It was time to find a cure for Brandon. I was more focused on it than I'd ever been. If we could find a cure for him turning into a werewolf, then we'd be able to deal with the singular conflict of me dating a Westsider.
Ivy, Abby, and I were in the school library, and I was surfing the net for anything that could help solve Brandon's lycan condition while they were occupied with a pile of magazines. However, in my surfing, I wasn't finding anything that seemed reasonable and was becoming increasingly frustrated.
Annoyed, I was tapping my nails against the keys when Ivy placed her hand on mine.
"Stop!" she said. "What are you so worked up about?"
"Oh . . . nothing."
"Are you still thinking about werewolves?" Ivy asked, looking up from her rag mag and peering at the screen. "We know that Brandon was the costumed stalker. And your report is done. What gives?"
"Uh . . ." I switched to the school's home page. "I don't know. It just stuck with me."
"Are you trying to cure the Wolfman?" Ivy teased. "You're always helping out the underprivileged."
"He's not underprivileged, Ivy."
"Well, he isn't one of us." She rolled her eyes and returned to her mag.
I know, I know, I thought. I didn't want to be reminded that my friends didn't approve of outsiders.
"I'm thinking of having a party this weekend," Abby said. "Ivy and Nash had one, so it's my turn. Then it will be yours, Celeste."
I couldn't imagine hosting a party at my house. Our house was modest, not the grand estates my friends called home. We had a few rooms, but they were filled with hand-knit blankets, outdated sofas, and decades-old carpeting instead of designer decor.
"Well, speaking of werewolves," I said. "Maybe we could invite Brandon?" I asked gingerly.
"There she goes again," Ivy protested. "You are always stuck on him. You feel bad for him because everyone's been calling him Wolfman?"
"Including you," I said. "And yes, I do."
"Well, I kind of do, too," Abby said.
"You do?" Ivy and I asked in unison. I was happy that I had someone on my side, but I could tell by Ivy's tone of "you do?" that she felt betrayed.
"He did find Pumpkin," Abby said. "I was distraught without her."
"Yes, that was a nice thing to do," Ivy said. "But you've seen how he eats. Those gloves. He's weird."
I took Abby's positive remark as an opportunity to continue to bring Brandon into the mix. "I think inviting him to your party would be a great way to pay him back," I said. "Someone vandalized his car, so I'm sure he's feeling awful. This could be an olive-branch opportunity if we included him."
"Uh . . . sure," Abby said. "What's one more?"
Ivy rolled her eyes. She didn't like Abby being more amiable than her.
"That would be great!" I said.
"Are you kidding?" Ivy said. "Just like that? Let him into your house?"
"He was at Nash's and seemed pretty normal," Abby said.
"You don't think people will talk?" Ivy asked. "All the popular students, and then him?"
"Let them," I said. "Maybe it will be fun to be the center of gossip for a change."
"Everyone thinks he was the werewolf," Ivy challenged.
"So, maybe he is," I said. "But it won't be a full moon for a few more weeks." I gave her a shot back.
"This will be cool," Abby said. "I did want to do something for him - for finding Pumpkin, but I didn't know what. I feel good about this. Thanks for suggesting it, Celeste."
Ivy snarled under her breath. "Awesome, I do, too," she said. "Why don't we pick him up?" Ivy asked sarcastically. "Celeste and me. We can bring him to your house," she teased.
I seized this opportunity as well. "That's a great idea!" I said.
"But I was just - " Ivy tried.
"I knew you guys had soft spots in you," I said. "I'm so proud of you both."
"It'll be fun to have a werewolf at the party," Abby said. "People will be talking about it for ages."
I was happily daydreaming in third bell, imagining Brandon at Abby's party. I envisioned Abby and me giving him a tour of her house, he and I exchanging glances from across the room and stealing a kiss in her garage when she needed extra drinks.
After fourth bell, I closely followed Abby and Ivy as they approached Brandon at his locker with their mission.
"I'm going to have a party this weekend," Abby said. "And you should come."
