“Wow,” I said. “It must be cool to be psychic.”
Shaking his head slowly, Manny said, “I think it’s more of a curse. It’s a power she can’t control, and sometimes my mom sees things that she probably shouldn’t be seeing. There are shape shifters in trouble all over the place, and her drive to save them puts us in all kinds of danger. I really worry about her, you know? We’ve been lucky so far, but you can’t be lucky forever.”
I nodded, because I understood. In my family, we’d been surviving on the edge of extinction since we were the only werehyenas left. It felt like only a matter of time before the wolves pushed us out completely. I also couldn’t bear the thought of my family in danger, which was why I knew I needed to keep heading south.
By this point, the conversation pretty much ended, and Manny laid his head down to sleep. We had been running most of last night, after all. I was tired, too, and the floor felt soft enough to be almost comfortable. Soon, I was asleep.
WE BOTH MUST’VE SLEPT FOR A FEW HOURS, BUT THEN something popped under the van, and we rolled to a stop. Each of us was startled enough that we weren’t groggy; we were ready for action. Our animal reflexes remained sharp, even in human form.
Moments later, the rear door opened, and fresh air seeped in. The outside temperature was chilly, so I guessed we hadn’t left the mountains. It was also getting dark.
“Bájense rápido,” said Manny’s mother.
Manny glanced over at me. “She says we need to get down.”
After we’d stepped out, I realized we were surrounded by wilderness—it wasn’t much different from John’s Gore. Tree-covered hills lined both sides of the street, and there weren’t any overhead lights or houses or other signs that people lived close by.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Manny spoke with Paco for a moment, then said, “We crossed the Pennsylvania border two hours ago.”
This wasn’t how I’d pictured Pennsylvania. I’d read about the Liberty Bell, the signing of the US Constitution, and the Battle of Gettysburg—never imagining that there were also stretches of mountainous countryside that smelled like cow poop. Maybe there were some dairy farms in the area?
“What are we planning to do now?” I asked.
“Head for the nearest town,” said Manny. “Señor Salazar says something’s wrong with the transmission, and he can’t fix it by himself.”
“How long will we be here?”
“I have no idea. He says it might be expensive to fix, and my mom doesn’t think she can pay.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. We’d only made it a couple hundred miles closer to Louisiana, we were running low on money—and now this had to happen. Would I ever see my family again? I started to feel panicked. The sensation came like a ripple in a bathtub that gets higher each time you move the water back and forth. Seconds later, those emotions were spilling over, which was when my bones changed form and my muscles started to shift.
Manny saw what was happening and blurted, “No, Sam! Wait! Hold on!”
“¡Espera!” Paco and Manny’s mother shouted at the same time.
Too late. My clothes ripped, I tumbled on all fours, and I let out a full-blown hyena whoop.
“You just ruined your clothes,” Manny scolded when I was done.
Oops. But to be fair, those clothes were too tight anyway.
The others found spots behind trees, undressed, released their animal natures, and grabbed their clothes in their mouths. Not long afterward, we were off. Paco’s doglike sense of smell pointed us in the right direction, and after a half hour of scampering through the forest, we could see lights glowing farther east. Another fifteen minutes passed, and we were right outside of a town.
“Where are we?” I asked Manny from the forest edge. They’d already shifted back to humans and gotten dressed. My plan was to stay a hyena for now.
“Señor Salazar thinks the town’s called Hamburg,” Manny whispered.
“Hamburg, sí,” Paco said in response.
“Hamburg? As in hamburgers?” I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until that moment. My stomach grumbled with the thought of filling it—especially with pounds of ground beef.
Manny must’ve sensed my hunger and said, “Don’t get carried away, Sam. Just wait here until we get back.”
“All right,” I said reluctantly.
Paco, Manny, and his mother slinked toward a neighborhood that butted up against the woods. Even in human form, they all moved soundlessly, like the true predators they were. They disappeared down a house-lined street, and I remained in place for almost five seconds until my nose caught the scent of meat grilling nearby. It sure smelled good—too good to resist—and my mouth started to water. The last time I’d eaten felt like forever ago, so I trotted near the source, promising I wouldn’t go more than a hundred steps before returning to my spot.
Except I only went ninety-seven before a barbecue came into view, and it smelled like a dream.
Now what? There were at least thirty people milling around, and the grill was on a deck next to a pair of sliding doors. I couldn’t just charge up and snatch a few ribs, because (1) I’d be seen, and (2) The Code says it’s wrong to steal, even from no-tails.
The only way to eat was for a person to offer me food.
With that in mind, I padded to the edge of the backyard, where low-hanging branches hid my position.
An instant later, I spotted a possible opportunity—seven kids sitting under a maple tree, bathed in light cast from the deck. One thing I knew about no-tails was that they loved throwing food to wild animals, so I figured it was my best shot. Slipping through the darkness, I stopped less than five feet away. My form was mostly hidden in the shadows, but there was something else that I couldn’t quite hide.
“Did somebody just fart?” a blonde-haired boy asked his friends.
The other kids laughed, all of them quick to deny they’d caused the smell.
