The Amazing Wolf Boy

by Roxanne Smolen

  “Sure,” I said, a bit stunned by her rapid-fire greeting.

  She stepped inside, glancing around. I saw the room as she must have seen it—a battered recliner, a kitchen chair, and a twelve-inch television on a metal TV tray.

  She raised her brows. “You do watch movies, right?”

  “In my room. On my laptop.”

  “Good. I hope you have a microwave.” She pulled a package of popcorn out of her bag.

  “Yeah. We do.” I closed the door and led her to the kitchen. “You had to work today?”

  “No, I work on holidays. Since the eighteenth is Presidents’ Day, I stopped in to see if they needed me. And they do. I thought maybe you could come and keep me company. Unless, of course, you’re still mad.”

  “I’m mad, all right. But not at you.” I relaxed, realizing it was true.

  “Well, let’s not worry about it now. Presidents’ Day is more than a week away.” She placed the popcorn in the microwave. “Do you have a bowl?”

  “Good question.” I stood on my toes to search the cabinets. All I found was an old, square cake pan.

  “Perfect.” She dumped the popped corn inside. “What do you have to drink?”

  “Chocolate milk?”

  “Yum. You get that, and I’ll carry this.”

  I grabbed two coffee cups and the jug of milk and followed her down the hallway. She paused at the doorway to my room. I closed my eyes, picturing the red horse blanket, the Scooby sheets. At least, my dirty clothes were in the laundry room.

  “You weren’t kidding about liking Scooby Doo, huh? I can tell.” She sat on my bed and fluffed the pillow.

  I set the milk on the floor. “What movie did you bring?”

  “Underworld. It has vampires and werewolves. Can’t go wrong.” She set the laptop at the foot of the bed and booted the DVD. It played Coming Attractions.

  I sat on the other side of the bed. Since it was a twin, our shoulders touched even with the popcorn between us. I tried not to move for fear that she’d lean away.

  “Do you like werewolves?” I asked.

  She scrunched up her nose. “They aren’t believable. I mean, bones and muscle rearranging by themselves? No way can a human body change shape like that. Just like vampires. How can their fangs pop out? Snick.” She made vampire fangs out of her fingers. “On the other hand, zombies are probably real.”

  “What?” I burst out laughing.

  “Some people in my neighborhood make me very suspicious. I’m sure my third grade teacher, Miss Ellison, was of the undead persuasion.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. “Speaking of teachers, all of mine are having fits over something called an FCAT.”

  “Oh, yeah. Part one is coming up next week.”

  “I’ve heard of an MCAT. That’s to get into medical school. But never an FCAT.”

  “It’s an annual test. The state wants to find out how well the teachers are doing so they test us. If we fail, they know the teachers aren’t doing a good job.”

  “That’s dumb. We could sabotage them by failing on purpose.”

  “But then we would lose privileges, like football teams and bands.”

  I nodded and stuffed my mouth with popcorn.

  “If the FCATs are here, Jana’s party won’t be far behind. All the girls will be giggling and having their dresses altered.” Brittany glanced at me. “Don’t ask me to go. It’s not my thing.”

  “Okay.”

  She sat up straight, nearly knocking over the cake pan. “That was easy. Didn’t you plan to ask me?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not your thing.”

  The main menu came up, and I leaned forward to hit Play. Brittany stared at me. “Did you ask someone else?”

  “Hmmm?” I settled back and ate more popcorn.

  “It’s all right. You can tell me.”

  I made a shushing sound and pointed at the screen, feigning interest to cover my thoughts. Of course, I hadn’t asked anyone else. I couldn’t go to the party even if I wanted to. It fell on the night after a full moon. The wolf would still affect me.

  The werewolves in the movie were snarling and vicious. Every time they came onscreen, Brittany booed. I felt a little uncomfortable with the reminder of how the world saw me. It didn’t matter. No one was going to find out.

  Halfway through the movie, my uncle came home. I didn’t hear him come in. He just appeared from the darkness of my doorway, making me jump.

  “What are you two up to?” he asked as if he couldn’t tell.

  “Watching werewolves,” Brittany said. “Want to join us?”

  “Werewolves.” He snickered and shook his head.

  I realized he was covered in dust—his clothing, his hair, even the creases around his eyes. He hadn’t told me what his big project was. How did he get so dirty?

  “I’m not much for horror flicks,” he said. “Think I’ll take a shower.”

  “Good idea,” Brittany said. “You look like you’ve been digging graves.”

  My uncle laughed, moving away. The sound chilled me. Was that what he’d been doing?

  FIFTEEN

  The following week school was chaotic. Classes were pre-empted for the FCAT. The tests weren’t hard, but the stress left me drained. I blame that as much as anything for losing track of the day.

  “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” I blurted as I rushed into the living room.

  Uncle Bob looked up from the television. “Kind of snuck up on you, eh?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, except for exchanging cards in kindergarten, I never—”

  “Did you buy her a present?”

  I shook my head. Buying a gift for Brittany hadn’t worked out so well last time. “I thought I’d make her a nice dinner.”

