Protected

Heartbeat

Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom. Boom-boom.

My heart thundered in my ears, like a drum on an expensive stereo system.

I lay face-up on my bed. Thinking.

I stood up and started to pace back and forth.

Lucas

Boom-boom

Werewolf

Boom-boom

Protected me?

Boom-boom

Werewolf

Boom-boom

Protected me?

Boom-boom

Lucas

Boom-boom

Werewolf

I lay back down.

So. Many. Questions.

Was Lucas a killer werewolf?

Why had he protected me?

Why was he scared of me?

Who else knew?

What would happen to me if he found out I knew?

I opened the blinds and peeked out. Lucas sat on his bed. I opened the blinds all the way. He pulled a notebook from in the blankets next to him. I was curious. He started scribbling, then he held it up:

Can I come over?

It read.

Why did he want to come over? Did he know that I knew? Was he going to hurt me? I reached for the pad I kept on my bedside table, and I pulled a pen out of my backpack.

Why?

I wrote back. He turned the page and started scribbling again, then held it up.

Project?

I breathed a sigh of relief. Of course. We got paired up for the history project.

Sure.

I wrote back. He slid open his window, then reached his hand out and knocked on mine.

"Can you open it?" he asked, his voice barely muffled by the thin pane. 

I slid the window open, and Lucas tumbled into the window.

I was scared, and then all of a sudden I got a terrifying burst of bravery. Before I could shut my stupid mouth, I blurted out,

"I know what you are!"

We both stood in an awful, stunned silence. I clapped my hand over my mouth. His face twisted into a smile-grimace-scowl.

He took a step towards me, his fists clenched. I whimpered and backed up against the wall. He pressed me up against it, his face a foot away from mine.

"And what exactly am I, Maya?"

His question was a dare: I dare you to tell me what I am.

Dare accepted.

"Werewolf," I whispered.

He winced.

"Careful how you throw around that word."

He backed away, dropped onto the floor, and dropped his face in his hands.

"Why did you help me," I asked, "The other day. In the hallway."

He looked up at me.

"Mason and I have a history. A complicated history, that I will tell you about later. As for why I helped you specifically? You're... special," he said.

"Yeah," I snorted, "I get that a lot."

He scowled at me.

"That's not what I mean, Maya. I've Morphed to you."

"What? What do you mean you Morphed to me? What does that mean," I asked, panicking

"It's a thing for- for... my kind," he said, staring down at his hands.

I gasped, "What did you do? What did I do? How do we fix it?"

He looked hurt. 

"We don't fix it. It's biological. I can't change it," he said.

"But what exactly is it? What exactly did you do?" I asked.

"I-" but his explanation was cut off. His phone started ringing, a high-pitched annoying beep. He pulled it out of his pocket and grimaced. It read Isadora Smackle.

I gasped, "Does Smackle know?"

He scowled, "Of course not."

"So... what happens to her if you... you know... morphed to me?" I asked quietly.

"We can't stay together if I morphed."

And with that, he jumped back out the window and answered the phone in his room. I slammed the window shut, snapped the blinds closed, and collapsed on my bed.