It wasn’t supposed to happen tonight.
I bounced my leg, slouching behind Lori in the back of Hannah’s Escalade, borrowed from her mom with much less pleading than I’d have had to do with mine. I wondered if her brother had left his 3DS in here, if it could be tucked under a seat or wedged against the wheel well, but my boots had crunched on just enough goldfish crackers that I felt hesitant to stick my hand anywhere I couldn’t see.
Besides, whatever games he had wouldn’t actually distract me any.
I thought I had tracked it better. I used to use a calendar, but I kept losing it so instead I’d tried one of those period tracker apps. It was almost the same. Kind of.
The vehicle hummed along, tank-like, Lori telling Hannah she was making a wrong turn and Hannah telling her not to touch the AUX. Beside me, Mariah howled along to whatever it was that was playing. We didn’t like the same music. I wasn’t even sure if she really liked me, if it was just the overlap of our classes that had made us friends.
We didn’t hang out often. I shouldn’t have been so desperate to say yes.
I should have checked my goddamn calendar for the only thing really on it.
I bounced my leg some more. It was a poor distraction, but I couldn’t exactly pace. I wanted to run — not away, though perhaps that too, but anywhere. Long, loping paces, the satisfaction of exertion. Of freedom.
“Hey,” Lori said, swiveling around in the seat ahead of me, eyes cast through the gap between the head rest and the seat. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I said, shooting her a thin smile. “I just get a little carsick sometimes.”
“No puking!” Hannah yelped.
“I won’t.”
It was fine. We were good. I could always leave early. My mom wouldn’t be happy to have to take off work, but she’d do it for this. I just wasn’t sure I could take the lecture, though I supposed I deserved it.
Hannah’s parking was abysmal. Mine was never good, but at least I usually made an effort to fix it as much as I could.
She dismissed our ribbing with a huff: “Next time you can walk.”
I may have to.
I still wanted to run, and that made itself apparent in my gait — I had to keep circling back to them, clustered in front of shopfront windows, eyebrows raised and comments exchanged.
The fourth time it happened, Mariah called: “Sasha, where’s the fire?”
I laughed as naturally as I could. “Sorry – guess I just want a pretzel more than I thought.” The moment I said it I regretted it — it was the most believable excuse, but I knew they’d remember it when I shuffled beside them through Abercrombie, not even bothering to try anything on.
Hannah laughed. I tried not to hate her for it.
The pretzel tasted like cardboard. My stomach was always tight the night of – perhaps it was my body knowing a feast was coming. More likely it was just nerves.
Still, I stuffed it down.
We meandered through the mall, occasionally weaving into stores. I didn’t buy anything, but I made the appropriate ooh’s and ah’s when someone asked, gently enabling them as best I could.
I tried to distract myself, but my success was limited. People watching didn’t work, my brain kept flagging them as potential prey, analyzing how to best take down an old woman, how to best drag a toddler from his mother. Scrolling on my phone didn’t do me much good either.
Instead I lingered around my friends, orbiting them. Circling.
When we passed Hot Topic, the music video playing on the monitor caught my eye, some greasy-haired frontman covered in blood. The color was off, a little too candy-red, but it was close enough. I could practically taste it.
Mariah rolled her eyes. “I’m not going in there.”
“I was just looking,” I said, more defensive than I meant.
“I’m just saying.”
I bit down the urge to argue. It wasn’t a fight worth having.
I needed to keep my temper in check.
We continued on for a while, but while Mariah and Hannah were comparing garish shirts at the Forever 21, Lori took me aside.
“Hey, Sasha? You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah,” I said, knowing I didn’t sound convincing.
“Okay. You’re just – you seem a little tense.”
“I’m just in kind of a mood,” I conceded. “I think I failed my Stats midterm and my mom’s gonna have a fit.”
“Oh, same,” she said. “Mine acts like if I don’t get into Harvard I’m going to be digging ditches for a living.”
“That’s actually what my career aptitude test said I was most suited for.”
She laughed, throwing her head back slightly. I tried not to notice how exposed her throat was. “Yeah? We can dig together then.”
“Are you two done being weird?” Hannah called, a bag of fast fashion bulging at her side.
“Not really,” I responded, though Lori and I walked towards her.
“Like that’s possible,” Mariah said.
I felt my eyes narrow. Be nice. Be nice.
I swallowed it, or at least I tried to, my mind refusing to let it go.
We passed a woman with a chihuahua in her purse, the animal growling as soon as it caught my scent. I could feel my hackles raise, despite it being so small, so harmless. I tried to control my breathing, to quell the urge to snap back at it.
On any other day, I’d have tried to pet it. All I could think of now was how easy it would be to rip it to shreds.
“Fucking rat,” Hannah said, not as far out of the woman’s earshot as I’d have liked.
“Aw, I thought it was cute,” Mariah said.
“If it doesn’t even like people, why bring it to a store?”
I needed to make my breathing even. You’re acting like a freak.
When we reached the Bath & Body Works I had to draw a line. My senses heightened ahead of transformations and a headache had begun forming ten yards out. “I think I’m gonna sit this one out,” I said.
“You sure?” Hannah asked.
“Yeah, I – I have enough soap.”
They went in and I sat down on the edge of a fountain, a kid doing cartwheels on the other side. I put my head in my hands for a moment, cringing, trying to suppress everything. The urge. My personality. My body.
I wanted to go home. I knew calling my mom was going to make me look lame and I’d probably never be invited to anything again, but either I left now or —
“Hey,” Lori said, sitting down beside me.
“Oh,” I said, pulling myself out of my posture of despair. “Hey. Do you also have enough soap?”
