by David Lubar
“Mfffffllup.” That was the best response I could make between bites. But I guess Splat was right. I looked down at my hands, which were clenching the burger so tightly, the meat was squishing out of the bun. It was my third burger.
“And Dawn is probably never going to speak to me again,” he said, looking across the cafeteria to where she sat with her friends.
I stopped eating long enough to say, “She wasn’t exactly chewing your ear off with conversation before this. At least you got her attention today.” I paused to tear off another piece of burger. I swallowed it, then said, “But I appreciate what you did. I couldn’t get near that wolfsbane.”
Splat put his own burger down and looked at me. “You really are serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Come on—you of all people should be a believer.” Splat had been through an adventure of his own. He should certainly have no trouble accepting what I told him. I shoved the back of my hand in front of his face. “Was I this hairy before?”
He pulled his head away from my hand. “I don’t know. Your body hair isn’t something I keep track of.”
“What about this?” I scraped my nails across the top of the table. Wood shavings came off in curls as if my fingers were chisels. “And this?” I grabbed Splat’s backpack and plucked the pen from the front pocket. His dad had made it for him out of silver and brass swirled together in a cool way. I let the pen sit on my open hand for as long as I could stand, then turned my wrist so it dropped to the table. I held the evidence in front of Splat’s face. There, on my palm, was a red slash from the pen.
“Is this some kind of science trick?” Splat asked. “Did you have some sort of chemical in your hand?”
I shook my head. “No trick.”
Splat looked right into my eyes, but there was no challenge in his stare—just realization. I could tell he finally believed me. “What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know. But I have a funny feeling I need to do something soon. I’m losing control. The full moon is getting close. If it hadn’t been for that stupid class trip—”
I stopped. Suddenly, though I didn’t want to face it, I knew what I had to do.
“I have to go back,” I told Splat.
“Back? Where?”
“The woods. I have to find the wolf. I have to talk to him.”
“Talk to him?” Splat shook his head. “You’re crazy. You’re absolutely—”
“Stop it!” I held up my hand, cutting his words off. “Stop doubting me and start helping me. I’ve never asked you for anything before. Come with me. Please?” I waited for his answer.
Splat nodded. “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”
I knew that, no matter how much he might be wrapped up in his own interests, I could count on him when I really needed help. Maybe that’s why I put up with the rest of it.
“Thanks,” I said.
“When do you want to go?”
“Right after school.”
“How do you know it will be there?” he asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” I said. But even though I didn’t know, I had a strong feeling that the wolf would be there when I went back.
The day dragged on. All I could think of was getting to the woods. I hoped to face the wolf and learn something. I also wanted to run free among the trees. I could close my eyes and almost feel the wind against my face and the branches stroking my fur as I raced across a bed of fallen leaves.
I was shaken from those thoughts when I went to math class. I realized something was wrong the moment Mr. Phermat handed back our tests. He stopped by my desk and looked at me with an expression I had never ever gotten from a teacher. Actually, I’d gotten it a lot from gym teachers, but not from any other teacher. It was an expression of disappointment.
“I hope this isn’t the start of a trend,” he said as he put the test on my desk.
I looked at the paper. It must have been worse than I thought. He’d actually laid it facedown. I turned over the paper and felt a jolt run through my body.
“Sixty-three?” I said out loud, unable to believe the glaring red number that was scrawled across the top of the page. “It can’t be.” I’d never gotten less than a ninety on a math test. I usually got a hundred. A sixty-three was not possible.
I stared at the sea of red circles and shook my head. Stupid mistakes. I’d made dozens of stupid mistakes. Where had my mind been?
Splat leaned over from his seat and looked at my test. “Blam,” he said. “The legend dies.”
I folded the test and put it in my backpack. This won’t happen again, I promised myself. Somehow, I’d slipped. The wolf in me had taken over at the wrong time. But I was sure my mind was strong enough to keep it from ever happening again. Now, more than ever, I was eager to go back to the woods.
When school let out, Splat and I rushed home for our bikes and headed toward Miller Forest. Riding felt almost as good as running, though I missed the slap of my feet against the ground. We reached the entrance to the hiking trail, chained the bikes in the parking lot, then headed down the path.
Walking didn’t feel right. I started to jog. Splat moved with me. He’d played soccer and basketball for years and had no trouble keeping up with me. We ran together, silent, and I realized I felt closer to him at this moment than ever before. I felt that I could run forever through these woods. Alone or with a friend—it didn’t matter—I could run forever.
We came eventually to a familiar spot. Reluctantly, I stopped running. I looked; I sniffed. Then I left the trail and went through the woods to the small clearing.
Splat followed. We stood and waited.
The wolf came. He made no sound. One moment, Splat and I were alone in the clearing. The next, the wolf was standing at the far edge. He looked at me. Then he looked at Splat and growled.
“I think he wants you to leave,” I told Splat.
“What do you want me to do?” Splat asked.
“I’ll be okay. Back away slowly. Don’t run. Wait for me on the trail.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I kept my eyes on the wolf. Behind me, I heard Splat moving through the woods, going toward the trail. The sounds grew fainter.
