Wicked Hungry

“So we’re going to run?” Enrique asks.

“Okay,” Jonathan says, “But no hunting.”

“Not even a little fox?” I ask innocently.

Jonathan just stares at me. “Are you being funny? Because I am not feeling it, Stanley. I’m just not feeling the laughter.”

And then he belly laughs.

“Maybe a little snack before we go?” Enrique asks. “I am hungry.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling my own hunger there inside me. “But no foxes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “And no people, either,” he adds.

“So,” Jonathan asks me, “How do you change — I mean, into a wolf?”

“I don’t know,” I ask. “How do you change?”

“I’ve never done it.”

“You’ve never changed?” I ask.

Jonathan shakes his head.

“But,” Enrique says, “we see a fox when we look at you, and you said...”

“What?” asks Jonathan. “I dreamt about it, okay? But dude, I have no clue how to do it.”

“I thought you were the expert in all things supernatural,” I say.

“There’s no how-to book explaining how to change into a fox, okay?” he says. “Maybe you can help me, I don’t know.”

“I’ve only changed twice, both times when I was angry,” I say. “But now I feel it, all the time, ready to happen.”

“It’s almost a full moon,” Jonathan says. “That kind of figures. It should be harder to stay human.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m hungriest around the full moon, and changing is easier, too.”

We just sit there for a moment.

“Jonathan, have you even tried?” Enrique asks.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A pretty logical one,” I say. “If you ask me.”

“Well,” Enrique says. “Have you?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “I feel this itch, sometimes, like my body wants to change, but I resist.”

“Sometimes,” I say, “you have to scratch the itch.”

“Did I tell you before you’re odd, Stanley?” Jonathan says. “Because you. Are. So. Odd.”

“Jonathan,” I say. “I just mean sometimes you need to let go. Don’t resist.”

“Yeah,” Enrique says. “Scratch the itch. Turn into a cute little fox.”