Chapter One

 

You know that one person in class that everyone makes fun of? Who they talk about “behind their back” right in front of them? Who gets picked last for every team, gets picked on, period? Well…that’s not me.

Nope! Ha! I’m crazy popular, beautiful (okay, not exactly drop-dead gorgeous but not exactly a toad), slim enough to wear low-cut jeans without acquiring a muffin top, and one more thing. I’m not a werewolf.

Now why would I mention that? About not being a werewolf, I mean. Because most of my friends are. They’re cool in a wolfy kind of way – strong and fast, part of their very own “club” if you will – but they do tend to be drama queens. For real. It’s like, every five minutes I have to listen to them growling at each other about which one is the Alpha. Please. More like Alfalfa, if you ask me. I mean, come on. We’re teenagers. None of you is the freaking Alpha, okay? Get over yourselves!

That said, I like them. I really do. Even when I get dragged into the bathroom where I have to listen to one of them crying about how she was so positive she was I’m-The-Alpha-And-Too-Cool-For-My-Boxers’ mate, but I’m-Prettier-Than-Everyone-And-Can-Bite-Your-Face-Off got him instead, and what did I think about that. To be honest, most of the guys in that group – oops, clan – are pretty doggone (sorry) attractive. Tall and too well-built for their own good, thick hair, and big sultry eyes…wait a minute. Is that where they got that whole, “My! What big eyes you have” thing in Red Riding Hood?! Nah. Can’t be. Maybe. Hmm. Don’t know.

Anyhow, it seems I spend more time comforting attractive girls who think they’re ugly because some other mean werewolf girl…crap. It’s killing me not to be able to use the totally appropriate words “dog” (for ugly) and “bitch” (for mean werewolf girl) here because it would be such an awful pun-thing to do. Sigh. Sorry. I digress.

So yeah. Sobbing werewolf girl. Bathroom. I’m not entirely sure why they chose me to be the one to confide in. Maybe because I am popular among the rest of the student population. I don’t know. That doesn’t actually make sense, but it’s a theory. All of which is irrelevant when it comes to the main stuff about my life.

My other friends are human, although I have my suspicions about one of them – the way she never seems to know what’s going on makes me think she might have stumbled into our school from another dimension. I can’t say it’s because she’s a blonde, because I am, too, so I’ll stick with the other-dimension thing.

In any event, I wouldn’t even be writing any of this baloney if it weren’t for something that happened a few months ago that made me go buy a diary and start scribbling. This isn’t my diary, though, because I find reading books that have “Dear Diary” at the beginning of every chapter irritating as hell, and suspect lots of others feel the same way. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll drag a passing werewolf into the bathroom and ask her. Whatever.

Guess you want to know what happened, right? No? Fine. Shut the book and go eat a Twinkie. If you are curious, though, keep reading. Bwa-ha-ha…

 

woof~woof~woof~woof

 

Halloween. A great holiday if you’re into getting dressed up and acting goofy. You know, I’m not certain it should be called a holiday – I mean, it’s not like we get the day off or anything, unless it falls on the weekend. Never mind. So I’m a senior, and every year past I had to deal with trying to convince my werewolf friends that it most definitely was not cool to show up at a Halloween party in wolf form. Especially since in that condition they normally felt the need to eat people, no matter how much they protested and said they could control themselves. Really? It’s like the guy who has twelve six-packs of beer in the space of an hour and then insists he can drive.

One year, an Alpha wanna-be did, in fact have someone as a main course – a guy no one liked because he made being a jerk his career. No one was all that upset when they found what was left of him the next day, except his family, but even they didn’t seem as interested in finding out what happened to their son as they were about making a movie about it (sings: “Money makes the world go ’round, the world go ’round, the world go ’round”). His name was Kyle. Now why mention that? Because it became a catch-word. Every time one of my werewolf buds wanted to go trick-or-treating…did I mention that October 31st is usually a full-moon night?...all I’d have to say was, “Kyle,” and they’d back down. After a while, when one of them killed a poor, unsuspecting human, we’d say the person had been Kyled. Get it? Sounds a lot like “killed?” Okay, bad joke.

Point: this year was no different. Yes, we were all a year older, and you’d think a year wiser, but noooo. No, the annual argument was raging about whether or not to attend the wide range of Halloween parties being thrown by far too many of our classmates.

“Easy for you to say ‘don’t go,’ Charlene,” said the latest I-Swear-I’m-Imprinted-On-The-Alpha emo-wolf. Her name, of course, was not that. It was Star. I have no idea why.

And yes, Charlene is me. Is I? Wait. I am Charlene, not me am Charlene, so it must…whoa. Too much coffee. Okay, back to what happened.

“Yes,” I answered. “It’s easy for me to say. It’s also easy for anyone with more than one working brain cell to see that I’m right. I mean, are you going to go as a werewolf? How original! On the other hand, it’s not like you can dress up as a Disney princess.” As soon as I said that, I got a mental image of this gnarly wolf in a Cinderella ball-gown and lost it.

“I’m going to bite you, Char,” said Star. And no, I didn’t do that on purpose because the names rhyme.

“No you aren’t. You’re going to stop being ridiculous and admit that this year, like every other year, you’re going to stay away from us mere mortals on All Hallow’s Eve.”

“On what?”

“It’s the original name of Halloween.”

I hadn’t said that. One of the others did. His name was – and still is – Mica. Yes. Like the flaky rock.

“It is?” Star frowned at him.

“Yes, and I’m hungry. Can we please go get lunch now before the period is over and I have to deal with an empty stomach all afternoon?” Shaking his head, Mica stalked off toward the cafeteria followed by several of the other clan members.

I watched them go, appreciating their, er, physiques, then turned back to Star who was muttering something under her breath. I raised an eyebrow or two at her.

“I know I smell one,” she told me.

I had no words. Maybe she was coming down with something fatal.

“I know you can’t smell it, Char, so stop looking at me like that.”

I gave up. “Smell what?”

“The cat.”

“The cat, you say? What cat?” I looked around, but nothing feline hove into view.

“No, not a – a cat cat. A Cat.”

“Are you okay?”

She sighed. “I’m fine. Listen, none of us ever told you about these things, but I think you’ve been around us long enough that it would be okay if I let you in on it.”

“Is this you getting revenge for me telling you not to go to any Halloween parties?”

“No, it’s me letting you know that there are other dangerous things out there besides us.”

I crossed my arms and nodded. “Okay, like what? Vampires?”

“No. I don’t believe in those anyway.”

“Are you serious?”

“No.” Star giggled and hooked an arm in one of mine. “Let’s get lunch – I’ll tell you on the way.”

“What – fine.”

She waited until no one was close enough to hear us before spilling this secret of hers, and when I heard what it was, I understood why.

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.10.2015

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