The Amazing Wolf Boy Page 20

  “Then we’ll do it next month. You can stand to shape shift one last time, can’t you?”

  The thought made me itch all over. Did I really want to stop? Becoming a wolf made me feel powerful. Like a superhero with a secret.

  “I still think I should be able to shift on any night,” I blurted, “not just the nights of the full moon.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Brittany said, “none of the books on lycanthropy mentioned anything about the moon.”

  * * * *

  For the rest of the week, the main talk in school was Eff and his friends getting community service. They had to work a hundred and twenty hours at the Palms West Hospital, presumably so they could see pain and suffering firsthand. I didn’t know if that would teach them a lesson or inspire them. But Eff kept his word about the truce, and he had enough influence to keep the other guys off me.

  I spent my evenings with Uncle Bob. I figured he wouldn’t try to kill anyone else with me hanging around. The most exciting thing we did was go to Publix for groceries one night.

  As we walked into the store, I noticed a large scale, the kind with a three-foot dial, and I decided to weigh myself. The joke Brittany had made about my having muscles bothered me. I didn’t feel any different, although my T-shirts were getting a little tight.

  I stared as the dial stopped just short of one-fifty. That couldn’t be right. That was football player weight. I still pictured myself as a skinny science nerd. I walked away, glancing over my shoulder at the scale. Maybe this was another perk of being a werewolf.

  On Friday, Uncle Bob left a voice mail that he was going to dinner with a friend and would be home late. I had cold pizza for dinner, and was all set to research magic circles when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it.

  Brittany collapsed against my chest. “He’s gone. I can’t find him.”

  I wrapped my arms about her, too stunned to enjoy it. “What do you mean? Who’s gone?”

  “My brother.” She looked at me, tears like black rivers streaming down her cheeks. “He didn’t come home from school. He never stays away this long. He wouldn’t miss dinner. I went to all his friends’ houses. But nobody’s seen him.” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

  I didn’t know what to do. “Don’t cry.” I patted her back. How lame could I get?

  I drew her inside the house and walked her to the kitchen. She sat at the table as if hopeless. I gave her a paper napkin, and then poured a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. She sipped, hiccupping.

  “What did his friends say?” I asked.

  Her voice was weak. “One of the guys, Jeremy, has a couple of motocross bikes, and they took them to these dirt trails out in the Glades. I knew where he meant. I’ve been there before. Anyway, there were two bikes and three boys, so one had to stay behind and wait.”

  She blew her nose, and I gave her another napkin.

  “So they went to give Butt Crack his turn, only he was gone. Jeremy thought he went back to the house. But when they got home, he wasn’t there either.” She started to cry again, her face red and puffy. “Jeremy said he thought to himself, gee that’s weird. But he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t call.”

  I put my hand over hers. “Did you let the sheriff know?”

  “Grandpa did. They’re watching the hospitals.”

  With a curt nod, I got up to refill her glass. A combination of sympathy and frustration washed over me. “Why didn’t Butt Crack have his cell with him?”

  “Mom says he’s too young to have a phone.” She scrubbed her face with the heel of her hand. “Now it’s getting dark, and… Oh, God. There’s a killer on the loose.”

  “Take me to those trails,” I said.

  “It’s no use,” she said. “I just came from there.”

  “Maybe I can track him. I might smell something or hear his voice.” I paused, not really wanting to point out how different I was from everybody else.

  “All right.” She threw her napkins in the trash and walked woodenly to her car.

  The sky was bright orange, the sun red. I climbed in beside her. She backed down the drive and onto the road, turning away from town. Several minutes later, we pulled into a new housing development. The homes were large—three car garages, pools in every yard. A few weren’t landscaped yet, and they stood out.

  Brittany followed the winding road. She sat forward against the steering wheel, her lips pressed in a thin line. She didn’t speak, so neither did I. Nothing I could say would make her feel better.

  She parked at the end of a cul-de-sac. The houses weren’t finished, and the ground was rough. “We walk from here,” she said.

