Chapter 8: Mr. Yappy.
BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!
“Kat!” My mom yells at me from the hallway while she pounds on my bedroom door. “Wake up! Your alarm’s been going off for five minutes.”
Slowly, I sit up in bed, wrapping myself in a blanket. “Got it,” I yell. “I’m up. I’m up already.”
I let out a groggy yawn and hit my alarm, killing off the annoying BUZZ. Stretching, a sudden sharp pain grips my muscles. It feels like I’ve run a marathon in my sleep.
“Why am I so sore?” I ask myself. Then another, more important question comes to mind. Where are my clothes?!
I find my T-shirt and jeans on the floor. They’re all torn up. It’s like someone went after them with some very jagged scissors.
What… what happened?
As my brain struggles with an answer, a flood of memories hits me. My heart speeds up again. I remember the hair growing out of my face. I remember my hands turning to claws. I remember… the neighbor’s little yapping dog.
My stomach gurgles. But it’s not hungry. I peek down at my belly. It looks bigger, like I’ve eaten a gigantic meal.
Oh no. What did I do?
***
Twenty minutes later, I slink into the kitchen. I’ve already hidden my ripped clothes, changed into fresh jeans and a T-shirt, and brushed my teeth half a dozen times. Now, I’m heading for the door, hoping to slip away before anyone notices. I just can’t face my parents right now.
Too bad Dad’s leaning on the counter, sipping his coffee. He wears his sheriff’s uniform, but his hat is tipped way back on his head, kinda goofy like. “What’s up Kitty Kat?” He checks the time on his phone. “You trying to sneak out without breakfast?”
“What? No…I mean, yeah. I’m not really hungry.”
“Come on, kid. You’ve got to eat something. How about a bagel?”
My stomach turns. Even the thought of food makes me want to barf. But I don’t want to become suspicious. “Sure Dad. I’ll take it with me.”
Dad grabs a bagel bag from the cupboard and pulls one out for me. He’s about to hand it to me when mom’s voice booms from the living room.
“Todd, come out here and see this.”
We find Mom and Emily standing frozen in the living room, staring at the TV. Channel 15 News is showing video from the local grocery store. It’s black and white and kinda scratchy-looking—probably from the store’s security cameras. Customers are all running around like crazy, dropping their canned corn and hamburger buns. Terrified, they scramble for the doors. There is no sound to the video, but a reporter’s voice lets us know what’s going on.
“This is the scene early last night at Silver Peak Market,” says the reporter, “where shoppers were greeted by an unexpected guest.”
A wolf appears on our TV screen. But this isn’t some NAT GEO nature show. This is a real live wolf, strolling down the cereal aisle. It heads for the meat department.
“Fish and Wildlife officials are baffled by the wolf’s behavior,” says the reporter. “Usually, wolves avoid contact with humans. Fortunately, no one was injured by the furry visitor, which only seemed interest in one thing—A snack.”
The wolf on TV leaps right into the meat display and chomps down on a huge tube of ground beef.
“That’s totally psycho,” says Emily.
I can’t take my eyes off the screen. “Yeah, totally.”
Dad checks the texts on his phone. “That’s weird,” he says, more to himself than to any of us. “The boys at the department never called me in about it.”
My stomach gurgles again. I feel a burp bubbling up. I cover my mouth so nobody hears it. The burb tastes like meat…. Raw meat.
Oh gross. A cold chill freezes the blood in my veins.
It’s me. The wolf is me! It sounds crazy, but somehow, I know it’s true. It all makes sense in a wacky, fairytale way.
Last night was a full moon, and I changed into a wolf.
Mom catches me staring at the TV like a zombie. “Kat, is everything okay? Your face looks like that time we let you watch Scream 2.”
“Oh honey,” says Dad. He quickly turns off the TV. “You don’t need to worry. I’m sure that furry guy is long gone.”
“It’s not a guy,” I whisper, still gazing at the screen, my eyes all big. “And it isn’t gone.”
“What? What did you say?”
“Nothing.” I hurry towards the front door. “I should get to school. See you later.”
I don’t wait to hear their goodbyes. I slip outside and jog towards the sidewalk. My school is only a few blocks away, so my parents let me walk when I want. I’m crazy lazy, so that doesn’t happen often. But after last night, I just can’t sit in Dad’s sheriff’s cruiser and listen to his lame jokes.
I walk past my neighbor’s place. They have a short chain-link fence around their front yard to keep Mr. Yappy in. Every time I pass by their house, the little fluff ball races out to bark at me. And today is no different. Honestly, I’m almost happy to see Mr. Yappy charge the fence. A little part of me thought I might have… eaten him. Which is big time yuck.
A low growl builds up inside the fluff ball—like he’s powering up his bark power for a full-scale YAP, YAP, YAP assault. But then something super weird happens.
Mr. Yappy sniffs the air then freezes in his tracks. His eyes fill up with terror. Then he lets out a whimper and runs off in the other direction.
He knows I’ve changed. He knows what I’ve become.