The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 55 - An Overdue Discussion

As the moon set, we reached the pond where Uncle Bob left his fishing pole. He stood on the bank and shifted into a man. Without looking at me, he tugged his clothing from the bushes where they hung. He dressed in silence. 

I tried to hold onto the wolf a little longer, afraid that we were followed. Afraid I'd have to fight. But exhaustion overtook me. Unable to stop myself, I turned back into a boy, whining with the pain of my rearranging limbs. At last, I was whole. I stood slowly, feeling dazed.

My uncle tossed my jeans. 

I caught them. "You knew it was me?" 

"Hurry. We have to get out of here." 

"But that woman. Shouldn't we—" 

"No. They'll know someone was there. I don't want them to figure out it was us." Fishing gear in hand, he strode away. 

I put on my jeans, hopping on one foot, and stepped into my shoes. My shirt was shredded, so I carried it. I had no idea where my socks were. I couldn't get a handle on my thoughts. Had he always known what I was? 

When we got to the road, I grabbed his arm.

"Wait," I said. "You're a wolf. Like me."

"Yeah. So?"

My face heated with anger. "You knew? All this time?"

"Cody," he said. "Why do you think they sent you to me?"

His words socked me in the stomach.

Mom knew? My knees buckled, and I nearly fell. Mom knew about werewolves. She knew there was a chance I might become one. Like her only brother. So she took me by C-section so I wouldn't be born at Christmastime. She had my birthmark erased. And she never told me. Never explained.

"Cody, get in." Uncle Bob started the truck.

I wrapped my arms around my chest to keep my heart from falling out. She never explained. Just let me think she hated me, as if I'd done something wrong. When all along, it ran in the family. Like a receding hairline.

"Come on." My uncle grabbed my shoulders and frog marched me to the passenger seat. He spun the tires, turning the truck around.

"My bike," I said.

"Where?"

I pointed. He skidded to a stop. I hopped out, pulled the bike from the bushes, and tossed it in the bed. As I climbed inside the truck, he punched it, spraying gravel behind us.

I stared out the windshield, feeling like the world was broken. I wanted to cry, which only made me angrier. "How could you let me keep thinking that I was alone?"

He glanced at me. "You didn't ask for help. How would I know you had questions?"

"Help?" I shouted. "How could I ask for help? I never knew you were a werewolf."

"What?" He squinted like he didn't believe me. "Your mother didn't tell you?"

"She wouldn't speak to me at all. Just sent me here."

He swore under his breath. "All right, then. If you didn't know I was a wolf, why were you following me?"

"Because I thought you were the one killing those women. Because Brittany said the murders took place just before the full moon, and I thought I had to stop you."

"Me? Son of a—" He jammed his fingers in his hair. "Okay, okay. I have a confession to make, too. I've been worried you'd fallen in with that pack."

"What made you think so?"

"The night you crawled in through the window, you reeked of wolf. I was afraid you learned to shift during the dark of the moon. I have reason to believe that at least one member of the pack can do that." He looked at me sideways. "So? Can you—shift on command?"