by Troy Hunter
“You didn’t try to seduce him with your wily charms?” I ask.
“Oh, I did.” She chuckles humorlessly. “There was nothing on earth I could have done beyond turn myself into a man to make this guy think of me that way.”
My belly feels like ice. She’s talking about me. “Kate,” I say, suddenly feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t know.”
She waves a hand in front of her face, cheeks a light pink. “Of course not. It’s okay, really. You never led me on or anything—it was all me.”
We fall silent, drinking our coffee while I mull over this new information. I never picked up on any clues that Kate thought of me that way. And how ironic that it was Cliff who picked up on it first and tried to tell me. Except that he told me she still had feelings for me.
“Do you still…feel that way?” I ask nervously.
She sags in her chair, her face falling. “Yes. And Dale, I have to tell you something. I don’t deserve to be your best friend.”
“What?” I scoff. “Kate, don’t say stuff like that just because of a crush. You’ve always been there for me. Of course you’re my best friend.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s not that. I’ve…taken advantage of being your friend.”
I furrow my brows with confusion. “What do you mean?”
She sighs, burying her head in her hands. “In high school, after you told me you liked Cliff, I spread a rumor that you hurt animals. I knew how much he liked animals and nature and I knew that if he got to know you, he’d fall for you. So, I-I made him think you were a bad person. That’s why he never talked to you again after the night you kissed.”
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. My entire body is taut, frozen. Kate is my best friend. How could she have done something like that? “Kate…” I trail off, not knowing what to say. But she isn’t finished.
“Before you say anything, there’s more. I never installed the virus,” she confesses. “I didn’t want anything to happen between you and Cliff while I was inside. And I knew something might happen because when you two arrived, I saw how flushed you were and I read the energy. So I pretended to install the virus so I could get out as fast as possible and stop anything from happening.”
Her eyes are swimming with tears. One spills down her cheek. She peers up at me, searching my face. But I can’t even find the words to reply. All that work to help Cliff, to help the pups he cared about the most, and Kate threw it away over her crush. I feel a seed of rage in my gut, expanding quickly. How could she call me her friend and then do this to me?
“I’m so sorry, Dale,” she says. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
I feel like I understand, just a little bit, how Cliff felt yesterday. I was manipulated by someone I cared for. And in a way, I did manipulate Cliff’s feelings. I can understand the rage, the fury. I know why he never wants to see me again because I don’t even want to look at Kate. I can’t look at her.
“Oh, my God, please forgive me,” she says pleadingly. “Look at me, please.”
I shake my head, breathing shallowly. “How could you do that, Kate?”
“I was stupid, I know.”
More than anything, I’m angry at her for lying about the virus. What happened in high school is the past and in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential. The virus though…lives are at stake.
“I can’t forgive you right now,” I murmur. “You were my friend.”
She chokes back a sob as I stand. “Dale, I am your friend. Please.”
I shake my head. “Goodbye, Kate.”
I grab the coffee and bag of cocoa beans and leave, letting the door slam behind me on her sobs. Maybe it’s cruel, maybe it’s wrong for me not to forgive her. But she didn’t only hurt me, she hurt Cliff and those pups. We really thought we had a chance to save them and she carried that responsibility like we were still in high school.
In my car, I lean back against the headrest and take a deep breath. Maybe someday I’ll forgive her, just like maybe someday Cliff will forgive me. But right now, the hurt is too raw. My best friend betrayed me. I’m just not ready to accept her apology. I shake my head with derision. I never even bothered to apologize to Cliff. What a prick I am.
CLIFF
M y truck is idling in the parking lot at the entrance to the national forest, but I can’t bring myself to step out. I came here for the pups and their mother, to chase them out of the area. I’ll attack them if I have to, sever that relationships, just to save them. If I make my territory big enough, they’ll be forced to stay away. That could save them.
But if the mother refuses to leave…well, I’ll just have to distract the hunters away from their den. That’ll be dangerous, but to save my makeshift pack it’ll be worth it. And at this point, I’m looking forward to giving some humans hell.
I’ve given up hope on the lottery. Because they pushed it back another day, the likelihood of the virus working is slim to none. And the chances of my name being called are practically non-existent. No hunter worth his salt would give up on the chance to hunt down a gray. So it’s up to me to save my little pack.
It’s hard to do what needs to be done. Which is why I haven’t touched the door handle or bothered to turn off the truck yet. I stare emptily out at the forest ahead of me. The pine trees remind me of camping with Dale. Everything reminds me of Dale. It pisses me off. But at the same time, I feel a pang of regret.
I was harsh when I confronted him at his house yesterday. Probably too harsh. I hadn’t even known I was that angry until he came down the stairs looking guilty already. Still, I worked all these years to control my aggression and my emotions, particularly anger, and I knew better than to let loose like that. I said a lot of things I regret.
He should have told me about the ARF device before we slept together. If he had, I might not have felt so violated. But because of the circumstances, I didn’t even give him a real chance to explain himself. I don’t know if I should have.
I do know.
I should have.
