Once in a Full Moon (7 page)

“What’s up?” Nash finally said to me.

Abby told him my story. By this time it was thirdhand. Even with her embellishments, the end was still the same—I’d been as close to a pack of wolves’ dinner as these chicken wings were to our boyfriends’ mouths.

“And that psychic predicted the whole thing?”

“Even what she was wearing,” Abby said.

“She did not—” I tried to tell them.

“What else did she say?” Jake prodded.

The gang waited for my answer. I wasn’t about to tell them the rest.

“I don’t remember,” I said.

“Something about an outsider,” Ivy chimed in.

“Yes, an outsider,” Abby repeated.

“Did you see an outsider there?” Jake asked. “I wonder what that means.”

I wasn’t about to tell them that I did see an outsider—that he was from the Westside and had the best eyes I’d ever seen.

“Your girlfriend was only moments from the clutches of death!” Jake teased Nash.

“It’s true,” Ivy defended. “She was surrounded by a pack of wolves.”

“Wolves?” The color washed out of Nash’s face.

“Yes, wolves,” Abby said, stressing the severity of the situation.

“The Big Bad Wolf?” Nash teased, recovering his cool. “So how did you get out?”

I could tell my friends right there and then that the wolves didn’t retreat but rather were fought off by someone who didn’t run away from wolves or wasn’t frightened by the mere mention of their species. But as the words came to my mouth, I saw that the story might hurt Nash. Once word spread throughout school that there was a real hero in Legend’s Run, the star of the football and basketball teams could never measure up to that feat. And once it was discovered that someone, especially an unpopular Westsider, saved Nash’s girlfriend’s life—something he didn’t do and possibly could never do—it could ruin Nash’s reputation and ego for the rest of our days at Legend’s Run High.

“So . . . how did you survive it?” Nash pressed.

“I raised my hands like they told me in school and the wolves eventually went away.”

“What woods were you in?” he asked.

“The ones in Riverside,” Abby answered.

“Why were you in Riverside?” Nash asked.

Abby waved her receipt in his face. “Servants for a day! Starting tomorrow! Not only am I going to get an A on my English project, but I’m going to get a free massage, too.”

Dylan rolled his eyes.

“And what do I have to do?” Jake asked.

“I’ll let you know when we’re alone,” Ivy said.

“Don’t get too excited,” Dylan whispered. “For some reason, I think it has to do with shopping.”

“And me?” Nash asked. “I’m not going into the woods again. Especially with you. You seem to attract wolves.”

“We’ll be indoors,” I said. “This time, you’ll have to invite someone who
isn’t
on one of your teams.”

Maybe this was a small gesture for an outsider—to be finally included in the popular students’ party.

Nash drove me home. When I unbuckled my seat belt, he leaned over. For some reason, I turned away. His lips landed softly on my cheek.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I hopped out of the car before he could question me anymore. As usual, Nash didn’t walk me to the front door but sped off when I unlocked it and stepped inside.

Wolves weren’t the only thing on my mind as I tried desperately to fall asleep. I felt attracted to Brandon Maddox like I hadn’t been drawn to anyone ever before—not Nash, or even a movie or TV star I’d adored. I replayed the late afternoon’s harrowing event in my mind—that at the last second before I was about to be wolf bait, a handsome hero swooped into the most dangerous situation of my life and saved me from the clutches of death. I wasn’t sure why I felt so strongly for Brandon—someone who I didn’t really know much about—but I did. Perhaps it was the same feeling a victim has toward a firefighter or police officer who saves them in the line of duty.

I recalled the moment when Brandon and I stood together underneath the romantic snowfall and in the solitude of the woods, our bodies close together and our hands entwined. I didn’t want to let go. Not then. Not ever.

I was excited. I could barely breathe. I had butterflies fluttering through my body. My heart ached. I wanted to dance around my room for days.

I thought about him staring at me when I bandaged his hand and holding me when I felt dizzy. I imagined my scarf, wrapped around his hand; how lucky it was to be so close to him.

The more I tried to get Brandon out of my mind, the more he infiltrated it. My soft blue fleece blanket reminded me of his eyes. The winter scarves hanging in my closet only further reminded me of the one I’d secured on his bitten hand. The full moon shining through my bedroom window was the same one that had hovered over us as he fought off the threatening wolves.

