Once in a Full Moon (14 page)

I didn’t want Brandon to leave our secluded spot underneath the staircase. I was afraid I’d never be able to be with him again. He must have felt the same thing because this time he took a chance he hadn’t taken before. He drew me into him and gave me the most heartfelt kiss. It hit me through my heart and down through to the soles of my shoes.

It was as if he was saying good-bye.

Brandon disappeared into the hallway as I sat down and sobbed.

I didn’t have anyone to talk about my problem with—no school shrink would have the answers. No one would understand. No person could help. No soul would believe me.

Or was there someone who would?

Chapter Eighteen
The Doctor Is In

O
ut of breath, I arrived at Penny for Your Thoughts to find the shop dark and a hanging sign with the word
CLOSED.

I wondered if Dr. Meadows was sequestered in her back room giving another clichéd reading like she had given to my friends. Or was she giving one like mine—dead-on?

Whatever she was telling her client, it couldn’t be more important than what I had to tell her. I knocked until my hand hurt.

A man the size of several normal fathers combined, with a shaved head and more tattoos than skin, lumbered out from the store next to Penny for Your Thoughts.

“She’s closed today. Can’t you read the sign?”

“Uh . . . yes. It was just that sometimes she puts the sign out when she’s doing a reading.”

“This is her day to stay at home.”

The man could have easy squashed me like a bug. Normally, I would have gotten back in my car and given way to the large, tattooed obstacle obstructing my goal. But Brandon’s life was on the line and I had to drum up all my courage to get to Dr. Meadows.

“Do you know where she lives?” I asked in my nicest voice. “This is very important.”

I’m not sure what that tattooed man deemed important—or if he was going to demand details. I wasn’t about to admit to him that my new love was a werewolf.

He obviously didn’t think I was the type to be hanging around a tattoo parlor and didn’t seem to want to be further bothered by my presence. I waited outside his shop as he popped inside—afraid the tattoo artist was going to ink Dr. Meadows’s address on my back. Instead, he returned quietly and was kind enough to write it down on a piece of paper.

I followed his directions closely.

I arrived at a two-story cottage home that appeared delightfully magical. Wood-carved sculptures lined the yard. Orbs of every color dotted what must have been a summertime garden. Ceramic and mosaic tiles spelled out New Age affirmations. Artistic symbols of every religion hung from the porch. I was met with the tune of a thousand wind chimes clanging in the breeze. I knocked on her door.

Dr. Meadows answered. Her long gray hair was frizzy, and she covered her flowing blouse with a South American shawl.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Meadows. But do you remember me?”

I could see she was trying to place me. I was all bundled up from the cold.

“Were you the one selling candles for your school band?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting for them to be delivered.”

I lowered my hoodie. “No. I came to your store for a reading with my friends.”

“Oh yes, of course.”

“Please, I must talk to you. I need your help.”

“I wasn’t expecting company, but please, come in.”

Dr. Meadows’s house was not unlike her store. It felt warm and cozy, and the scent of vanilla greeted all visitors. Dreamcatchers hung against the walls, and amethysts and crystals lined every vacant space. Expensive-looking African and Native American artwork decorated her home as if it were a museum.

“You were right,” I said forcefully.

“About what?”

“About everything!” I was nearly shouting.

“Calm down, let me brew you some tea.”

“I don’t have time for tea. Do you remember what you said to me?” I asked.

“Uh . . . I do so many readings. . . .”

“You had insight for my friends—about their personalities. But when it came to me, you said, ‘Beware of the woods . . . of the sounds of howling. There could be outsiders who will turn . . . underneath the glow of the full moon.’”

“Ah, yes. I do remember.”

“Why did you say what you did to me?”

“It was just a feeling.”

“When I left your store, I decided to walk home. There was a blizzard. I got caught in it. And then, I was surrounded by a pack of wolves.”

“You must be joking.” She was as skeptical of me as I’d originally been of her.

“I’m not.”

“How on earth did you survive?” she asked.

“The outsider. He saved me.”

Even Dr. Meadows seemed shocked by the accuracy of her prediction.

“But why did you say what you did to me?” I pressed again.

“I just had a feeling, that’s all.”

“But it came true.”

“Predictions are often left to the individual’s interpretation.”

“You have to believe me. It happened just as you said—just as you warned me.”

Dr. Meadows was speechless.

“But it’s true,” I said.

“Are you sure? One message could be interpreted many ways.”

“Not in this case. Snow is snow. Howling is howling.” I tried to persuade her.

“It couldn’t be,” she argued.

“But it could. It did. You knew.”

“I did?”

It was then we both realized the impact of our situation.

