Werewolf Skin

I stepped down from the bus and squinted into the sunlight. Shielding my eyes
with one hand, I searched the small parking lot for Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta.

I didn’t remember what they looked like. I hadn’t seen them since I was four,
eight years ago.

But the Wolf Creek bus station was so tiny. Just a little wooden shack in the
middle of a big parking lot. I knew I couldn’t miss them.

“How many suitcases?” the bus driver growled out of the side of his mouth.
Despite the cold October air, he had a damp sweat stain on the back of his gray
uniform.

“Just one,” I said. I was the only passenger to get off at Wolf Creek.

Across from the bus station, I saw a gas station and a one-block stretch of
small stores. Beyond that, I could see the woods. The trees shimmered yellow and
brown, the autumn leaves still clinging to their branches. Dry, brown leaves fluttered across the parking lot.

The driver grunted as he hoisted up the sliding door to the baggage
compartment. He pulled out a black bag. “This yours, kid?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I shivered from a gust of cold wind. I wondered if Mom and Dad had packed
enough warm clothes for me. They’d had to pack me up in such a hurry.

They weren’t expecting to be called out of the country on business just
before Halloween. They’d had to fly to France. And they’d had to find a place
for me to stay for two weeks. Maybe longer.

My aunt and uncle were the lucky winners!

I adjusted the camera bag on my shoulder. I kept my camera on my lap the
whole bus ride. I didn’t want it bouncing around in the baggage compartment.

My camera is the most valuable thing I own. I don’t go anywhere without it.
And I seldom let it out of my sight.

The driver slid my suitcase over the pavement to me. He slammed shut the
baggage compartment. Then he started back into the bus. “Someone picking you
up?”

“Yes,” I replied, searching for Uncle Colin and Aunt Marta again.

A mud-splattered blue van squealed into the parking lot. The horn honked. I saw a hand waving to me from the passenger
window.

“There they are!” I told the bus driver. But he had already climbed back
inside and shut the door. The bus hissed and groaned, and pulled away.

“Alex—hi!” Aunt Marta called from the van.

I picked up my suitcase and trotted over to them. The van screeched to a
stop. Uncle Colin climbed out from behind the wheel. Aunt Marta came running
from the other side.

I didn’t remember them at all. I pictured them as young and dark-haired. But
they were both pretty old-looking. They were both very tall and lean. As they
hurried across the lot to me, they reminded me of two skinny grasshoppers with
tufts of gray hair on their heads.

Aunt Marta wrapped me in a hug. Her arms felt so bony. “Alex—it’s so
wonderful to see you! I’m so glad you came!” she exclaimed.

She let go quickly and backed away. “Uh-oh. I’m crushing your camera case!”

I shifted it around my neck. “No, it’s a hard case,” I replied. “It’s okay.”

Smiling, Uncle Colin shook hands with me. His wavy gray hair fluttered in the
breeze. His cheeks were red and sort of cracked. Age lines, I guess.

“You’re so big and grown-up,” he said, “I’m going to have to call you Mr.
Hunter instead of Alex.”

I laughed. “No one calls me Mr. Hunter—yet,” I told him.

“How was the long bus ride?” he asked.

“Bumpy,” I told him. “I don’t think the driver missed a single pothole! And
the man next to me had the hiccups the whole way.”

Aunt Marta chuckled. “Sounds like a fun trip.”

Uncle Colin lowered his eyes to my camera case. “Like to take pictures,
Alex?”

I nodded. “Yes. I want to be a photographer someday. Just like you two.”

Their smiles grew wider. That seemed to please them.

But Uncle Colin’s smile faded quickly. “It’s a hard way to make a living,” he
said. “Lots of traveling. We never stay in one place for long.”

Aunt Marta sighed. “That’s why we haven’t seen you for so many years.” She
hugged me again.

“I was hoping maybe I could go out on a shoot with you,” I said. “I’ll bet
you two could teach me a lot!”

