* * *
The moment Gray stepped on the ground, he slumped over. Leslie caught him and helped him stand. She pulled his arm over her shoulders, and they shuffled inside.
“Savannah,” Leslie called. She pushed the door closed with her foot. “Savannah, help.”
Savannah dashed into the hallway and froze. She took in Leslie bending under Gray’s weight. Gray’s face was white. Blood stained the right side of his clothes. Some more blood was smeared on his neck and face. “What happened?” she cried.
“Gray attacked a mountain lion. Hurry, get the first aid kit.” Leslie half-carried Gray to the kitchen table. He carefully eased himself into a chair.
Savannah ran and grabbed the first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink. She entered just as Leslie bent to examine Gray’s side. Her fingers hovered above the torn cloth of Gray’s shirt. Before Leslie and Savannah’s eyes, the fabric started knitting itself back together.
“Aiee!” shrieked Savannah. “It’s Venom!”
She dashed to the kitchen cabinets, fumbling around inside until she brought out two aluminum cooking pans. She raised them high above her head. “Don’t move, evil symbiote,” Savannah warned. “I know how you can be defeated.”
Leslie frowned. Gray looked at the pans in Savannah’s hands, a pained expression on his face. “What’s Venom?”
Leslie shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. She tried to sound unconcerned, but a slight tremor made its way into her voice.
“Don’t try to fool me,” said Savannah. She loomed close. “I know your symbiote’s evil.”
“Symbiote?” said Gray. “Do you mean my shirt? It’s a plant. I don’t have a symbiotic relationship with it.”
Savannah lowered the pans. “Huh?”
“Ah, of course it’s a plant,” said Leslie sarcastically. “Who would’ve thought? Can you pull it up, please? You’re bleeding all over the floor.”
Wincing, Gray pulled his shirt up. Large red stripes ran down Gray’s side. Some of them were deep gouges, and Leslie thought she could see something white in one of them. Acid came up in Leslie’s throat. “Savannah,” she forced out, “get out some clean towels and the rubbing alcohol.”
Savannah breathed in sharply. “That’s gonna hurt.” Still, she obediently put the pans down and grabbed some kitchen hand towels from a drawer. She handed them to Leslie, as well as a large brown bottle of isopropyl alcohol.
Leslie upended the bottle on one of the towels. “Take a deep breath,” she warned Gray. “This is going to sting. A lot.”
Gray took a deep breath right as Leslie pressed the towel to Gray’s side. Gray howled in pain. His free hand clutched the table.
“Sorry,” mumbled Leslie. She rubbed the towel as gently as she could over the wound and the surrounding skin. The towel became red. The wounds weren’t bleeding a lot, but it still looked bad.
“Just hurry,” Gray said through gritted teeth.
Savannah stood behind Leslie. She stared at Gray’s wounds. “He needs stitches. Why don’t you take him to the hospital? He really needs stitches.”
Leslie applied pressure to Gray’s side. Gray groaned through his pressed lips. “We can’t take Gray to the hospital. We just can’t. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”
With her free hand, Leslie grabbed a bunch of gauze bandages from a box. She ripped a package open with her teeth and pressed it over the wound. It immediately began to turn red. She placed another bandage on top of it. She tore medical tape with her teeth and taped the gauze in place.
“That’ll do for now, though I might have to sew it together,” said Leslie. As she said it, acid filled her mouth again. “To the neck now.”
“What do you mean he can’t go to the hospital?” demanded Savannah.
Leslie gently pulled down the back collar of Gray’s shirt. Teeth marks ran across his shoulder and neck. Luckily, they were just surface marks. “This’ll be easier,” she said. To Savannah she said, “Like I said, Gray’s different. We can’t have him going to the hospital and the doctors finding that out.”
“Different how?” said Savannah.
“I’m different?” said Gray.
Leslie paused with an alcohol-drenched towel in her hand. She stepped around Gray’s chair until she stood in front of him. He still looked pale, but that didn’t stop the flood of emotions from pouring out of Leslie. Everything that had happened that day came crashing down on her. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You turned into a panther, Gray! A real-life panther! Stuff like that doesn’t just happen. Even I’m not that stupid.”
“He did what?!” Savannah squealed.
“You don’t shift?” asked Gray. His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a small “oh.”
“What does that mean, shift?” demanded Leslie. She flung down the towel. It landed wetly on the floor.
Gray shrunk a little in his chair under Leslie’s wrath. He said in a small voice. “It’s changing forms. I thought your shifted forms were bugs or something, and that’s why you never shifted in front of me.”
“Bugs?” said Leslie, narrowing her eyes.
“It happens sometimes,” said Gray apologetically.
“Shift right now!” said Savannah.
“What?!” Leslie wheeled on Savannah. “Of course he’s not going to shift right now. He just survived a battle with Cougar Girl, he doesn’t need his bandages to come off because he suddenly grows fur.”