  Without waiting to see if I followed, she took off across the field. Dusk hid the rocks and ruts, and she stumbled. Of course, I could see as well as ever. I took her arm, supporting her until we reached a path leading into the scrub.

  It was hilly. Not like the hills you would find up north. It was more like mounds of earth. I realized the construction crews were trucking in fill dirt to keep the Everglades at bay. It smelled old and dusty.

  We walked in silence. Night fell, swallowing the sub-division behind us. Bike trails cut through the brush. I imagined motors whining, replaced now by the buzz of mosquitoes.

  Brittany stopped on a ridge overlooking the motocross playground. “I went up and down these hills calling his name. He’s not here.”

  I closed my eyes, focusing. I smelled fuel and exhaust, scuffed dirt, and crushed grass. And people. Lots of people.

  “Popular place,” I muttered.

  With my hands in my pockets, I walked away from her along the ridge. I was an idiot. What made me think I could pull out one scent from all the smells around here? I shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. Now things were worse.

  As I opened my mouth to apologize, a familiar odor wafted by. Bath soap. I crouched, sifting a handful of dirt through my fingers. “He was sitting here,” I said.

  Brittany rushed to my side. “Where did he go?”

  I took a deep breath, but it was worthless. I could tell where he touched the ground, but I couldn’t smell which way he walked. “There are footprints. Look.”

  “It’s too dark,” she said. “I can’t see anything. Why didn’t I bring a flashlight?”

  “The prints go this way,” I told her, not even certain if they were his. I followed the tracks off the ridge, finally losing them in the brush. “They’re gone.”

  She slapped my arm. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take off your clothes.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got to change. You’ve got to turn into a wolf and find him.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Please.”

  “Tonight’s a new moon. That’s like the opposite of a full moon.”

  She hit me again. “You’re the one who always says you should be able to change at will. The moon is always there, you said.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Cody, please. I don’t know what I’d do if…” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s my brother.”

  She collapsed inward, shoulders slumping. It was like watching a tower crumble in slow motion—her lips pulling into a grimace, her body quaking. She sobbed against my chest, fingers knotted in my shirt. I wrapped my arms tighter.

  How could I say no?

  Gently rocking her, I lifted my face to the sky. The moon was always there. I opened my senses, searching for it, reaching for its strength, its power to move oceans. Please take me, I pleaded.

  The wolf stirred.

  Without warning, the change struck. Heat seared my bones and turned my knees to jelly. I felt my cheek slide down the front of her blouse. My knuckles crackled as they struck the ground, contracting into silver paws.

  Pride and awe flooded me. I’d done it. I was a wolf.

  A wolf in human clothing.

  I looked down at my jeans. Crap. Why did everything happen to me?

  Brittany didn’t run, but she leaned as
far away as she could. Anger flared in the pit of my stomach. This was her idea. How dare she stare at me with…what? Horror? Disgust? Pity?

  A growl climbed my throat. I flipped onto my back and wriggled. The shoes came off, but the jeans and T-shirt stayed in place. Double crap.

  “Let me help you,” Brittany said.

  I didn’t want her to touch me. Not with that look on her face. With a yip, I scrambled away, tripping on the flapping pant legs.

  “Hold still,” she commanded. Like she was talking to a dog.

  I wanted to bite her.

  She snagged the T-shirt, pulling and tugging. By the time it was off my head, my lips were up in a snarl. She fell on her backside with a sound of alarm.

  What was I doing? I couldn’t hurt Brittany.

  I went to her slowly and nuzzled her arm. She reeked of fear and adrenalin. My human side cringed with remorse. I dropped my gaze, trying to look non-threatening. Like a one-hundred and fifty pound wolf could look anything but. After a moment, she stroked my ear, and I knew she accepted my apology.

  The jeans were mostly off, and with them, the socks. That left my underwear. Brittany approached me tentatively, and then peeled them over my rump. I felt a gush of embarrassment. I held as still as I could, letting her work, inwardly vowing never to wear undershorts again.

  At last, I was free. I shook myself. Something chafed my neck, reminding me of the necktie I was stuck with the first time I changed. I wanted to sit down and scratch, but that was too doglike.