It didn’t hurt that Brandon was handsome, enigmatic, and strong. I rationalized that I was just swept up in the moment. Maybe in time this emotional connection would dissipate like the snowfall. The clouds would break and I’d be free of this feeling, just as I was finally free from the woods themselves.

I wasn’t sure why I was thinking of Brandon when I was currently dating Nash. I was lucky enough to be going out with the star of the basketball team and best friend to my friends’ boyfriends. My parents loved him, and so did everyone at school.

Besides, why would Brandon have feelings for me? I was just some girl he heard crying in the woods and decided to help her. I could have been anyone. But when we held hands and he smiled at me, I felt a connection that I’d never experienced before.

And at the end of his heroics, he was left wounded and bloody. I couldn’t help but be concerned. His once-healthy hand was mauled and I was the cause. If I hadn’t been so insistent on walking home alone, I wouldn’t have gotten lost and he wouldn’t have been bitten.

I tossed and turned and gazed into the moonlight streaming through my curtain and into the darkness of my room. Eventually these crazy love-struck thoughts that possessed me would surely go away and I’d return to daydreaming and writing in my notebook about the moon and the stars.

I recalled Nash’s reaction to hearing the cry of a wolf only a few months ago. The two events in the woods mirrored each other. When Nash had told the story of the werewolf, he ran off, frightened by his own tale. Brandon, on the other hand, had risked his life for mine and jumped into a real life-and-death situation without hesitation. Not only didn’t Nash think of me when he was hightailing it back to his car, but he wasn’t thinking of his other friends, either.

Did that make Nash a bad person? Maybe I wasn’t being fair to him. No one in their right mind wanted to confront a pack of wolves. I wondered what made someone have the instinct of flight while others had the courage to fight.

I’d never be able to admit my doughy, in-love-with-a-Westsider feeling to Ivy or Abby. Brandon didn’t fit neatly into their clique. To them, he was an outsider, plain and simple. He didn’t live in our neighborhood, he didn’t play sports, and, most important, he wasn’t Nash.

For now, I’d have to keep my thoughts and feelings locked away inside me. If Brandon didn’t tell anyone about the event, and neither did I, then no one would be the wiser.

However, I knew I’d need to thank Brandon. If Nash had rescued someone, he’d want to make it known and be celebrated on national TV. Brandon, however, had disappeared. I didn’t even know where he lived to deliver him a thank-you gift. I assumed he didn’t want any recognition or attention. I felt he might be the kind of person who’d be embarrassed if I tried. Besides, what does one do for a person who saves one’s life? Brandon was a true hero—brave, modest, humble. There was no real way to properly thank them. But that didn’t mean I shouldn’t try.

For now, I’d just have to wait for the right moment.

I wouldn’t be able to admit my obsessive feelings toward Brandon to anyone—not my friends, family, or him—when it was hard enough to admit them to myself. Instead I looked at the clock and counted the minutes until I knew I’d see him again.

Chapter Nine
Tall Tales

I
wasn’t excited about the weekend. Normally, I’d take advantage of the two days off catching up on homework, chores, and, most of all, texting, calling, and hanging out with Ivy and Abby. Nash had an away game, so we weren’t going to have a date night. I was so eager to go back to school and see Brandon, I spent most of my hours not accomplishing anything and dreaming about him.

I tried to snap myself out of my pining for Brandon, so I threw myself into the research for my folklore paper. Werewolves were subjects of Greek mythology and European and Early American folklore. In most of the traditions, lycanthropes were scary, deadly creatures to be feared. No one wanted to become a werewolf, and no one wanted to encounter one. I’d been holed up all day when I thought it might be good to get some new perspective. Mr. Worthington seemed to know more than anyone about the legends, and I knew he’d be happy to tell me about them.

“I want to talk about werewolves,” I said when I found him reading a magazine in the lobby at Pine Tree Village later that day. “I’m doing a paper on folklore and thought you’d be the perfect person to interview.”

He paused, taking an extra moment to examine me. Then he closed his magazine.

“It’s me, Celeste,” I said, confused at his expression.

“I know who you are . . .” he said cheekily. “But you seem different. . . .”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s an extra twinkle in your eye.”

I blushed. Could he see I’d been obsessed about Brandon?

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything new? Did you do something different to your hair?”