“Whoever smelt it dealt it,” replied a darker-haired boy.
“But it wasn’t me,” the blonde-haired boy shot back.
Another kid—this one a girl—inhaled through her nose. “That smells more like an animal or something. Like my cousin’s ferret … or maybe a skunk.”
“A skunk?” The other kids gasped, their eyes darting nervously at the spot where I stood.
Struggling to contain my nervous giggles, I knew they’d already picked up my scent. Hyenas have a musky odor, and it only disappears when I’m human. Now what to do? I couldn’t let them think I was a skunk, because they’d all go running and take their food inside.
Pant, I told myself. That way they’ll think you’re a dog. And kids like dogs, don’t they? Humans and canines share a special connection, after all. Forget those stories about werewolves killing innocent people in the forest at night—the truth is that humanity has no better friend in the world. So even though the idea was degrading, I’d have to act like a stray mutt.
“Haa, haa, haa,” I panted, trying my best to sound friendly.
“What’s that?” asked the blonde-haired kid.
“Maybe it’s a dog?” said the dark-haired boy.
Bingo. Now’s my chance. I stepped from the shadows, bringing the front half of my body inside the border of light.
“It is a dog,” said another kid. He didn’t sound the least bit frightened.
“A weird-looking one,” said the blonde-haired boy. “What kind is it?”
“Beats me,” said the girl who’d spoken before.
A different kid asked, “You think it’s a wolf?”
I kept panting, trying to ignore their insulting questions. Why not give me some food, already? To send a stronger message, I attempted a whimper.
“Maybe it’s a coyote,” said the girl. “I heard they live around here.”
“Nah, coyotes are smaller,” said somebody else. “I saw one once, when it tipped over a trash can at my dad’s house.”
The girl whistled softly and said, “
Come here, boy.”
The smell of food was so thick that it felt like I could take a bite from the air.
Stay cool, Sam. Don’t get carried away.
The dark-haired boy lifted a sausage off his paper plate and flicked it toward me. “You hungry, boy?” he asked. Unfortunately, the sausage fell just outside my reach, which meant I had to take two more steps to get it. That brought the rest of my body into the light, including my hind legs.
“That’s no dog,” said the girl, leaping to her feet. “Look at the legs! The front ones are longer than the back. That’s a hyena!”
Another kid asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen them on TV.” She started creeping backward.
Oh great. Just my luck. Of all the groups I could’ve approached, I had to choose the one with a kid who watched Animal Planet.
Everyone scrambled up and scurried off, shouting “Hyena! There’s a hyena back here!” A few grown-ups reacted immediately, shooing everyone inside. Snatching the sausage that had been offered to me (since it was okay to take), I darted back to the woods. Beams from flashlights slashed the darkness, though they were soon blocked by hundreds of tree trunks and low-lying branches with thick leaves.
Now where to go? I couldn’t return where I’d been waiting, because that spot was too close. I also couldn’t head into town, because I was sure to attract attention. My only option was to find the van and hope that Manny, his mom, and Paco would eventually return to it, looking for me.
Trotting through the woods with my nose to the ground, I followed the scents of jaguar, coyote, and hyena back to where we’d started. When I arrived, I was relieved to see everything as we’d left it. The only difference was that the temperature had dropped, and now a breeze was blowing. I never could figure out how my great-grandfather survived in Russia or why he chose Vermont to settle in, because I really hated the cold. Those Vermont winters were torture, and Russia was probably much worse.
To keep warm, I’d have to open the van’s back door and climb inside, since it would provide some shelter. But how? The biggest problem any shape shifter has is our lack of opposable thumbs while in animal form.
Ever see a creature with paws open a car door?
I didn’t think so.
My only choice was to change form. So that’s what I did. For a minute or two, anyone driving on State Road 810 just outside Hamburg, Pennsylvania, would’ve seen a naked kid trying to pry open the doors of an old, white van. Still, it did make getting inside a whole lot easier, and once I closed the door behind me, I shifted to a hyena again.
After curling up to conserve my warmth, there wasn’t much else to do besides sleep. That sausage hadn’t put a dent in my hunger, but I’d just have to suffer through and let exhaustion take over.
Without Mom to feed me, I’d have to get used to that empty feeling.
I needed my family back for sure.
FLASHES OF BLUE, RED, AND YELLOW WINKING THROUGH cracks between the van doors woke me with a jump. I was still a hyena and planned to stay that way. If I needed to run, I could easily go thirty-five miles per hour.
What was out there? The blue and red lights might be police, but what about the yellow?
Men’s voices reached my ears, and it turned out that Paco spoke better English than I’d expected.
“We were driving to visit my sister when it broke down,” he said.
“And where does your sister live?” asked another man.
“Pittsburgh.”
“And you’re coming from where?”
“Vermont.”
There was a pause, until the other man said, “Well, your license and insurance check out.”
A mechanical whine sounded, followed by the revving of a motor. Something metallic clanged under the van, and it lurched backward; the movement startled me so much that I slammed my weight against the rear doors and leaped outside.