  “Do you see the trail?” Brittany got to her feet. “Can you find him?”

  Of course, I saw the trail. It fairly shone in the darkness. Anyone could see where the boy had gone.

  I told her to wait there, that she would only slow me down, but the words sounded like a walrus gargling. Stupid me. So I headed into the brush with Brittany close behind.

  There were no trees. This was human land, and they’d scraped it clean. But the Glades fought to reclaim it. Scrub palmetto and saw grass dragged at my fur. There was no wildlife. Not even rabbits. But I occasionally caught a whiff of otherness. I searched my memory of zoos and forests.

  The boy had followed a bear. What was a bear doing so close to civilization?

  Eventually, the barren fields gave way to swamp. Shallow ponds sprang around us. I heard crickets and frogs, the splash of fish. I smelled the fetid earth and wanted to roll in it. Of course, there wasn’t time.

  I tracked the bear’s scent down a narrow spit of land. Gnarled trees creaked overhead. Nighthawks screeched, and peacocks sang. After a while, I stopped, nose to the ground. I smelled the boy twice. He’d crossed his own trail. I imagined him circling, totally lost. I quickened my pace.

  The dark night hid pockets of water. Brittany splashed, breathing hard, making more noise than necessary. The boy’s trail was erratic. I lost his trace several times, but he was near. His scent was on the wind.

  We came out from beneath a group of low-hanging trees. The boy was across the clearing, fighting through thigh-high water. I grinned, tongue lolling, mentally patting myself on the back. I watched him for a moment, charting the driest course to his side, when I caught movement behind him. Something swift and as black as the water.

  An alligator.

  Barking and growling, I charged down the pond’s edge. The boy turned to look, lost his balance, and went under. Behind me, Brittany screamed. I hoped she had the good sense to stay out of the water.

  Because I didn’t.

  I jumped in and angled for the boy. He came up waving his arms. The gator latched onto his jacket. With its mighty tail swishing, it towed him toward the deeps. I clambered onto its snout and attacked its eyes. The thing rolled over, knocking me off.

  The boy fell backward. He grappled with me, trying to get his head above water. I felt a pop, and whatever had been choking my neck disappeared. The boy coughed and sputtered.

  “Give me your hand,” Brittany yelled to him.

  The gator rolled again, and I pounced on its belly, getting my teeth around its throat. It was like biting a rock. My fangs didn’t penetrate at all.

  It wouldn’t release the boy. The twisting jacket tightened, but he managed to shrug out of it and wade for shore. The gator righted itself, throwing me into the water. It snapped at the empty jacket.

  Then it came after me.

  Brittany screamed, “Cody!”

  For a moment, all I saw was teeth. I leaped onto the beast’s back, chomping down on its nose. This time, I tasted blood. The gator dove, but the water was shallow. I didn’t let go. My hind legs kicked and dug at its eyes. It lifted up, tossing me into the air. I landed hard and heaved myself onto the bank. With a snort, I shook the moisture from my fur.

  Brittany stood a short distance away, clutching her brother. She looked terrified. I took a step toward her when something hit like a battering ram square in my ribs. I rolled and spun in time to see the gator come at me again. It sprinted on land like a horse, hind legs gathering beneath it, the armored snout like a lance.

  It struck low and flipped me. The sinewy tail sliced across my face. I lay on my side, dazed. It turned to make another pass when Brittany appeared behind it, bashing its head with a club.

  It reared back, mouth open. She hit it hard enough to loosen a few teeth. The jaws snapped. She dodged and swung again. The massive animal clamped down on the club. She tried to pull free, but the gator adjusted its hold, drawing the wood deeper into its mouth.

  She used the club to push the creature back toward the pond. The thing was heavy, and she had to lean into it. The gator bit the wood again. More than half of the club was in its mouth, drawing her fingers nearer. Perhaps she realized that at the same moment I did, because her expression changed.

  I jumped up and barked at her. Run away, Brittany. Run so I can run.