“Cougar Girl?” said Savannah. Her face was one gigantic grin. She started dancing around the room. “He fought another shape shifter? This is awesome!”
“No it’s not!” snapped Leslie. Savannah stopped. “Dad’s going to be home soon. We have to clean all this up before he does. And you,” she said, turning on Gray. “I need to patch up your neck, and then you need to change into some gym clothes because that’s what I said you were wearing to explain why your clothes were lying all over the classroom.”
“Yes, ma’am,” mumbled Gray, while Savannah muttered, “Fine.”
Leslie doused another towel in alcohol and cleaned Gray’s neck. She placed a gauze bandage on his neck and taped it on—not as gently as she could have. Then she helped Gray upstairs to change. While he was changing, Leslie rinsed as much blood out of the towels as she could. She dumped them in the washing machine and started it. She and Savannah were cleaning the counters and floor when Gray came down in a white t-shirt and blue shorts. She helped him back into the chair.
They were not a moment too soon. From the kitchen, they heard the garage door open and the car pull in. The three of them sat in tense silence as the car’s engine died and footsteps came up the stairs. The door opened, and Mr. Matheson entered carrying a tray of drinks and a paper sack. He looked down as he kicked off his shoes—he looked worn.
“Hey Dad,” Savannah said. “Look who made it back!”
Mr. Matheson looked up. His eyes fell on Gray, and his face lit up. “Gray! I was so worried about you.”
Gray stood shakily. Leslie hoped her dad wouldn’t notice. He tried to smile as Mr. Matheson quickly stepped forward, setting down the drinks and bag. Mr. Matheson pulled Gray into a hug. Leslie saw Gray wince in pain.
Mr. Matheson stepped back, his hands on Gray’s shoulders. “I heard you wrestled a mountain lion today. You don’t look so bad, considering.”
Gray laughed weakly. “I have a few scratches, but I’ll live. I was lucky.”
“Yeah, Leslie piped up. “Nothing a few band-aids couldn’t fix.”
“Well,” said Mr. Matheson. He dug a wrapped-up hamburger out of the bag and pressed it into Gray’s hands. “You deserve this. I’ll eat something else.”
“Thank you,” said Gray.
Mr. Matheson smiled. “Glad to have you back. I have to go out again. This day has been one never-ending ball of craziness. I’ll talk to the police and let them know you’re alive. Guess you’re off the hook, Leslie.”
Leslie laughed half-heartedly. Mr. Matheson hugged his girls and left, a new bounce in his step. As soon as the door closed, Leslie and Gray both slumped into their seats.
Savannah was already halfway through her hamburger. She slurped at her soda. “So, you can turn into a panther?”
“Yes,” said Gray. “Everyone can change into an animal where I’m from.”
“Which is…” pressed Savannah.
“Let him eat,” Leslie interrupted. She got out her hamburger and ate it half-heartedly.
Gray ate his hamburger silently. He looked so pale. A wave of pity rushed over Leslie. She pushed it down. Too many things had happened for her to feel pity for Gray right now. First, she needed answers. Leslie peered down at Gray’s side. A red spot was bleeding through his shirt.
“I think I do need to sew your wounds shut,” said Leslie. “They won’t stop bleeding. Hurry up and finish eating, then meet me upstairs.”
“I don’t envy you,” said Savannah.
Leslie got out her mother’s old sewing kit and placed it on her bed. She laid the supplies out: needles, scissors, thread, and a lighter. Gray entered her room and sat on the bed.
“What color do you want?” asked Leslie, trying to sound lighthearted.
Gray looked at the spools of thread. “It doesn’t matter. Black.”
Leslie carefully cut a long piece of thread and laid it on a clean paper towel. She ignited the lighter and passed a needle through the yellow flame, sterilizing it. Then she threaded the needle’s eye.
“Shirt off,” she commanded.
With a moan, Gray pulled off his shirt. The gauze bandages were a deep red. Leslie pulled them off and cleaned the area with another piece of gauze. “If you want, you can stuff that towel in your mouth,” said Leslie, pointing to a clean towel on her bed.”
Gray shook his head. “Just do this quick.”
Leslie’s vision swam, but she shook her head and it returned to normal. Her hands shaking, Leslie pushed the needle into Gray’s skin. Gray breathed sharply, but otherwise he remained still. As Leslie knitted Gray’s torn flesh together, Gray’s hands balled into fists, his foot tapped incessantly, but no sound escaped him. Finally, Leslie picked up the scissors and snipped the thread. She spread antibacterial ointment on the long wounds, just in case. She placed fresh gauze over everything and taped it down. Then she sat back and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “All done.”
Gray put his shirt back on. He started to get up, but Leslie grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.
Leslie glared into Gray’s eyes. “Spill it.”
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