Never Cry Werewolf (10 page)

I swear my ears started ringing. “Holy crap. I thought you said you were a
werewolf
. What is wrong with my ears?”

Austin wasn’t smiling. “I didn’t expect you’d believe me at first,” he said.

“What?” I gaped at him. “Are you serious? Dude, you can’t be a werewolf. They’re made up, and they’re, like, dorky. I mean, except for that movie where there was this one wolf guy who was in love with a vampire. He was pretty cute for being a—”

“Shelby,” he said, his mouth right up next to my ear. “I’m serious.” As he backed off, his eyes reflected the light in an eerie nonhuman way.

I suddenly felt a bit wobbly on my feet. “You…uh…actually expect me to believe that creatures like that exist? That you’re one of them?”

“Careful, you’re talking about my family.”

I shook my head. “Why would you say that? What is wrong with you?” I took a step back from him. “Oh, I get it. Joke’s on me, right? Yeah, pretty good one, Austin. How did I not see it before—

fangs, fur, howling at the moon? That’s so hilarious.”

“Shelby, this is no joke.”

“Well, then, if you really think you’re a werewolf you are totally mental. Not to be mean, but I guess I know why you’re at brat camp.”

His eyes darkened. “I am telling the truth. I’m not insane, and I’m not lying. You have to trust me.”

Yeah. There it was.
Trust me
.

That was what they always said—what the freshman class’s homecoming prince had said last year
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when he needed help picking out his tux and we got caught making out in the dressing room.
Trust me
?

Yeah, right. I couldn’t afford to trust anyone. I couldn’t even
earn
anyone’s trust anymore.

“I have to go,” I said, feeling like I’d been splashed with icy water.

Austin grabbed my arm. “Believe me, Shelby. Why would I lie about this?” he said, steel in his voice.

“You tell me.” I shrugged out of his grasp and walked back to the bonfire feeling annoyed. The hottest boy at camp was a complete liar. And he didn’t even respect me enough to come up with a good lie.

I plunked down next to Ariel and Price and mumbled my way through a chorus of “She’ll Be Coming ’Round the Mountain.”

Austin never came back to the bonfire. Maybe he was trying to get his so-called prescription or maybe he was off howling with his wolf pack.
Right. Okay, so…whatever, Austin.
I told myself I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to wonder.

I grabbed the roasting stick from Ariel, and after eating a few gross but sweet marshmallows, I almost forgot about Austin and his bogus declaration. Almost.

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T
he next morning the girls’ group session focused on just saying no to sex. Dr. Wanda, the psychologist, made everyone even more embarrassed than the day before. I mean, a grown woman asking if we’d hooked up before and then taking notes on it?

I decided, as did most of the smarter girls, to play totally innocent. I mean, not even my friends knew everything I’d done with boys. I told them the basic stuff, but there were some things I kept to myself. Some things I regretted a little. And Dr. Wanda thought I’d spill all my secrets in front of strangers? That kind of torture made weed pulling seem enticing.

As I worked in the flower beds around the dining hall later that morning, I watched for Austin to show up, but he never did. Meanwhile, Charles sweated away, hauling rocks and shoving them into place. A couple of times he shouted over to me, but I ignored him.

Later that afternoon, Ariel and I were on our way to the sand volleyball court. Cynthia had told the whole cabin to meet there for a bonding game, but so far we were the only ones headed that way.

With all the weeding, I was missing out on camp sports. A friendly volleyball game would get my mind off stuff for a while.

“We’re going to pass by the infirmary,” Ariel said. “You know, if you decide you want to check on Austin.”

“What?” I tugged down the edges of my University of Wisconsin T-shirt. It was the pink one that always rode up on my belly, but I loved it so much I couldn’t bear to give it away.

“Well, Austin wasn’t at lunch, so I asked Price and he said Austin got sick this morning. Probably allergies or a stomachache or something.”

“Oh.” Was he really sick? I remembered he’d told me last night that he’d be feeling sick off his medicine at first. Well, apparently, he’d made that part of the lie come true. Still, if he was telling people he was a freaking werewolf, he was either a pathological liar or completely mental. I doubted the nurse had a cure for that.

