“Yeah,” he said. “We have to be careful, but they’ll usually explain it away themselves. ”
We moved aside as a pickup passed, the driver lifting a hand in greeting. I waved back, then watched until I was sure he wasn’t going to stop.
“So do all animals react that way to you? I know you said rats steer clear. ”
“Most do. They see a human, but they smell something else. It confuses them. Canines are the worst, though. ” He paused. “No, cats are the worst. I really don’t like cats. ”
I laughed. As the shadows lengthened, Derek moved us across the road to the sunny side.
“I went to the zoo once,” he continued. “Fifth grade field trip. Dad said I couldn’t because of the werewolf thing. I was pissed. Really pissed. Back then, I didn’t freak animals out. I just made them nervous. So I decided Dad was being unfair and went anyway. ”
“How?”
“Forged his name and saved my allowance. ”
“So what happened?”
“Pretty much what Dad figured. I made the predators nervous and totally freaked out the prey animals. My classmates thought it was cool, though. They got to see an elephant charge. ”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I felt bad. So I stayed back from the pens after that. They weren’t what I wanted to see anyway. ”
“Which was? Wait. The wolves, right?”
He nodded.
“You wanted to see if they’d recognize you as one of them. ”
“Nah. Nothing silly like that. ” He walked in silence for a moment. “Okay. Exactly like that. I had this…” He struggled for a word.
“Fantasy?”
A glower said that wasn’t the word he’d have chosen. “This idea that they’d smell me and…” He shrugged. “I don’t know what. Just that they’d do something. That something cool would happen. ”
“Did it?”
“Sure, if you consider it cool to watch a wolf batter itself bloody against the fence. ”
“Oh. ”
“It was…” His gaze went distant, staring off down the road, expression unreadable. “Bad. I got out of there as fast as I could, but he didn’t stop. The next day a kid at school said they put the wolf to sleep. ”
I looked up at Derek.
He continued, gaze still fixed on the road. “I went home and grabbed the paper. The city section was missing. Dad had gotten to it first. He’d figured out what had happened, but he wasn’t going to say anything. He knew I’d been upset about something that night, and I guess he thought that was punishment enough. So I went to the store and bought a paper myself. It was true. ”
I nodded, not sure what to say.
“‘Sudden, unprovoked aggression toward humans,’” he recited, as if he’d never forgotten the words. “Wolves don’t normally act like that. All those stories about the big, bad wolf are crap. Yeah, they’re predators, and they’re dangerous. But they don’t want to have anything to do with humans if they can avoid it. The only time they do is if they’re sick, starving, or defending their territory. I was a lone wolf invading a pack’s turf. He was the alpha. It was his duty to protect his pack. And he got killed for it. ”
“You didn’t mean for that to happen. ”
“That’s no excuse. Dad taught me about wolves. I knew how they behaved. I’d seen it with the other boys, the other subjects…”
“Do you remember them? Simon wasn’t sure you did. ”
“Yeah. I do. ” He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked, then looked at me. “You getting tired?”
“A little. ”
“It shouldn’t be far now. So, uh…” He seemed to be searching for something to say. I hoped it was more about himself or about the other werewolves, but when he finally spoke, he said, “That special school you go to. You take theater?”
“I’m in the theater arts stream. We still take all the regular classes, like math, English, science…. ”
And so we shifted to simpler subjects for the rest of the walk.
Thirty-three
WE REACHED THE NEXT town and found the bus stop—a flower shop, actually, with tickets sold at the till. We tried again for youth prices and, as in Buffalo, got them without question. Figures.
That meant we had extra cash and a little more than two hours before departure. As for what we’d do with that time and money? Our grumbling stomachs answered that question.
It was getting dark now, still early evening though, so no one paid any attention to a couple of teens walking around. We went a few blocks looking for a place that sold hot, cheap food. Derek’s nose led us to a fast-food Chinese restaurant. A popular destination, unfortunately, with a huge line. I saved us a table while he went up to the counter.
The line barely seemed to be moving, and the restaurant was stifling hot. Before long, my eyelids were flagging.
“Tired, dear?”
I straightened to see an elderly woman in a yellow coat standing beside my table. She smiled at me. I returned it.
“Mind if I sit for a moment?” She waved at the empty chair across from me.
My gaze shot to Derek, still five people from the front of the line.
“I’ll leave when your young man comes back,” she said. “It’s terribly busy in here, isn’t it?”
I nodded and waved for her to take the seat. She did.
“I have a great-granddaughter your age,” she said. “About fourteen, I’m guessing. ”
“That’s right,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too nervous. I shouldn’t be answering questions, even incorrectly, but I didn’t know what else to do. I glanced at Derek, hoping for rescue, but he was studying the menu board.
“Ninth grade?”
“Yes. ”
“And what’s your favorite subject, dear?”
“Drama. ”
She laughed. “I haven’t heard that one. Is it like acting?”
I explained and as we talked, I relaxed. Once we got beyond age and grade, she didn’t ask anything too personal—not even my name. She was just an old lady who wanted to talk, which was nice for a change.