Earning My Spots

by Eastburn, Mark;

  With my fight-or-flight instincts kicked into full gear, I turned and sprinted through the forest. Treetops above thrashed and swayed with the gusts from tremendous wingbeats; the creatures flying overhead were so large that they even blocked out the moon. Each one’s wingspan was at least twenty feet.

  Howls and yips from a pack of wolves sounded in the distance. A commotion broke out; then silence returned. Everything happened so fast that my brain couldn’t put the pieces together.

  Suddenly it was quiet. Too quiet.

  I couldn’t even hear whoops from Mom and Dad.

  Did something happen to them? I turned and charged back toward my house.

  When I returned to the clearing, it was empty. Where’d everyone go? Even the harpies had left. I hesitated and sniffed the air. Mom and Dad were definitely gone. So was Lauren. A spear of panic shot straight through my chest. No matter my lowly position in the family, Mom and Dad were everything to me. How could I survive without them? Who would keep me safe? Hyenas needed a clan; that much was certain. Even Lauren was part of my group, despite how much she picked on me.

  A spotted figure padded in my direction. It was Manny, still in jaguar form.

  “They didn’t get you,” he said in a deep growl.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked.

  “Didn’t you see?”

  “See what?”

  “The giant birds—the ones that took them.”

  “The harpies?”

  Manny shook his head. “No, they were even bigger. But the harpies controlled them, I think.”

  I realized they must’ve been the ones I’d seen while running through the forest, with wings that blotted out the moon.

  Another jaguar came close and said something, but I didn’t understand it.

  “That’s my mom,” said Manny. “She says the birds got the wolves, too.”

  “Are they alive?” I was almost too scared to ask the question—not so much for the wolves, who I’d wished dead a thousand times over, but more for my family.

  Manny exchanged a few words with his mom, in a language I guessed was Spanish.

  Peering back at me, Manny said, “Mom says the birds took them alive.”

  Phew. But now I had a problem. How would I ever find them? Could I save them? Instinct said that’s what I needed to do.

  Manny’s mom said something else, which made Manny turn and glare.

  “What did she say?” I asked.

  His eyes flashed green. “She thinks you’re the one we’re looking for.”

  “Me?” There had to be a mistake. Hadn’t Manny said that he and his mom were looking for a great hunter? That certainly wasn’t me.

  “You’re coming with us,” said Manny. His tone was firm.

  “Where?”

  “South,” was all he said before turning to follow his mother.

  I couldn’t force myself to move, no matter how much I tried. Maybe I was supposed to save my family, but I had no clue how to, and too much had just happened to follow some random jaguar family I barely knew.

  Manny sensed that I wasn’t behind him, so he stopped and said, “My mom knows a place with others like you. Maybe they can help.”

  “Other hyenas?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Now, let’s go.”

  IN ANIMAL FORM, WE WALKED FOR EIGHT HOURS AND ARRIVED at our first stop when dawn’s fingers began poking over the mountaintops. It’s a good thing hyena bodies are built for endurance, because I figured we’d gone about forty miles. Manny and his mother didn’t fare quite so well, though; they had to take lots of breaks along the way.

  “Where are we?” I asked once I’d finally stopped panting.

  “Right outside Montpelier,” said Manny.

  Wow. That’s a city. Not a big one, but I’d never been to even a small city before.

  At this point, I realized I’d left all my clothes in John’s Gore. If I returned to human form, I’d be naked. Come to think of it, so would Manny and his mom. What were we going to do?

  There was also the big question of where, exactly, we were headed.

  “So where are we going?” I finally worked up the courage to ask. Truth be told, hanging out with two jaguars was kind of intimidating, especially since their bite forces were stronger than mine.

  After speaking with his mother, Manny said, “Louisiana, Mom thinks.”

  Whoa. That was a whole other state, in another part of the country. “Is that where they took my family?” I asked.

  “No, that’s even farther. My mom says they’re probably in South America.”