Uncle Colin laughed. “We’ll teach you
all
our secrets.”

“You’re staying for at least two weeks,” Aunt Marta added. “So we’ll have
plenty of time for photography lessons.”

“Not if we spend the whole time in this parking lot!” Uncle Colin declared.
With a groan, he hoisted my suitcase into the back of the van.

We climbed in. And a few seconds later, we pulled away from the bus station,
into town.

A post office whirred past. Then a small grocery and a dry cleaner. We
crossed a street, and thick woods surrounded us on both sides.

“Is that all there is?” I cried.

“Alex,” Aunt Marta replied, “you’ve just had the grand tour of Wolf Creek.”

“Hope you won’t be bored in such a tiny town,” Uncle Colin added, turning the
van sharply as the road curved through the trees.

“No way!” I cried. “I really want to explore the woods.”

I’m a city kid. I seldom even get to
touch
a tree. Going into the
woods, I thought, will be so interesting—like visiting another planet.

“I want to shoot a
hundred
rolls of film in the woods!” I declared.
The van bumped hard, sending my head bouncing against the van roof.

“Slow down, Colin!” Aunt Marta scolded. She turned back to me. “Your uncle
only knows one speed—
light speed
.”

“Speaking of light, we’ll show you some tricks for shooting outdoors,” Uncle
Colin said, pressing his foot even harder on the gas pedal.

“I’ve entered a photography contest back home,” I told them. “I want to snap
a great Halloween photo. Something really wild to win the contest.”

“Oh, that’s right. Halloween’s only a couple days off,” Aunt Marta said, glancing at my uncle. She turned back to me. “What do
you want to be for Halloween, Alex?”

I didn’t have to think about it. I’d already decided back home.

“A werewolf,” I told her.

“NO!” she screamed.

Uncle Colin also let out a cry.

The van plowed through a stop sign. I flew off the seat and hit the door
hard. And stared helplessly through the bouncing windshield—as we swerved into
the path of a roaring truck.

“AAAAAIIIII!”

Was that
me
screaming?

Our van rocked hard. I bounced again. Landed on my knees on the floor.

Uncle Colin swerved onto the grassy shoulder.

I saw a blur of red—and heard the truck roar past. Its horn blared angrily.

Uncle Colin slowed to a stop under the trees. His wrinkled face had turned
red. He swept both hands back over his thick gray hair.

“Colin, what happened?” Aunt Marta asked softly.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He took a deep breath. “Guess I just wasn’t
concentrating.”

Aunt Marta
tsk-tsked.
“Nearly got us killed.” She turned in the
passenger seat to gaze at me. “Alex—you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” I told her. “I didn’t expect it to be so exciting here!” I
tried to make a joke. But my voice came out kind of shaky.

My camera case had fallen to the floor. I picked it up, opened it, and
checked out the camera. It seemed okay.

Uncle Colin shifted into Drive and pulled the van back onto the road. “Sorry
about that,” he murmured. “I’ll be more careful. Promise.”

“You were thinking about the Marlings again—weren’t you?” Aunt Marta
accused him. “When Alex said
werewolf,
you started thinking about them,
and—”

“Be quiet, Marta!” Uncle Colin snapped. “Don’t talk about them now. Alex just
arrived. Do you want to scare him before we even get home?”

“Huh? Who are the Marlings?” I demanded, leaning to the front.

“Never mind,” Uncle Colin replied sharply. “Sit back.”

“They’re not important,” Aunt Marta said. She turned to the windshield. “Hey—we’re almost home.”

The sky seemed to darken. The old trees grew over the narrow road, their
leaves blocking the sunlight.

Watching the blur of red and yellow as the woods swept past, I thought hard.
My aunt and uncle were certainly acting a little strange, I decided. I wondered
why Uncle Colin had snapped at my aunt so angrily when she’d mentioned the
Marlings.

“Why do they call it Wolf Creek?” I asked.

