Liar. Part 17

There aren't any wolves in upstate New York. So it can't be wolves taking them.

There're hardly any wolves in North America anymore. A few in the far north: Alaska, parts of Canada, tiny bits of Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan. Those they reintroduced into Yellowstone Park-they're the only wolves that aren't in danger of being shot at or trapped.

North America used to be all wolves. All wolves and many werewolves, too. Now it's humans and highways and hubris. At least that's what the Greats say. But sitting on their porch in the middle of summer all I can see is honeysuckle and hummingbirds. And Hilliard.

He's lonely. The lone wolf-except for when my cousins change. Then they run like a pack, playing, hunting, howling. In summers I'm there, too. But my cousins and me change for only a few days each month. The rest of the time it's just Hilliard.

Wolves are social. They need their pack.

I wonder if Hilliard misses changing. Living life as both.

I know Grandmother does.

THE MOON.

The moon has nothing to do with it. Not unless you cycle with the moon.

You must be wondering about the males. They don't menstruate. They don't go through menopause. How do they turn into wolves? How do they stop?

There are always more female werewolves than male. Because it's the females who cause the change. A male werewolf who grows up alone, far from his own kind, never becomes a wolf.

He has to be around females. We start to change, they start to change. We hit menopause, they hit menopause.

This is why so many of us live in packs. Those of us who aren't extinct.

Those of us who aren't hiding in the cities dutifully taking our pills. Or, if they're boys, avoiding their own kind. A boy wolf can stay human forever-all he has to do is never go near a girl wolf.

THE ANIMALS.

You're wondering about the other animals on the farm: the chickens, geese, pigs, goats, cows, and horses. How do they cope with wolves around? Not just Hilliard, but when the other Wilkins wolves change together?

First of all, geese aren't afraid of anything, not even human wolves. They're not like regular animals, so they don't shy from us when we're human. (There's a good side to most animals fearing us: there's never been a rat or a mouse in our apartment in the city-or on the farm-you'd think my parents would be grateful.) But the animals freak when we change. The minute one of us feels it coming we get away from the house and stables and pens and into the woods. Of course, the freaking at the change is nothing compared to how the animals feel about having a wolf anywhere near them. When the pack is out in force, to be on the safe side, the Greats make sure none of the animals are loose.

Though we wolves know to leave them alone.

Rabbits and deer, yes. Anything domesticated, no. Too much trouble, whether they're our own or our neighbors' animals.

BEFORE.

My pill?

Sometimes, not often, I forget.

My desk?

The one that clangs? That's made of metal?

It's a cage: three feet by six feet.

When I forget my pill that's where I am imprisoned.

It's where they put me the first time.

It was like this: I was twelve. My skin started to itch. The way it used to when the extra hair was growing in. I was in middle school. The hair had disappeared. I'd been in the same middle school ever since.

My skin started to itch on the walk home from school. I had the cell phone my parents gave me to call them in an emergency-the emergency being any of the signs that I was about to change-but my school was only five blocks from home: one avenue, four streets. I was sure I'd make it. I quickened my pace. Bolted up the stairs, through the apartment door, hung my backpack from the coat rack by the door.

"Hi, Dad," I said. He was at the kitchen table, surrounded by a pile of glossy magazines and pamphlets, laptop open, typing furiously. He looked up, nodded, turned back to the screen.

I opened my mouth to tell him about my skin itching, but that was the do-not-disturb look. Instead I went into the bathroom. There was blood. Not a lot. Tiny spots of it on my pants.

Two of the signs the Greats had told me to watch for.

Hot flashes was another. Also aching teeth.

I washed my hands and felt my forehead. I didn't feel particularly warm. My teeth felt fine. How many signs before I tell Mom and Dad?

I went back into the kitchen, leaned against the fridge. "Dad?" I said tentatively. The whole thing seemed unreal. Hey, Dad, I think maybe it's about to happen. It might be time to lock me in the cage.

He didn't look up.

Maybe I should wait for another sign? But the Greats had said that even one sign was enough. Sometimes the first change comes on scary fast.

"Dad," I repeated.

"What, Micah? I'm kind of busy." Dad looked up.

I felt idiotic. What if it was nothing? The blood spots were really tiny.

"What, Micah?"

"Um," I said, "I think it might be about to, or, you know, going to happen."

"What's going to happen? This is due in"-he glanced at the screen-"two hours."

"The change. I think-"

Dad jumped up, narrowly missing whacking his head on the bicycle above. He put his hand to my cheek. "You feel hot?"

"Not yet. Just my skin." I held out my arms. Red b.u.mps were starting appear. "And there was blood. Not much but-"

"d.a.m.n," Dad said. He almost never swears. "This is it then. You ready to go in?"

I wasn't, but I nodded. The Greats had said it could happen quickly. I felt strange, like my heart was beating too fast, but I couldn't tell if that was the change starting to happen or me being afraid it was about to happen. Then I remembered: rapid heartbeat was another sign.