“No such thing,” she said. “I just – Sasha, are you sure everything’s alright?”
“I – I don’t think so. I mean, I think I’m going to have to go.” My mind spun, searching for an excuse. “My mom just called – my grandmother fell. She’s at the hospital.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Oh shit. Sasha, I’m so sorry.”
“I need to — she’s gonna pick me up, I —”
“We can take you.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Mariah’s dad works at the one on Highway 14, is it that one?”
“I think?” I should have said my grandma lived out of state. Fuck.
She nodded. “Hannah will drive us.”
My leg bounced even worse on the ride there, though now I had an excuse. Lori had swapped seats with me, as if the honor of shotgun might ease the weight of a family injury any.
I could smell them. The subtle changes in natural odor between them, masked in Bath & Body Works or Victoria’s Secret perfumes but still present, if only barely. The car was a tight enough space that it was suffocating.
My skin itched. Hannah kept shooting me sideways little glances.
At a light she paused, turning to me. “I know this is, like, not the time, but your eyes look super pretty.”
Yeah, and my nails are looking thicker and starting to curve. I laughed. “I think crying makes them look greener.”
She wince-smiled, spared from having to respond by the light changing. My stomach roiled as I stared at her, as my brain started to spin out, thinking about what she might taste like.
I shook myself out of it, turning to the window instead, watching canals go by. I wished we had woods, but I was the stupid sort of werewolf who lived in Florida, where all of our land was either golf courses or swamps.
I could hear her pulse, the push of blood through her.
I dug my nails into my thigh, pricking the skin through my jeans. Hannah’s eyes cut momentarily to me before returning to the road, and I could hear her heart quicken. I wanted it between my jaws.
We were at an impasse. Either they let me out or I killed everyone in this car.
I made the best gagging sound I could, and she slammed the brakes so hard Lori’s forehead hit the back of my seat. I fumbled for the door, opening it, spilling myself onto asphalt.
I couldn’t make myself puke, but I could make a show of it.
A horn blasted behind us and a car door slammed. I continued to make retching sounds, letting a string of saliva drip from my mouth. Lori appeared beside me, and after a moment a more hesitant Mariah joined her.
“Hey,” Lori said, crouching down, trying to gather my hair for me. “It’s okay.”
I gave up on pretending to puke, at least for now, and instead tried to force myself to cry.
“I need —“ I said shakily, sitting up. “I –”
“It’s okay,” Lori repeated. A few seconds later, Hannah – who, if I knew her at all, had been trying to figure out how to turn on her hazards – appeared.
“I just – I’m just going to call my mom,” I said, voice as thick as I could make it. “I don’t think I can go in there alone.”
“Sasha, we can go with you,” Lori said gently.
“No, I – I can’t do this without her. I –”
“We can take you there.” The look Hannah gave her implied she’d sooner escort one of the never-too-far-away iguanas there than let me back in her vehicle.
“No, I – just go.”
“Sasha.”
“Please, I – can you just do this?” The three of them shared a look, or, rather, a series of looks. Finally, Hannah shrugged.
“Fine,” she said.
“If she doesn’t get you in a few minutes, though, text us,” Lori said.
I nodded, sitting on the sidewalk.
When they turned their backs on me, I started to unlace my Docs — in some delusion of grandeur I’d ladder laced them, which meant they’d stay on even if I transformed.
I knew it was imminent. I could feel it in the way my hands shook, in the way my mouth still pooled with saliva.
I’d thought I had a few minutes still, but right before she reached the car, Mariah tripped.
My prey instinct kicked in, and in one excruciating second – bones shifting, contorting, muscles pulling apart, organs resettling, fur erupting across my flesh – we were all screwed. I was on her in an instant, teeth digging into the meat of her calf.
She screamed, flailing, kicking me feebly with her other foot. Her sandal went flying, useless.
It always seemed unfair that I didn’t black out when I transformed, that my consciousness didn’t fully retreat once it was usurped. I was just along for the ride.
With her leg still in my jaws, grip tight, I began to shake my head, thrashing, keeping her on the ground and dragging her away from the vehicle.
Pain sparked across my brow suddenly, Lori having emerged from the vehicle. She had a lacrosse stick in her hands, presumably pilfered from the back of Hannah’s car, the plastic cradle cracked.
I growled, deep in my throat, claws digging into the gravel, teeth still lodged in Mariah.
Lori swore, swinging at me again. I released Mariah, trying to dodge the blow and bite Lori instead, but as soon as I let go of Mariah she flailed again, catching me in the throat.
I barely felt it.
I lunged after Lori, but she was faster. The car door slammed in my face. I darted to Mariah’s side, barely missing her as well.
“Is Sasha still out there?” Hannah shrieked.
“I don’t see her,” Lori panted.
I raked my claws across the paint.
“My fucking leg!” Mariah howled. I could still taste her blood. I could smell it through the car.
“I think she must have ran,” Hannah said. “Right?”
“Yeah, I – probably.”
I howled, throwing my weight against the side of the vehicle, rocking it.
The way they told it, a brown wolf had chased them along the road, following them beside the highway, through Hannah’s gated community and to their door, where her father fired buckshot at it.
It was gone by the time animal control got there.
Hannah’s dad had mostly missed, except for one pellet that’s still lodged in my shoulder. I suppose I should be thankful that they didn’t notice that the ends of my fur were somehow still tipped in Manic Panic’s Violet Night.
At school Monday, they asked if I had seen all that and I nodded, saying that I had ran. There was a grocery store nearby, and I’d hung out in there until my mom could get me.
My grandma was doing well, despite being four years dead.
I never got invited to the mall again. I could live with that.