“It was great of you to let Dad in when your uncle was telling you not to.”
Scratching his head, Matt replied, “I still don’t know if that was what I should have done. Is your father’s name Ferdinand?”
“Yes. Mom calls him Andy.”
“Well, he’s kind of the demon of all the campfire and Halloween stories Uncle Shawn ever told us.”
If the situation hadn’t been such a tangle I would have chuckled. “Your uncle is the villain of my bedtime stories. I used to have nightmares about him.”
Matt sat up. “I used to not be able to sleep for thinking that a vampire was going to get me.”
“A very thin English Major vampire who likes gardening,” I amended.
“Somehow that detail never quite made it into the bloodcurdling tales of horror and the macabre. Though English teachers do scare me quite a bit.”
I suddenly had a mental image of Matt running away screaming from English class. At the same time, my ears caught the H.P. Lovecraft reference– Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre was one of his anthologies–and I filed it away for Christmas gift possibilities. “Are you freaked out by all this? I would understand if you were, and I won’t bite you. Even though, as far as we know, what I have can’t be passed on through biting.”
“Oh, nothing serious. My world view has turned upside down and inside out, but I think I can handle it.” Our eyes met, and my resulting shiver nearly made Shelob fall off.
“Is it worse than when you found out that your uncle was a werewolf?”
“Not as bad, no. Even though it’s complicated because of. . . well. . . you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not daring to hope.
He turned pink. “Just because Uncle Shawn seemed such a werewolftype person. Aggressive, conflicted, having a tough time holding a job. You are an interesting girl, and fun, someone that I met less than three weeks ago, not a nasty bone in your body.”
“You are obviously not a very good judge of character,” I said, opting for bluntness. “We first found out about my morphing ability when I meant to slap Tammy and ended up clawing her.” I explained the circumstances of that confrontation to him, occasionally giggling at inappropriate points because Shelob’s hairs were tickling my neck.
Matt cocked his head to one side, doing his best to look sympathetic but ending up looking queasy. “I’m sorry,” he interjected at one point, “I don’t like hearing about blood.”
“That’s pretty strange for a hockey player.”
He shrugged. “My nickname in the locker room is ‘The Fainter’. Besides, in our high school team, it’s more bruises than bleeding. I still don’t think you’re a violent person. I’d call you violent if you sent her to intensive care. Go on with the story.”
“Not much else to tell, really. I got detention and a huge drop in social status. You and Taylor are my only good friends left.”
“Thanks for the big responsibility,” Matt joked, pulling himself up beside me. He took the sleeping Shelob off my shoulder and put her back in her tank. “So your mom is a werewolf and she’s got AIDS?”
“It’s on the border between HIV infection and AIDS right now. She’ll have the full-blown thing in a few months.” I slumped backwards, feeling like a balloon with all the air let out of it.
“I don’t know how you bear it all.”
“Good question. I don’t either.”
We sat still for a while, listening to the urgent cheeping of one of the crickets from Shelob’s food supply. The door creaked open, and a small blond head poked in. “Matthew’s got a girlfriend!” it gasped.
“Luke, aren’t you kind of in trouble?” Matt asked lightly.
His brother shook his head. “Nope.” Giggles from the other two boys came from behind him as they all stared at me. I felt like diving under the bed.
“Let’s check.” He sat up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “DAD! MARK, LUKE, AND JOHN ARE OUT!”
“Ma-a-att, no!” protested John.
Mark
Scratching his head, Matt replied, “I still don’t know if that was what I should have done. Is your father’s name Ferdinand?”
“Yes. Mom calls him Andy.”
“Well, he’s kind of the demon of all the campfire and Halloween stories Uncle Shawn ever told us.”
If the situation hadn’t been such a tangle I would have chuckled. “Your uncle is the villain of my bedtime stories. I used to have nightmares about him.”
Matt sat up. “I used to not be able to sleep for thinking that a vampire was going to get me.”
“A very thin English Major vampire who likes gardening,” I amended.
“Somehow that detail never quite made it into the bloodcurdling tales of horror and the macabre. Though English teachers do scare me quite a bit.”
I suddenly had a mental image of Matt running away screaming from English class. At the same time, my ears caught the H.P. Lovecraft reference– Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre was one of his anthologies–and I filed it away for Christmas gift possibilities. “Are you freaked out by all this? I would understand if you were, and I won’t bite you. Even though, as far as we know, what I have can’t be passed on through biting.”
“Oh, nothing serious. My world view has turned upside down and inside out, but I think I can handle it.” Our eyes met, and my resulting shiver nearly made Shelob fall off.
“Is it worse than when you found out that your uncle was a werewolf?”
“Not as bad, no. Even though it’s complicated because of. . . well. . . you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, not daring to hope.
He turned pink. “Just because Uncle Shawn seemed such a werewolftype person. Aggressive, conflicted, having a tough time holding a job. You are an interesting girl, and fun, someone that I met less than three weeks ago, not a nasty bone in your body.”
“You are obviously not a very good judge of character,” I said, opting for bluntness. “We first found out about my morphing ability when I meant to slap Tammy and ended up clawing her.” I explained the circumstances of that confrontation to him, occasionally giggling at inappropriate points because Shelob’s hairs were tickling my neck.
Matt cocked his head to one side, doing his best to look sympathetic but ending up looking queasy. “I’m sorry,” he interjected at one point, “I don’t like hearing about blood.”
“That’s pretty strange for a hockey player.”
He shrugged. “My nickname in the locker room is ‘The Fainter’. Besides, in our high school team, it’s more bruises than bleeding. I still don’t think you’re a violent person. I’d call you violent if you sent her to intensive care. Go on with the story.”
“Not much else to tell, really. I got detention and a huge drop in social status. You and Taylor are my only good friends left.”
“Thanks for the big responsibility,” Matt joked, pulling himself up beside me. He took the sleeping Shelob off my shoulder and put her back in her tank. “So your mom is a werewolf and she’s got AIDS?”
“It’s on the border between HIV infection and AIDS right now. She’ll have the full-blown thing in a few months.” I slumped backwards, feeling like a balloon with all the air let out of it.
“I don’t know how you bear it all.”
“Good question. I don’t either.”
We sat still for a while, listening to the urgent cheeping of one of the crickets from Shelob’s food supply. The door creaked open, and a small blond head poked in. “Matthew’s got a girlfriend!” it gasped.
“Luke, aren’t you kind of in trouble?” Matt asked lightly.
His brother shook his head. “Nope.” Giggles from the other two boys came from behind him as they all stared at me. I felt like diving under the bed.
“Let’s check.” He sat up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “DAD! MARK, LUKE, AND JOHN ARE OUT!”
“Ma-a-att, no!” protested John.
Mark
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