“Same old me,” I said. I felt funny about girl talking and gushing about a guy I couldn’t get out of my mind to an eighty-nine-year-old man.

“I’ll get it out of you eventually,” he said. “Something about you . . . but I can’t put my finger on it. I haven’t been around for all these years without seeing things.”

“Well, that is what I want to talk to you about.”

“Yes?”

“I’m doing a paper on werewolf folklore and was hoping you could tell me more about the Legend’s Run werewolf.”

Mr. Worthington perked up.

“Please, come sit down.”

I sat on the sofa next to him. I pulled out my notebook and opened it on my lap. “I read that a person could become a werewolf if they wear a pelt or skin from a wolf,” I said, “or if they’re bitten by a werewolf. And of course one of the cures is a silver bullet.”

“Go on,” he said.

“And some can shape-shift.”

“Yes.”

“But that’s all basic stuff. I want to know—what do you know about the Legend’s Run werewolf?”

“What do I know?” he said with a mischievous laugh.

“Yes. Anything you can tell me would be great.”

“Well, let’s see,” Mr. Worthington began. “He was first spotted in the last century, soon after the town was founded. But his transformation didn’t come from a werewolf bite or a pelt of skin worn around his human body. It came from the bite of a wolf.”

“Wow . . .” I said.

“He was a regular man—in fact, a good man—one of the early settlers who were helping build the community. A loved and respected man.” Mr. Worthington recited his tale as if it were fact. “He was building a house when a pack of rabid wolves stole the basket his child was resting in. The man fought for his son’s life. In the struggle, the man was left bloody and fighting for his life. The following full moon, the man was missing from his home. It was very unusual, as he was always protective of his family and community.”

“Did they find him?”

“No one knew where he was. But then bad things began to happen in the town. Animals suddenly went missing and people feared the dark. A frightening creature, half man, half wolf, was spotted prowling in the woods, and townspeople heard howling throughout the night.”

I hung on to his every word. “Creepy.”

“But the terror didn’t happen just once a month. The moon can appear full for several evenings. And during that time, no one is safe when there is a werewolf among us.”

“Wow—you know more than Nash did. This is great.”

“I was just at the beginning.”

“The beginning? What happened to the man?”

Nurse Bridget interrupted our conversation.

“Hi, Celeste, I didn’t know you were scheduled today.”

“Uh . . . I wasn’t. I just came over to interview Mr. Worthington for a paper I’m working on for school.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s time for Charlie’s physical therapy. I hope it isn’t something due tomorrow.”

“It’s not due till the next full moon,” I said to Mr. Worthington with a wink.

* * *

I’d been so enthralled with Mr. Worthington’s story, I didn’t even write anything down in my notebook. I transcribed all my memories into my computer when I arrived home. If Mr. Worthington was only at the beginning of his story, what more did he know?

As I finished editing my interview, I remembered Dr. Meadows’s prediction. If we hadn’t gone to Penny for Your Thoughts in the first place, then I wouldn’t have gotten lost in the woods and Brandon wouldn’t have been bitten. Was her reading correct? The idea that Dr. Meadows predicted exactly what happened plagued my mind. But then again, I convinced myself that any person could have said those things, psychic or not. Maybe she had heard the weather forecast. Maybe she knew that wolves were inhabiting the Westside woods. Or any client could interpret events to match their psychic’s words.

But, if in fact she had truthfully warned me, was I the one to blame for Brandon’s injury? If only I’d not been so skeptical and listened to her, he wouldn’t have put himself in harm’s way and have gotten hurt.

Either way, I felt guilty for putting him in a position that led to his getting wounded.

And what did Dr. Meadows mean by
Beware of a kiss under the full moon. It can change your life forever.
Perhaps she was talking about the paper I was currently writing? Maybe writing this paper would change me. And did she mean kisses I might receive from Nash or wanted to receive from Brandon? For some reason, or many (getting to know more about Mr. Worthington and investigating the paranormal), I felt it already had.

I shut down my computer. I was so excited the weekend was over and school was going to be in session tomorrow. As I lay in bed, I jotted the memories down in my notebook as I replayed them in my head: Brandon suddenly appearing out of the snow, like a firefighter coming out of the flames, his royal blue eyes melting me and the snow and ice around us, our hands touching as if we’d never let go.

I closed my notebook and held it to my heart as I fell asleep.