Destiny Binds (11 page)

On a normal day ,I might have found all the attention annoying, but I was grateful for the distraction. Thanks to my siblings, I hardly had time to think between Jaseʼs assertions that he only watched the show
for the hot chicks (and his long diatribes on the latest plot twists), and Angelʼs nearly three hundred questions that ranged from “Why is your favorite color white instead of pink?” to “What are you going to be when you grow up?”.

That night I once again had a vivid, in living Technicolor dream of Alex and the lake. He kept calling to me, but I still couldnʼt hear him. It didnʼt take long for me to grow bored with that routine, so I yelled, “Just tell me at school tomorrow,” and walked off into yet another dream, which may or may not have had something to do with dancing hippos.

Despite my five hour nap and early bedtime, I still managed to oversleep the next day. Jase threatened to make me walk as I stood in front of my mirror, trying to pick an outfit.

I fidgeted the entire way through English class. What was I going to say to Alex when I saw him? Would he really talk to me about the werewolf stuff? And what was going on between the two of us? As impossible as it seemed, it looked like Alex might actually like me too. I didnʼt know quite how to handle that.

At first, I was relieved that he wasnʼt waiting for me in Mr. Beckʼs class, but relief quickly turned to concern when he failed to make an appearance by the end of class.

“Where do you think Alex is today?” I asked Talley when we were supposed to be working on our written reviews of the
Taming of the Shrew
performance that seemed like a million years ago.

“I guess heʼs still sick,” she said, working diligently on her assignment as if there was something to say other than, “It sucked.”

“Heʼs sick?”

Talley looked at me as though I was missing something obvious. “Remember the whole having a fever and his brother coming to pick him up in Nashville thing?” Oops.

“Oh yeah. I meant that I canʼt believe that heʼs still sick. He thought it was only like a twenty-four hour bug or whatever.”

“I guess he was wrong,” Talley said, returning her very focused attention back to the criticism and away from me.

I leaned back and thought about all the reasons Alex could have for not being at school. I guess it was possible that he was actually sick. Of course, it seemed more reasonable that he was trying to avoid me because either (A) he didnʼt want to discuss the whole werewolf issue or (B) he deeply regretted the hand holding and almost kissing stuff.

I found myself rooting for the “he actually got sick” option, which was so not cool of me.

***

“Weʼre not quite done with that yet,” I said. Of course, by
not quite done
I meant
havenʼt
even started
. “Alex got sick before we could get much accomplished, but weʼll work on it tonight and have it ready by tomorrow.”

“I was afraid of that,” Mrs. Sole said. “Do you think you could write a thousand word op-ed piece to fill the spot?”

“Sure, but I really think Alex will feel up to working on it this afternoon.” Especially since he was never actually sick in the first place, unless being a werewolf is considered an illness.

Maybe itʼs a virus.

“Iʼm afraid that isnʼt going to happen. I got an email from the office this morning informing me that Alex was transferring schools.”

“He what?” There was an edge of hysteria to my voice. “Are you sure?” Maybe she misread the email. Maybe it was a different Alex. Maybe Mrs. Sole was developing Alzheimer's. Maybe...

“His brother signed the papers yesterday afternoon. They are moving back to Montana to live with a relative.”

Mrs. Sole may have said more, but I didnʼt hear it. My brain totally checked out for the rest of class.

After school, I bummed a ride home from Talley so I wouldnʼt have to come back to pick up Jase. Once home, I spent an entire hour sitting on my bed, clutching Guido, staring resolutely at the wall, and trying desperately hard not to be such a girl about the whole situation.

Okay, so Alex was gone. Like, gone forever, never to hear from him again, gone. But the world wasnʼt ending. Sure, I was left with a million questions, but he didnʼt owe me anything. If anything, I owed him. He was the one that saved me, after all.

So, why was I so pissed he hadnʼt so much as called to say good-bye? Why did I feel so hurt and betrayed? Why was I having to bite my lip so hard to keep from crying?

