AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I thought the question was “Will I or won’t I?”
But that’s not the question at all.
It’s “When?”
Because I will.
It’s just a matter of time. It’s now.
Lila kisses me again, and even that thought spirals away. I close my eyes.
“We can do whatever you want,” I say, voice ragged. “But you have to tell me—”
The sound of shattering glass seems impossibly loud. I am up on my knees in the bed, cold air from outside sobering me before I really understand what’s happening. But then I see the tableau: the jagged outline of what’s left of the window, a rock lying in the glittering fragments on the floor, and a girl turning to run.
For a moment my gaze locks with Audrey’s. Then she’s halfway across the quad, rain boots sinking in the dirt.
Lila’s bent over the stone, looking dazed, a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. “There was a note taped to it. It says ‘Die, curse worker.’?” She looks out the window. Too late. Audrey’s gone.
I hear footsteps in the hall, the banging of doors. Voices.
“You have to hide,” Lila whispers. She’s still bare to the waist. It’s really distracting.
I look around the room instead of looking at her. There’s nowhere to go—under the bed and in the closet might work for a quick room check, but not something like this.
All I can think to do is change myself.
I have never transformed myself beyond a slight changing of my hands, and only the terror of getting both of us thrown out of school is enough to make me concentrate. I jerk my body into shifting. It happens fast; I’m getting better. I fall forward onto the pads of four feet. I want to shout, but what comes out of my mouth is a yowl.
“A black cat?” Lila snorts, leaning down. Her fingers sink into my fur as she lifts me up. I’m glad she’s holding me, because the shift in perspective is dizzying. I’m not sure how to manage my feet.
Someone, probably her hall master, bangs on the door. “What’s going on in there? Ms. Zacharov, you better open up.”
Lila leans out the remains of the window, swinging my new body over the quad. My tail lashes back and forth without my knowing how I’m making that happen. It’s a long way down.
“Too far,” she says suddenly. “You’re going to hurt your—”
She’s forgotten that I’m not going to look like a normal cat in a moment. I squirm, twisting until I can bite her hand.
“Ow!” she yells, and lets go.
The air rushes past me, too fast for me to make any sound. I try to keep my limbs loose, not to brace myself for impact, but hitting the ground feels like a punch in the chest. My breath goes out of me.
I barely manage to crawl into the bushes before the blowback hits.
* * *
Everything aches. I lift my head to see a pink light glowing behind the stretch of trees near the track. Morning.
I’m still a cat.
Blowback as something smaller than yourself is even more bizarre than usual. Nothing feels real or right. No part of your body is your own. Even perspective is all wrong.
Waking up in an unfamiliar body is stranger still.
My senses are heightened to a surreal degree. I can hear insects moving through blades of grass. I can smell mice burrowing into the soft wood. I feel very small and very scared.
I’m not sure I can walk. I push myself up, leg by leg, and wobble until I’m sure I’ve got my balance. Then I shift one front paw and one back one, moving in a staggered limp across the quad in the early morning light.
