Hair in All The Wrong Places (10 page)

“They're looking for me,” said both Colin and Silas at the same time.

“They're not looking for you, Colin. They don't even
know you're a threat. They've had some sort of psychic or mind reader tracking me.”

Colin didn't want to bring up the events of the evening at the crime scene. Things were confusing enough as it was.

“Listen,” said Silas. “I'll head toward the coastline and lead them away. You head out the back, move fast, stay low, and get back to town.”

“And then what?”

“I'll be watching you.”

“Because I might be a killer dog?”

“Yes, but I created you, which makes you my responsibility. I'll find you again. You're going to notice more changes as your human and wolf sides balance out. Best stay indoors whenever you can. Ignore the urges as much as possible! Go, now!”

Silas pushed Colin up.

“Urges? What urges? Who are these people who are chasing you? What's so special about Elkwood? How come—”

Colin turned around, but Silas had already left the room. The vehicles were through the main gate and fifty feet from the house. Colin turned and ran through the house. He grabbed the kitchen doorknob and yanked the entire door off its hinges.

Smells wafted at him, mostly from cows. He jumped from the back deck and hit the ground running. Somewhere behind him, car doors opened and closed, people shouting, but Colin didn't look back. He just kept running.

Half a mile later, he remembered to drop the kitchen door.

C
olin had trouble sleeping. Strangely enough, it wasn't the knowledge that he was turning into a bloodthirsty creature or any of the other bizarre events from the last few days. It wasn't any of those things that kept him tossing and turning. It was the smells. Every time he drifted off, he'd catch a whiff of something in his room: a shoe, a dried ketchup stain, his laundry, books, the carpet, the remains of last week's grilled cheese sandwich. Every time a new scent floated to him, it was like getting slapped in the face.

Just before dawn, he finally dropped off to sleep for a couple of hours. He woke up when a smell of cheap hand cream and old lady perfume almost made his eyes water. His grandmother was standing over his bed staring at him. Or, at least, in his general direction.

Colin made a
grafaahh
sort of sound and pulled his blankets up to his neck. There are some things that you
don't want to wake up to. His grandmother was one of those things.

“The police are here,” said his grandmother.

“What?” Colin was instantly awake.

“They want to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Where were you last night?” She squinted her blind eyes, and Colin imagined she was examining his soul. He always felt like that when she was focused on him.

A crime scene, Grandfather's garage, chained up in the basement of the Baker's farmhouse.

“I was here, in bed, all night,” claimed Colin hastily.

“Hmm. Some kids went to the crime scene last night. Made a mess. They're talking to kids from your class. You better not have been involved!”

“I wasn't. I was asleep, all night.”

“I don't want to be harboring a criminal!”

“Oh, give it a rest!”

What am I doing?

Colin had never spoken to his grandmother like that. She was far too terrifying for that sort of rebellion. For a moment, she didn't say anything. She just fixed on him as if weighing him up, like a cobra giving serious thought to eating a mouse.

“Watch your tongue, young man, or you'll find yourself losing it,” she said finally. “Get some clothes on. Those police men are taking up space in my living room, and I want to watch
The Price is Right
.”

The old lady shuffled out of Colin's room, slamming the door behind her. Colin rubbed his temples and tried to compose himself. He slipped on some jeans and a
T-shirt and went to leave his room, but his reflection gave him pause.

He looked bigger. All over. Like he'd swollen overnight. His hair looked thicker, and his eyes were …

Brighter?

He moved closer to the mirror. Colin hadn't grown any facial hair yet. Still, he'd tried shaving the nothingness on his face to encourage growth. It didn't work. Staring back at him now, however, was a face with the lightest shadow of hair as if he'd been shaving for years. His complexion was completely clear, and his face looked full of life, less pale. Even his overall lankiness had been eaten up by broader shoulders and upper body definition. He pulled up his shirt.

I have muscles!

There was a definition to his stomach that hadn't been there before. His chest seemed more pronounced.

Silas had told him that the human and wolf inside him were trying to balance out. Would he wake up one morning to find himself completely covered in hair? Did he even care?

I look amazing!

He admired himself in the mirror again.

“Colin Strauss, get down here right now,” came the shrill shriek of his grandmother from downstairs.

Colin ran down the stairs taking two at a time. His grandmother was sitting in her chair with an angry look on her face. In her defense, it was the exact same look that she always had.

Colin recognized the two police officers. One was Sherriff Drewbaker, a tiny, older gentleman with bug eyes
and a distinctly weathered look. The other was a deputy Colin had seen around town but didn't know by name.

“Good morning, Colin,” said the sheriff. “This here is Deputy Grint. We'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Colin's stomach twisted in knots, and he started sweating.

“You two want a cup of coffee?” asked his grandmother.

“No, ma'am, thank you,” said the sheriff.

“Good,” said his grandmother. “Now get on with it. I'm sure you have better things to do in this town than harass my grandson. He's a good boy!”

Well, this is different.

In Colin's entire history of life, he couldn't recall his grandmother ever referring to him as
good.
Lazy? Yes. Good-for-nothing? Absolutely. Waste of space? On several occasions.

“Of course, we won't take up much of your time,” said the sheriff. “Now, Colin, you obviously know about the incident with Sam Bale?”

Colin nodded.

Small movements, Colin, nothing too abrupt and don't do anything that makes you look guilty.

“Eaten by a wolf?” blurted out Colin.

