And we walked on through the forest.
MOM ASKED, “Is this what you really want?”
I said, “Yes.”
“He’s seventeen, Ox.”
“And nothing will happen until he turns eighteen.” I didn’t want to talk about that part with her anymore. It buzzed along my skin until I felt flushed and hot. It was too much. The thought of touching. Of being touched.
She looked out the window to the summer sun. “What happens if it doesn’t work out?”
And I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to think about that at all, so I said, “It’s about chances. That’s how everything is.”
“WE’RE FRIENDS first,” Joe whispered in my ear. “You’re my best friend, Ox, and I promise that will never change. We’ll just be… more.”
“WILL I have to become a wolf?” I asked Thomas. “To be with Joe?”
“No,” Thomas said. “You don’t.”
“I’ve thought about it,” I said quietly.
“Have you?”
“Yeah.”
He waited.
“I don’t have to be?” I insisted.
“No,” he said again. “You’re wonderful just as you are.”
I wondered if this is what it felt like to have a father who loved you enough to stay despite all your faults.
ELIZABETH SAID, “There is no one else I would have picked for him. Ox, you will do wondrous things together. He will be a leader, and as an Alpha, he will put the pack above all else. But remember that you’ll always be his heart and soul.”
MARK SAID, “I knew. From the very first day, I knew that you were made for something great. I am proud to call you my friend and pack.”
CARTER SAID, “I hope you’re ready for werewolf stamina. Like, for real. You’re going to be sore. For days.”
KELLY SAID, “I really wish I hadn’t heard Carter say that. I need to pour bleach on my brain. For days.”
I DREAMT of wolves and a bloodred moon. They sang to me and I took their songs and made them my own. I ran with them on four legs and my heart thundered in my chest. I could see and smell and hear everything and it was all green, green, green and Beta orange and Alpha red. The colors fit against the song and we sang because we were pack pack pack.
“UH, OX?” Mom called as I got ready for work. The sky was starting to lighten outside.
“Yeah?”
“I think it’s started.”
“What?” I tucked in my shirt as I walked down the stairs.
She was on the porch, the front door standing open. I came up behind her.
She said, “At least he kept it off the porch like I asked.”
A fat rabbit lay on the grass, throat shredded, eyes wide and sightless. Blood pooled underneath it, tacky and dark. Flies buzzed around it, landing on stiff paws.
“I’m not eating that” was the first thing I said.