before school. As much as I hated for him to be locked away, I did enjoy waking up, rushing over to Riverside, and seeing him first thing in the morning. He was always so gorgeous. His hair was messy like a model’s, and his eyes always glistened like the moon. I had never woken up so happy in my life.
At night, though, it was different. I felt a huge pain in my soul whenever Brandon closed his door. My friends insisted I attend the basketball games or go out with them and Nash. I had to admit I was torn. There was nothing I enjoyed more than being with my friends except for one thing — being with Brandon. And if Brandon hadn’t entered the picture, I’m sure I’d still be content sipping hot chocolate on the bleachers with my friends and watching the basketball being passed back and forth by the hot athletes at Legend’s Run High. Nash being interested in me
I didn’t know how I was ever going to tell my best friends I favored a fingerless-glove-wearing Westsider over their best friend, a popular all-star. Not only would I be disappointing the two girls who mattered most to me, but I’d be upsetting the balance of popularity that they strove so hard to achieve.
But Brandon’s plan was working and he seemed pleased with the results: The werewolf spottings decreased immediately.
I wondered if he’d have to be locked away inside his guesthouse forever.
One morning after I opened Brandon’s door, I noticed several dogs snooping around the grass by the birdbath. One was a golden retriever.
“I didn’t know your grandparents had so many dogs,” I said. “I only saw the husky in the window.”
“They don’t. We only have one dog.”
“But there’s, like, three over there by the birdbath. And one looks just like Pumpkin, Abby’s dog that’s missing.”
“You think it might be?” Brandon asked. “My grandma was telling me she keeps finding stray dogs in the yard.”
I walked behind the main house and noticed a white terrier, a Great Dane, a poodle, and several mutts scurrying around, barking and playing.
I raced over to the golden retriever and examined the dog’s left ear. Behind some dirt and a few pieces of brush was a white circle. “This is Pumpkin. She has a white mark on her ear!”
“I don’t know where they came from, but they are always here in the morning. Every few days a new dog. My grandmother has already called a few owners and they’ve come for them. But a few days later, new ones arrive. If they don’t have tags, we’ve been taking care of them. But it’s been weird. I feel like they are…”
“Following you?” I asked. “Like the wolves?”
He smiled as he looked at his brood of furry admirers.
“I knew you weren’t destroying people’s pets. Instead you were taking caring of them.”
Brandon beamed.
“I can’t believe this, Brandon! You found Pumpkin!” I petted my friend’s dog and snuggled her cute canine face against mine. “She’s been missing for a week. We posted signs all over town.”
“All over town? I didn’t see any.”
“Well, along the Eastside.” I felt ashamed. “I think we’ve learned a lesson here. But I have to tell Abby!” I said excitedly. I pulled my phone out from my purse and called my friend.
“Guess who I have?” I asked in a playful tone.
“I don’t know,” Abby said in a groggy voice. “It’s too early for jokes.”
“It starts with a
There was silence on the other end.
I took a picture of Pumpkin and sent it to Abby’s phone. I could almost hear her screams coming from the east side of town.
When I arrived at English class, Abby came in and gave me another hug. She’d been squeezing me all morning long, and since she was so toned, I was starting to cave in.
“I’m getting bruises,” I said.
Nash, Jake, and Dylan were hanging out by our desks.
“Abby told me Brandon Maddox found her,” Ivy said.
“He did,” I said.
“How did he find her — and more important, how did you find out?”
“Yes,” Nash said, “how did you find that out from Brandon?”
“Uh…” I was going to tell them the same story I told Abby. “I saw Brandon with Pumpkin. And he told me that if we had put signs on the Westside, she would have been returned sooner.”
“Are you sure he didn’t steal her?” Nash asked.
“Why would he? He already has a dog.”
“How do you know that?” Ivy asked skeptically.
Just then Brandon walked into class. We all turned to him. Abby rose and went straight over to him.
“I want to thank you so much for finding my dog,” she said sweetly.
Then she did the unimaginable. Abby Kensington leaned over and hugged Brandon Maddox in front of the entire English class.
Dylan folded his arms. Ivy gasped. I high-fived the air. Nash shook his head.
Brandon appeared more surprised than any of us as Abby returned to her seat.
“See, I told you he’s not so bad,” I said to my friends. Brandon passed and gave me a quick smile before taking his seat. Nash gave me a stern glare, and he and his teammates sat down.
“He is handsome underneath all those layers of hair,” Ivy said, obviously not wanting Abby to show her up.
The bell rang and Mrs. Clark called the names of those who were to share a brief synopsis of their essay with the class. My stomach sank when I heard her say “Celeste Parker.”
I wasn’t crazy about speaking in front of others. I had participated in some school plays but never as the lead. Most of the students were nice, but I liked when everyone stared at the teacher and not at me.
Nash seemed proud of me, standing in front of the class. For the first time, I was the star instead of him. It made me feel empowered that he seemed so pleased. I saw Ivy and Abby, who were smiling at me and both giving me the thumbs-up. Then I caught sight of Brandon and my paper shook slightly in my hand.
“Werewolves,” I said.
“That’s a timely subject,” Mrs. Clark said.
“In many centuries and societies, people swear they’ve seen a man who takes the form of a wolf. Others insist the werewolf, like the unicorn, is a figment of man’s imagination.
“Throughout time, werewolves have been part of many different cultures’ folklore. That might be a kind of mythology to explain abnormal behavior if one is not behaving appropriately for their community. But others believe that the werewolf is not folklore or fiction. I even interviewed a man who claims one of his ancestors was a werewolf.’
The students perked up.
“He told me that the bite of a wolf can transform a human into a werewolf and that the affliction can be carried through man’s blood from one generation to another. The person with the link to the wolves can transform once under a full moon. He says there is truth in the stories of the Legend’s Run Werewolf.”
“Oooh!” I heard someone say.
“I saw him,” Abby shouted out. Other classmates shushed her.
“Many students believe they’ve seen him,” I continued. “And I think I’ve seen him, too.”
“Do you have pictures?” someone asked.
Mrs. Clark tapped her desk with her pencil.
“But I’d like to put forth one theory that isn’t popular among the rumors. Just because one takes the lycan form doesn’t mean that they prey on others. They, too, might have a soul. When the full moon is over, they might want to be treated just like you or me.”
My class applauded me, and as I sat down Brandon gave me an approving wink.
“Someone has footage of the werewolf,” my mom called from the family room before dinner. “It’s going to be on the five o’clock news.”
