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Aiden didn't have to be at work until six so Vivian allowed him to drive her home. "But you can't stay long," she told him to keep up the act. "My mother will be home soon." That was true, anyway. Esmé worked the day shift around the full moon. Biting customers didn't make for good tips.
They sat on a log at the far edge of the backyard under the broccoli-headed summer trees.
"Which is your room?" Aiden asked.
Vivian pointed to the window above the screened-in back porch, and he sighed loudly to tease her.
"I'll miss you tomorrow," Aiden said. There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He was a creature of warm sun and comfort.
"What made you write about werewolves?" she asked, thinking of the dark forest in his poem.
Aiden shrugged. "I like all that stuff - witches, vampires, werewolves. It's exciting."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know. I've never thought about it. Because I want to be like them, maybe? I don't want to be like everyone else." He carefully allowed an ant to crawl from his wrist to a blade of grass.
Vivian laughed. Any one of the Five would have crushed that bug. "I don't think you'd make a good werewolf."
"Sure I would." He grabbed her hand and playfully bit her fingers. His teeth set loose tiny lightning within her.
Raucous hoots filled the woods behind them, and bodies crashed through the undergrowth. She pulled her hand away.
"What's that?" Aiden asked.
"My cousins," she answered. "Damn them." They couldn't find him here with her. Not that she couldn't handle them, but she didn't want to raise any questions she couldn't answer for Aiden. And what if he blamed them for getting her grounded? Great Moon, they'd laugh.
"I've got to go in," she said. "I promised not to hang with them while I'm grounded. They've only come to screw around outside and piss off my mother."
"Some family," he said, and tried to kiss her.
She hated to push him away. "Go, go, go. They're trouble."
He glanced at the woods and she saw worry in his eyes, but his lips took on a stubborn hardness.
"Please, for my sake," she said, to save his pride.
He hesitated. "Well, okay. See you before you know it," he promised, and left by the side path.
Saturday evening stretched on forever, golden with sun and rich with the smell of honeysuckle.
"Come with us," Esmé begged. Most of the pack were going up to the state park to run.
"Not this time," Vivian said. She wanted to be alone. There would be fights, she knew. They would call it playing but they would be testing each other, seeing who had what it took for the Ordeal. She didn't feel like fights. She only wanted the clear smells and the crazy stars. There was a new warmth in her and she wanted to embrace the night in peace.
You are smitten, she told herself, and she stretched like a happy puppy.
Up in her room she worked on her mural. She painted herself in her skin, watching the running wolves. It didn't look right. Maybe she should show herself changing, ready to join them.
I wish I was changing clothes to go to that party, she thought, and threw her brush down.
Red dappled the sky, fireflies flickered outside her window - little wantons looking for a night of love - and the voices of the dusk grew loud. The fine hairs on Vivian's back rose, eager for the change. Wait a while, she told herself, wait till it's fully dark. But it was hard to wait for the night at full moon.
There was muffled laughter in the yard below. What now? A chorus of ragged voices split the air, drowning out the insect song. "Ahwooo! Ahwooo!"
She stuck her head out the window. "Quit that howling out there."
The howling dissolved into more laughter.