She rose, her face glowing like a crystal in the sunlight. “All these years . . .” she muttered to herself.

I couldn’t believe it. I was having to convince Dr. Meadows that she was psychic.

“No one has believed you?” I asked.

“But you have free will,” she said in a daze.

“Yes, I do. But you predicted it. And I should have listened.”

She sat down as if her energy had been spirited away.

“It’s true, Dr. Meadows. Everything you told me came true. And now you have to help me.”

“Help you?” she asked, confused. “But you made it safely out of the woods.”

“Well . . . It’s not me who needs help, really. But before I tell you . . . is there some sort of psychic-client privilege—like an attorney-client one?”

“I don’t think so . . .”

“I mean this must be a secret.”

“Maybe you should tell a priest. Or a rabbi. Or a school counselor.” She was shying away from taking any further responsibility in the matter.

“No—I have to tell you. No one else will understand.”

Dr. Meadows was hesitant. “All right. Go ahead.”

“You said beware of a kiss underneath a full moon.”

“Yes?”

“I kissed a guy. And he changed . . .”

“Go on.”

“Into a . . .”

“An animal?” she asked.

“Well, sort of.”

“Honey, they all do.” She laughed. “That’s all you wanted to tell me?”

“Dr. Meadows, you have to believe me. There is a guy in this town, and when there is a full moon, he turns . . .”

“Turns into what?”

“A werewolf.”

“A werewolf?” Dr. Meadows was incredulous. This time she let out a laugh that shook the candles flickering on her coffee table. “Honey, now I think this may be something for the school nurse. . . .”

“Dr. Meadows—you have all those books in your store about witches and warlocks. I thought you believed it all.”

“I do believe in some—I’ve based my life’s work on the supernatural. I’ve seen and felt apparitions and other paranormal events. But I’m sure that I’m not the first person in the world who doesn’t believe in werewolves.”

“But you must. You are the only person I know who can help him,” I urged. “Dr. Meadows—” I pleaded. But the psychic remained silent.

“I only know what I told you.”

“You know things that others don’t. You need to help my friend. Before it’s too late. The moon will be full again soon.”

Now Dr. Meadows grew concerned. “This isn’t something I can change with a moment’s notice. I have to consult books and spells. And . . .”

I saw dollar signs in her eyes. “I just have a small allowance. But I’ll give you all of it—”

She studied me, as if now realizing that I might be telling her the truth.

“This must remain a secret,” I said. “You are the only person I’ve told. Not even my best friends or my parents know what happened.”

“I will need to observe him. Both when the moon is waxing and of course when it is full.”

“I don’t think that is possible now. He’s forbidden me to see him.”

“He is angry?” she asked. “He blames you? Us?” She was suddenly afraid. “You haven’t told him where I live, have you?”

“Of course not. And besides, he’s not mad or vengeful. That’s the point. This guy is different from anyone I’ve ever met before. He refuses to be near me at night because he’s afraid he’s dangerous.”

“Well, if what you say is true and he is a werewolf, you must stay away from him. For your own safety.”

“So, you believe me?” I asked.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “But I must see him. As soon as possible.”

I gave Dr. Meadows a huge hug. Her warm personality crept through her embrace. Finally, part of my guilt was assuaged. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

As she opened the door for me, the wind outside was still. Dr. Meadows grasped my shoulder as if something overcame her. “You must never kiss a werewolf,” she warned vehemently.

She shut the door behind me, and the chimes rang out wildly. Suddenly I didn’t feel so at ease anymore.

I wasn’t sure how I’d convince Brandon to let Dr. Meadows meet him with the full moon approaching. He wasn’t keen on me being with him under these circumstances, and she wasn’t the kind of doctor who was certified by the medical board. How was I going to let a perfect stranger hang out in the woods and watch him transform into a lycan? There was so much Brandon was dealing with at once—but perhaps he’d be comforted by someone trying to help him. I decided to text him with my news. As I waited for his response, I continued research on my essay. However, I didn’t find any information on the effects of kissing a werewolf. I was so attracted to Brandon—by day and by night—all I could do was imagine kissing him. If I was warned not to, I wasn’t sure what the implications might be. Maybe I’d turn into a werewolf, or maybe it would be his demise. It wasn’t fair that I wasn’t supposed to kiss the one guy I was desperate to be with. Instead, I clung to his shirt as if it were him.

And not knowing why—or what might happen—if I kissed a werewolf only made the torment worse. And if I was in agony, I could only imagine the torment Brandon faced alone at school or by night in the woods.

