Full Moon

Word Count: 3000

Full Moon

          An intriguing scent caused Brock to lift his head, nostrils flaring although he tried to remain inconspicuous about it. He needed to find that aroma. The halls were rapidly emptying and he wanted to find the source before it disappeared. Turning his head he caught sight of a group of girls still standing in the hall, clustered around someone. He sidled closer, picking up individual scents as he did. He was fairly certain the one he’d first noticed belonged to whoever stood in the middle of the group, but he’d have to get closer to know for sure and he didn’t know any of these girls. They were all at least one grade lower than him. All of them wore cheerleading outfits and Brock’s upper lip curled off his teeth. If the scent hadn’t intoxicated him so much he would have turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction, but he couldn’t help himself.

          He slid closer.

          Even though he was a big guy, Brock didn’t belong to any of the sporting teams Eastvale High possessed. At certain times of the month he’d have an unfair advantage and he didn’t like being the center of attention. He maintained a low profile and had never even spoken to a cheerleader although several of them gave him friendly smiles when they passed in the halls. No doubt they thought him mysterious, but he just wanted to be left alone. It was better that way.

          He’d transferred here a year ago after begging his parents that a change of scenery would be the best thing. He had no friends at this new school, but he could live with that. He didn’t mind being the scary loner, always sitting at the back of the class, always sitting by himself at lunch.

          “The bell’s about to ring,” one cheerleader said.

          Most of them scattered, shouting good-byes over their shoulders, and Brock could finally see the girl he’d smelled. He stared.

          He didn’t know why he’d never noticed her before. True he stayed clear of cheerleaders and jocks, but he’d attended a few games when he’d been bored and wanted something to do.

          “I think I’m going to skip next period,” the girl said, her voice low and musical. She spoke to the only girl still standing beside her. “I don’t feel well.”

          “You never feel well, Becca,” the second girl said. They both turned away from Brock, not even glancing at him. “Maybe you should just go lie down.”

          She did look a little pale to Brock. He wondered what was wrong with her.

          “I’m just tired. I think I need sleep. I thought I’d go home and take a nap.”

          “You’re lucky it’s last period and Mr. Dewey doesn’t mind. Will you be in school tomorrow?”

          “I don’t know. Probably.”

          “Okay.” The bell rang and Becca’s friend winced. “I’m gonna be late again.” She darted off, throwing a cheerful wave back at Becca as she went.

          Brock’s heart thundered loudly in his ears. The hallway was completely empty now except for him and Becca. Maybe he should offer to drive her home. If she was sick, she shouldn’t be driving herself. He was already late for class.

          The girl stopped in the middle of the hall. He’d been following her, unconsciously matching her footsteps, but now she turned and he froze. She cocked her head to look up at him, her brown ponytail falling over one shoulder.

          “Can I help you?” she asked politely. “Are you lost?”

          Brock backed up a step, raising his books in front of him as if they might protect him. “Yes—I mean no!” Get it together, he snarled at himself. She’s just a girl. You’ve talked to girls before.

          Yes, but never one so pretty and never one that smelled so nice.
He took a deep breath and that was a mistake. He wanted to pounce on her, to wrestle her to the ground to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. He forced the beast back and looked up at her. She stared at him, still waiting for a coherent answer.

          He knew it was the wrong thing to do, but he asked anyway. “What I meant was, I was wondering if you’d like a ride home?”

          The quizzical expression never left her face. “Why?”

          Because you smell good, he thought, but he couldn’t say that and he forced the words back before they escaped on their own.

          “Because you shouldn’t drive if you’re not feeling well.”

          “I don’t even know you,” she pointed out.

          Pleased that she was still speaking to him, he grinned. “I’m Brock.”

          Frowning, she pulled a loose strand of hair off her face, tucking it back behind her ear. “I’m Becca.” She turned and started walking again.

         After a few seconds he fell into step beside her, deciding that he would at least walk her to the parking lot. If she didn’t want a ride after that, he’d just head home.

          “I’ve seen you around school a couple of times,” she admitted.

          “You have?” It drove him crazy that he’d never noticed her before. Just walking next to her was enough to put his head in a fog.

          “Yeah. I only moved here a couple of months ago though, so I don’t know that many people yet. You a senior?” she guessed.

          He nodded. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

          She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t I look okay?”

          “You’re a little pale.”

          “I was a preemie. I get sick a lot. My parents decided to move here, hoping that the fresh air would be better for me.”

          “Is it?” he asked, interested. He enjoyed the wide open spaces of North Dakota, but he’d never lived anywhere else.

          “A little. I still get sick.”

          “Oh.” They reached the doors leading out to the parking lot and he held one open for her. She smiled at him as she walked through the door and then they were outside in the bright sunshine. “Where did you move from?” he asked.