  Another continent? Wow.

  Manny glanced around and said, “You should wait here.”

  Without any other explanation, he and his mom both padded away.

  Clearly, jaguars weren’t good conversationalists. It was probably to be expected, because cats are silent predators. And, usually, I’d listen to anyone with a larger bite force than mine.

  Except I wasn’t so sure about staying put. …

  “Do you think those eagles might come back?” I called after them.

  “Not here,” said Manny, peering over his shoulder, his eyes flashing green in the dawn light. “As long as you stay out of sight, there’s no way they can sniff you out.”

  That’s right, I realized. From what I’d learned in science class, most birds have a lousy sense of smell. Finding a tree with a wide canopy, I curled up under its cover of leaves and rested my head on my paws. It turned out that I was actually too tired to keep worrying, and once I’d taken a deep breath, I felt my mind drift. Before I knew it, I was out cold.

  A hard nudge woke me, and it took several seconds to realize I was back in human form. And naked. My right hand shot down to cover my privates.

  “Get dressed,” said Manny. Next to me was a pile of clothes.

  “Where’d you get these?” I asked.

  “Thrift store in town. My mom knows somebody who works there.”

  I studied the clothes and realized that none of them were new. They were also really small. I barely got the pants buttoned, and the T-shirt didn’t even cover my stomach when I raised my arms. Only the shoes were big—too big, in fact. They flopped and rubbed my heels with each step.

  “We’ll get better clothes later,” said Manny. His clothes were snug, too, just like mine.

  Manny’s mom said, “Vámonos,” which I assumed meant, “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we headed?” I asked.

  “We need to find Paco Salazar,” Manny said, matter-of-factly.

  “Paco Salazar? What’s that?”

  “He’s a person. And a coyote.”

  “You mean like … a wild dog?”

  Manny nodded. “He’s a shape shifter, same as we are.”

  “But why do we need him?” After all of my troubles with the wolves, I didn’t want to get involved with another type of canine.

  “Paco’s a human smuggler,” Manny explained. “He knows the fastest routes to take, and he’s also got transportation.”

  My face winced. I didn’t like this idea. Besides, a guy like that sounded dangerous. But since I didn’t have any alternative strategies, I shook the lingering sleep from my body and followed Manny down the trail.

  I expected Paco Salazar to be some giant, muscular guy with tattoos, an eye patch, and a thick scar down his cheek. Maybe he’d live in a mansion or something, too. Except once we reached Montpelier, we entered a two-story building and knocked on the door of a lower-level apartment. After checking the peephole, the man who opened up was shorter than I. His hair was black, his skin was brown, and he had a whole bunch of metal fillings in his teeth. There were no knives in his belt, there were no guns under his shirt, and his bite force probably wasn’t even half of mine.

  During a brief introduction, everyone but me spoke rapid-fire Spanish, and we were quickly ushered inside. Manny and I followed Paco to the kitchen, where he motioned for us to sit, and then he went with Manny’s mom into the living room. We w
ouldn’t be included in their conversation, I gathered.

  “He says he won’t transport shape shifters anymore,” Manny told me. The kitchen was less than ten steps from the living room, so he could translate what he overheard.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “They never pay,” he said. “They claim it’s his duty or something.”

  I thought for a moment. According to The Code, shape shifters were supposed to help each other in times of need without any expectation of payment. That’s probably what he was talking about.

  “Must be The Code,” I said with a nod.

  “What is that Code, anyway?” asked Manny.

  “Didn’t I tell you already?” I asked him. “The Code is the rules that we’re supposed to live by.”

  “Like what rules?” he asked. He appeared to be interested in learning more.

  Before I could start an explanation, a squat woman with a curved nose who I assumed to be Mrs. Paco Salazar stepped into the kitchen and asked if we wanted something to drink. At least, I think that’s what she asked, because her accent was very thick.

  “Coca-Cola está bien,” said Manny.

  I said, “Yeah … um … same here.”

