This Is Not a Werewolf Story by Sandra Evans

our stuff to leave.
    Mary Anne holds out her hand for the dean to shake. “Dean Swift,” she says in her most grown-up voice, “you soar high above the knowledgeable but pedestrian scientist when you weld wisdom to feeling.”
    I get the gist of what she’s saying. But for me there’s a lot more to it than feeling.
    Vision, hearing, heart—these all have to do with my secret.
    Maybe that’s why the secret came to me. The secret was my mom’s first. Or her grandma’s grandma’s grandma’s. Each mom gave it to her child until it got to my mom. Then she gave it to me.
    You can call it magic or you can call it science. I think it’s a little of both.

Chapter 6
WHERE YOU HEAR ABOUT WHITE DEER FOR THE FIRST TIME
    When I wake up, the first thing I think is, What’s Vincent’s class schedule? And the second is, It’s Friday.
    I hurry to get ready. Maybe Vincent will sit next to me at the counter.
    But as I’m going in to breakfast, Vincent is coming out. He’s telling a story to Mean Jack and Jason, and the two dimwits are laughing so hard they can’t breathe.
    So that’s that. I know it’s dumb, but it feels like someone has taken a rake and dragged it back and forth over my lungs. Vincent is already part of the Pack—the pack I’m not part of.
    But Vincent stops when he sees me.
    â€œRaul, my man,” he says. He grabs my hand and shakes it. With a flick of his chin he tells the other two to go on without him. “I was waiting for you. Save me a seat at lunch, okay?”
    It’s crazy how relieved I feel. But I wonder. How long will it last? How long will he be able to be friends with me and with them? A week, I bet.
    â€œI can hardly understand what those two are saying,” he says. “It’s like they speak their own language. Don’t throw me to the wolves like that again, okay?”
    He doesn’t even know how funny that last comment was.

    Fishing Friday. It’s my job here. Every Friday after lunch and before parent pick-up I take the Cubs fishing at the lake at the edge of White Deer Woods.
    Today Dean Swift joins me at the counter for a quick meeting.
    â€œNo sign of Gollum?” he asks.
    I shake my head.
    Dean Swift exhales. His shoulders drop. “Very unfortunate. But we have another small crisis that is slightly more pressing. Remember the bone Sparrow found in the Blackout Tunnel?” he asks.
    I nod.
    â€œThe bone undoubtedly belonged to a dog. Last night I explored the Blackout Tunnel myself. It appears that over the winter an animal used it as a den.” Dean Swift stares out the window like he’s thinking. “That new housing development they put near the ferry terminal has been a catastrophe for so many of our animal friends. I believe we are dealing with a predator—most probably a coyote—that has been displaced from its territory.” He shakes his head sadly. A second later, hisspine straightens, his elbows jut out a little, and he begins a Lecture.
    â€œIn packs, coyotes have been known to attack humans. However, the animal that has claimed the Blackout Tunnel appears to be a loner. And if his territory is centered around the Blackout Tunnel, I doubt you would encounter him so far north as the lake. Especially in the middle of the day. I believe that suspending our normal activities would teach a lesson of fear to our young Cubs. Fishing Friday is their sacred hour free from adult supervision and in the tutelage of that divine preceptor, Mother Nature. But I’m counting on you to keep your eyes open today. Bobo must go with you, as usual. She will function as an early warning system.”
    Coyotes don’t scare me. But I know what he means when he talks about the new housing development. It borders the far side of White Deer Woods, and coyotes aren’t the only predators the new human families are making nervous.

    After breakfast the Cubs all