Transformed (Incomplete)

Wolf Moon, Part I

    It was Sunday night - the last night of vacation - and my brother, Scott, and I were sitting in his room. I was sprawled out on his rumpled bed, and he sat at his desk, lacing his lacrosse stick. As he pushed his fist into the netting repeatedly, I wondered where my vacation had gone. It seemed like just yesterday that Scott, our best friend, Stiles, and I had finished our last class and run out of the school, giddy to stay up late and sleep in. Now, here we were, thinking about how lame our actual vacation was. At least, I was. Scott was probably focused on some pointless daydream of him being a star lacrosse player.
I glance over at my brother, who was now pushing a ball into the netting. He had such high hopes of being a good lacrosse player. Neither Stiles nor I had the heart to shoot my asthmatic brother's dream down. Not seriously, anyway. We both still liked to make jokes about his bench-riding abilities. I watch as Scott gets up and drops the lacrosse stick and ball on the foot of the bed.
He walks over to the doorway of our bathroom and wiggles his fingers, staring determinedly at the pull-up bar he has fastened to the top. Phase Two is his Become-An-Actual-Lacrosse-Player plan. He'd been working out like crazy all year in anticipation of lacrosse season. As soon as he stops doing pull-ups and drops to the ground, he walks into our bathroom and I hear the water turn on. I roll out of his bed and wander into the bathroom. He glances at me in the mirror, toothpaste foaming in his mouth, and passes my toothbrush to me over his shoulder. He moves slightly to give me room.
I stare at my eyes in the mirror while I pass the now-minty toothbrush over my teeth. A vision of police cars, police dogs, and police officers searching through the woods with flashlights flickers through my mind. I blink twice, the vivid vision disappearing as soon as it came. I decide I'm just tired. As I'm putting my toothbrush back in the cup, I hear a creaking noise.
"What was that?" I ask. It sounded like it was coming from outside. Scott shrugs and turns off the sink. He walks back into his bedroom and pulls a hoodie on, dropping his blinking phone and inhaler into the pocket. I follow after him in my tank top and pajama shorts. Scott grabs a baseball bat on the way.
"What's that for?" I whisper.
"Just in case," Scott whispers back. I swallow thickly, sticking close behind him. Scott opens the door and slowly stalks onto the porch, holding the bat tightly. I hover near the door and watch him.
A loud, rustling noise makes me jump, then I hear Scott scream. Without thinking, I run out onto the porch as another scream joins my brother's. I breathe a sigh of relief as I find Stiles hanging upside down from our roof, vampire-style. Scott has the bat raised and his eyes are wide. I push my hair out of my face as Stiles waves his arms frantically and they scream for another beat.
"Stiles!" Scott shouts. "What the hell are you doing?"
"You weren't answering your phone!" Stiles says defensively, crinkling his forehead. Then, he glances at the bat in Scott's hands. "Why do you have a bat?"
"I thought you were a predator!" Scott says. I wince at his stupidity as I walk up next to him, crossing my arms and shivering.
"A pre- wha- Look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this," Stiles says, glancing between me and Scott. "I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department and even State Police."
"For what?" I ask.
"Two joggers found a body in the woods," Stiles states gleefully as he hops down from our roof. Of course two joggers found a body. Jogger always find the body. This is why I don't jog.
"A dead body?" Scott asks. I resist the urge to smack myself in the forehead by instead smacking Scott's arm.
"No. A body of water," Stiles replies sarcastically, popping up over the railing to give my brother a signature Stiles-sarcasm look. "Yes, dumbass, a dead body." Stiles pulls himself over our railing.
"You mean like murdered?" Scott asks, almost as excited as Stiles.
"Nobody knows yet," Stiles says and puts his hands on his hips. "Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties."
"Hold on," I say. "If they found the body, then what are they looking for?"
"That's the best part," Stiles grins. "They only found half." I give Stiles a look and he tries to hide his smile. "We're going," he says simply.
"Only if 'we' means you and Scott," I tell him. "In case you forgot, tomorrow is the first day back at school and I would like to try and get a full eight hours of sleep."
Wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night looking for a dead body was not my kind of thing. Stiles gives me his puppy dog eyes, begging me to come along.
"Good night, Stiles," I say pointedly, marching back to the door.
"'Night, Emerson!" Stiles calls dejectedly. I close the door behind me and hurry back to my room, hopping into bed. I turn my phone on vibrate, just in case Scott or Stiles desperately needs to reach me and roll over to go to sleep. A vision of a car swerving, its headlights shining bright, flashes under my eyelids. I definitely need some sleep.