into a lycan? There was so much Brandon was dealing with at once — but perhaps he’d be comforted by someone trying to help him. I decided to text him with my news. As I waited for his response, I continued research on my essay. However, I didn’t find any information on the effects of kissing a werewolf. I was so attracted to Brandon — by day and by night — all I could do was imagine kissing him. If I was warned not to, I wasn’t sure what the implications might be. Maybe I’d turn into a werewolf, or maybe it would be his demise. It wasn’t fair that I wasn’t supposed to kiss the one guy I was desperate to be with. Instead, I clung to his shirt as if it were him.
And not knowing why — or what might happen — if I kissed a werewolf only made the torment worse. And if I was in agony, I could only imagine the torment Brandon faced alone at school or by night in the woods.
I was alone, too. I’d always had Ivy to lean on and help me through situations. This time I’d have to figure out the answers on my own. My life had been easier and much less complicated before Brandon Maddox arrived at Legend’s Run, but I wouldn’t trade knowing him for the peace I had then.
The following morning in English class I wasn’t able to concentrate. My calendar told me all I needed to know. There was going to be a full moon tonight. I could see the pale white of the moon in the bright blue sky from my classroom window — it was just waiting to shine its glow. Mrs. Clark was reminding us to finish our folklore essays and I knew I hadn’t completed mine. The only werewolf I wanted to write about was the one sitting a few rows behind me.
Mrs. Clark’s attention suddenly turned outside. It appeared she, too, was having a hard time focusing on our lesson. But she looked concerned. She instructed us to remain seated and told us she’d return shortly.
I had a seat next to the window, so I glanced over to see what the object of her attention was. Fifty yards away from our classroom was the Legend’s High flagpole. Standing next to it was a wolf.
It was jarring. I immediately surveyed the outlying area to see if any students were in danger. Fortunately, there weren’t any students lingering anywhere.
“It’s a wolf!” Ivy screamed, catching sight of it, too.
My classmates all rose and bolted for the window. They pulled out their concealed cell phones and began taking videos and pictures of the wolf.
The wolf began to howl, a strident howl. It sent shivers down my spine. The scene was surreal — a wild animal roaming around campus as if this was its home. And if that wasn’t bizarre enough, out from the woods behind the gym came two more wolves and they joined the first wolf’s side.
“They’re taking over the school!” Ivy yelled.
Other windows around the school filled with students’ quizzical faces.
For some reason, the wolves were focusing their attention toward our classroom and began walking in our direction.
“They’re coming for us,” one of the students said.
Nash remained seated. I could see the color drain from his face. I feared for my ex, knowing his immense aversion to canines. I didn’t feel anger toward him but rather protection. Our windows were at least twenty feet off the ground and we were in no impending danger.
“There’s no way they can come in here,” I said, hoping to comfort Nash. “Unless they have a ladder.”
We were all glued to the view of several wolves looking up at us as if they were about to join our lesson. Cameras flashed, a few students screamed, while other classmates were calling or texting.
The scene was truly frightening. Even though I assured myself that we had a brick-and-concrete wall between us and a few feet in height, the sight of wild animals focusing their attention on us was terrifying. Ivy clung to me. Most of the guys thought it was really cool and whooped and howled. A few jocks waved and taunted the wolves.
“You mustn’t do that,” Ivy warned. “You’ll only provoke them.”
“I’d love to pet one,” Abby said. “They look so beautiful.”
“They are wolves!” Ivy said. “They aren’t pets.”
The school administrator’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Everyone please remain in your seats and in your classrooms with your doors and windows locked. We are under a Code Yellow. I repeat. Code Yellow. No one is to leave the classrooms or building at this time. We will inform you when it is safe to resume the normally scheduled day.”
Now I was frightened.
Just then Mrs. Clark returned to our classroom and instructed us to immediately take our seats. She secured the door and double-checked to make sure all the windows were locked. A pack of wolves was such an unusual sight, even she hung by the window as we all peered from our seats.
Within a few minutes, there were at least five wolves howling outside our window.
I glanced back at Brandon — the only other student who had remained seated through all of the chaos. He had his head buried in his textbook. I wondered what was going through his lycan mind.
I couldn’t imagine why the wolves were here — if it was purely coincidence, if they were lost, or if there was some paranormal connection. Mrs. Clark tried to resume her lecture, but it was impossible with five howling wolves focusing on our classroom.
“This is so freaky!” Ivy said.
“They are cool,” Abby said.
“They could rip your head off,” Dylan said.
“They must be following you,” Ivy teased me. “Everywhere you go there are wolves!”
“I wonder if we’ll be on the news,” Abby said excitedly.
I was still scared. I clung onto my writing binder as if it could protect me. The situation was so unreal. And although I knew we were safely locked inside, the threat of a pack of wolves outside our window was disturbing.
Finally, a few police cars pulled into our school’s entrance. An animal control car followed closely behind.
“We can calm down now,” Mrs. Clark said. “Animal control is here.”
We eyed the outside action, some of the students sitting on top of their desks for a better view.
Several officers stepped out of their cars covered in protective gear and using their open doors for further protection. A few animal control wardens came out of their cars with tranquilizer guns and nets.
“They’re going to shoot them,” I said.
“They have to,” Ivy said. “Did you think the police were going to handcuff the wolves and put them in the back of a squad car?”
“Let’s return to our lesson,” Mrs. Clark said, her voice unsteady. But no one focused on our teacher.
“Brandon,” Mrs. Clark said. “Please remain in your seat.”
I could feel the presence of someone walking by me.
Brandon brushed past me and headed to the window.
“Brandon,” Mrs. Clark said. “Get away from the window! You must sit down!”
But Brandon ignored her. Instead he took off a glove and placed the palm of his wounded hand on the pane of glass. He stared down at the leader of the pack, transfixed.
The wolves stopped howling. Brandon and the wolves locked gazes, as if the wolves were hypnotized by Brandon’s stare.
It was spellbinding to watch. I didn’t know what was happening, but the tiny hairs on my skin and the back of my neck tingled.
“What is he doing?” Ivy asked.
Brandon continued to stare at the leader of the pack.
“He thinks he’s talking to the wolves,” Abby said.
The wolves remained fixated on Brandon as if he was their trainer, as if Brandon was one of them and they were looking up to him as their new leader.
The police held their stance by their patrol cars, apparently working out their plan of action. The animal controllers, now at least twenty yards away, slowly crept toward the wolves.
Just then the leader of the wolves howled at Brandon.
As the handlers took aim, the pack tore off. They raced away from the campus and disappeared into the