I crawled into the cage. Dad locked it behind me. I sat on the thin mattress we'd put in to make it more comfortable. At three feet high there was no standing up. There was a bucket in the corner for my toilet and a roll of toilet paper. In the opposite corner sat a jug of water and a plastic cup.

"You okay?" Dad said.

I nodded. I wasn't.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said.

"Okay," I said, wis.h.i.+ng he would stay. I'd never minded being alone. I liked it. Not that time.

He closed the door behind him. I wished he hadn't. I instantly started worrying that he wouldn't come back, that the door wouldn't open again until I was a wolf. Or not even then.

The room was so dark. I wished I'd asked Dad to open the blind. Though it would be getting dark soon anyway. I tried stretching out. The cage was big enough that I could do sitting-down stretches. Problem was I didn't know that many.

I'd only been in the cage a few minutes but already I wanted to stand up. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take.

The door opened. Thank G.o.d.

"Your mom will be home soon," Dad said. "I called her." He put his laptop on the bed and sat down next to it. Fridays Mom stays at work late to teach an advanced French cla.s.s. Jordan is in chess club.

"I'm glad," I said. "About Mom I mean."

"Yes," Dad said. He put his hand on his laptop but didn't open it. "How do you feel now?"

We stared at each other. He looked away first.

"Okay," I said. "This is weird."

"Yeah, it would be a lot easier if you were up at the farm."

"Dad," I said, "you promised."

"I know. It's just-"

"Dad! I'd kill myself. This won't be so bad, right? It's not as if I can get out of this cage. We'll figure something out."

"I hope so," Dad said. He didn't sound convinced. I couldn't believe he was willing to sacrifice me to the Greats. Did he want me to be uneducated? To grow up without a computer?

I crossed my legs and leaned back against the bars. It wasn't comfortable. "Can I have a pillow?"

"Sure." Dad grabbed one from the bed. "You feel hot yet? How're your teeth?"

"Not hot. Teeth are fine."

Dad opened the cage, handed me the pillow, squeezed my hand. "It's going to be alright, Micah," he said. He let go of my hand and locked the cage again. "I promise."

I fought the urge to cry. I believed every word Dad and the Greats had told me, but sitting there in that cage waiting to turn into a wolf, it seemed so stupid. What if it was bulls.h.i.+t? They were all so full of lies. What if this was their biggest?

When Mom got home they traded places. Dad went to finish his stupid article for whatever stupid magazine, but not before I made him promise that Jordan would not be allowed in. My idiot brother was not going to see me like this.

Mom came in with two cheese, ham, and tomato sandwiches, handing the plate through the horizontal gap in the bars and patting my hand.

I wolfed them down. Hungrier than I realized. Mom chatted about her day, acting as if watching her daughter sitting in a locked cage eating sandwiches was perfectly normal. "Jordan is staying at Karl's place for the weekend," she said, finally saying something that had to do with the bizarre situation we were in.

I was glad. Not because it's always wonderful when the brat's away but because they hadn't told him yet. I hoped he'd never find out.

I handed back the plate. "Thanks."

"You are most welcome, cherie." She reached her hand through to pat my knee. "How does it feel?"

"Fine. My arms are still itching but, look"-I held them out for her to see-"no hair yet. I don't feel hot either. My teeth don't hurt and my heart's not beating fast anymore."

"Did your grandmother say how long it would take?"

"She said it varies. Sometimes it's very fast after the first sign. Sometimes it can take a couple of days."

"Days!" Mom gasped. "We must keep you locked in for those days? I hope it happens soon."

"You and me both," I said.

BEFORE.

It didn't.

Sunday morning I was still not a wolf. My arms had stopped itching and the b.u.mps had cleared. When I used the bucket there was no further sign of blood.

"I think it was a false alarm," I told my dad. "Does that happen?"

"I don't know," he said. He held his hands out in front of him. He couldn't call the Greats-they had no phone. "I'll have to drive up. Ask them. I can't leave you in the cage if it's a false alarm."

He did two hours up (breaking speed limits) and two hours back (breaking them all over again) to learn that, yes, false alarms happen and that if the change hasn't happened in that first twenty-four hours and the signs go away, then the change is not coming.

I could have screamed.

If the Greats had been there I'd've killed them.

Dad came home as fast as he could and opened the cage and let me out before he explained a thing.

I staggered. I had never gone so long without running, let alone standing. I was not sure I could do it again. Go back into that cage?

Mom and Dad held me tight despite the way I smelled. Despite the smell from the bucket.

I kept my back to the cage. When they let me go I went and showered.

It was only then that I wept.

I would not go back in that cage. I would not live with the Greats.

There had to be another way.

TOOTH & CLAW.

"You may feed the wolf as much as you like; it will always glance toward the forest."