  “Good thinking. The way to a lady’s heart, and all that. But I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “I’ve seen people cook. How hard can it be?” I sat in the chair next to his big old recliner. “Do you think you could arrange to be…gone?”

  He laughed. “I’ll tell you what. Not only will I be gone, I’ll even drive you to the grocery store to pick up the things you need.”

  “That was going to be my next question.”

  He switched off the TV. “Let’s go.”

  He took me to Publix, a grocery chain that seemed to be popping up on every corner. As we went through the door, a large Valentine’s Day display greeted us.

  “You see?” I pointed. “Now that’s a helpful reminder.”

  “You should get flowers for the table.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sure. What girl—”

  “Doesn’t like flowers.” I laughed. “All right, but not roses. I want to keep it casual. In case she hates it.”

  “She won’t.” He rummaged through the stand. “Here’s a nice assortment. Daisies, carnations, and one rose. You put the flowers in water, but take the rose out and lay it on her plate.”

  I grinned as I pictured it. “Perfect.”

  I put a box of spaghetti, a jar of marinara, and some shredded mozzarella in the cart. I found sesame breadsticks. I added a two-liter bottle of Dew.

  “How about some ice cream for dessert?” my uncle asked.

  “I think she would rather have cake.”

  “Great. They have a terrific bakery here.”

  “I want to do it myself,” I said. “I want to make everything from scratch.”

  So I bought a chocolate cake mix and a can of fudge frosting. I even got a bag of chocolate chips to sprinkle on top.

  As we got into line to check out, I noticed a bin of videos selling for a dollar. I decided to buy one. It couldn’t be too romantic, though. After all, we were just friends. I picked out Homeward Bound, a movie about two dogs and a cat crossing the country to get back to their owners. The cover got a ten on the cute-and-cuddly scale.

  After we got home, I called Brittany. “Hi.” I felt suddenly unsure.

  “Hi.”

  “
Do you want to come over to my house tomorrow night?”

  Her voice smiled. “Anything special?”

  “No. Just dinner and a movie.”

  “Sounds great. What time?”

  “How about six?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  We hung up, and I stared at the phone, wondering what I was getting myself into. I’d never cooked anything other than heating things up in the microwave. That night, I was so nervous I hardly slept.

  The next day, my uncle picked me up after school, and then dropped me at home. He took off again without a word of advice. I would have liked some, although come to think of it, he didn’t cook much either.

  I got out my trusty cake pan and the mix. Reading the box, I found that the recipe called for eggs and vegetable oil. I was surprised and a little dismayed. I didn’t have any oil. Looking in the refrigerator, I found a stick of butter. That would do as a substitute. Butter would probably taste better, anyway.

  I mixed the batter with a fork until it was smooth, poured it into the cake pan, and put it into the oven. Then I took a shower.

  When the cake was done, I placed it on the windowsill to cool. I’d seen that in a movie. The cake was dark, almost black, and more lopsided than I expected.

  Around five o’clock, I found a saucepan for the marinara and put it on the stove to simmer. I couldn’t find a large pot for the spaghetti, so I fit the noodles in a skillet, covered them with water, and put them on to boil as well.

  I pried the cake out of the pan. It fell out like a brick, clattering onto the plate. I don’t know what I expected, but that wasn’t it. I spread frosting all over, trying to even up the slanted part. Then I poured chocolate chips over the top.

  Everything was going fine.

  Time to set the table. I got out two wine glasses. There were no napkins, so I used a couple of my uncle’s disposable blue shop cloths.

  I’d stashed the flowers in the refrigerator to keep them from the lizards that roamed the kitchen, and I brought them out. I had a moment of panic when I realized there were no vases in the house. I ended up rinsing out the empty marinara jar and putting the flowers in there. I laid the single rose across Brittany’s plate.

  I was proud of how the table looked.

  Brittany’s car pulled up the drive. With my laptop and the new movie in hand, I met her at the door. “Come in.” I grinned. “You look really nice.”

  She did, too. She’d changed her hair since school that day. The red bangs were gone. Now her hair was wispy and purple on top. Her lips were dark and glossy. She wore a black miniskirt and sandals that crisscrossed to her knees.

  “Thanks.” She smiled. “Something smells good.”

  “Dinner is almost ready. I brought my laptop out here. I got a new movie.” I handed it to her.

  She gasped. “This was my favorite when I was little. How did you know?”

  The words when I was little rang in my head. Had I bought a kid’s movie? “Well, I knew you liked dogs. We can watch something else, if you’d rather.”

  “No. It will be fun to see it again.” She dropped her purse onto the recliner. No coat to deal with—another perk of South Florida living.

  I moved the TV and placed the laptop on the metal stand.

  “I think something’s scorching,” she said.

  “Oh! Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  I rushed into the kitchen. The spaghetti was sizzling, and I took the skillet off the heat. Most of the water had boiled away, and the spaghetti had merged into a single fat noodle. With lines.

  “Rats,” I said.

  “Is everything all right in there?” she called.

  “Fine,” I lied.

  I grabbed a lump of butter and plopped it into the pan. I figured the grease would separate the spaghetti, but all it did was turn the noodles gold.