“Because the name Chicago was already taken!” Aunt Marta joked.

“There used to be wolves in the woods,” Uncle Colin explained softly.

“
Used
to be!” my aunt exclaimed. She lowered her voice to a whisper, but
I could still hear her. “Why don’t you tell Alex the truth, Colin?”

“Be quiet!” he repeated through clenched teeth. “Why do you want to scare
him?”

Aunt Marta turned to the passenger window. We drove on in silence for a
while.

The road curved, and a small circle came into view. Three houses stood nearly
side by side on the circle. I could see the woods stretching on behind the
houses.

“That’s our house—in the middle,” Uncle Colin announced, pointing.

I gazed out at it. A small, square white house on top of a neat, recently
mowed front lawn. A long, low, ranch-style house—gray with black shutters—stood to the right.

The house on the left was nearly hidden by overgrown bushes. Tall weeds rose
up over the patchy front yard. A broken tree branch lay in the middle of the
driveway.

Uncle Colin pulled the van up the driveway to the middle house. “It’s small—but we’re not here that often,” he said.

Aunt Marta sighed. “Always traveling.”

She turned to me again. “There’s a nice girl who lives next door.” She pointed to the ranch-style house on the right. “She’s
twelve. Your age, right?”

I nodded.

“Her name is Hannah. She’s very cute. You should make friends with her so you
won’t be lonely.”

Cute?

“Any
boys
in the neighborhood?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” my aunt replied. “Sorry.”

My uncle stopped the van at the top of the driveway. We climbed out. I
stretched my arms over my head. All my muscles ached. I’d been sitting for over
six hours!

I glanced at the gray shingle house on the right. Hannah’s house. I wondered
if she and I
would
become friends.

Uncle Colin unloaded my suitcase from the back of the van.

I turned to the house on the left. What a wreck! The house was totally dark.
Some shutters had fallen off. Part of the front porch had caved in.

I crossed the driveway and took a few steps closer to the weird, run-down
house. “Who lives there?” I asked my aunt.

“Stay away from there, Alex!” Uncle Colin screamed. “Don’t ask questions
about them!
Just stay away from that house!
”

“Calm down, Colin,” Aunt Marta told my uncle. “Alex isn’t going over there.”

She turned to me. “The Marlings live in that house,” she said, lowering her
voice to a whisper. She raised a finger to her lips. “No more questions—okay?”

“Just stay away from there,” Uncle Colin growled. “Come help me unload the
car.”

I took one last glance at the run-down wreck of a house. Then I trotted over
to help my uncle.

It didn’t take long to unpack. Aunt Marta helped me in the guest room while
Uncle Colin made us turkey sandwiches in the kitchen.

My room was small and narrow, about the size of my closet back home. The tiny
closet smelled of mothballs. But Aunt Marta said the odor would go away if we
left the closet door and the window open.

I crossed the tiny room to open the window. And saw that it faced the
Marlings’ house next door. A rusted wheelbarrow tilted against the Marlings’ side wall. The
windows were dark and coated with dust.

I squinted into the window across from mine—and thought about Uncle Colin’s
shouted warning.

Why was he so worried about the Marlings?

I raised the window and turned back to my aunt. She tucked the last of my
T-shirts into the top dresser drawer. “The room is small. But I think you’ll be
cozy here, Alex,” she said. “And I cleared all the junk off the desktop so
you’ll have a place to do homework.”

“Homework?” I uttered.

Then I remembered. I’d promised to go to the local school for the weeks I
stayed in Wolf Creek.

“Hannah will take you to school Monday morning,” Aunt Marta promised. “She is
in sixth grade too. She’ll show you around.”

I didn’t want to think about going to a strange school. I picked up my
camera. “I can’t wait to get into the woods and take some shots,” I told my
aunt.

“Why don’t you go after lunch?” she suggested. Straightening her gray hair,
she led the way through the short hall to the kitchen.