When I could no longer handle listening to all the voices whining and griping in my head, I got up and got busy. I knew the only way to keep my thoughts away from Alex was to keep occupied. I started by trying to catch up on my Calculus homework, but gave up when I realized that I was spending more time remembering the way he
always
knew the answer when Mr. Beck called on him class than actually doing logarithmic differentiations.

Staying busy and trying not to think about Alex became my entire existence. Life was an endless stream of studying for finals, Christmas preparations, and finishing my college applications. Every time my thoughts threatened to shift towards Alex, I worked harder, forcing myself to focus on the task before me.

When I was decorating the tree with Mom and Angel, I didnʼt wonder where he was or if he was putting up a tree of his own. When Jase and I began our No Cats for Angel campaign (Jase is allergic; Iʼm terrified that they will suck out my soul), I didnʼt remember how Alex hated cats too. When I helped Miss Nancy with the annual Deadly Christmas Murder-Mystery fundraiser for the library, I didnʼt think about how Santaʼs dead body was slumped over our

table. And I didnʼt look at every single face in the crowded stores of Nashville and Paducah trying to find him.

Or, at least, I tried really hard not to do those things.

The only time I would allow myself to really focus on Alex was at night. That is when I would lock myself in my room and research werewolves.

I checked out everything our library had, and read anything I could find online. Since that kept me occupied for less than a week and didnʼt answer any of my questions, I got Miss Nancy to find me a bunch of things on Inter-Library Loan. Stacks of books on all things lupin were crammed into every space I could find in my bedroom and closet, out of Jaseʼs sight. The information I found ranged from interesting to horrifying to downright stupid. There were several books from a library in Ely, Minnesota, that I found the most helpful. They were so fascinating, in fact, I sent an email to the librarian there to compliment her on the collection.

Her replying email simply reminded me of the due date.

The number of legends surrounding werewolves was a bit overwhelming. It seemed that every culture from the dawn of time had their own version of the man who transformed into a wolf-like animal. I automatically rejected any that spoke of huge, hulking creatures that looked like a cross between man and beast, and focused on those that referenced wolves with human eyes. Some stories painted the creatures as victims, others demons.

Every evening I would rush home from whatever holiday cheer task I had to endure so I could read stories of myth and legend. I was becoming a werewolf expert, and it was affecting my sleep. My once peaceful nights were now filled with brilliant dreams. Sometimes I would find myself running from a pack of wolves. In others, I would transform into one myself.

Occasionally, I would dream of the lake, but now Alex was always in his wolf form on the opposite shore.

Despite all my research, I still had more questions than answers.

How did Alex become a werewolf? (Being bitten or scratched by a werewolf was the most popular theory.) Did the change hurt? (Judging from Alexʼs pre-change condition, and by virtue of logic, I was thinking that was a definite yes.) Was the change affected by the full moon?

(There was a full moon that night in Nashville, so I thought it was likely.) Was Alex conscious of who he was and what was happening when he was in wolf form? (Most of the things I read said no, but Alex seemed to be trying to protect me, and he seemed to remember everything the next morning.) Do werewolves really kill people or was that all just propaganda that was spread out of ignorance and fear? (I was really hoping for the latter.) And how much did Jase know and how did he know it? (I was leaning towards him being a cross between the Winchester boys and Buffy.)

For most of the questions I had no way of getting answers. I could read books and come up with theories, but without asking Alex directly, I would never know.

Jase, on the other hand, I could get information from.

Of course, I couldnʼt just walk up and say, “So, Alex is a werewolf. What do you know about that?”

But I was nothing, if not resourceful. I had a plan. It wasnʼt a fool-proof plan. It wasnʼt even a good plan. But it was a plan. And on Christmas Day, I was going to put my plan into action Chapter 9

Christmas is a time of family gatherings, which sounds great unless have more sets of grandparents than clean socks. It took two days and endless patience to get through our multitude of family celebrations that included each of Dadʼs divorced parents, Momʼs ever-expanding family, and an evening with Talley and her mom, who were considered family since Mrs. Matthews had baby-sat Jase and me since we were babies.

On Christmas morning, Angel woke everyone up with screams of, “He came! Santa came!