I was alone, too. I’d always had Ivy to lean on and help me through situations. This time I’d have to figure out the answers on my own. My life had been easier and much less complicated before Brandon Maddox arrived at Legend’s Run, but I wouldn’t trade knowing him for the peace I had then.

Chapter Nineteen
Watching Wolves

T
he following morning in English class I wasn’t able to concentrate. My calendar told me all I needed to know. There was going to be a full moon tonight. I could see the pale white of the moon in the bright blue sky from my classroom window—it was just waiting to shine its glow. Mrs. Clark was reminding us to finish our folklore essays and I knew I hadn’t completed mine. The only werewolf I wanted to write about was the one sitting a few rows behind me.

Mrs. Clark’s attention suddenly turned outside. It appeared she, too, was having a hard time focusing on our lesson. But she looked concerned. She instructed us to remain seated and told us she’d return shortly.

I had a seat next to the window, so I glanced over to see what the object of her attention was. Fifty yards away from our classroom was the Legend’s High flagpole. Standing next to it was a wolf.

It was jarring. I immediately surveyed the outlying area to see if any students were in danger. Fortunately, there weren’t any students lingering anywhere.

“It’s a wolf!” Ivy screamed, catching sight of it, too.

My classmates all rose and bolted for the window. They pulled out their concealed cell phones and began taking videos and pictures of the wolf.

The wolf began to howl, a strident howl. It sent shivers down my spine. The scene was surreal—a wild animal roaming around campus as if this was its home. And if that wasn’t bizarre enough, out from the woods behind the gym came two more wolves and they joined the first wolf’s side.

“They’re taking over the school!” Ivy yelled.

Other windows around the school filled with students’ quizzical faces.

For some reason, the wolves were focusing their attention toward our classroom and began walking in our direction.

“They’re coming for us,” one of the students said.

Nash remained seated. I could see the color drain from his face. I feared for my ex, knowing his immense aversion to canines. I didn’t feel anger toward him but rather protection. Our windows were at least twenty feet off the ground and we were in no impending danger.

“There’s no way they can come in here,” I said, hoping to comfort Nash. “Unless they have a ladder.”

We were all glued to the view of several wolves looking up at us as if they were about to join our lesson. Cameras flashed, a few students screamed, while other classmates were calling or texting.

The scene was truly frightening. Even though I assured myself that we had a brick-and-concrete wall between us and a few feet in height, the sight of wild animals focusing their attention on us was terrifying. Ivy clung to me. Most of the guys thought it was really cool and whooped and howled. A few jocks waved and taunted the wolves.

“You mustn’t do that,” Ivy warned. “You’ll only provoke them.”

“I’d love to pet one,” Abby said. “They look so beautiful.”

“They are wolves!” Ivy said. “They aren’t pets.”

The school administrator’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Everyone please remain in your seats and in your classrooms with your doors and windows locked. We are under a Code Yellow. I repeat. Code Yellow. No one is to leave the classrooms or building at this time. We will inform you when it is safe to resume the normally scheduled day.”

Now I was frightened.

Just then Mrs. Clark returned to our classroom and instructed us to immediately take our seats. She secured the door and double-checked to make sure all the windows were locked. A pack of wolves was such an unusual sight, even she hung by the window as we all peered from our seats.

Within a few minutes, there were at least five wolves howling outside our window.

I glanced back at Brandon—the only other student who had remained seated through all of the chaos. He had his head buried in his textbook. I wondered what was going through his lycan mind.

I couldn’t imagine why the wolves were here—if it was purely coincidence, if they were lost, or if there was some paranormal connection. Mrs. Clark tried to resume her lecture, but it was impossible with five howling wolves focusing on our classroom.

“This is so freaky!” Ivy said.

“They are cool,” Abby said.

“They could rip your head off,” Dylan said.

“They must be following you,” Ivy teased me. “Everywhere you go there are wolves!”

“I wonder if we’ll be on the news,” Abby said excitedly.

I was still scared. I clung onto my writing binder as if it could protect me. The situation was so unreal. And although I knew we were safely locked inside, the threat of a pack of wolves outside our window was disturbing.

Finally, a few police cars pulled into our school’s entrance. An animal control car followed closely behind.

“We can calm down now,” Mrs. Clark said. “Animal control is here.”

We eyed the outside action, some of the students sitting on top of their desks for a better view.

Several officers stepped out of their cars covered in protective gear and using their open doors for further protection. A few animal control wardens came out of their cars with tranquilizer guns and nets.

“They’re going to shoot them,” I said.

“They have to,” Ivy said. “Did you think the police were going to handcuff the wolves and put them in the back of a squad car?”

