Read Page 26

Meet me at Abby's," Ivy said when I answered my phone after dinner. "She said it's urgent."

"What is it?" I asked.Advertisement

"I don't know, but she sounded upset. I told her we'd be right over."

When we arrived at Abby's, our friend was waiting outside on her porch. She was only slightly bundled up, and her breath was visible in the cool air.

"Pumpkin is missing," Abby said.

Pumpkin was Abby's five-year-old golden retriever with an orangey-rust coat and a white spot that looked like an earring on her left ear. Pumpkin was gentle and friendly and wasn't prone to running off.

"It's not like Pumpkin to stay away," she said anxiously. "We can't find her!"

We began knocking on Ivy and Abby's neighbors' doors.

Abby was distraught. She was usually strong but today she was frazzled. She loved Pumpkin as much as I loved Champ, and I knew if Champ were missing, I'd be devastated, too.

Ivy and I tried to console her with talk of new fashion trends, but nothing was distracting her. We knocked on every door, asking if anyone had spotted her golden retriever.

After a few hours, exhausted, frozen, and dogless, we returned to Abby's house. We scarfed down pizza as we downloaded photos of Pumpkin on the computer and duplicated them on her dad's state-of-the-art jumbo home copier.

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"We'll post these tomorrow," Ivy said, taking a stack with us.

"I really appreciate this," Abby said. "I miss her so much."

"I know she'll come home," Ivy said, giving her a hug.

"I bet she's somewhere safe," I said.

"I hope so," she said. "She's my best friend-besides you two, of course."

"Of course," Ivy and I agreed.

Ivy put the stack of pictures in the back of her car. Ivy was sweet and drove me back to my house.

"That dog is as good as dead, I'm afraid."

"Ivy!" I said, shocked at her morbid remark.

"I'm not trying to be heartless," she said. "It's just with roaming wolves and a werewolf on the loose, she should have kept her locked in the house."

Wolves were bad enough preying on defenseless felines. But a werewolf? My werewolf?

It couldn't be.

The following afternoon I went with Ivy, Abby, their boyfriends, and Nash to post Pumpkin's picture on every telephone pole and in every coffee shop. We hung our fliers next to ones for other dogs that had gone missing in the past few months. Any reason for Pumpkin's absence wasn't good, but to me, if Brandon was the reason-he'd be beside himself. He was devoted to animal rights and I'd seen how great he was with them-even wild animals. I was distracted by this concern, but as I didn't want to steal the focus from Abby's circumstances, I overcompensated by being lively and chatty with my friends.

"I know why you've been so happy today," Ivy said, taking me aside. "It's because of Nash. You are always so happy when you are with him."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes."

I tried to analyze her diagnosis of my emotional state. In a way, my best friend was right. I knew we all had a blast hanging out as a sixsome, and there was incredible bliss in having a boyfriend. But I'd never felt such depths of feelings for Nash as I did for Brandon. And because Brandon was a Westsider-and now a werewolf-there were so many difficulties to our happiness together. I knew that no matter what, I could be happier with Brandon than I could be with Nash.

Ivy dropped me off at home and I saw a strange car waiting at the end of our street. I was opening our front door when someone got out and scurried toward me. I recognized the long gray hair pouring out from under a red hat.

"Dr. Meadows?" I said. I hurried toward her.

"Have you heard?" she said, breathless. "He's been discovered."

"Yes, everyone is spotting him. I'm really worried. And it's not even the full moon. What's happening?"

"I don't know, but I must see him, too."

"I am trying to convince him, but it's not easy. He's skeptical, and also really wants to keep his secret from the world."

"I know, but you must let me see him. It is imperative. If people are coming in contact with him-he could be in danger."

"I don't want him to be hurt - "

"If I don't get to him before someone else does, there could be dire consequences. No one is safe. That's all I know."

I didn't like Dr. Meadows's dramatics, but I knew her concern was real. And I feared for Brandon, too.

"If he doesn't come to me, I'll have to go to him," Dr. Meadows said urgently. "I won't be able to wait for your permission any longer. I will have to find him on my own."

"I want him to be cured and safe. That's all."

"Of course you do. You love him," she said in a soft voice. She drew my hair back from my face.

Dr. Meadows was the only one who knew my true feelings toward Brandon. I was surprised to find I felt relieved with someone else holding my secret.

"What happens if he kisses me," I asked, "when he's a...?"

She paused with a cold, hard stare. "You mustn't. That is all I can tell you."

Dr. Meadows scurried away before I could say another word.

When I let myself into the house, Frank Sinatra was serenading me from my back pocket. I scrambled for my cell and hurried up to my room.

"Hello?"

"It's good to hear your voice."

"Yours, too."

"I miss you," Brandon said.

His words melted my heart.

"I miss you, too. How have you been?"

"Better. I'd prefer if I could see you at school-and after."

"I know-but you can. We can," I insisted.

"It's too risky. I've been overhearing students - "

"But if it's not a full moon, it can't be you."

"But what if it is? I dream I'm a wolf every night," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"It's only on a full moon that I've seen you turn. I've recorded everything in my notebook. You haven't tried to harm or scare anyone on the other nights."

"But I can't remember the other nights. So how do we really know?"

"What if it's a hoax? Someone trying to cash in on the werewolf folklore?"

"Or what if it's another werewolf?"

"Another one?" He sighed. "I'd hate for anyone else to be going through what I am."

"I don't want anyone to hurt you," I said.

"Me? That's not what I'm worried about."

Brandon was always concerned with others before himself. It was one of the traits that made him so alluring.

"I saw you with Nash. He's been doting on you lately."

"I'm not dating him," I assured Brandon.

"Yeah... but just seeing you together. It's hard. I want us to be the ones hanging out together."

"You do?" I wasn't totally sure of Brandon's wishes. I felt like he kept me at a distance, and I was afraid to stick my neck out too far.

"Of course I want to be with you. It's just... we have a few obstacles."

"If I hadn't gotten lost that day - " I lamented.

"I didn't mean that in any way - " he said sincerely. "I know for some reason you blame yourself. I thought knowing Mr. Worthington's story, and getting my family's history, would make you feel better."

"But if I hadn't been lost in the woods, then you wouldn't have been bitten."

"And then I wouldn't have gotten the best brownies of my life."

A smile broke free from my frown. Brandon was brave in many ways. I admired his strength, and it felt impossible for me to feel anything for him but adoration.

My encounter with the Westside fortune-teller entered my mind. "Dr. Meadows... she might be coming for you."

"With a cure?"

"She keeps saying she has to see you first."

"Then that means she doesn't have one." He couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice.

"I just wanted to let you know. You might have a psychic stalker on your hands."

"The only stalker I want is you," he said.

"I'm doing my best."

"I have to go. It's almost sundown, but I wanted to call and let you know..."

"Yes?"

"That I can't stop thinking about you."

"Me, too. I want us to have that date in the woods again," I said.

"I do, too."

"You remember?"

"No, but I jotted down as much as I could when I woke up. I wrote down that the snow sparkled like diamonds in your hair."

That was all I needed. If Brandon took the time to jot down notes about me at the same time I was recording my memories, then it confirmed to me that our connection was real.

We got off the phone and I reveled in the fact that he was even more creative and dreamy than my overactive imagination could have imagined. pqdm.com