Brandon appeared surprised by their friendly conversation and invite.
"Excuse me?" he asked skeptically.
"I'm having a party Friday and would like to invite you," Abby said, adjusting her ponytail.
I stepped out from behind them. Brandon noticed me, and his skeptical expression brightened. We locked eyes, and for a moment, I was lost in his gaze.
Abby must have noticed because she nudged me. I blushed and twisted my beaded necklace.
"I'd like to repay you for finding my dog," Abby said to Brandon.
Abby was the tallest of us girls, but even she didn't stand as tall as Brandon. He smiled down warmly at my friend, and I wasn't sure she wasn't going to blush as well. "You don't have to repay me," he said sincerely.
"No," she said. "I insist you come."
"Celeste and Ivy will pick you up," Abby instructed. "Be ready at nine."
Brandon was taken aback. "You are going to pick me up?" he asked Ivy.
"Yes," Abby answered for her. "They'll be your escorts."
"Well, this is really cool," he said with a radiant smile.
"You'll want to come," Ivy said in her bossy voice. "What else do you have to do?"
I gave him a quick wink, and we moved to our lockers.
"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Ivy said to me. "Like a wolf on fresh meat. He's always staring at you. I think he likes you."
"Good thing you are going out with Nash," Abby said. "Otherwise, you could be dating him."
"Ooh!" Ivy cringed.
My friends cracked up. It was comments like that that made it hard for me to burst out the news that I was in love with Brandon.
That afternoon, I was hanging out at Brandon's guesthouse. The air was still too chilly to spend any time outside without his werewolf form to keep me warm.
We were sitting on top of his bed watching TV, our legs intertwined, sharing a bowl of popcorn.
"That was nice of Abby to invite me to her party," he said. "But if you hadn't been with them, I'd think they were up to something sneaky."
"No, Abby really wants you to come."
"Abby? Or you?" He was skeptical.
"Well, both, silly."
"I thought you might be behind this . . ."
"No, she really wants you to come. They also think they are inviting a werewolf to the party," I confessed softly.
"Uh . . . they are."
"Isn't that ironic?" I asked. We both laughed. His gorgeous smile radiated like before.
"Yes. Fortunately the full moon is still a few weeks away. I've been trying to find a solution. But I haven't found anything."
Deep down I couldn't help but wait impatiently for the full moon to appear. As a werewolf, Brandon had a magnetic and spellbinding quality that I couldn't bear to be without.
"At this point, I might do anything," he said. "I don't want to be a werewolf and I don't want us to be apart." He gazed at me longingly. "Maybe I should meet Dr. Meadows."
Dr. Meadows was the psychic who originally predicted that I'd be in a snowfall surrounded by wolves and warned me against kissing a werewolf. I had returned to her for help for Brandon, but ultimately she was more interested in getting fame and attention for herself than finding a cure for him.
"We can't go back to Dr. Meadows," I said. "We can't trust her."
"Then what do we do?" Brandon was frustrated. He stood up and paced in his room.
"I think we should go back to Charlie and see if he has any ideas," I said.
I'd discovered my favorite resident at Pine Tree Village Retirement Community, Mr. Charlie Worthington, was Brandon's great-grandfather. The elderly man was keen on his Legend's Run werewolf folklore and liked to talk about how the original creature of the moonlight was his great-grandfather.
Brandon seemed pleased with my idea as his dark mood lifted. We grabbed our coats, and he locked his guesthouse door. He politely opened the passenger door of his Jeep and helped me inside, then drove us to Pine Tree Village.
Mr. Worthington was sitting on the couch in the foyer with an inviting grin, greeting all guests.
"What a nice surprise," he said, rising. "It's not even the weekend."
"I'm not here to volunteer," I said. "We want to know more about the Legend's Run werewolf."
"Sit down, please." He was excited to have an eager audience. "Hold my calls," he said to the receptionist, who cracked a smile.
"Do you remember if he was ever cured?" I asked him.
Mr. Worthington took a moment to recollect. "No, I'm sorry to say he never was."