Scout! Jase! Presents!” at six oʼclock in the morning. I hoped he had brought her a watch and sense enough to let me sleep. After ripping open our ridiculously large mound of presents (including Angleʼs new kitty, Elf, that promptly hissed at Jase and attempted to claw out my eyeballs), Jase and I headed down to the Base for the Hagan Family Christmas.

My spirits lifted the moment I stepped through the door of the quaint log cabin tucked into the woods. Part of it was due to the delicious smell that wafted from the kitchen, making my stomach completely forget the abuse from the previous two days and growl as if I hadnʼt eaten in weeks. Part of it was the magical atmosphere created by hundreds of twinkling lights and decorations that covered every inch of the house. Part of it was the sound of Christmas carols being played on acoustic guitars. But mostly, it was because of the boy who gathered me into his arms and spun me around the room.

“God, Iʼve missed you,” Charlie said, setting me on my feet. He held me at arms length, looking me over.

“Well, do I pass inspection?”

Charlie screwed his mouth up to one side, which made him look ridiculous and adorable at the same time. “I thought you were supposed to be orange with a splattering of black and blue.”

For once in my life, I was grateful to be a whiter shade of pale. “Itʼs all faded away, except for a rather spectacular spot on my bum that has turned an unnatural color of greenish yellow.” I regretted the words the second they were out of my mouth, but only because that was the moment Gramma Hagan decided to shuffle in from the kitchen. Jase was trying so hard not to laugh that he had tears rolling down his cheeks by the time she finished lecturing me on appropriate conversation topics for proper young ladies.

Later, when we gathered around the tree, Charlie placed a small blue package in my lap. I eagerly ripped through the paper to uncover a vintage looking necklace. The pendant was in the shape of a hippo decked out in a tutu and toe shoes.

“Do you like it?” Charlie asked, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. “I bought it at one of those hipster-cool stores down by campus. I canʼt walk into one of those without thinking about how much you love that sort of stuff.”

I fingered the tiny piece of metal as he secured the clasp. “I love it. Itʼs perfect.” And it was.

It was funky and cool without being ostentatious. I didnʼt plan on ever taking it off.

#

Jase managed to score the latest gaming system from his grandparents and a nice stack of new games from Uncle Charles and Aunt Diane. Jase and Charlie immediately went to set it up in what Gramma Hagan called “the back parlor” and everyone else referred to as “Uncle Charlesʼs old room”.

At first I took turns racing cars through candy-colored landscapes and engaging psychotic bunnies in some fairly inane competitions with Jase, Charlie, and Layne, Charlieʼs somewhat demented twelve year old nephew. Eventually, though, Layne got tired of not getting our jokes and went to do something infinitely more Layne-ish, like torturing small animals. I soon after remembered how much I hated video games and tapped out. Jase and Charlie pretended to be disappointed, but really they were just excited to tear into the new two-player shooting game they had both been drooling over since Jase opened it.

I spent the majority of the evening snuggled into Charlieʼs side on the love-seat, watching as they valiantly attempted to defend the world from...something.

“Iʼm confused,” I finally admitted. “Are they aliens or zombies?”

“Theyʼre obviously zombified aliens,” Jase said as he shot one between the eyes, causing brain matter to splatter on the screen.

“Zombie aliens are the number one risk to truth, freedom, and the American way,” Charlie informed me. “Thereʼs a special government task force to address that very issue.”

“And the clowns?” I asked as a grenade blew a mime to smithereens.

“Clowns are just evil,” said Jase. “End of discussion.” I watched the carnage unfold on the screen for a few more minutes before reluctantly hefting myself away from Charlie.

“Where are you going?” he asked, pulling his eyes away from the television for the first time in over an hour.

“I need some Tylenol. All this brain rottage is giving me a headache.” I grabbed my bag from the corner and began making an oral inventory of its contents. “Gum. Sunglasses. Phone.

Sour Patch Kids. Tissues. Angelʼs pink plastic puppy. Alexʼs pen. Huh, guess that one is mine now. Wallet. I have a Tootsie Roll from the Bush administration, but no Tylenol. Great.” I sat my bag down between Charlie and Jase. “Iʼm going on a pain medication scavenger hunt. Anyone need anything while Iʼm gone?”