“So, do you want to go in?” Ariel asked. “I mean, I know you like him—I saw you talking to him in the woods last night.”

I paused on the trail. For half a second I considered telling Ariel about Austin’s crazy lie, but I remembered promising not to tell anyone. And I always kept my word, even to people who made stuff up. “He’s got major issues,” I said.

“Oh, and you don’t?” Ariel gave me a questioning look as we approached the infirmary. “He’s probably in there. Maybe you should take a look. You know you want to…”

“I’m so not going in there,” I said. “What would I say?”

Ariel rolled her eyes. “Oh, forget it. Stay here.” She flung open the infirmary door and went in.

I wasn’t going to leave Ariel, so I sat down on the wooden bench out front. After only about a minute, Ariel came out holding an ice pack on her forehead.

“Oh, crap! What happened?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “Start walking.” When we got farther away from the infirmary, she lowered the ice pack. “I told the nurse I bumped my head on a bunk bed.”

I gave her a doubtful look. “Um…you’re totally short.”

“Yeah, and apparently the nurse is totally dumb.”

I smiled at her triumphant grin. “So…was he in there?”

Ariel let out a huge sigh as we sat down on the grass beside the volleyball court. “Uh, I don’t know how to tell you this, but he was going through the nurse’s purse.”

Oh, great. Austin Bridges III was a kleptomaniac, too? I forced myself to forget all the other things I thought about him and focus on the facts.

“What was he looking for?” I said.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask him.”

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“Well, how did he look?”

She shrugged and then gestured around at the volleyball court, which was starting to fill up.

Humming, Cynthia Crumb marched past us with a net bag full of balls.

“He looked bad?” I whispered.

“He looked, um…scruffy. Like he needed a shave and a shower.”

“Well, he’s not exactly the type that’d follow a metrosexual skin regime,” I said.

“Moisturizer is for everyone, every day,” said Ariel with a bored smile. “At least that’s DeVoisier Inc.’s motto.”

“So what’s really wrong with him?”

“Stomachaches are easy to fake at camp. The nurses always believe you because the food is mostly slop.”

“Well, everyone knows his drugs are locked up with the contraband in Mr. Winters’s office,” I said, feeling a little Nancy Drew at the moment. “So what was in the nurse’s purse that he wanted? A cell phone?”

Ariel raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “His dad’s on safari. The manager hates him. Who else would he call?”

Ariel was right. I thought about Austin’s distant family, about how he really had no one reliable to fall back on. Neither of us did, in a way. Did that mean it was okay to steal stuff, to tell crazy lies, to say things like “trust me” to someone who might almost be your friend? No way. You didn’t treat your friends like that. And if that was the kind of person he was, then I needed to stay away from him.

But somehow I didn’t want to.

What is it with square dancing? Why do old people think that it’s even remotely fun? All that awkward hand-holding and twirling just made me dizzy and desperate for hand sanitizer.

Pretending I was tired, I sat out a dance, scanning the crowd that filled the barnlike gym that night.

No Austin. He was a master at disappearing from things. I’d seen him briefly at dinner, but he hadn’t looked my way once. Maybe he was angry at me about last night, for calling him a liar. But where was he now?

As Cynthia, the square-dance caller, droned on, I slouched on the bench, watching the dancers and being bored out of my mind. Ariel seemed to be having fun with Price. As they do-si-doed, he shoved his free hand through his dark bangs, combing them out of his eyes. Unfortunately, doing that revealed a bright crop of acne on his forehead. Still, he seemed nice, and he was totally into Ariel.

Actually, he was
on
her. Standing on her foot, I mean.

“My toe, my toe!” she yelped, hopping around.

A crowd gathered around Ariel. Poor Price went as red as ketchup.

I rushed over to where Ariel was now writhing on the ground. “Are you all right?”

She stopped writhing. “Duh. This is your chance to quit moping around and go find Austin,” she whispered. “I think I broke my toes!” she whined to the crowd.

“You’ll be all right,” I said, helping her to a bench.

“Uh-oh,” said Sven, rolling down Ariel’s sock. “Lots of redness.”