Brandon sighed.
I, too, was disappointed. I was hoping for some magic answers that the Legend's Run werewolf had discovered that helped him become human again.
"He lived the rest of his life as a werewolf," Mr. Worthington said, "if you believe it in the first place."
"We believe it," I said. But I was bummed thinking that Brandon, too, would have to spend his entire life running from the full moon.
"I think you're among the few who do," Mr. Worthington went on. "So why, may I ask, are you two so convinced that my great-grandfather, Brandon's ancestor, was a werewolf?"
Because Brandon is one, I wanted to say. But I was afraid that Mr. Worthington would have a heart attack right in front of us.
"I just think it's possible," I said. "And you are so convincing."
"Your mother did have a wild streak in her," he said to Brandon. "But you seem to have turned out fine."
"I'm not so sure," Brandon said.
"Why not? You have a nice girlfriend. Don't tell me you are a wild child, too."
"I wouldn't say that normally," Brandon said. "But some things have changed . . ."
"Ah, your teen years, that's all," Mr. Worthington re-assured. "I shouldn't have told you that story. Now you'll think you are a werewolf, too!" Mr. Worthington laughed.
When we didn't join in his laughter, Mr. Worthington grew concerned.
"Did I offend you?" he said.
"Of course not," we both replied.
"You don't seem to be the serious type," he went on. "I thought I could poke a bit of fun."
"But we are still interested in your stories," Brandon interjected. "Is there any more you can tell us about the legend? About my family?"
"Ah . . . yes." Mr. Worthington appeared delighted that we - or rather that anyone - was interested in his stories. Many of the seniors at the retirement home longed to talk about their past, but when no one came to visit them, the stories were left to be heard by busy staffers, nurses, or doctors.
"He lived in isolation. Every time there was a full moon, he roamed the woods alone, tormented by his condition - afraid he'd attack and afraid of being hunted down. Naturally the townsfolk were always trying to find 'the wild creature cursed by the moonlight.' There were those who said their livestock were mauled by him, and even a story in which a man claimed to be attacked by him. But without photos or other proof, they were just thought to be only stories."
"Did anyone try to help your great-grandfather?" Brandon asked.
"Yes. The local Native American chieftain and several gypsies. Potions, salves, and spells. But nothing kept the full moonlight from changing him. Eventually he fled into the woods and never returned."
I was saddened by his fate. Brandon hung his head low.
"I've often thought that is why your mother was so restless," Mr. Worthington continued. "I can't understand her behavior - not being responsible. Maybe it is just me trying to justify her behavior. But it is reprehensible."
Brandon pushed his hair back off his face.
"But I see you have done fine, Brandon," Mr. Worthington said. "Your father takes great care of you."
"Yes. And now my grandparents do as well."
"And you have this beautiful young lady here. You seem to have it all."
"Yes, except one thing," Brandon said.
"What is that?" Mr. Worthington wondered aloud.
"The answer to the mystery of your story." Brandon leaned in toward his elderly relative. "What could cure the werewolf?"
"Ah . . . yes," Mr. Worthington said. "That is what you came to find out? I think that is left up to science. Or the mystics. Or the imagination."
"Mystics?" I asked. I wasn't sure about going back to Dr. Meadows. But maybe we were supposed to heed Mr. Worthington's advice.
"Science," Brandon said as if that was the answer he'd been waiting for. "That's just what I had in mind."
"I guess we have to go to Dr. Meadows," I said to Brandon when we got back into his Jeep.
"Charlie gave us the answer," Brandon said. "My father."
"But your dad isn't a mystic."
"I know. He's a scientist."
"But isn't he in Europe?" I asked. Then I paused. "Does that mean you'll have to go there?"
"I don't know. I just know I have to tell him," Brandon said. "But he's going to freak out."
"He'll want to come and get you, won't he?" I was worried that if his father took him back with him to Europe, I might never see Brandon again.
"Everything happened so fast," Brandon said. "The thought of telling my dad - I was hoping to get this solved by myself. But I see now that I can't."