          “Seattle.”

          “Do you miss it?”

          She shrugged. “Sometimes, but I adjust well.”

          “Probably because you’re a cheerleader.” He nodded at the red-and-white outfit she wore. “Makes you instant friends with everyone.”

          “You don’t have many friends, do you?” She stopped next to a red Grand Am and pulled her keys out of her backpack.

          “I don’t have any,” he said, disappointed that she hadn’t take him up on his offer to drive her home.

          “How come?”

          “Easier that way.”

          “Easier how?”

          He didn’t say anything.

          She flashed a smile up at him. “Not going to tell me?”

          “Can I follow you home to make sure you get there all right?” he asked instead of answering.

          “You don’t have to worry about me.” She unlocked the car and slid in, turning her key in the ignition so she could roll down the window. “But you can if it will make you feel better.”

          He grinned his relief and bounded a few parked cars away to his gray truck, hurrying before she could change her mind.

          She led him to a respectful neighborhood. The houses were nice without being ostentatious. He pulled over to the curb and ran up her driveway. He wasn’t quite quick enough to open her door for her, but he slammed it behind her after she’d grabbed her backpack.

          “Thanks. You got me home safe and sound.” She stared up at him for a moment, as if debating something. “Are you any good at algebra?”

          “I do okay.”

          “How about science?”

          He beamed at her, flashing very white teeth. “My favorite subject.”

          She glanced down at her sneakers. “Would you like to come in? Help me study?”

          His inner thoughts screamed Yes, but he managed to dial back his excitement a notch when he answered in the affirmative. He dashed back to his truck to grab his own books and then met her at the front door.

          “My parents aren’t home,” she said as she unlocked the door. “They usually work until six. I’ll get some drinks.” After leading the way to the kitchen, she set her bag on the table and opened the fridge, grabbing two Diet Cokes.

          Brock’s hand shook as he took the can she held out to him. She sat down and started pulling things out of her bag.

          “So why don’t you have any friends?” she asked, not letting their previous conversation go.

          Brock leaned against the counter and took a sip of his drink. He liked this girl. No one else had ever shown an interest in him before. Other people stared at him, but no one approached him and he never tried making an effort. The things he had to deal with, he couldn’t share them with anybody.

          “I want to tell you,” he said finally.

          “So there is a reason?”

          He nodded.

          “So why won’t you tell me?” She had flipped open a notebook and taken out a pencil, which she tapped against the clean white piece of paper as she continued to stare up at him.

          “I can’t tell anyone.” He scratched at the back of one hand, where more fine hairs had sprouted than was normal. “If I tell you, you might think I’m crazy. Or you might not like me.”

          “It’s a big secret then.” She chewed at her lower lip for a moment, her gaze dropping to the table. “Do you like me?”

          “Yes,” he whispered.

          “I like you too.” She doodled in the margin for a second. “Will you tell me when you can?”

          “Yes.” As he sat he wondered how that conversation would go. Becca, you can’t tell anyone, but I’m a werewolf. I change into a wolf during each full moon, becoming a danger to everyone around me.

          Yeah right.

          He slid a finger down the cold side of his Diet Coke can, gathering up the condensation there. He could already feel the change coming on. He was hairier than normal, all his senses heightened. When he’d looked in the mirror this morning he mouth had seemed filled with too many teeth. His mother had trimmed his hair that morning, but it was already starting to curl around his ears again. What did Becca see when she looked at him?

          He glanced at her through his lowered lashes. She’d opened a textbook and started working on some problems, her brow furrowed in concentration. Occasionally she’d tap the end of her pencil against her chin while she puzzled over a problem.

          After working quietly for a little while, she asked him to check over her work so he moved around the table to sit in the chair next to her, bending closer to see the solutions she’d come up with. Her scent filled his nostrils, making it difficult for him to concentrate. He breathed deeply, not wanting the moment to end, but after an hour of study Becca shut her book with a snap.

          “My parents will be home soon.” She walked him to the door. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

          “I won’t be in school tomorrow,” he said.

          “Why not?”

          “Long weekend.” He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “My dad’s taking me hunting.”

          “You’re going to miss the game.”

          “I don’t go to very many games,” he said, amused in spite of himself.

          “You won’t get to see me cheer.” She pouted for a moment.

          His eyes brightened. “Are you a good cheerleader?”

          “I get to be thrown in the air.”

          With her petite size he didn’t find that hard to imagine. He could probably lift her easily—he squashed that thought and the one that followed.

          “I’m sorry I’ll miss it.”

          “Maybe next week?”

          “Definitely.”

          She brightened. “Okay. Have a good weekend.”

