Once in a Full Moon(46)

But I suffered in silence. Brandon’s shirt was my only reminder of our night together and that kiss under the full moon. I imagined his turmoil dealing with a condition that he hadn’t asked for.

Brandon was elusive again, as he had been in those days and nights following the full moon about three weeks ago. He was often late for class and then snuck out before I could catch up to him. He might have been protecting me from himself, or maybe he was finally blaming me for causing his condition. I showed up at his house, and even walked around his hilltop. But my calls to him went unanswered.

One day in study hall I began to cut off the tips of my knit gloves and tried my fingerless gloves on.

“What are you doing?” Ivy asked.

“I thought it would be cool to wear them like this,” I said. “This way I can keep warm and use the computer or write my essay.”

“You do think of everything,” she said. “But I warn you, it does look a bit Riverside.”

That was exactly the look I was hoping for. My new fashion statement was the only way I could show Brandon my solidarity and let him know I still was thinking of him. I wanted to slip him notes in his locker, but it was too risky and I wasn’t that brave.

I’d caused his lycanthropic condition, and the amount of guilt I felt was enormous.

“Mr. Maddox, we’ll have to speak after class,” Mrs. Clark said one day in English when Brandon showed up a half hour late.

“I told you he was juvie,” Ivy whispered. “And to think we invited him to Nash’s house for the party.”

“We didn’t,” Abby said. “Mother Teresa did.”

“I know you are kind,” Ivy said, “but you have to be careful. You can’t bring in every stray cat you see. Some of them have fleas, you know.”

“Brandon isn’t like that,” I said.

“How do you know?” Ivy asked.

“Yes,” Abby pressed. “How do you know?”

“Look at him. He’s . . .” I began.

“Yes?” Ivy said.

“He’s clean. He takes care of himself,” I said.

“Are we looking at the same guy?” Ivy asked.

Brandon looked exhausted. He kept his coat on all day and barely stayed awake through class. It was apparent to me that the dreams he was having were taking a toll on his body.

“He’s probably doing drugs,” Abby said.

“He is not!” I defended.

“How do you know?” Ivy wondered.

“I just don’t think we should rush to judgment,” I said.

“But that’s what we do,” Abby said. She and Ivy laughed.

“There are signs,” Ivy said. “He has bags under his eyes. He keeps his hands covered. He’s troubled. This isn’t a pound. You can’t take care of everyone. You might have to let this one go.”

“Besides, you have this hottie waiting for you tonight,” Abby said.

“Ladies,” Mrs. Clark reprimanded. “Time to pay attention.”

Were my friends right? Was I choosing the wrong course? I was always the rational one in our clique—daydreaming and caring, but terminally practical. Though I dreamed of becoming a writer, I really wanted to be a nurse or a doctor. I wanted to help people and have a career that could be stable. But now nothing seemed stable. If I followed my head, I’d get back together with Nash. Not only would I be making the rational choice, but I’d be making my best friends happy. However, if I followed my heart, I was on an uncharted course with conditions possibly unfavorable.

After English, Mrs. Clark asked to see Brandon. Ivy, Abby, and Nash went on to their next classes while I stalled, straightening the contents of my locker.

I hadn’t been able to catch Brandon for days, so this was my only chance.

“Brandon,” I said when he finally came out of the classroom.

He held a slip of paper. It must have been a detention.

“You can’t run away from me here, too,” I said.

“I’m not running away from you,” he said sincerely. “It’s just it might be best—”

I couldn’t bear to hear him finish his sentence. “It’s my fault,” I said. When no other students were around, I pulled him into the crawl space of a vacant stairwell.

“Of course it’s your fault,” he said.

I was hurt. Brandon did blame me—though he was right to do so.

“Yes,” he continued. “I’m restless. Can’t concentrate. You’re not going to make me say any more, are you?” He grinned. He was wickedly handsome, and I was flattered by his romantic implication.

“Then why won’t you see me?” I asked him.

He took my hand. He laughed at my gloves, as they were just like the ones he was wearing. “I just haven’t been myself, and I thought it best if I didn’t complicate your life. I’m still having these strange dreams,” he continued. “It’s probably because I’ve had to make a lot of adjustments to a new school. That’s what Mrs. Clark said.”