Of course I wanted Brandon to tell his father - we needed him to tell him. But I didn't want his father to take him away from Legend's Run and back to Miller's Glen or as far away as Europe.
"He's a busy man - and an ocean away. He's going to totally flip out," Brandon said when he pulled into his drive.
We both were lost in thought as he drove down his tree-lined driveway and parked by his guesthouse.
"How do you call your father and say, 'Hey, Dad, I think I'm a werewolf'?" Brandon appeared overwhelmed by the task at hand and leaned back in his seat.
"Maybe you should invite him here," I said. "Tell him you need him to come home - and plan it just before the full moon appears. Then you won't need to tell him. Instead, he'll see it."
Brandon was considering my suggestion, but he still appeared troubled. "I hate to be a burden to him. His job is important. Many people rely on him. It's not like he has a job where he can just come home for lunch. He's in Europe."
"But you're his son. No job is more important than that. He'll understand."
"I know . . . but he'll think I'm crazy."
If Brandon's father thought he was crazy, it wouldn't be good for either of us.
"Do you think he will make you leave Legend's Run?" I asked, concerned.
"I don't know. I don't know what he'll do. But I'm not going anywhere." Then he placed his hand on mine. "Not without you."
I didn't want Brandon to leave, but I didn't want to be so selfish that I stood in the way of his being cured.
I unbuckled my seat belt and scooted close to him. "You have to call him. I know it will be awkward. But I know you can do it. I'll stay with you if you'd like."
"I think this is something I have to do alone."
I put my free hand on his knee. His green cargo pants were thick, but I could still feel his toned leg, strong from skating and working on his grandparents' property.
I wanted him to know I was there for him. Didn't Brandon do everything on his own already? Eat lunch, study, live life as a werewolf. It broke my heart to see him have to face another moment alone.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes. I'll call you as soon as I talk to him. If I hurry, I might be able to catch him before he goes to bed."
This meant I'd have to go home; I didn't want to leave Brandon's side. I wanted to stay and help him.
He got out of the Jeep, preoccupied. The impending phone call was causing him major stress. He barely made eye contact.
"It will be okay," I reassured him as I opened my car door.
"Always the cheerleader," he said. "Hey, why aren't you one? You'd look cute in those short, pleated skirts."
"I tried out and didn't make it," I said. "Freshman year. I guess I'm not coordinated enough. So I cheer from the stands instead."
Brandon's blue eyes and red-hot lips blazed. He leaned into me and kissed me, long. I wasn't about to let go. But then he broke away.
"I'll call you," he said, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. He leaned in and gave me a hug and another kiss. "I couldn't do this without you," he said.
But Brandon wouldn't have been in this situation without me, either. I was torn.
I got into my car and drove away, my heart aching for him and imagining him making the hardest call of his life.
I paced inside my home and waited impatiently for Brandon's call.
He will be here in time for the full moon.
It was after midnight when I finally got the text. I was unable to sleep, read, or write and was trying to ease my mind by watching a romantic comedy. When I read his text, a wave of relief flowed through me. Brandon's father was coming to his rescue, like Brandon had come to mine when I'd been lost in the wintry woods and stumbled upon the pack of wolves. His father was a genius scientist and surely would be able to figure out what Brandon needed to do. It was good that Brandon was finally going to trust someone else with the secret of his lycan condition.
But what if Brandon was cured and this full moon would be his last? Was that something I really wanted? Of course, I knew it was, but there was a piece of me that would be haunted by not being with the werewolf that I'd loved.
I'd miss our moments together in the snowy woods, surrounded by playful and gentle wolves, his super-strength, powerful and sultry kisses, and ��ber-hot body. I'd have to say good-bye to his unearthly magnetism that I couldn't get out of my skin; his sensual woodsy smell that remained on my clothes and hair; his divine touch that kept me warm in the coldest of temperatures. I was happy for him but sort of sad for me. These experiences would be only cherished memories.
But the important thing was Brandon would be normal, and he and I could officially date. Maybe my friends could finally accept him into our pack.