“What the—” two men shouted at once.
“Oh, that’s our pet,” said Paco, recovering his voice.
My eyes bounced between the men gathered behind the van. One was a police officer, but there was also another man dressed in overalls and covered in grease. The officer was most definitely human, but the guy in overalls smelled like Paco. Could he be another coyote?
Farther back, a third man was behind the wheel of a tow truck, which was connected to our van with heavy chains.
The police officer stared at me and cocked his head slightly. “What kind of dog is that?”
Paco shot a glance at Manny, who said, “He’s a spotted … short-tail.”
“Huh,” said the officer. “Never heard of that breed before.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Manny. “They’re really rare. We mostly have them in Vermont.”
The man in overalls stared at me a bit too long, as if he suspected something unusual, so I held down a frustrated giggle and panted my tongue. I really hoped I wouldn’t have to pretend I was a dog for this entire trip. It was already getting old.
“Is he friendly?” asked the officer.
“Oh, yeah,” said Paco. “He don’t bite.”
The officer stretched out a hand and patted me between the ears. I did my best to bow in submission and wag my short tail, like any good dog might do.
Turning back to Paco with a snicker, the officer asked, “Do you know what they just put out over the police radio?”
“What’s that?” Paco asked.
“They say there’s a hyena on the loose, right here in town. You believe that?”
“That’s weird,” said Manny, exchanging a nervous glance with me.
“I don’t even know what a hyena looks like,” Paco said with a shrug.
“Me neither,” said the officer. “Guess I’m going to have to watch my daughter’s copy of The Lion King tonight.”
I kept quiet, even though that movie was incredibly insulting to hyenas. Why’d we have to be the bad guys in the story? From what my father had told me, lions were a lot worse.
“We got ’er all ready,” said the man in overalls. “You want us to take it to the shop while you fellas head into town?”
“I can help you find a room for the night,” the policeman offered. “Although there aren’t many motels that take pets.”
The guy in overalls climbed into the passenger side of the tow truck and signaled the driver it was time to go. With that beep beep beep that always bothers my sensitive ears, the tow truck backed onto the street, rolled forward, and rumbled away.
And for some strange reason, I got the feeling we’d never see it again.
“Where are they taking the van?” asked Manny. He must’ve sensed the same thing.
The officer shrugged. “Wherever they said they’re taking it.”
“But where is that?”
“Beats me,” said the officer. “I never saw those guys before.”
Paco went rigid.
“Wait—you don’t know them?” Manny gasped.
The officer shook his head. “I thought you called for the tow.”
Everybody stared down the road in the direction the van had gone.
“Shouldn’t we follow them?” asked Manny. “You could still catch them. That car goes faster than their truck, right?” He was pointing at the policeman’s cruiser.
“I can’t,” said the officer. “That way isn’t in my jurisdiction.” He sighed. “But I’ll tell you what—I’ll put in a call to my friends down the road and get you folks set up in a nice room this evening. How’s that sound?”
“That’s it?” Manny and Paco asked together.
“Not much else I can do,” he said.
The awful truth was now sinking in—those two werecoyotes had stolen our ride down south. Their kind was known for mischief—Manny had said so—and they’d apparently lived up to their reputation.
Unable to contain myself, I let out a giggle.
The officer, whose nameplate read JAMES CORELY, chuckled. “Looks like your pooch is hungry.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Manny, his glare cutting through me. “He does that all the time.”
“Tell you what,” said Officer Corely, “I’ll also call the state police. If that tow truck gets on the turnpike or an interstate, the troopers will find it—no problem.”
Paco rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s nothing else you can do?”
“No, not really, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I guess we could use a ride into town, then,” said Paco. “And a room for the night.”
Officer Corely drove us to a simple, one-story motel. Entering the lobby, he had a word with the manager and came back with a key and a business card.
“The guy who owns this place is a buddy of mine and says you can stay for free. There’s also a kennel out back where your pet can stay.” He chuckled. “Considering how that dog smells, he shouldn’t be in the room anyway. My friend’s got to stay in business, you know.”
I tried letting out a doglike whimper of protest, but it sounded more like a giggle. Manny shushed me with a curled lip and a harsh stare.
The manager came out from his office, shook hands all around (except for mine, of course), and showed Paco around back. I followed, resigned to my fate.
“Your dog’s not a fighter, is he?” the manager asked, jangling a key into the kennel lock.
“Oh no,” Paco assured. “He’s a real nice dog.”
I bit my tongue and swallowed the insult. How dare a coyote call me a dog!
“That’s a shame,” said the manager, “because I’m sure you could make good money fighting a dog like that.”
“Money, huh?” Paco’s eyes studied me for a moment, as if he were considering the offer.
“If it were legal, of course,” the manager added while unlatching the gate.
The kennel was almost empty, except for two mutts cowering in the corner. Neither was even half my size.
That’s right, dogs, I thought. Respect the hyena.
After the manager locked the gate, he turned to face Paco, who was staring at me.
“You want me to show you to your room?” asked the manager.
“I can find it,” said Paco.
Earning My Spots Page 4