Linger

I didn’t understand her question at first. When I didn’t answer right away, she clarified, “Being a wolf?”

I kind of loved that she just came out and said it.

“Better,” I said, admitting the truth before I had time to censor it. She didn’t look disgusted, like Isabel had. So I looked straight at her and told her the rest of the truth. “I became a wolf to lose myself, and that’s just what I got. All I can think about when I’m a wolf is being with the other wolves. I don’t think about the future or the past or who I was. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that moment, and being with the other wolves, and just being a ball of heightened senses. No deadlines. No expectations. It’s amazing. It’s the best drug ever.”

Grace smiled at me as if I’d given her a present. It was such a nice smile, a knowing, genuine smile, that I thought in that moment that I would do anything to be her friend and to earn that smile again. I remembered what Isabel had said about Grace having been bitten but never shifting. I wondered if Grace was glad about that or if she felt cheated.

And so I asked her, “Do you feel cheated that you don’t shift?”

She looked at her hand, which was resting gingerly on her stomach, and then back up at me. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like. I’ve always felt out of place. In between. I’ve always wanted—I don’t know.” She stopped. “Taking that vacuum on a walk, Sam?”

And then Sam was there, hauling an industrial vacuum cleaner into the room. He’d only been gone two seconds, but the room got brighter when they were together, as if they were two elements that became brilliant in proximity. At Sam’s clumsy efforts to carry the vacuum, Grace smiled a new smile that I thought only he ever got, and he shot her a withering look full of the sort of subtext you could only get from a lot of conversations whispered after dark.

It made me think about Isabel, back at her house. We didn’t have what Sam and Grace had. We weren’t even close to having it. I didn’t think what we had could get to this, even if you gave it a thousand years.

I was suddenly glad that I’d left Isabel on her bed and then alone at her house. It hurt to let myself remember I was poison to everyone I touched, but for once, it felt good to be self-aware. I couldn’t stop myself from exploding, but I could at least learn to contain the fallout.

• GRACE •

I felt bad sitting on the chair while Sam and Cole cleaned. Under normal circumstances, I would have jumped up to help. Cleaning a room that looked this bad was satisfying, because it really looked like you’d accomplished something by the end.

But tonight, I couldn’t. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open. I felt like I’d been fighting something invisible all day and now it was catching up to me. My stomach felt warm and full under my hand; I imagined blood sloshing around inside it. And my skin was hot hot hot.

Across the room, I saw Sam and Cole working in silent concert, Cole crouched with the dustpan while Sam swept up the pieces too large to vacuum. For some reason, I was glad to see them working together. Again, I thought that Beck must have seen something in Cole. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he’d brought back another musician. He wouldn’t have done something so risky as infecting a famous rocker if he hadn’t thought there was a good reason behind it. Maybe he thought that if Sam managed to stay human, he and Cole would be friends.

It would be good for Sam to have a friend if I—

In my head, I saw Cole’s face when he’d asked, Do you feel cheated that you don’t shift?

When I was younger, I had imagined being a wolf. Running away with Sam the wolf into a golden wood, far away from my distant parents and the clutter of modern life. And again, when I’d thought I would lose Sam to the woods, I’d dreamed of going with him. Sam had been horrified. But now, finally, Cole had told me the other side of the coin. All that matters is that moment, and being with the other wolves, and just being a ball of heightened senses.

Yes.

It wouldn’t be all bad. There was a payoff. To feel the forest floor under paws, to see and smell everything with brand-new senses. To know what it was like to be part of the pack, part of the wild. If I lost this battle, maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible. To live in the woods that I loved, would that be such a great sacrifice?

Irrationally, I thought of the stack of unfinished mysteries on my bedroom shelf. I thought of lying on my bed with my jeans-covered legs tangled in Sam’s, him reading his novel while I did my homework. Of riding in his car with the windows rolled down. Of us hand in hand on a college campus. Of an apartment full of our clutter, of a ring cupped in the palm of his hand, of life after school, of life as Grace.

I closed my eyes.

I hurt so much. Everything about me hurt, and there wasn’t anything I could do. The promise of the woods was different when it wasn’t a choice.

• SAM •

I thought she was tired. I figured it had been a long day. I didn’t say anything until Cole noticed.

“She slept through the vacuum cleaner?” Cole asked, as if she were a small child or a dog and this was one of her more endearing habits.

I felt an irrational surge of anxiety, looking at her closed eyes, her slow breaths, her flushed cheeks. Then Grace lifted her head, and my heart started again.

I looked at the clock. Her parents would be getting back soon. We needed to get her home.

“Grace,” I said, because she looked as if she might fall asleep again.

“Mmm?” She was still curled sideways on the armchair, her face resting on the arm.

“When did you say your parents wanted you back by?” I asked. Grace’s eyes darted to me, suddenly awake, and I saw in her expression that she hadn’t been honest with me. My chest tightened. “Do they know you’re gone?”

Grace looked away, cheeks colored. I’d never seen her look ashamed, and somehow it heightened how unwell she looked. “I should be home before they get back from the show. Midnight.”

“So now,” Cole said.

For a single, helpless, wordless moment, I thought Grace and I both had the same thought: that we didn’t want this day to end. That we didn’t want to part ways and climb into two cold beds far from each other. But there wasn’t any use saying that out loud, so instead I said, “You do look really tired; you probably should get some sleep.” Which was not at all what I wanted to say. I wanted to take her hand and lead her upstairs to my bedroom and whisper, Stay. Just stay.