“Let’s return to our lesson,” Mrs. Clark said, her voice unsteady. But no one focused on our teacher.

“Brandon,” Mrs. Clark said. “Please remain in your seat.”

I could feel the presence of someone walking by me.

Brandon brushed past me and headed to the window.

“Brandon,” Mrs. Clark said. “Get away from the window! You must sit down!”

But Brandon ignored her. Instead he took off a glove and placed the palm of his wounded hand on the pane of glass. He stared down at the leader of the pack, transfixed.

The wolves stopped howling. Brandon and the wolves locked gazes, as if the wolves were hypnotized by Brandon’s stare.

It was spellbinding to watch. I didn’t know what was happening, but the tiny hairs on my skin and the back of my neck tingled.

“What is he doing?” Ivy asked.

Brandon continued to stare at the leader of the pack.

“He thinks he’s talking to the wolves,” Abby said.

The wolves remained fixated on Brandon as if he was their trainer, as if Brandon was one of them and they were looking up to him as their new leader.

The police held their stance by their patrol cars, apparently working out their plan of action. The animal controllers, now at least twenty yards away, slowly crept toward the wolves.

Just then the leader of the wolves howled at Brandon.

As the handlers took aim, the pack tore off. They raced away from the campus and disappeared into the woods behind the gym.

Mrs. Clark, my classmates, and I watched in astonishment as Brandon replaced his glove and calmly walked back to his desk and took his seat.

I was dumbfounded. Along with my classmates, we were perplexed, confused, and amazed at what we’d just witnessed. It was as if we all were wondering if we had really just seen a student, one who didn’t speak in class or make himself known, communicating with a pack of wolves. We looked to Brandon for answers, but by the way he was avoiding all eye contact or questions, it was clear he wasn’t about to give any.

“That was totally freaky!” Ivy said. “Did you see what I just saw?”

“Yes! I swear they were looking right at Brandon,” Abby confirmed. “I think he was talking to them.”

The classroom was abuzz with gossiping, laughter, and disorder. The students glared at Brandon, bewildered. Mrs. Clark tapped her desk with her pointer.

I gazed back at Brandon. His face was flushed from all the attention, and he was doing his best to hide behind his textbook.

“They must have sensed the police coming,” I said out loud. “Wolves are very intuitive that way.”

Legend’s Run High was buzzing with the wolf sightings. The lunchroom was packed with students replaying videos, showing pictures, and telling their version of the events that had occurred by the flagpole.

Ivy insisted Brandon had something to do with the wolves retreating, but everyone in our group laughed at her hypothesis.

“I was sitting right there!” she said.

“So was I,” I said. “They left as soon as the animal controllers started to approach them.”

“He took off his glove—the one he always wears,” she said. “Don’t you think that was freaky?”

“Maybe he was nervous and got warm,” I said. “We all were excited.”

“He was talking to them,” she said. “Like the Wolfman.”

They all laughed again, but I remained silent.

“You have to admit, it was pretty freaky,” Jake agreed. “Maybe it was coincidence, but why did he go up there in the first place?”

“He might have psychic powers,” Abby teased. “Like Dr. Meadows. Maybe he can give us our next reading.”

“We always thought he was strange,” Ivy said. “Ever since he arrived here at school.” She looked to Abby for help.

My friends agreed.

“But that doesn’t mean he can talk to wolves,” I said.

“Why do you always defend him?” Ivy asked.

“Yes, why?” Nash suddenly chimed in.

Everyone waited for my response.

“Because no one else will,” I finally said.

When I turned on my phone during lunch, there were at least five voice messages and a dozen texts from my mom. I immediately called to assure her I was safe and the school and community resources had done their best to protect us and maintain order.

“It’s all over the news,” she said when I arrived home. My mom left work early and had been watching the TV all day. “They closed several businesses around the school. I’m so glad you’re home safe.”

We were glued to the local four o’clock news. Animal experts talked about wolf safety, but most agreed that it was uncommon for one wolf to venture out of the woods in the middle of the day and come so close to an area with a human population. For a pack of wolves to do it was extraordinary.

The sun was going to be setting soon. I didn’t have much sunlight left before the full moon was going to shine. I was worried about Brandon and what might happen to him.

“I have to run out—but I’ll be back soon,” I said, grabbing my coat.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” my mom said. “You can’t go out when there are wolves running around. Give it a few days to see how it plays out.”

I was always well behaved and it was very rare that I didn’t follow the rules. It was as unlikely for me to get in trouble as it was to discover that a transfer student could become a werewolf. But both things were possible tonight.

“I’m sorry, Mom, but I have to go—” I said defiantly, closing the back door behind me.