principal was scared of something. The pounding heart, the almost steady breaths, the acid smell—Fear, she realized. He’s afraid. But of what?
“I see no alternative but to give your son three days in-house—”
It clicked, and she knew.
“You ...” Her speaking cut him off as she rose, her face twisted in a fury that seemed to be boiling up from deep within her. “You self-serving, stuck-up …” Adrien was there, she had to keep her words clean. “Pig!”
“I beg your—”
“You arrogant little … anus wipe!” she said, taking another step towards him. His heart was really pounding now, a thunderous drum to her sensitive ears, already tuned to pick up each pulsing beat. She could see his facade cracking, coming apart. “You dare sit there and lecture me about ‘controlling’ my child …!”
“I’m afraid I don’t—”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you arrogant little asshole,” Alma said, no
t even caring as Adrien let out a gasp behind her. “You’re trying to cover your own ass by blaming my son, and I’m not having it!”
“I … what?” He was trying to stay calm, but she could see him breaking. If she didn’t let him regain his footing … “Now look Mrs. Par—”
“Oh no!” she said, stepping forward, jabbing a finger at him. “I’m onto you. You’re a disgrace. Adrien, honey?” she said, giving the principal a predatory smile. “What’s the name of the girl who hit you?”
“That’s not import—” Halkias began, but his voice cut off as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“Nikki Halkias,” Adrien said. The principal’s face fell.
“Nikki Halkias,” Alma repeated as she leaned forward, bracing her hands on the principal’s desk and locking her eyes with his. “She’s related to you, isn’t she?”
“Well, ah …”
“I don’t care,” she said. “Daughter, niece, whatever. This is a pretty shameless attempt to cover your own nepotism either way. No wonder Mrs. Slant was so unhelpful. But you know what was the worst?” She wanted to growl, her words almost sounded like it. “You blaming me and my family for your failings. You tried to shift the blame, to make me the villain.”
She stood back up, glancing at her arm as she did so to see if her skin had shifted at all. It hadn’t.
“So, you want to suspend him?” she asked. “Go right ahead. In fact, consider him suspended. I’ll be keeping him home for the next few days, and he can have some family time. While you, on the other hand … You’re going to get a call from the school board, because I’m going to have a very in-depth talk with them about this. I wouldn’t be surprised if some other parents had something to say about this too. I don’t care if you did it just because she’s your ‘little angel’ or for some other reason, but you really should have known better.”
She gave him a final, vindictive smirk, and then turned towards her son. “Come on, Adrien, we’re going home. Mom has some phone calls to make.”
Unusual Events: A Short Story Collection Page 11