“We need the nurse,” I said.

“It’s her night off,” Mr. Winters said in his booming voice. “We can do first aid. Don’t worry, kids, I’ve got my kit right here.”

“She needs ice,” I said.

Mr. Winters smiled at me, and it was such a genuine smile, I kinda felt bad. But this show was all for a good cause. I had to keep going. “She’s my friend, the least I can do is get her ice.”

Mr. Winters nodded. “Very kind of you, Shelby. I’ll trust you to go to the kitchen. Sweet Mrs.

Neighbors, the cook, is probably about to close up for the night, so you’d better run. Just tell her I sent you.”

“This is just great,” Ariel said. “I’m the only camper in history to get hurt square dancing,” she said, with an annoyed look. “How geeky is that?”

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“Time for a sing-along,” Cynthia Crumb called out as I left the gym. That was perfect. She’d be too wrapped up in the song to hunt me down for a little while. And by the time she did, hopefully I’d know what was up with Austin.

I wasn’t sure exactly why I felt drawn to him. Maybe it was some sort of protective thing, or maybe it was just that out of everyone at camp he was one of the two people I actually felt a connection with. And seriously, though telling someone you’re a werewolf is an obvious cry for help, he was entertaining and not bad to look at.

I decided to go find him along with the ice. At least that would get me away from the mindlessness of the square dancing, away from the kids who treated me like I was only cool because my dad was rich, and away from the adults who were trying to get me to open up.

As I headed out into the darkness, I told myself this was different from all the other times, that he was different from all the other boys. I just had no clue how right I was.

The path stretched out before me, gravel tinted pinkish by the fluorescent lights of the buildings ahead. A sliver of moonlight filtered through the clouds, crowning the evergreens along the path with silvery halos.

Everything was quiet except for the hum of the electricity powering the lights and the buzz of insects.

I didn’t have much time, so I ran to the infirmary first. I didn’t see anyone, and the building was locked and deserted. So was the office. I doubled back and headed toward the cabins, but when I reached Sapsucker, no Austin.

Time was ticking by, and I still needed the ice. I booked up to the dining hall, its darkened windows looking like the hollow eyes of a sad face. The doors were locked. I knocked, but nothing happened. I could see a faint light radiating from the back of the hall, so I figured maybe the cook was in the kitchen cleaning. The pans from the chili dinner were probably pretty awful, especially the ones from the burned-tasting cornbread. I was so glad I’d been on weed duty and not stuck with dishes.

I rounded the back of the building, where there was a sort of alley. Sheltered by a stand of leafy trees, Dumpsters lined the far end of the collection of deep potholes and small patches of grass I’d be stretching to call a road.

One weak floodlight spilled a yellowish glow down onto the entrance of the road where I stood, but beyond that, it was all dark except for a square of light cutting into the gloom. Wait. The square was probably the window in the kitchen door. If the lights were on, the cook was still there. Ice, coming right up.

But first I had to charge down the dark alley, the exact opposite of everything anyone ever teaches you about personal safety. A light breeze stirred the leaves on the trees at the end of the alley, making a rustling sound that skeeved me out a little, but I walked forward, focusing on the light ahead, until I reached the door.

I was going to knock, but when I pulled at the handle, it gave way easily. It’d been propped open.

Quietly, I stepped into the kitchen. The yeasty-sweet aroma of tomorrow’s breakfast bread hung in the air. Mmm. The smell reminded me of my mom’s homemade cinnamon rolls.

“Hello?” I called out. I peeked around the corner of the giant mixer toward the bank of sinks, but I didn’t see the cook. Maybe she was off fixing her hairnet. “Um, I’m just here to get some—”

Slurrrggrrrfff!

A bizarre animal noise made me spin back toward the open kitchen door. I ran over and peered out into the alley. What the heck had made that sound? I took a few steps away from the door but noticed the floor seemed slippery all of a sudden.

I looked down.

Holy crap. Blood. A spattery blood trail I hadn’t noticed when I’d come in, distracted by the cinnamon yumminess. At least I thought it was blood. It sure didn’t look like ketchup.