Part 30 (2/2)
”Yes, really. Cows, horses, pigs, geese, chickens.”
He's impressed. ”Horses? Can I play with them?” I revise my estimate of his age further downward.
”I don't know about playing with them but you can help feed them,” I say. Maybe there'll be time before they kill him.
”Cool,” he says, turning back to the window. He's reminding me of a puppy. A puppy we are taking to be put down.
AFTER.
We arrive at the road to the farm well before sunset, which is a first. But then, we don't usually leave before noon or come up on a weekday. We're against traffic the whole way. It's the densest leaf coverage since we left the city. The trees are close to the side of the dirt road, they lean in over it, obscuring the sun. Golds, reds, browns, and purples surround us. The light s.h.i.+ning through the leaves sets them ablaze. It is beautiful.
The boy is openmouthed.
If I'm going to tell my parents about what the Greats have planned for the white boy-for Pete-now's the time. We're only about ten minutes from the house, even driving as slow as Dad is. What do I say to them? What do I say to Pete?
What would Zach want me to do? Get vengeance on his killer? Or forgive him?
”Is that a house?” the boy asks. ”It's covered in trees.” You can see part of the porch and two of the windows. The rest is lost in the foliage.
Dad stops the car. ”It is,” he says. ”My mother's house. I grew up here. I'm sure you'll like it.” Because Dad sure didn't.
We all get out as Grandmother and Great-Aunt Dorothy walk down the front steps to meet us. Too late for me to say anything. I am a coward as well as a liar. But the boy's a killer. Zach's dead because of him.
”This is him, then?” my grandmother says, looking at the boy.
My cousins come crowding around. Pete cowers, ready to be struck. The wolfish ones stand back a bit, still scratched up. Yesterday they were wolves. But I can tell they're curious. More even than their human brothers and sisters and cousins.
”How old are you, boy?” Grandmother asks.
”Dunno.”
”He told me thirteen or fourteen,” I say, ”but I think he's younger.”
”Could be. He is scrawny,” Grandmother says. ”Come into the house,” she says to my parents. ”Micah, show the boy around.”
”Okay,” I say. I'm relieved the Greats will explain what's going to happen to the boy. Better them than me. My mother will try to save him. I'm not sure whether I want her to succeed or not.
”Get back to your ch.o.r.es and lessons,” Great-Aunt tells the cousins. They melt away from the boy. He peers back at them, eyes wide. One of the youngest girls waves. He smiles at her.
This is not going to be easy.
”What's her name?” he asks.
”Um,” I say, ”not sure. I can never keep them all straight.”
”I thought you said they were your family?”
”They are. They're my cousins, second cousins, like that. The old ladies are my grandmother and great-aunt.”
”Then why don't you know who's who?”
”I don't spend much time here and there's a lot of them.” Also, I don't want to know. I've always kept myself as separate as I can. I belong in the city. I am only ever here temporarily. ”And she's not a wolf.”
I never wanted to belong on the farm. That's why I hardly talk to my cousins. I don't want to know them.
But I can't avoid knowing the wolves. When we change, we're a pack.
I do not want to be part of a pack with Pete.
”They're really your family?” he asks.
”Yes, they're really my family.”
”But they're all white.”
I roll my eyes. ”You may have noticed that my grandmother's white and my dad's black. It's not that tricky to figure out.”
”But none of your cousins are black?”
”No.”
”So wolfs aren't all black?”
”Wolves. No. How could they be? You're a wolf. You're white.”
”I thought they'd be black like you.”
”I'm the only black werewolf I know.”
”Huh,” the boy says. ”How soon will I be a wolf again?”
”In about a month. Give or take.”
”Why does it take so long?”
”Only happens once a month. They've all just changed back so you missed it.”
”Oh,” he says. I can't tell if he's disappointed. His voice is too flat.
”You have to wait,” I tell him.
”Can I see the horses?”
I lead him to the stables, wondering what to do. He's so young and stupid. So deprived. This is the biggest adventure of his life. He was excited about seeing a cow, and now about seeing horses. He's never been outside the city before. He's never seen or done anything.
My youngest cousin, Lilly, is mucking out one of the stalls with a spade that's almost bigger than she is. She's a wolf, but young. Her first change is a few years off yet. ”This is Pete,” I tell her. ”Want to introduce him to the horses?”
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