“Well?” I said, looking at the wolf.
He stood, as if waiting for something.
“Human talking to wolf doesn’t work,” I said, realizing the problem. “One of us has to change. I don’t know how.”
The wolf remained motionless.
“I don’t know how,” I said again. Or do I? Maybe I was afraid. I suspected that if I voluntarily took the true form of a beast, I might not want to become human again.
The wolf waited.
I had to learn what I could. Be what you are, I thought. Surrender to it. I relaxed and let myself change. There was no pain, no agony in the transformation. That was an invention from the movies. It was swift and far easier than I wanted it to be.
I dropped to all fours, still draped by the clothing I wore, but no longer suited to wearing it. I stepped from the pants, then pulled the shirt off with my teeth.
“Welcome,” the wolf said. It was a language of sounds and gestures, spoken as much with body movement as with voice. But I understood and was able to reply.
“Why me?”
“Remember the first time we met? I was chasing a rabbit. You got between us. Then you ran. That sealed your fate. You made the choice when you ran. Prey always chooses itself. The rabbit, the deer, they choose to be taken. I was not looking for this to happen. It took all the strength of my human side to keep from hurting you even worse. But I welcome the company if you should decide to remain.”
“Decide?” I asked, grabbing at that word and all the possibilities it contained. “I have a choice?”
“For the moment. The decision must be made soon. You will know the moment when it arrives. It is different for each of us, but you will know. And you are prepared.”
“No. I’m not prepared. I’m not
ready for any of this. I’m just a kid.”
“So was I, once.” He looked around, then said, “Run with me.”
I took a step, then stopped. The woods called to me. To run with the pack, to run and hunt—that was what I was born for.
“Run,” he said again. “I will take you to the deer.”
I could smell her. A doe—her tawny neck at the mercy of my jaw.
“Norman, I’m coming back.”
There was a crashing and stumbling sound from behind.
“Do you care for this human?” the wolf asked.
At first, the question puzzled me. Why should I care for any human? Then I remembered. I had run with this human. There were ties between us. “Yes. He’s my friend.”
“Then I will leave before I harm him,” the wolf said. He disappeared into the woods.
I stood and watched, still tempted to let him lead me to the deer. As the other wolf left, I felt some of my own animal side growing weaker.
“Oh, no!” The shout shattered my thoughts.
I spun to see Splat standing at the edge of the clearing. He froze, looking at me and at the scattered clothes. “What did you do to him?” He smelled of sorrow and anger.
I tried to answer, but the words came out as a howl.
He grabbed a stick from the ground and stepped toward me. “He was my friend!” Splat lunged toward me, swinging the stick.
My reflexes were more powerful than my control. My instinct was to fight back against any attack. It didn’t matter that he was my friend. The threat had to be answered with action. I leaped toward him, a flash of fur, snarling, ready to tear him to shreds.
Sixteen
SPLAT’S SURPRISE
My leap sent him flying. I misjudged the power of my legs and went tumbling past Splat as he fell. I tried to control myself, but the fury was upon me. I prepared for another jump. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. As I ran toward him, he frantically ripped open the bag.
I was struck by the smell, thrown back by the power of it. Splat, rising to his knees, shaking, held the wolfsbane in front of himself.
“What did you do with him?” He cried as he stepped forward.
I turned and ran, too fast for him to follow. But I didn’t run far.
Carefully, silently, I moved back close enough to watch, but kept some distance between us to avoid the scent of the wolfsbane. Splat was gathering my clothes. He looked sad, deeply sad. He was shaking his head slowly. “Norman…,” he whispered once. Then he walked away.
In the distance, I heard a howl. The wolf called to me. But my friend was off in the other direction, probably filled with sorrow over my end. I couldn’t let him suffer. I had to change back.
I didn’t know how.
When I’d become the wolf, it had been in the presence of another werewolf. Some of the power—maybe all of the power—must have come from him. Now, I wasn’t sure what to do. My mind was less than human, more aware of the scents and sounds of the woods. The human spark within was dim.
And what a marvelous chance to learn about the animal. I knew that any naturalist on the planet would give almost anything for the opportunity to observe what I was seeing from the inside. This was a scientist’s dream—seeing an animal from within its mind. This was the ultimate laboratory. The things I could learn. The advances I could make toward the understanding of lupine activity. The wonderful—
I realized I was no longer a wolf.
I was a boy, standing naked in the woods. Maybe the body of a wolf wasn’t made to hold thoughts of science and logic. Treading as carefully as I could in my bare feet, I hurried toward the parking lot, hoping I could catch Splat before he left with my clothes.
He was at the edge of the lot, sitting on the ground next to the bikes, his head down.
I was about to call to him when I heard someone coming. A moment later, Dawn coasted into the lot, stopping her bike right next to Splat. Impossible as it might sound, I suddenly felt even more naked than before.
“Hi, Sebastian. What are you doing here?” Dawn asked as she leaned to her right and rested one foot on the ground. A bead of perspiration rolled down her forehead, and the scent of her washed over me. I realized, for the first time, that girls smelled much different from boys. It was not at all unpleasant.
