Peter is the Wolf Novel Book 1, Ch. 1 Part 3

The park I met Jean in- and, for that matter, the park our pack hold our Howls in when weather permits- is on the far northwest side of town, up in the hills.

My girlfriend’s family- you’re going to meet her in a minute- lives in the high-end suburbs on the far southeast side of town. Walking, it would take at least two hours to get there from where we were, going through downtown and the main shopping district along the way.

The thing is, even without my skateboard- which got left back under that bench along with my bag and my flip-flops- I could run it in about forty-five minutes, even in human form. (Though my were form isn’t that much faster, really.)

But Jeannie is faster than me. Also stronger, even in human form. In fact, she’s fast enough and strong enough to drag me behind her with me kicking off the ground every couple of seconds to keep from dragging the ground.

And she wasn’t in any mood to stop for the lights or for traffic. I don’t think she even noticed them...

Two figures, one being dragged along by the other, bolted along the sidewalks of the shopping district. A few heads turned to watch the one running hell-for-leather and the other apparently float along behind her except for an occasional step to keep from falling. Then they shrugged and went about their lives, forgetting about them.

And despite having gone miles in minutes, pulling along someone who weighed slightly more than she did, Jean had more than enough wind to tell Peter exactly what she thought of him. “You IDIOT! You complete and total DUMBASS! What the hell were you thinking??”

“Mostly I was thinking, ‘This is so much better when I don’t have to worry about Mrs. Garrity interrupting me.’”

“My fucking GOD,” Jean shouted, bounding across Peterstown’s main north-south drag against the light. “You weren’t thinking at ALL, were you? Did you at least use a rubber?”

Peter spread his legs to let a fire hydrant pass under him, took a couple of stumbling steps, and let Jean keep dragging him along. “Is that some kind of kink thing?” he asked. “Roleplaying the spring mud or-”

“A CONDOM, moron!!”

“I didn’t have one!” Peter shouted back. “It just sorta happened! It’s not like I’m one of those losers who carries one in a wallet for three years hoping-”

“So not only did you have sex with a human,” Jean yelled, yanking Peter around a corner, “you had UNPROTECTED sex with a human!! You had me COVERING your dumb ass while you were FUCKING a HUMAN!! I can’t fucking BELIEVE you!”

“Hey, I was on wolfsbane!” Peter stumbled a little bit, knees almost sliding down to the concrete before he got back on pace. “I stayed human the whole time!”

“You think that makes a fucking difference??”

“Well, she doesn’t know I’m a werewolf! I thought that was kinda important!!”

“Well, she’s gonna know real soon, dumbass!” Jean’s arm yanked Peter forward, and he nearly fell forward onto his face before he regained his balance. “Didn’t your parents tell you what happens when a werewolf has sex with a human?”

“No... the werewolf gets a load off?”

Jean ground her teeth... and then, as Peter’s lame guess sunk in, her jaw dropped. She stopped dead on the sidewalk, letting go of Peter’s arm and allowing him to flop face-first onto the concrete at her heels. “You... your parents,” she said quietly, “they never did the ‘facts of life’ thing with you, did they?”

“Owwww.... my frickin’ head...” Peter slowly picked himself up, holding his head in both hands. “Wasn’t that some kind of bad sitcom from when our parents were kids?”

“Peter,” Jean said, still very quiet but recovering her anger very quickly, “could you quit being stupid for a minute and answer the question? The sex talk. Did your parents ever give you the sex talk?”

“No,” Peter groaned, still holding his head. “There was that class in fifth grade. And Dad gave me an old copy of Hustler and told me to figure it out. Said his nana never told him anything, and he didn’t see why I should have it any easier.”

“Of course he did,” Jean groaned. “What about your mom?”

“She told me to ask my dad or Mrs. Garrity.”

“Of course she did,” Jean growled. She took a deep breath and continued, in a soft, level voice, “Petey, I’m gonna share a little factoid with you now. It’s important, so I need you to listen very carefully. Okay?”

“Um... yeah, okay?”

Jean leaned forward, taking Peter’s cheeks in her hands and bringing his face close to hers. Then, one hand snagging his ear and yanking it to her lips, she shouted, “WHEN A WEREWOLF SCREWS A HUMAN, THAT HUMAN BECOMES A WEREWOLF!!!”

Peter’s hand went to his ringing ear the instant Jean released it. “Oww,” he moaned. “That... wait...” He looked at Jean, finally getting what had her so upset. “You mean Sarah’s going to become a thrall?” he gasped.

“Naw, naw,” Jean said sarcastically, “I mean she’s going to become Chief Justice of the Supreme Fucking Court!” Her hands balled into fists as she continued in a deadly serious tone, “Think about it, numbnuts. Lycanthropy is transmitted through bodily fluids. Blood. Saliva. Mucus. And, yeah, jizz. Any contact whatever that bypasses the skin. A bite, breastfeeding, and- DUH!- sex!!”

