Kat Lupin: Wolf Girl

Sarah and I sit on our favorite swing set in Prospector Park, our shoes lazily scraping the ground. The park is only a few blocks from my house. When we were little, we’d sit on these very swings, daring each other to go higher and higher, giggling the whole time. We aren’t giggling anymore.

Sarah stares zombie-like at her mom’s phone—googling like crazy. I have the Werewolf book open in my lap. Trees with beautiful golden leaves surround us. The smell of fresh cut grass hangs in the air. Pretty soon the sun will set, giving everything a warm red glow. But neither of us will notice. We’re on a mission—find out everything we can about werewolves. We haven’t said a word to each other in ten whole minutes. That’s a lifetime for a thirteen-year-old.

Then I find something—something big. My excitement gets the better of me, and I shout, “Silver Bullets!”

“What about them?” Sarah asks. She doesn’t even give me a glance, just keeps tap, tap, tapping away at her phone.

“Silver bullets kill werewolves. Says it right here in Chapter 4.”

“Kat, everyone knows that’s movie stuff.”

“Everyone thinks werewolves are movie stuff too,” I say, turning back to my book. “Doesn’t make them any less real.”

Sarah doesn’t have a comeback for that one, so we both go silent again. She starts swinging real slow as she scans her phone. I never noticed how loud the swing squeaked before. The sound echoes across the quiet park. It’s creepy.

After a few minutes, Sarah stops swinging. She actually looks up from her phone, which makes me nervous. “You’re not going to believe this.”

I snap my book shut. “Try me. I believe a lot of stuff these days.”

“This werewolf group—The Fang and Claw Society—posted all these old newspaper articles online. One was published way back int the 1960s. This boy’s parents told reporters he got all weird after a wolf bit him.”

I stand up from my swing. Its chain rattles. “How weird?”

“Growing strange hair… Sneaking out at night… hearing voices.” Sarah hands me her phone. “And guess where he was from.”

I squint down at Sarah’s phone. An old black and white school photo appears on her screen, right above the article. Someone zoomed in on a boy in the middle of the photo, so you can’t really see his teacher or many of his classmates. But you can see a sign in front of him—SILVER RUSH JR. HIGH.

Wait a second. I take Sarah’s phone from her to get a better look.

I can’t see my own face, but I’m guessing I turn pale as a ghost.

“Kat, what’s wrong?” asks Sarah.

I don’t answer her. My heart speeds up as I squint hard at the phone’s little screen. At first, I didn’t recognize the boy in the photo. Maybe it was the old clothes or his short haircut. But now, there’s no denying it.

The boy in the old photo is Justin.

“No way,” I whisper. My brain is a beehive full of buzzing thoughts. Can this be true? Is Justin really a werewolf like me? And if his photo was in a paper in the 1960s… that would make him…

OLDER THAN MY PARENTS!

Probably older than my grandparents, even.

A warm lump forms in my throat. I might throw up. The boy I thought was handsome might be my nana’s age. Gaaaaaaah!

“Kat, talk to me.” Sarah doesn’t get up from her favorite swing. She sits there, barely moving, looking up at me with worried, puppy dog eyes. “What’s going on?”

I hand her phone back. “Take a closer look. Doesn’t that kid remind you of anyone?”

Sarah squints at the picture on her phone, twirling her hair around a figure. She suddenly sits up super straight. Her eyes bug out. “Wait… Is that the boy from our art class? James?”

“His name is Justin,” I say. “And I think he’s a werewolf, just like me.”

“Isn’t he the one you said was cute?”

“Stop,” I say. “Just stop.”

It all makes sense now. When Justin fought Killer Paw behind the grocery store, they were both crazy fast. Like two blurs. Faster than any human should be. And if that really is Justin in the photo, he obviously doesn’t age like a normie human. He should be a wrinkled old man by now. But Justin hasn’t aged a day since that picture was taken, all those years ago.

“Maybe it’s Justin’s grandfather,” says Sarah. “Maybe they just look a lot alike. I heard that can happen.”

“No. It’s him. I’m sure of it. Just like I’m sure that werewolves have been in Silver Rush for a long, long time.”

Sarah gets up and tucks her phone away in her pocket. “Kat, maybe you should go to a doctor.”

“No doctors,” I say.

“But they could help you. Like they might find a cure or something.”

“Don’t you ever watch those monster movies? Doctors will treat me like a freak. Maybe do some weirdo science experiments on me. Then the army will come and lock me away in a secret base in the middle of nowhere. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Come on, Kat. This is serious.”

“No doctors,” I say again. Except I don’t exactly say it. I GROWL it. It’s a low, mean sound from the back of my throat.

Sarah’s eyes get real wide. She backs away from me. Exactly like when I growled at her the first time, back at the hospital. Except this time, she doesn’t look a little freaked out. She looks big time scared. I step towards her, holding out my hands. “Sarah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Really.”

Sarah takes a step backwards—one little step. She can’t look me in the eyes. “I… I… should go.” Her words come out in a stutter. Then she turns and jogs off. When she’s a few dozen yards away, Sarah glances back at me. Tears stream from her eyes. I think she’s afraid I’m going to chase after her.

Awesome work, Kat, I think to myself. My only friend in the world just ran away like I was freakin’ Godzilla. I flop back down in the swing. My chest hurts. It feels like my heart just turned into a rock.

I stare down at my dirty converse sneakers. “Could this day get any worse?” I mumble to myself.

A moment later, a strange sensation washes over me. Like when you’re sitting in class and can just feel someone staring at you. I glance up and spot a dark figure at the far edge of the park. He stands as still as a statue in the shadow of a thick clump of pines. A familiar smell hits my nostrils. Like wet dog.

Oh, no.

My breath catches in my throat as the figure slowly steps out of the darkness. It’s Killer Paw.

From this distance, I can’t be sure, but I think he smiles.

Then he heads right towards me.