There was no response from Splat.
Dawn tried again. “I’m sorry I got angry with you about that silly plant.”
Splat didn’t look up. I don’t even know if he heard her.
“Want to go for a ride?” Dawn asked.
I could see her face as I peered through the bushes. She was smiling, but the smile didn’t last long. Poor Splat. Now she looked angry. “Okay, be like that, you big snob.” She pedaled off.
As soon as I was sure she was gone, I stuck my hand out through the branches and waved. “Hey, Splat, could you toss me my clothes?”
He stood and whirled around, his eyes so wide, I thought they’d pop out and bounce away. “Norman! You’re alive. I thought the wolf…” An instant later, he looked as angry as Dawn. He grabbed my clothes and threw them at me. They landed all around me, dangling from the branches of the bushes like some bizarre and twisted ad for designer jeans.
I grabbed my underwear and put it on.
Splat started shouting at me. “How could you let me think you were dead? How could you do that? Here I am, all torn up about it. And Dawn—what’s she going to think? How could you—?” He sort of gestured and pointed and his face turned redder.
“Sorry.” I pulled the rest of my clothes free and got dressed. I felt much more civilized as soon as I got everything back on. It’s amazing how much difference a few square feet of fabric makes. “So you thought the wolf had eaten me?”
He nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. It made sense. You were gone. Your clothes were there.”
“Quite the neat eater, wouldn’t you say? Ate me right out of my clothes, bones and all, without leaving a trace.”
Splat started to look angry again. I said sorry again. It was nice that he cared. It felt good.
“You learn anything?” he asked.
I thought back to my brief time with the other wolf. “Apparently, I have a choice. There’s some moment of decision coming up. But beyond that, I don’t know what to expect.”
“Was that a werewolf?”
“I think so.” I didn’t tell Splat who the wolf was. It wasn’t my place to betray Lew’s secret, even to Splat. “That’s going to be me if I’m not careful.”
I went over to my bike. “Pretty lucky you held on to that wolfsbane,” I said, “especially considering you didn’t really believe in any of this. It was all just my wild imagination, after all.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Pretty lucky.”
“So why did you have it?”
He shrugged. “It just seemed like kind of a good idea.”
We got on our bikes and rode to the end of the parking lot. I noticed that Splat wasn’t looking toward home. He was looking down the road in the other direction. It didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“What?”
“Go on. Maybe you can catch up with Dawn.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” He rode off, sprinting down the road at top speed.
I went toward home more slowly, wondering how far off the moment of decision might be, and wondering what form it might take. A part of me also wondered whether I wanted to give up a gift that made me strong and powerful. I was sure I could learn to defeat the animal urges. After all, I was a thinking creature with an exceptionally capable mind.
When I got to my house, I checked the computer. There were ninety-six replies to my question about werewolves. Before I looked at them, there was something else I wanted to check. Dad’s university account includes a service with files from hundreds of magazines and newspapers. I logged on to it and, remembering Lew’s license, searched for the keywords Lewis Morton and Penns
ylvania.
There was one story, from nearly thirty years ago. The headline was HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR GETS FULL SCHOLARSHIP. It said that Lewis Morton, a junior at Liberty High School in Ridge Valley, Pennsylvania, had made history by being offered a full scholarship to study physics at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
I paused and let that sink in. MIT was one of the finest colleges in the world. And they let Lewis Morton skip his senior year. He had to be brilliant. “That can’t be the same Lew,” I said. But I knew it was. Or had been …
I switched back to my mail and waded through the ninety-six messages, reading enough of each one to make sure there was nothing of value. Most of the stuff was the same old misinformation. There was also an invitation to join a werewolf fan club, a long poem about werewolves from someone who didn’t seem to understand poetry very well, two really bad stories, five copies of the same file of werewolf jokes, and various other useless chunks of information.
Ninety-five of the messages were worthless. It was item number ninety-six, the last file in the group, that made my blood suddenly turn cold in my veins. It was a short message:
You cast out a net and it has helped catch you. Now I know for sure. Run. It will do no good. You are mine.
Zoltan Teridakian
I looked at the message header. The mail had been sent to me just a half hour ago. I had to do something, but I didn’t know whether to stay home or to run.
The doorbell rang.
I got up from the chair, my eyes still held by the message on the screen.
Downstairs, I heard my mother call, “Norman, that man is here to see you again.”
Seventeen
ON THE RUN
“Norman, are you up there?” Mom called from the bottom of the steps.
I realized she hadn’t seen me come in. But that realization was pushed aside by an emotion stronger than thought. Teridakian was on my porch. He was in my territory. I knew if I stayed here, I would have to fight to defend that territory. Whatever happened, I didn’t want my mother to see me doing the things I feared I might do.
Worse, my body was changing again. My left hand had grown into something halfway between human and wolf. The fingers were covered with hair and tipped with curving nails. The thumb had retracted so far, it was nothing more than a nub. I tried to change it back, but it refused to shift.