  When Mrs. Salazar turned toward the refrigerator, I sniffed the air. She smelled like those birds we’d faced at my house.

  A hyena giggle escaped from my mouth before I could force it back in.

  “Don’t worry,” Manny whispered. “She’s not like the ones we saw before.”

  Mrs. Salazar came back over to us with two glasses of dark brown liquid.

  “Gracias,” said Manny, reaching for his drink.

  I repeated Manny’s word, but my tone had no emotion. Memories from last night flooded in and nearly caused me to transform. My right hand was shaking as I reached for the glass, so I had to hold it steady with my left.

  Unaware of my nervousness, the woman nodded, smiled shyly, and left the room.

  Manny took a sip from his glass and said, “Relax, Sam. She’s a golden eagle, and the ones who took your family away were harpy eagles. At least that’s what I think. There’s no reason to be nervous, because my mom trusts Mr. and Mrs. Salazar. Jaguars, golden eagles, and coyotes were all sacred animals to the ancient Aztecs, so we’re all on the same team.”

  “What about hyenas?” I asked him.

  “They never lived in Mexico,” Manny said.

  “Yeah, but what do they think of me?” I tilted my head toward the living room.

  Manny shrugged. “Well, my mom thinks you’re okay.”

  Easing my posture, I placed my nose over the glass and sniffed. The scent stung my nostrils like a swarm of tiny bees. While I’d seen kids drinking soda before, I’d never tried it myself. In my house, we only drank water and milk; this didn’t smell like either. I slurped my first mouthful, and that swarm of bees went straight for my tongue. The bubbly fury was so surprising that I spit the liquid all down my front.

  “Is this your first time?” Manny chuckled. I’d never seen him smile before.

  “Guess so,” I said.

  “You’ll get used to it.” He took another sip. “And if you want to pass for a no-tail, you’ll have to drink this a lot.”

  I stuck my tongue into the glass and felt the bubbles attack all over. The best I could manage were quick dips into the liquid, although the sensation made my lips curl with pain.

  “You’re going to have to do better than that,” said Manny. “Otherwise, they’ll think you’re half dog.”

  That was the last thing I wanted, so I sipped and clenched my eyes shut as I swallowed.

  “That’s better,” Manny said.

  “So, what do you know about all this?” I asked after another gulp.

  “About Coca-Cola?”

  “No, about those birds—the ones who took my family.”

  Manny turned his hands palms up. “I don’t know anything about it.”

  That wasn’t the answer I’d hoped to hear.

  Thankfully, Manny wasn’t done. “My mom gets these … pictures in her head sometimes. Visions or something. They never come in real clear, but once she gets them, she knows she has to act.”

  “Is she psychic?” It seemed like the only explanation I could think of.

  After a sip from his soda, Manny said, “Maybe. Some of my mom’s ancestors were Maya, and they had powerful magic.”

  “But what does that have to do with those eagles last night?”

  “There are Mayan stories about shape-shifting birds,” he said. “And sometimes they cause trouble.”

  “Where do my family and I fit into all of this?” I asked.

  “It’s what my mom saw,” he said. “What she saw in her dreams. There was this lost tribe of hunters who were in danger from birds, and the youngest one needed to be saved.”

  “That’s what she dreamed?”

  He nodded. “You’re the one we’re supposed to protect.”

  “I’m the hunter?” My eyes went wide.

  Manny shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what my mom thinks.”

  “Doesn’t she know about hyenas? We’re, like, scavengers, not hunters.”

  With a wave of his hand, Manny said, “She told me that stuff isn’t true. The hyenas down south are different.” He leaned an ear toward the doorway to see if he could pick up more of his mother’s conversation.

  Blowing out a breath, I burped accidentally. Coca-Cola was going to take a lot of practice to drink without making a scene.

  Manny’s head whipped back around.

  “So how’d you meet Paco?” I asked, feeling the need to say something while Manny glared at me.