          “I will. Be careful tomorrow.”

          “I’ll be fine.”

          He left her standing in the front door, the image of her smile in his mind and her scent still filling his nostrils.

* * * * *

          Brock paced the length of his cage, unable to stop the growl that flowed from his throat. The change was close. A clock hung on the wall across from him. The sun would set soon and then he’d lose himself completely for awhile. He hated this. He hated waiting for the inevitable. He hated being unable to control his own body and when he finally changed back he would be able to remember nothing of what transpired while he was the wolf. The cage was for everyone’s protection.

          His mother stood on the other side of the bars, a safe distance away, her eyes filled with worry. He’d told her about Becca, unable to hide his excitement. He hadn’t wanted to worry her, but he’d come home in such a good mood that she’d been instantly suspicious. Every month as he approached his change he usually became very temperamental. Seeing a smile on his face that afternoon had been good even though she didn’t like the reason for it. She didn’t want Brock to get his heart broken and she didn’t want the girl in any danger. She’d immediately suggested Brock either tell her the truth or stay away from her. That had quashed his good mood and now he glowered at her, at the room beyond his bars, at the world in general. She could only hope he’d come to his senses once the full moon waned.

          Inside the cage Brock dropped to his hands and knees, more hair sprouting all over his body. His nose and chin lengthened into a muzzle, his lips pulling back from sharp teeth. Another growl filled the cellar as joints changed, reformed, and snapped back into place. It sounded painful, but he never remembered the pain afterward. She cupped her elbows with her hands, shuddering at the howl he loosed once his change was complete.

          His father was already out hunting. Older, he maintained control of both his thoughts and his actions while he was the wolf. He regularly brought food back for his son. Brock had inherited the shape-shifting ability. His father had been a werewolf long before Brock was born and she’d still fallen in love with him. She knew it was possible, but it had never been easy. She hoped that if Brock really liked his Becca that she’d be strong enough to accept him.

          Brock threw himself against the bars as he always did. They were sturdy steel. His mother didn’t even flinch and finally he wore himself out and settled in the far corner of the cage, snarling until he fell asleep.

          He awoke three days later with no memory and the taste of blood in his mouth. Disgusted he rolled to his feet and reached through the bars for the clothes his mother had left for him on the other side. He pulled on just the jeans, wanting to take a shower before he did anything else. Strong thoughts of Becca filled his mind.

          His mother appeared a few moments later to let him out. He kissed her cheek and then bounded up the stairs, heading straight for the bathroom where he brushed his teeth. He spat blood until it was gone and all he could taste was a minty freshness and then climbed into the shower, letting hot water pound against sore muscles.

          A knock on the door finally brought him out from under the spray.

          “Hurry, or you’ll be late for school,” his mother called. Her footsteps faded away.

          The change always left him feeling drained, but he still found the energy to get dressed and rush downstairs, grabbing the piece of toast his mother held out to him on his way by. He couldn’t wait to see Becca again. Being a werewolf was something he’d learned to live with and he’d grown up knowing how much his parents loved each other. He knew it was possible for a human and a werewolf to be together, even if it could be difficult at times.

          He drove to school faster than safety demanded. He scanned the parking lot for Becca’s car and pulled in near it, but he didn’t see her among the students milling around outside. It was difficult finding her without his keen sense of smell. After the change, his senses were no better than a human’s, but the school wasn’t that big and he finally spotted her standing just outside the door to the chemistry lab, chatting with a couple of her friends.

          No time to be nervous now, he told himself as his steps slowed.

          Her face lit up when she spotted him and she waved. He two friends turned to see who she was waving to, their eyes going huge as he joined them.

          He ignored them. “Becca, can I talk to you?”

          “Now? Class starts in two minutes.”

          “Please? It’s important.”

          “Okay.”

          He grabbed her arm almost before she agreed and led her outside, to the bleachers overlooking the football field.

          “Besides kidnapping me, what else did you want?” She grinned at him, a dimple flashing in her cheek.

          “You look better today,” he said, studying her face and noticing a healthy pink glow.

          “The weather agrees with me.”

          He captured one of her hands in both of his. She looked stronger than she had last Thursday. He hadn’t even been sure he would tell her, but he couldn’t keep his secret to himself anymore. His mother had given him a lot to think about and he liked Becca. He felt he could trust her, even if things didn’t work out between them.

          “I want to tell you my secret today.”

          “Why today?”

          “Because while I was hunting, I realized how much I like you.”

          She blushed, dropping her gaze to stare at their clasped hands.

          “There’s no easy way to say this, Becca. I’m a werewolf.” He caught his breath, needing to say one more thing. “And I think I’m falling in love with you.”