Peter’s eyes went utterly blank as he stared out into nothing, or into the future, which in his case began to look like the same thing.

“Long story short?” Jean continued. “You just got a load of lycanthropy off, moron. So yuck it up, funny boy. Sunset is in...” She pulled out her cel phone, took a quick look at the time readout, and finished, “... half an hour.”

An instant later one figure hauled the other along the streets, running hell-for-leather into the southeastern suburbs. This time, however, the figure in the lead was male, and the figure being dragged along was able to run fast enough to keep up without bouncing around like a rag doll.

Behind them, a pair of sneakers with a checkerboard print lay abandoned by the side of the street, slowly cooling off.

My girlfriend’s name is Sarah Hazen. I first met her my freshman year of high school, when her family first moved to town. It was a little awkward at first, because both of us were used to being the weird kid in school, and neither of us really knew how to deal with other people. Anyway, we hardly ever shared classes. Sarah is a top-tier egghead, honor student, and so forth. Me? Not even a little bit. So we were friendly, but not really friends.

That changed my junior year, when I was failing algebra hard. I needed a tutor and bad, and Sarah was the one who actually helped me. I still don’t really understand algebra (or trigonometry, either), but she somehow got me able to fake it enough to save my athletic eligibility. And in the process we got to know each other pretty well.

When I’m around other weres, even Jean, I always feel like I’m not measuring up. Every minute is a test, and I fail every single time. There’s always this horrible pressure, and the only thing I can do that helps even the least little bit is to play along, never cause trouble, just laugh it off, be quiet, and slink away as soon as I can escape.

It’s a lot better with humans. Oh, they still think I’m weird, but they don’t think I’m a complete failure. They don’t expect things out of me- well, they do, but when they do it’s based on their standards, which I have a chance in hell of actually meeting. Team sports are really fun, because my teammates actually think I’m good for something, which is more than I can say for every single member of the pack, my parents included.

But with Sarah it’s different from everybody else. She understands what it’s like to be under expectations- she’s the oldest child of three, and her parents think she’s going to be the next Einstein. She also understands what it’s like to be a misfit- she’s all into comics and cartoons and costumes and things, I mean really into them, like nobody else in school was.

We shared experiences. And... well, we clicked.

It wouldn’t have worked at all if we were both weres or both human, I don’t think. And it wouldn’t have worked if we were into the same stuff. But when we were together it was... okay. Okay to just... you know, just to be, without anybody demanding that we be something else.

So of COURSE I fucked that up. And that was the night the consequences began...

Peter rang the doorbell once, then stepped back to wait.

After three seconds Jean reached around him and begin pushing the doorbell button like she wanted to drive it through the doorframe, sending the electronically reproduced chimes of Big Ben into utter confusion.

After about ten seconds of this the door opened, revealing a lanky- not to say scrawny- young woman with long blonde hair and a frazzled look to her. Her pajamas had been buttoned unevenly, and the large fuzzy monster slippers she wore had seen better days. “Oh, hi, Peter,” she moaned. “I was just about to call you. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our date.” She blinked, then looked over Peter’s shoulder. “Say, Jean, what’re you doing here?”

Peter tried to think of something to say. Hi, Sarah, you’re about to change into a werewolf and lose your impulse control. And it’s kind of my fault, so sorry for making your life really complicated? No, there’s got to be some gentle way of doing this. “Uh... are you feeling, like, um... sick?”

Jean gave Peter a look that should have gotten ten to twenty for attempted murder.

“I’ve been feeling sick all day,” Sarah moaned. “I’m all... itchy, like my skin is trying to crawl right off.” Without noticing it, she slid a hand behind her and scratched her butt through her pajamas. “And for the last hour I keep feeling my heart having palpitations. I can hear the blood rushing in my head. That can’t be right, but with my parents off picking up-”

“Whoa, wait, wait,” Jean cut in. “Maybe it’s just the flu? Any sniffles? Got a temperature?”

“No, I’ve checked my temperature,” Sarah insisted. “With both thermometers, even!”

Peter and Jean shared a moment of imaginative silence before Sarah produced the thermometers from her pockets.

“Oral and ear,” she finished.

“Oh. Yeah,” Peter muttered.

“So,” Jean continued, “your parents are gone? Home alone?”

“Well, they’ll be back after midnight,” Sarah said. “When Daddy called and I told him I was sick, they cancelled the hotel reservations and decided to drive straight home.”

“I see,” Jean said, giving Peter a look.

Peter gave Jean the same look back.

Five seconds later a pair of fuzzy monster slippers joined the city’s rapidly growing collection of abandoned footwear, as Peter and Jean, each holding an arm, carried Sarah around the back of her family’s cul-de-sac house and into the woods behind the subdivision.

Behind them, the sun began sinking behind the hills northwest of town.