  Manny’s expression softened, and he said, “We met the Salazars the last time we passed through Montpelier. Mexican people have a way of finding each other, I guess. Shape shifters, too.”

  “Do you travel a lot?” I asked.

  “Most of the time,” he said. “We never stay anywhere for long.”

  “Must be nice,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “You get to see new places, right? I’ve been stuck in the same, stupid town all my life.”

  With a shake of his head, Manny muttered, “It sucks to never have a territory of your own.”

  We listened to Manny’s mom and Paco chatting for a short while longer, although I had no idea what they said. Spanish classes didn’t start for kids in John’s Gore until seventh grade.

  “Looks like they worked out a deal,” Manny finally told me. “My mom says the hyenas in Louisiana could pay Señor Salazar anything he wants to charge.”

  “They could pay him?”

  “They’re rich,” said Manny.

  I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped to the table. Rich hyenas? Could that actually be true? My family never had money, and if we hadn’t inherited our house from my great-grandfather, we’d probably be living in a log cabin or a clapboard shack.

  Ten minutes later, Manny and I were cooped up in the back of Paco’s van, which reeked of gasoline, cigarettes, and dirty socks.

  Manny said, “This is how Señor Salazar brings people from Mexico up to Vermont.”

  “Why not take a bus or something?” It sure didn’t seem like a comfortable journey.

  “Because bus companies make you show ID to buy a ticket,” he answered. Scanning all around, he seemed nervous that someone might overhear. Not that it was likely—Paco and Manny’s mom were up front, and a carpet-lined wall separated us. Everything else was lined with black foam. There weren’t any windows in the back of the van. Light only seeped through gaps in the insulating material. Fortunately, hyenas and jaguars have no trouble seeing in near darkness, and I caught the greenish reflection in Manny’s eyes when he peered in my direction.

  Manny whispered, “Do you know what it means when people don’t have papers?”

  I shook my head. “Papers for what?”

  “Immigration papers. Visas. We didn’t have pa
pers, so my mom and I kind of … entered the country without permission.”

  “You did?” I struggled to keep my indoor voice. “How come?”

  After another glance around, Manny said, “We first crossed the border because my mom wanted me to be safe, and it takes forever to apply for a visa. Besides, you also need a permanent address. We had to move almost constantly in Mexico, because people in the countryside were superstitious. Whenever a cow or horse disappeared from somebody’s pasture, the townspeople would claim we were demons or witches and run us out of town.”

  We bumped over a pothole, and Manny drew in a breath. “But, up here, nobody really pries into other people’s business, so it’s safer for shape shifters.” He sighed. “At least, it used to be.”

  My eyes widened. “You mean, it’s not safe anymore?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You saw what happened last night, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah. Guess you have a point.” I paused for a moment to fend off those memories. “By the way, thanks for rescuing me.”

  With a shrug, Manny said, “That’s what my mom wanted to do.”

  “She’s a nice lady,” I said.

  Manny nodded. “She looks out for other shape shifters and always finds ones who need help. That’s another reason why we never stick around anywhere too long.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “Not with hyenas,” Manny said, “but just about everything else. Lions, tigers, bears, jaguars, pumas, jackals … even a couple of wolves. Three golden eagles, too—that’s another reason Mrs. Salazar treats us nicely.”

  “You’ve helped wolves?” My nose wrinkled automatically.

  “They’re not all like those jerks at your school,” Manny said with a smirk. “Some are actually okay.”

  I chuckled a little, because I would’ve described Joe Loup and Will Andris in exactly the same fashion. Even though Manny and I were clearly different species, we shared a few traits in common.

  Manny nodded his head. “Another reason that Paco’s helping us is because my mom saved his life. She’d seen it in a dream. Paco owed money to some werebear gangster, but that shape shifter backed off once Mom came around.”

  “Jaguars must be pretty tough,” I said.

  “We do what we can,” Manny said. “Once Mom gets a vision, she insists we have to help.”