  She dropped the club and scrambled backward. The gator roared, snapping at her around the chunk of wood in its mouth. I pounced and dropped my full weight upon its head, ramming the club down its throat. Hot blood bubbled from its nostrils. Its tail lashed. I stepped onto the bank, growling, ready for another round. But the gator withdrew, leaving only splintered wood and a few teeth.

  Brittany threw her arms about me and buried her face in my coat. Behind her, the boy clutched her jacket around his shoulders, shivering violently.

  “You called him Cody,” he said.

  She wiped her eyes. “I named him after my boyfriend. Kind of a joke.”

  “Oh,” he said. “That’s one huge dog.”

  I would have laughed, but my ribs were too sore. I strode past him, a slight limp ruining my exit. After a few moments, they followed. We retraced our steps through the swamp. Brittany and her brother argued the whole way.

  “It was a bear,” he said for the twentieth time. “I couldn’t let someone shoot it for getting into their trash. So I chased it. And I got turned around a little.”

  “Do you know what you put us through?”

  “I would have found my way back in the morning.”

  “That gator wouldn’t have let you see the morning.”

  I was glad when we reached the barren fields. I passed my cast off clothing like I didn’t notice them, but Brittany picked them up.

  “Here,” she told her brother. “Take off your wet things and put these on.”

  “What? I don’t even know who they belong to.”

  “Neither do I, but they’re dry. I don’t want you dripping on my seat.”

  With a snort, I kept walking. He could keep the clothes. Stupid things, anyway. Maybe I should join the Sunspot.

  At last, we reached the housing development. Brittany opened the door of her car and pushed the boy inside. She grabbed her purse from under the seat and took out her cell phone. “Grandpa? I found him. We’ll tell you all about it when we get home. Will you call Sheriff Brad and let him know? See you in a bit.” She put the phone away. Then she turned to me, making smooching sounds. “Come on. Get in the car.”

/>   I grinned at her. Then I sped off as fast as I could. Why would I ride when I could run? I left the sub-division and headed for the surrounding forest. The thick pine carpeting cushioned my step. I limped, stiff and aching, but I was in a great mood.

  The whole fight scene seemed hilarious. Who knew an alligator could run like that? And Brittany was brilliant, whacking it in the head with a stick. But even better was that I had turned into a wolf during the dark of the moon. I could control the change instead of being at nature’s mercy. Anything could happen now.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have to be a human at all.

  I was chasing rabbits when white-hot pain split my skull. My teeth raged like they were twisting from their sockets. I pawed my face. It felt flat and featureless.

  I was shifting back into a human.

  No! It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t morning yet. I fought the change, searching for the moon’s power. I couldn’t tap into it. Exhausted, I fell to the ground, whimpering as my limbs elongated and I became a teenage boy once again.

  A naked teenage boy.

  Man, it was colder than I thought. I stood to brush myself off, and with the dirt and leaves went my sense of freedom. Shivering, I glanced around. I wasn’t far from home. The promise of a warm bed spurred me on.

  But as I neared my uncle’s house, I heard voices. Laughter. I approached the yard, peering from the bushes. Uncle Bob’s truck was in the drive. He sat on the porch swing, his back to me, and his arm around a redheaded woman. Ice clinked in a glass.

  I looked longingly at my bedroom window. Candlelight flickered in the darkness. Brittany’s candles. The window was locked. I couldn’t get in that way.

  My attention drew to the kitchen window. Its curtains flapped in the breeze. Could I jump that high? Did I have a choice? Moving in a crouch, I left the bushes and crept forward. My senses were on full. I listened to the rhythmic creak of the swing.

  When I was half-way across the yard, the swing stopped. I froze mid-step, expecting my uncle to shout. I couldn’t stand there waiting for him to find me. I bounded toward the house and sprang to the windowsill, pulling myself up and over.

  It was easier than it should have been. I climbed down from the sink and snuck to my room. My uncle would never know I was gone. My bed with the Scooby sheets and the red horse blanket never looked so good. I crawled under the covers without wiping my feet.