Sighing, I lean my head back against the seat. The ARF device has given me a lot to think about. Moral dilemmas aside, it’s an ingenious machine. And probably very complicated, which speaks to Dale’s skill. I feel a hint of pride at the thought but quickly tamp it down. He’s not mine anymore—his accomplishments are none of my business.
But, on the subject of moral dilemmas, it poses a big one. Dale claims it gave him generic advice for the most part and just helped him understand my body language. That doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounds like a discussion between friends about love interests. Innocent. Normal.
But if that’s the case, why was it so difficult for him to communicate with me when he was without the device? It had to have been giving him word-for-word instructions for the most part. Unless, maybe, Dale was simply nervous. He says he knew me in high school and alluded to something I did to him back then. Maybe it’s just the fact that I’m me that makes him nervous when we talk. Because of how I treated him in the past.
Last night around midnight, I’d headed back to his house. I almost made it, too, before I stopped myself and pulled off on the side of the road to get my head together. I don’t even know why I went there. Maybe to apologize, maybe to tear him a new one. Again. All I know is I wanted to talk to him. I think my doubts about what I said to him during our fight were already plaguing me, even though I still felt angry. Now I’m doubting myself more and more.
I groan, dragging a hand over my jaw. I need a shave. My scruff is growing back, and while some might appreciate a good five o’clock shadow, it makes me itch. “Damn,” I curse under my breath. I’m in deep shit here. With Dale on my mind and our recent break up, and the lives of the pack at stake, I feel overwhelmed.
I just want a day to myself in the woods, to take photos and replenish my stock of prints. That’s all. And then another day in town selling my photos to tourists, watching their smiles light up when they see my compositions.
&nb
sp; But I can’t have that until I solve this. The lottery problem I can make an attempt at tackling. Dale is another story. I finally ease myself out of the truck and toward the woods. There’s a hiding place I made to keep my clothes and personal belongings safe while I roam the forest as a wolf. I head there now, considering what I’m about to do.
I strip, tucking my clothes away, then make the shift. It feels good to be in my wolf form again—I feel at ease. As a wolf, I can give myself over to nature and forget the complications of humanity. Then a memory of Dale watching me shift for the first time, flits through my mind. And I’m dragged back into that emotional baggage.
Huffing, I lope away. I spend a few minutes exploring the area, letting my nose do the leading. The powerful and interesting scents of the forest fill my mind, and my animal instincts take over. It’s enough to take my mind off Dale. Almost.
DALE
M y mind is still reeling from Kate’s confession and I find myself driving without thinking about where I’m going. I’m just driving to put distance between us, I guess. The realization that Cliff liked me in high school and that he had a good reason for treating me the way he did is a lot to take in. I can’t change the past but it sure as hell makes me think about what it could have been like.
I imagine that the next day, Cliff would have talked to me, maybe asked me out on a date. And then after a few weeks we would’ve made it official, maybe even gone to prom together. A prom I went to as Kate’s friend date. We could have had an entire relationship in high school, maybe even longer. Instead, I was iced out and insulted.
But I spent years nursing old wounds about Cliff, resenting him. Kate came between the two of us, stopped me from taking things further with him. She changed my future with that little rumor.
Suddenly, my thoughts flash back to my fight with Cliff. The words I shouted to him about what kind of man he was in high school echo through my head. For that, I owe him an apology. I also owe him an apology for using the ARF device without telling him. I violated his trust, big time. Even if the device wasn’t giving me responses verbatim, the fact that he feels like I lied to him is enough reason for me to apologize. There’s no rationalizing my way out of this one.
I find myself out on the edge of town, near a park. So I pull over and let myself relax back into the seat. I’m not angry at Cliff anymore, though I have hard feelings for Kate. They’ll pass. I’ll forgive her eventually. Probably.
The bag of ground coffee is on the passenger seat, my dad’s coffee has gone cold, my mom probably expecting me home. Then again, she, my dad, and Michael might have taken the opportunity to get a little busy. I shudder at the thought. Gross.
Sometimes, I feel like a kid again. I wonder if anyone ever feels like they truly grow up. When I was younger and I looked at adults that were the age I am now, I thought they had everything figured out. I thought drama was for teenagers. But now I know differently and that’s hard to come to terms with.
I decided after I left Kate in the coffee shop that I was going to let this be a learning opportunity. I want to learn and grow from this whole experience, then I can head back to Silicon Valley without any regrets. That means apologizing and coming clean.
Feeling a little more confident, I drive back home to drop off the coffee beans. I make a split-second decision to grab the ARF device as well. If I’m going to apologize to Cliff and tell him the entire truth, maybe I should let him try the device. That would help, I think.
“Here are the coffee beans, Mom,” I call, dropping the bag off in the kitchen.
“Thanks, honey,” she answers from her office.
Michael and my father are nowhere to be seen, maybe at the library together. I don’t know. I take the stairs two at a time to my room. Inside, I shut down the coding program for the device, I’ll just have to show it to Cliff as it is. Then I carefully screw the tiny bolts back in place to put the device back together again.
The ear piece is laying nearby. Hesitantly, I slip it into my ear and power up the device, giving it a command to recall Cliff’s information.
“Ready,” the device says calmly.
