Kat Lupin: Wolf Girl

Oh my God! Dad makes barbeque ribs for dinner, and they smell so meaty and smoky. I forget all about art class and that weird Justin kid with his icy blue eyes.

We sit on the back patio and watch the sun sink down behind the Silver Creek Mountains. The crickets are just starting to chirp their songs. Dad sets a big rack of the meat on the center of the patio table, along with a green salad and baked potatoes. Emily plucks up a few ribs and tears the meat right off the bone with her teeth. Sweet sauce drips from the bones like blood. Emily squints at me, flashing her evil sister smile.

“Mmmm.” Emily lets out little animal grunts. She tries to gross me out, chewing with her mouth open. Her teeth gnash the meat to shreds. “It’s so good.”

“Yuck,” I say and look away. But the ribs don’t look yucky at all. They look… delicious!

What’s happening to me? I’m a vegetarian!

Bizbee sits at Emily’s feet, waiting for scraps. The dog isn’t talking this time, and I’m glad. I can only deal with one weirdo thing at a time. And right now, I’m busy fighting my crazy meat cravings.

Mom slides a salad and baked potato in front of me. I murmur a “thank you.” But really, I want to shove the plate aside and dive over the table for that rack of ribs. I quickly cram the lettuce and spuds down my mouth and ask to be excused.

“I need to finish my homework,” I say.

My mom’s eyebrows get all crinkly. “Homework? On your first day?”

“Crazy right?” I rush into the house, trying to get away from that barbeque smell. Too bad the tempting scent chases me all the way down the hall to my bedroom.

I lock the door behind me, flop on the bed, and burry myself under blankets. My belly growls. It doesn’t care that I filled up on veggies. It wants meat. And it wants it NOW!

Wish I had my phone to distract me. Maybe something on Disney will do the trick. I click on the little TV hanging on my wall and flip through the channels. I don’t have streaming back here, so I have to settle for old school cable. As I flip, the dog next door starts barking like crazy. Yap! Yap! Yap! Yap!

A low, mean growl works its way up my throat. Where did that come from? I clamp my teeth together to cut it off.

No! No more growling. I’m not a freakin’ dog!

I try to focus on the TV.

Oh crap. A commercial for Longhorn Steakhouse comes on. Who the frig puts an ad like this on the Disney Channel? My stomach growls again as a juicy, sizzling T-bone appears on the screen.

“Shut up,” I tell my stomach.

My stomach growls louder, like a starving animal.

“I said shut up.” I give my belly a little punch.

The growls stop. But I feel funny. Kinda dizzy, like when you stand up too fast. And my face feels all itchy. Scratching my cheek, my fingers brush against something… something that isn’t supposed to be there.

What… What is that?

I spring out of bed and open my closet door. A pile of dirty laundry and stuffed animals tumbles out like a tidal wave (I’m not big on room cleaning). I kick some clothes out of the way so I can get to the mirror hanging on my closet door. My heart pounds in my chest. I’m afraid to look.

Oh no! That’s just not right!

A long, brown hair sticks out of my cheek. Right before my eyes, it grows longer and longer. Then another hair pokes out of the skin right next to it. Then another. My eyes get real big. I don’t breathe… I don’t move a muscle.

“Kat?” My mom’s voice booms on the other side of my bedroom door. “You want some desert?”

“No thanks.” My voice comes out all low and raspy, like I’m trying to talk while gurgling mouth wash. I clear my throat and try again. The words rush out way too fast. “No. None for me, thanks. Not hungry. Thank you.”

“But it’s cookie dough ice cream,” says Mom. I don’t need to see her face to know she’s confused. “You love that stuff. Is everything alright honey?”

“Yep,” I say. More hairs poke out of my skin. I’m thinking, oh gross, oh gross, oh gross. But I say, “I’m fine.”

“Okay then.” I hear my mom through the door, shuffling down the hall.

Why didn’t I tell her? Maybe mom could’ve helped. Maybe she would’ve known…

My brain doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought. Super sharp pain shoots through my bones. CRACK! CRUUNCH! CRACK!

It feels like my whole skeleton is breaking... stretching…. getting longer. The pain is unbearable, but something inside of me wants to hide it from everyone. Like I’m ashamed. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. My teeth feel like knives. They cut my lip open, and I taste salty blood. My hand reaches up to touch my mouth. And that’s when I notice it.

My hand has turned into a CLAW.

My fingers curve out, twice as long as normal. And my nails extend from my fingertips, sharp and hard.

No. No. No. This isn’t happening.

My heart pounds. My head whirls. Spots fill my vision. I get so dizzy I grab the window frame to keep from falling. It’s like I have a thick cloud, swirling around my head. Everything gets darker and darker. I open the window, desperate to get some fresh air. The last thing I see is a full moon hanging in the night sky.

Then everything goes red.

***

Killer Paw crouches in the alley across from the girl’s house, hidden in the shadows. He wants to rip apart the neighbor’s puny dog with its ceaseless yapping. But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches and waits. Moonlight shines down on a nearby dumpster. Killer Paw feels the moon calling to him. It’s a whisper inside his head. “Time to hunt.”

Killer Paw fights off the urge. He wants to answers the moon’s call. He wants to hunt, more than anything. But he has learned to control his longings. He has another task tonight. Inside the house, the girl muffles her own screams. The humans—her parents, her sister—they cannot hear her cry out. But Killer Paw can. He can hear every bone in her body, cracking and stretching. He can smell the fur growing from her body. THE CHANGE is coming.

It won’t be long now. Killer Paw scratches behind his ear and sniffs the air.

Moments later, a beautiful brown wolf leaps out from the girl’s bedroom window. Killer Paw watches her trot off into the night. Soon, the new wolf will be given a choice.

Join the pack or die.