Page 70 of Such Sharp Teeth

“For the room. Stars. A big moon.”

“A moon?”

“Maybe all the phases of the moon.”

“All right, fuck it,” I hear myself say. “I have to tell you something.”

“I have something to tell you, too. But you first.”

“I’m a werewolf.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m a werewolf,” I say. I’ve committed to it now, for better or worse.

She laughs. “If this is a sex thing, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“It’s not a sex thing. It’s a monster thing. I’m serious. I’m a werewolf. A legit werewolf. I know that’s a wild thing to say, but trust me, it’s an even wilder thing to be!”

She leans back against the wall.

“I wasn’t attacked by a bear. I was chased and bitten by a werewolf. And I wasn’t at Ian’s last Friday. It was a full moon, so I took Cloud’s old crate out to the distillery. I locked myself inside it and waited. It was more a precaution because I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure. But then I turned into a werewolf. And I broke out of the crate and ate a bunch of rats. And maybe other things, too. I don’t really remember it that well. But yeah. That’s also why I smell like a wet dog sometimes, like right now, and why my hair has been looking so amazing.”

She’s expressionless.

“Yep. Werewolf,” I say. “A real thing apparently. Who knew?”

She starts to laugh. It’s a weird, breathy laugh. Or maybe she’s sighing? It’s a very strange noise that she’s making.

It goes on for a while.

“I don’t get this joke,” she says, still doing her breathy laugh-sigh thing.

“Scarlett, I’m not joking. I’m telling you the truth.”

“I’m not sure how to react,” she says. “I don’t know how to react. I don’t know how to react. I . . . I don’t know . . . how to react.”

“All right, let me show you something,” I say, waving her toward me.

I roll up my sleeve. I take a screw and drag it across my forearm. The skin opens, and out oozes the silver goo, and a few sprigs of fur.

She gives a silent scream, clasping her hand over her mouth as she staggers backward. I catch her before she falls.

“Look,” I tell her. “Keep watching.”

The skin curls into itself and becomes seamless once again.

She stares at me, her eyes wide, both hands now over her face.

“My sense of smell is crazy now, too. I can smell that you recently had McDonald’s,” I tell her. “McChicken with fries and barbecue sauce. Guessing you went through the drive-through post-shower. Uncool you didn’t bring any back for your beloved sister. Also, I’m not keto. I just only want to eat meat, because, as I said, I’m now a werewolf.”

Her hands slowly slide from her face. Her mouth is open. No sound comes out.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t want it to be true. Trust me.”

“What the fuck?” she yells. “What the fucking fuck? What? What? What the fuck? Are you, what? Fuck!”

I nod. “Tell me about it.”