“The target has discovered use of the ARF device and demonstrates anger and resentment,” I say. “What do I do?”
“Calculating,” the device responds. Silence. “Analysis shows the best course of action is an apology and complete honesty.”
I bite my lip. That was my plan anyway of course, I’m glad the device agrees with me. But just because that’s the advice doesn’t mean it’ll be effective. I silently berate myself for falling back into the old habit of using the device to boost my confidence, but I do it anyway.
“Will that work?” I ask. I need some assurance.
“Calculating.” The device falls silent. “Unfortunately, there is insufficient data. No analysis of request.”
“Damn,” I mutter, slipping the device from my ear.
I’ve never received that kind of response from the device and I’m not entirely sure what to think. I guess that’s life though. There’s hardly ever assurance about anything. I just have to accept that and take my chances with Cliff. It’s important enough that I’m willing to risk his anger.
If he doesn’t want me back, I’ll try to understand. It will take time. But no matter what happens I just have to move forward.
CLIFF
I n the end, I wasn’t able to drive the wolf pack away. I simply couldn’t do it. Any aggression toward the pups and their mother would shatter what trust we had. And with animals like us, trust is paramount above all else. Without it, a pack would be anarchic. And when I saw the pups wrestling again, learning how to fight and attack, the thought of forcing them to leave shattered my heart.
So instead, I spent the next few hours helping them learn. The mother and I even took them hunting. She took the lead and I encouraged the pups to take action. I’ve been a lone wolf all my life, not necessarily by choice. There are no other wolf shifters in the region, at least none that I know of. Having a pack to call my own has helped me. The loneliness brought on by this ability is tough to deal with at times. I’m lucky to have a little wolf family.
When I left, the pups practically begged me to stay. The mother simply ignored them, cleaning her bloodied paws nonchalantly on a nearby overlook. It was hard to say no. Part of me wonders if I would be better living my life as a wolf that can shift into a human rather than a human that can shift into a wolf. In the end, I had to give the little pups a warning growl to get them to stop following me away from their den. But they forgive quickly, as pups and animals do.
I’m home now, lounging in a pair of sweats on my leather sofa. I feel like I haven’t been home in days and am looking forward to a night in. My house is nestled in the backwoods of Bear Moose, far enough away to give me some peace. It’s quiet here, the only sound the occasional call of a hawk and the rustling of the wind through the pine trees.
Beer in hand, I prop my feet up and open a book. It’s a work of fiction, but its pro-conservation message is clear. Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve just become a park ranger like my high school career exam had predicted. I might’ve been able to do more, maybe I could have even convinced them to call off the lottery. As it is, I’m just the resident granola photographer.
I’m drawn from my book by the buzzing of my phone next to me. I look down at the caller ID. It’s Kate. I purse my lips, considering if I should answer or not. It could be that she’s calling on behalf of Dale and he wants to talk to me. But I hope we’re more mature than that high school shit. I answer it.
“Hello?” I growl.
“Cliff?” Her voice sounds weak and she sniffles.
“Kate, are you okay?” I ask. It sounds like she’s been crying.
She inhales shakily. “I need to tell you something.”
I set my book aside and settle back. “Okay, shoot.”
“Cliff, I messed up and I need to apologize to you. I’ve had a crush on Dale since high school. I know it’s one-si
ded, obviously, but that didn’t stop me from liking him. And I-I told you some things in high school that weren’t true. I made up a rumor that Dale liked to hurt animals because I didn’t want you to like him back,” she stammers.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I vaguely remember some rumor going around that a kid was an animal torturer, we all predicted he’d become a serial killer since that’s one of the main signs, but I have no idea who that kid was. And what does she mean like him back?
“Dale,” she says insistently. “He liked you in high school and you kissed once. Anyway, I told everyone he was someone he wasn’t, so you’d stay away from him. But he’s a really nice guy, the best.”
I rise, heading to my bookshelf where I keep my high school yearbooks. “You said that about Dale? I thought you were his best friend?” That’s a shitty thing for a friend to do.
She hesitates, choking back a sob. “There’s something else.”
“What is it?”
“I didn’t give the Department of Fish and Game a virus.”
My heart drops like a stone. I’d been clinging to the hope that the virus would work even if the clock was off. “What?” My voice is soft and quiet.
“I didn’t want anything to happen between you and Dale in the car, so I rushed out as fast as I could and I didn’t do the virus,” she says, speaking quickly, the words pouring from her mouth like bile. “I’m so sorry, for all of it.”
“Goodbye, Kate.” I hang up the phone, staring blankly at the wall.
How could she do something like this? How could she be so selfish? I curl my hand into a fist at my side as animalistic rage builds within me. My wolf is roaring, hurling himself against my conscious mind. I need to regain control. I take deep, soothing breaths until the wolf settles. He paces inside me, huffing and snarling.
Senior yearbook in hand, I head back to the sofa. Weitz, Weitz, Weitz…I run my finger over the names in the yearbook, searching for his. He’s almost the last name in our class. I peer at the photo of a scrawny kid with a genuine, open smile. I recognize that smile. This kid, a little too thin and clean-shaven, is definitely Dale.