  “You know, I was thinking,” she said, “since neither of us is going to Jana’s party, maybe we can do something together that night.”

  “Hmmm?”

  I slid the noodle onto my serving plate, brown butter and all. What was I going to do?

  “Yeah, it will be great,” she said.

  “No, I’m busy that night.”

  “What?”

  “Busy.”

  Using a sharp knife, I sliced the thick noodle into half-inch chunks. Then I smothered the whole thing with mozzarella and topped it with the marinara.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I called. “Come and get it.”

  She appeared at the door. “That looks interesting.”

  “It’s my own creation. I call it…spaghetti balls.”

  “Wonderful.” She sat at the table and lifted the rose. “For me?”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.” I set the serving plate onto the table.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you.” She looked at me like she couldn’t figure me out.

  My cheeks warmed. “Well, you’re the nicest study partner I’ve ever met.”

  She lifted her wine glass. “Are we having wine?”

  “Only the best.” I opened the bottle of Mountain Dew and held it out with a flourish.

  She laughed.

  We served ourselves spaghetti. It was gooey with cheese. The noodles were a bit gummy, but the butter gave them an interesting flavor. Brittany had seconds.

  I was relieved things were going well, and happy to have her with me. I thought it was the best night of my life.

  Until I brought out the dessert.

  “Yum, double chocolate,” she said. “You made this yourself?”

  “Old family recipe.” I tried cutting the cake with a butter knife. No good. “It came out a little tough.”

  “Get a sharper knife.”

  I got the largest, sharpest knife in the drawer and tried again.

  “That’s strange,” she said. “Maybe you need a cleaver.”

  More like a buzz saw, I thought. Even I knew cake shouldn’t be like a rock. Pressing with both hands, I put my weight into it. The cake snapped in two. Crumbs shot over the table like gravel.

  “It’s ruined,” I said.

  “Don’t be silly. You can’t ruin chocolate.” She took the knife from me and somehow chiseled the cake into small squares. “Crunchy cake. Try one. It’s good.”

  It nearly broke my tooth. I felt terrible. I’d wanted everything to be perfect.

  Then Brittany said, “This is the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

  My chest swelled with love for her.

  She insisted on helping me wash the dishes, and we had fun splashing each other with sudsy water. Then we sat together in the big old recliner and watched the dog movie. Brittany cried at the end.

  In spite of that, I thought the evening went pretty well.

  SIXTEEN

  Monday was President’s Day. No school. My alarm clock sat in silence. My pillow felt soft. Parakeets squawked outside my bedroom window. Something fell in the kitchen. Probably a lizard scurrying about. It wasn’t my uncle. His scent was gone.

  My senses were in overdrive, as they always were approaching the full moon. They felt almost natural, like the wolf was part of me. In two days, I would shift. The thought sickened me, so I pushed it out of my mind. No sense in worrying. Nothing I could do to stop it.

  I showered, ate, and hopped on my bike. The sky was clear, the breeze warm, and the ride into town barely tapped my new super strength. Parking outside the Video Stop, I hurried inside. Cool air smelling strongly of plastic chilled my damp skin. Brittany sat behind the counter. She smiled at me, and the room lit up.

  “Hi,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Glad to see you. I could use some company.”

  “Quiet morning?”

  “The worst.” She stretched and yawned. “Everyone’s probably sleeping in.”

  Was that a dig? It was nearly noon. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I was beginning to think your uncle grabbed you for his big project.” She brought a tall stool around the counter and went
back for another. “He’s running out of time.”

  “Why? What’s he doing?”

  “You don’t know?” She looked at me. “He’s at Jana’s house making one of those fake waterfalls with all the rocks and the koi pond and everything. He needs to get it done before the big party.”

  “Whoa.” That was a big project. I remembered my parents doing that back home. The landscaper had a mini-bulldozer. “That’s a lot of work for one man. I wonder why he didn’t ask me to help.”

  “He probably didn’t want to distract you from the FCAT last week.”

  “They were testing the teachers, not me.”

  “But you were doing the work.” She smiled. “You probably got a hundred percent.”

  “You, too.”

  “Not me. I don’t like to score higher than eighty. High enough to keep my mother off my back, but not so high as to draw attention.”

  “You throw your grades?” A laugh threatened my better sense.

  Her face darkened. “I didn’t one year. My father got mad. He said he wouldn’t have a snooty show-off for a daughter.”

  I went cold. “What did he do?”

  “What he always did.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He lives in Georgia.”

  I looked at her, wanting so much to take her hand, to comfort her about what was obviously a bad memory. I wondered what kind of father would yell at a kid for being smart. Brittany and her family lived with her dad’s father after the divorce. Grandpa Earle must take the mother’s side.

  The pause in conversation made me uncomfortable, so I got up to browse the sci-fi aisle.

  After a moment, Brittany walked toward me. “See anything good?”

  “Yeah. You have a nice selection.”

  “Pick out something. We can make Thursdays our standing movie night.”

  My heart sped. A movie night? We spent the last two Thursdays watching DVDs. Had she thought of them as dates? It sounded too good to be true. Nothing would make me happier than to have a standing date.