The sheriff and Deputy Grint looked at Colin. Deputy Grint adjusted his belt.

What did I just say?

“Well,” said the Sheriff, “there are a lot of wild rumors floating around. Something attacked and killed him, but we don't know what yet. We're still waiting on forensics.”

“Probably a bobcat,” declared his grandmother.

“That's a possibility,” continued the sheriff. “Colin,
I'll get to the point. There were some kids who went out to the crime scene last night. With this sort of crime, it's important to preserve the area until we can evaluate all the evidence. We don't want people wandering around out there, especially since we don't know what kind of animal we're dealing with.”

“I was in bed all night.” Colin interrupted so quickly that it sounded more like
Iwasinbedallnight
.

“So you never went out last night? Maybe with your friend Jeremy?”

“Jeremy? No, I never saw Jeremy last night. I was in bed all night. He wasn't in bed with me. I mean, I was alone all night.”

“You seem nervous, Mr. Strauss,” observed Deputy Grint, adjusting his belt again.

Yeah, I might have eaten Sam Bale. You'd be nervous too
.

“No, I'm fine. I'm good, really quite good. Are you guys okay?”

The sheriff sighed. “Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell us, Colin?”

“Nope,” said Colin, this time too slowly.

The sheriff and Deputy Grint stared at him.

What are they waiting for? Am I supposed to say something else? Man, I feel hungry.

And he did. An overwhelming hunger washed over him as if he'd been lost in the desert for two weeks and just found a McDonald's. The room shifted slightly as Colin's senses kicked into overdrive. Suddenly very aware of his surroundings, he could hear an irritating, high-pitched whine.

“You guys hear that? Is that the TV?”

The sound melted into the background as details from the fading yellow wallpaper in his grandmother's living room jumped into view. The layers of color on the TV set were so distinctly clear. He could see the individual hairs in the creepy moustache of Deputy Grint. Turning slightly, he noticed the skin on the sheriff's arms. He wanted to bite it. He wanted to bite the sheriff's arm right off and feel his teeth sink into the sinewy flesh and muscle, feel the warm blood trickle down his chin, and—

“Colin, are you okay?” asked the sheriff warily. “Your eyes are a little … wide.”

Colin's senses still blared at him, but he managed a small nod. He had the feeling that if he tried to open his mouth he'd end up trying to eat Elkwood's sheriff.

“Okay, boys. I think it's time for you to go,” said Colin's grandmother, suddenly standing between Colin and the two policemen.

“We're almost done here,” said Deputy Grint.

“Are you sure, young man?” asked the little old lady. “Are you sure you're not done now?”

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance as another storm began to boil over Elkwood.

“Look here, Mrs—”

The sheriff put a hand on Deputy Grint's shoulder. It was a small movement, but Colin watched as the sheriff gave a small shake of his head toward his deputy.

“Yes, we're done now. Thank you, ma'am,” said the sheriff. Both men left quickly. Grint smelled angry to Colin, like a campfire that had just been doused with water.

As soon as the front door closed all ninety pounds
of Colin's grandmother swivelled around and fixed her blind eyes on Colin's face.

“You lied to those men. You're hiding something.”

“I don't feel well,” blurted Colin. “I think I'm coming down with something.”

Like werewolf-itis.

“Then you best get to bed. I don't want any sickness in this house. Get up those stairs and get some rest, and whatever you're hiding, whatever you didn't tell those men, it better not be anything serious.”

Colin turned and headed upstairs, his senses still bouncing around wildly. The rain continued to fall on the street outside, and sounds drifted from the neighbors' houses. He heard his grandmother shuffle back into the living room and the creak of her old chair as she settled into it. Then she began talking to herself.

“Gallivanting around wet fields in the middle of the night with some girl is a sure recipe for sickness if you ask me,” muttered his grandmother.

How did she know?

Colin really was tired. His whole body felt heavier. He crawled back into bed but couldn't get comfortable. After much repositioning, he finally curled up into a ball at the bottom of his bed and drifted off to sleep.

I
. Am. A. Werewolf.

This was the first thought that came to mind every time he awoke that restless night. In an effort to get some sleep, Colin finally figured out if he smelled something once, it wouldn't be strong enough to wake him up. He began systematically sniffing his entire room. He started at the corner near the window and moved around counter clockwise until he was back at his bed and confident that he'd inventoried every scent in his room.

Will I have to do this every night? Or at least on the nights when I'm not out eating my classmates.

He crawled back into his bed, tried to get comfy the conventional way but failed and ended up curling up in a ball at the end of his bed again. In an instant, he was asleep and dreaming of angry townsfolk hunting him through dark forests once more. Distantly he heard
Silas calling his name, but he was too preoccupied with avoiding the mob to answer.

Colin awoke to several smells all centered around one thing. Crushed lavender, cheap skin cream, anger, frustration, worry … and something else he couldn't place. It wasn't an object, and his newly sensitized nose couldn't identify it as anything emotional; it was just … something.

Without opening his eyes, Colin mumbled, “Good morning, Grandmother.”

“Hmph! Morning, is it? You've been asleep almost twenty-four hours, you lazy little ingrate!” said his grandmother.

Colin opened his eyes, breathing in the scent of rain on the wet concrete outside only to find his diminutive grandmother towering over his bed, attention fixed on his prone form. “It's Sunday?” said Colin.

“Yes. You should get out and get some fresh air. It'll do you good!”