the pale tree trunks. I rushed on, sure I was close. Before long, I reached a frozen pond, barely skidding to a halt in time.
There, on the other side of the ice was an alpine hare, chest heaving, eyes nervous. I’d been chasing a bunny.
“Holy crap,” I muttered, plopping down onto my butt in the snow. “What is wrong with me?”
But I knew. “He can’t be right. He can’t be right,” I chanted like a mantra. I sat there, breathing in and out, fighting against the realization that was coursing through my body. I had chased after a hare. I had tried to catch prey.
I shuddered. “I’m sorry, little guy. I probably gave you a heart attack,” I called out to the hare, who was statue-like on the other side of the pond, waiting, watching. “It’s not normally like me to do that.” I rose to my feet. “I’m just a regular girl, okay?” I dusted the back of my snow pants off, trying to pretend that I wasn’t freaking out.
The hare’s nose twitched a few times, and then he dashed away into the brush.
My head pounding, I moved slowly through the trees, back toward what I thought was the direction of the trail. I could hear the voices of the other girls in the distance, so I was pretty sure I was headed the right way. But more than that, I could smell them. Perfume, sweat, sunscreen, shampoo. The scents radiated out to me like a beacon. My wolfy senses were fully engaged.
By the time I got to the edge of the path, tears were welling in my eyes. Austin was telling the truth. It was just a matter of time before I was a slave to the moon. Before I wouldn’t let that alpine hare live to hop another trail.
Marie-Rose slid up next to my abandoned skis as I emerged from the trees. “Oh, Shelby. Don’t cry,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s not you. It’s… nothing.” I wiped at my eyes.
At that moment I knew, more than ever, I was alone with my secret. Alone until my werewolf boyfriend came to the rescue. I really hated the thought of counting on anyone to save me. I was used to getting myself out of sticky situations, taking care of myself. But I couldn’t ignore the facts:
The moon’s pull would strengthen.
My hunger would grow.
And then everyone, even Marie-Rose, would be at risk.
***
I forced down the watery chicken soup and dumplings they force-fed us for lunch that day, my mind reeling with worry. What was going to happen to me? What if Austin didn’t get me out of there? How much time did I actually have left before I was a full-on werewolf?
I was still hungry after the lame meal, of course, so I hid in a bathroom stall and scarfed down the last gingersnap from my hoodie’s pocket. For the moment, the sweet, spicy taste took my mind off the horrible feelings I was having and lifted my mood. I had almost stopped feeling sorry for myself by the time I took my seat in Mrs. Lemmon’s European history class, my least favorite hour of the day.
Marie-Rose slid a sharpened pencil across my desk and gave me a smile. She obviously thought all my angst was because of our earlier fight. Though I had plenty of my own, I accepted the pencil with a smile and opened my notebook, ready for the upcoming torture. I wished I’d thought to save half the cookie for Marie-Rose. It wasn’t her fault that she was terrified of getting in trouble. And if she knew what trouble I was in for, she’d freak for sure. It was better for us to make up and for me to pretend everything was normal, even though it was so not.
Mrs. Lemmon swept in a full minute after the bell and slammed her bag down on the table at the front of the room. “Ladies!” she snarled. “I am very disappointed in your theme papers.”
Her sharp blue eyes flashed from behind deep folds and her eyebrows pulled together as if on a drawstring. Since Honeybun had come into my life, I kind of hated plastic surgery, even if it had been the source of my dad’s
There, on the other side of the ice was an alpine hare, chest heaving, eyes nervous. I’d been chasing a bunny.
“Holy crap,” I muttered, plopping down onto my butt in the snow. “What is wrong with me?”
But I knew. “He can’t be right. He can’t be right,” I chanted like a mantra. I sat there, breathing in and out, fighting against the realization that was coursing through my body. I had chased after a hare. I had tried to catch prey.
I shuddered. “I’m sorry, little guy. I probably gave you a heart attack,” I called out to the hare, who was statue-like on the other side of the pond, waiting, watching. “It’s not normally like me to do that.” I rose to my feet. “I’m just a regular girl, okay?” I dusted the back of my snow pants off, trying to pretend that I wasn’t freaking out.
The hare’s nose twitched a few times, and then he dashed away into the brush.
My head pounding, I moved slowly through the trees, back toward what I thought was the direction of the trail. I could hear the voices of the other girls in the distance, so I was pretty sure I was headed the right way. But more than that, I could smell them. Perfume, sweat, sunscreen, shampoo. The scents radiated out to me like a beacon. My wolfy senses were fully engaged.
By the time I got to the edge of the path, tears were welling in my eyes. Austin was telling the truth. It was just a matter of time before I was a slave to the moon. Before I wouldn’t let that alpine hare live to hop another trail.
Marie-Rose slid up next to my abandoned skis as I emerged from the trees. “Oh, Shelby. Don’t cry,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s not you. It’s… nothing.” I wiped at my eyes.
At that moment I knew, more than ever, I was alone with my secret. Alone until my werewolf boyfriend came to the rescue. I really hated the thought of counting on anyone to save me. I was used to getting myself out of sticky situations, taking care of myself. But I couldn’t ignore the facts:
The moon’s pull would strengthen.
My hunger would grow.
And then everyone, even Marie-Rose, would be at risk.
***
I forced down the watery chicken soup and dumplings they force-fed us for lunch that day, my mind reeling with worry. What was going to happen to me? What if Austin didn’t get me out of there? How much time did I actually have left before I was a full-on werewolf?
I was still hungry after the lame meal, of course, so I hid in a bathroom stall and scarfed down the last gingersnap from my hoodie’s pocket. For the moment, the sweet, spicy taste took my mind off the horrible feelings I was having and lifted my mood. I had almost stopped feeling sorry for myself by the time I took my seat in Mrs. Lemmon’s European history class, my least favorite hour of the day.
Marie-Rose slid a sharpened pencil across my desk and gave me a smile. She obviously thought all my angst was because of our earlier fight. Though I had plenty of my own, I accepted the pencil with a smile and opened my notebook, ready for the upcoming torture. I wished I’d thought to save half the cookie for Marie-Rose. It wasn’t her fault that she was terrified of getting in trouble. And if she knew what trouble I was in for, she’d freak for sure. It was better for us to make up and for me to pretend everything was normal, even though it was so not.
Mrs. Lemmon swept in a full minute after the bell and slammed her bag down on the table at the front of the room. “Ladies!” she snarled. “I am very disappointed in your theme papers.”
Her sharp blue eyes flashed from behind deep folds and her eyebrows pulled together as if on a drawstring. Since Honeybun had come into my life, I kind of hated plastic surgery, even if it had been the source of my dad’s
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