I leaned back and thought about all the reasons Alex could have for not being at school. I guess it was possible that he was actually sick. Of course, it seemed more reasonable that he was trying to avoid me because either (A) he didnʼt want to discuss the whole werewolf issue or (B) he deeply regretted the hand holding and almost kissing stuff.

I found myself rooting for the “he actually got sick” option, which was so not cool of me.

***

“Scout, I need to talk to you about the immigration article,” Mrs. Sole said as I slumped into a chair beside Nicole later that day.
“Weʼre not quite done with that yet,” I said. Of course, by not quite done I meant havenʼt even started. “Alex got sick before we could get much accomplished, but weʼll work on it tonight and have it ready by tomorrow.”

“I was afraid of that,” Mrs. Sole said. “Do you think you could write a thousand word op-ed piece to fill the spot?”

“Sure, but I really think Alex will feel up to working on it this afternoon.” Especially since he was never actually sick in the first place, unless being a werewolf is considered an illness.

Maybe itʼs a virus.

“Iʼm afraid that isnʼt going to happen. I got an email from the office this morning informing me that Alex was transferring schools.”

“He what?” There was an edge of hysteria to my voice. “Are you sure?” Maybe she misread the email. Maybe it was a different Alex. Maybe Mrs. Sole was developing Alzheimer's. Maybe...

“His brother signed the papers yesterday afternoon. They are moving back to Montana to live with a relative.”

Mrs. Sole may have said more, but I didnʼt hear it. My brain totally checked out for the rest of class.

After school, I bummed a ride home from Talley so I wouldnʼt have to come back to pick up Jase. Once home, I spent an entire hour sitting on my bed, clutching Guido, staring resolutely at the wall, and trying desperately hard not to be such a girl about the whole situation.

Okay, so Alex was gone. Like, gone forever, never to hear from him again, gone. But the world wasnʼt ending. Sure, I was left with a million questions, but he didnʼt owe me anything. If anything, I owed him. He was the one that saved me, after all.

So, why was I so pissed he hadnʼt so much as called to say good-bye? Why did I feel so hurt and betrayed? Why was I having to bite my lip so hard to keep from crying?

When I could no longer handle listening to all the voices whining and griping in my head, I got up and got busy. I knew the only way to keep my thoughts away from Alex was to keep occupied. I started by trying to catch up on my Calculus homework, but gave up when I realized that I was spending more time remembering the way he always knew the answer when Mr. Beck called on him class than actually doing logarithmic differentiations.

Staying busy and trying not to think about Alex became my entire existence. Life was an endless stream of studying for finals, Christmas preparations, and finishing my college applications. Every time my thoughts threatened to shift towards Alex, I worked harder, forcing myself to focus on the task before me.

When I was decorating the tree with Mom and Angel, I didnʼt wonder where he was or if he was putting up a tree of his own. When Jase and I began our No Cats for Angel campaign (Jase is allergic; Iʼm terrified that they will suck out my soul), I didnʼt remember how Alex hated cats too. When I helped Miss Nancy with the annual Deadly Christmas Murder-Mystery fundraiser for the library, I didnʼt think about how Santaʼs dead body was slumped over our

table. And I didnʼt look at every single face in the crowded stores of Nashville and Paducah trying to find him.

Or, at least, I tried really hard not to do those things.

The only time I would allow myself to really focus on Alex was at night. That is when I would lock myself in my room and research werewolves.

I checked out everything our library had, and read anything I could find online. Since that kept me occupied for less than a week and didnʼt answer any of my questions, I got Miss Nancy to find me a bunch of things on Inter-Library Loan. Stacks of books on all things lupin were crammed into every space I could find in my bedroom and closet, out of Jaseʼs sight. The information I found ranged from interesting to horrifying to downright stupid. There were several books from a library in Ely, Minnesota, that I found the most helpful. They were so fascinating, in fact, I sent an email to the librarian there to compliment her on the collection.

Her replying email simply reminded me of the due date.

The number of legends surrounding werewolves was a bit overwhelming. It seemed that every culture from the dawn of time had their own version of the man who transformed into a wolf-like animal. I automatically rejected any that spoke of huge, hulking creatures that looked like a cross between man and beast, and focused on those that referenced wolves with human eyes. Some stories painted the creatures as victims, others demons.

Every evening I would rush home from whatever holiday cheer task I had to endure so I could read stories of myth and legend. I was becoming a werewolf expert, and it was affecting my sleep. My once peaceful nights were now filled with brilliant dreams. Sometimes I would find myself running from a pack of wolves. In others, I would transform into one myself.

Occasionally, I would dream of the lake, but now Alex was always in his wolf form on the opposite shore.

Despite all my research, I still had more questions than answers.

How did Alex become a werewolf? (Being bitten or scratched by a werewolf was the most popular theory.) Did the change hurt? (Judging from Alexʼs pre-change condition, and by virtue of logic, I was thinking that was a definite yes.) Was the change affected by the full moon?

(There was a full moon that night in Nashville, so I thought it was likely.) Was Alex conscious of who he was and what was happening when he was in wolf form? (Most of the things I read said no, but Alex seemed to be trying to protect me, and he seemed to remember everything the next morning.) Do werewolves really kill people or was that all just propaganda that was spread out of ignorance and fear? (I was really hoping for the latter.) And how much did Jase know and how did he know it? (I was leaning towards him being a cross between the Winchester boys and Buffy.)

For most of the questions I had no way of getting answers. I could read books and come up with theories, but without asking Alex directly, I would never know.

Jase, on the other hand, I could get information from.

Of course, I couldnʼt just walk up and say, “So, Alex is a werewolf. What do you know about that?”