* * *
“I want you to teach me to fight,” said Leslie as she and Gray walked home from school. It was the first day of their grounding, but Savannah and Mr. Matheson wouldn’t be home for another hour.
“Why do you need to know how to fight?” Gray asked. He adjusted the strap on his backpack.
Leslie glanced around. A sparrow flitted across the street and landed in a tree, disappearing from sight. Was it a shifter? She couldn’t trust anything anymore. Leslie hugged herself, though the afternoon sun was warm. “I feel so helpless—I can’t do anything well except run. And I—I don’t want to be helpless. I don’t want to put Savannah in danger ever again, and unless I learn how to fight she’ll keep tagging along pretending she’ll protect me.”
“You think someone is going to attack again?” asked Gray. He stared at her with his gold-flecked eyes. The eyelids were still rimmed with black, even though Gray woke up early that morning to spend time as a panther. Apparently, nothing could completely reverse the effects of his disease.
A breeze swept over them, bringing with it the smell of the sea. Leslie’s hair danced in front of her face, and she pushed it behind her ear. “How do I know we won’t be attacked? Ever since you came here with your scroll, nothing’s made sense. I mean, why would anybody want your scroll?”
Gray fiddled with his fingers, and Leslie knew that if the scroll hadn’t been in his backpack he’d be weighing it in his hands. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve thought about opening the scroll and reading it, but my father trusted me not to do that. I do know that my people are sick—that I am sick—and that my father believes only Professor Brown has the answers that will save us. Do you believe me?”
Leslie bit her lip. She didn’t know what to believe. All she wanted to do was run—run until she dropped from exhaustion—leaving everything strange that had to her, shifters, scrolls, behind. But that wasn’t an option. She nodded. “I believe you. Now, will you teach me how to fight?”
“What makes you think I have anything to teach?” asked Gray. “I don’t know how to fight, not with my hands at least.”
Leslie snorted. “I saw what you did in Chemistry. Don’t tell me you don’t know anything.”
“Well,” said Gray hesitantly, “I did get into some fist fights over, um…”
“Yes?” Leslie prodded. When Gray didn’t answer, she poked him in the side. “Tell.”
“It was over a girl,” said Gray, blushing furiously. “The other guys teased me when they learned I had a crush on her.”
“And did you?” asked Leslie.
Gray’s face reddened even more. “Yes, but, well, that’s not the point.”
“Hmm,” said Leslie. She crossed her arms. “And do you still have a crush on this girl?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“No,” said Gray, a little too quickly. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s been gone a long time now.”
“Uh huh,” said Leslie. She relaxed a little and poked Gray in the side again.
Jumping, Gray yelped, “Ow! What was that for?”
“Nothing.” Leslie smirked. “So are you going to teach me to fight or not?”
“I’ll teach you what I can, though I’m not sure how much it will help.” They arrived at the Mathesons’ house. Gray held the door open for Leslie as they walked inside.
“Why not?” asked Leslie.
Gray set his backpack down next to the door. “You’ll be going against shifters, and you can’t shift.”
“So let’s come up with ways to counter shifters’ attacks,” said Leslie. “No big deal.”
Leslie got out a pencil and a notebook and led the way to the kitchen table. “Let’s make a list of the types of animals we’ve come across, then we’ll think of a way to fight them off.”
“Okay,” said Gray. He sat next to her.
After sharpening the pencil, Leslie nibbled at the end. “I know there was a falcon.” She wrote it on the paper.
“The most dangerous things about birds of prey are their beaks and talons,” said Gray. “You’ll want to protect yourself against those, maybe with a blanket or jacket. You can wrap it around your arm and block their attacks.”
Leslie wrote wear a jacket next to falcon. “All right. What about an elephant?”
“Don’t get crushed.”
“A stag?”
“Don’t get in the way of its antlers.”
“A gorilla?”
“Don’t get caught.”
“Is there anything I can do besides run away?” Leslie muttered.
Gray chuckled. “Humans are pretty weak creatures, to be honest. Why do you think I prefer fighting in my panther form?”
Leslie scowled. She tapped the end of the pencil against the table top. She remembered seeing a fox the other night. “What about foxes? Can I do anything to fight them?”
Gray grinned. “Foxes? Those you can kick.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Leslie closed her notebook and went to the door, with Gray following behind her. She opened the door.
The social worker Angela Castillo stood outside. She smiled, but the smile looked strained. “Hello Leslie, Gray. I’ve just stopped by to check on you. Is your father home?”
“No,” said Leslie, her hand still on the doorknob. “He’s still at work.”
“Oh,” said Angela. She didn’t look disappointed. If anything, she looked relieved. “May I come in?”
“Sure…” said Leslie hesitantly. Angela pushed past her and sat on a chair in the living room. She placed a briefcase she was holding on the floor. Leslie and Gray sat down on the couch. Both of them put their hands on their laps.
“And what have you two been up to?” asked Angela. She flashed a too-cheery smile.
“Not much. Just school and stuff,” said Leslie. Her whole body tensed. Something didn’t feel right. Why was Angela Castillo here? Was it really just a standard follow-up?
“That’s good,” said Angela, nodding. “And how are you liking school, Gray?”
“I’d like it better if I could read this place’s script,” Gray answered truthfully.
“He’s being pulled for remedial lessons,” Leslie supplied.
“And how does that make you feel?” asked Angela.
“Like I’m underclass,” said Gray. “The tutors talk to me as though I have the mental capacity of a seven-year-old. They smile too much, and they assume I can’t read at all, simply because there are so many obnoxious reading rules in your script.”
Angela frowned a little. “That does sound frustrating. And is there anything else going on?”
“What do you mean?” asked Gray.
Angela’s mask of serenity began to slip. She said hesitantly, “Has anything, well, strange happened? Have you gotten into any fights or been…contacted…by anyone? Because, well, if anyone contacts you and wants you to do something dangerous, something that could hurt you or others, you know not to do it, right? Nothing…dangerous…has happened to you, has it?”
“No…” said Gray. His hands slowly curled into fists.
“We’re doing fine, Ms. Castillo,” Leslie said. She flashed a quick smile. “Really, nothing’s wrong. We slipped out to go to a beach party a couple nights back, but that’s it.”
Angela Castillo smiled, but Leslie could tell she was still worried about something. “Well, that’s good,” she said. She picked up her briefcase and stood. “Thank you for your time. Gray, feel free to contact me if you need anything.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, Ms. Castillo,” said Gray. He stood and opened the door for her. Angela Castillo shot one more fake smile at Leslie and Gray before getting in her car and driving away.
“Do you think she knows anything?” asked Leslie.
“I have no idea,” said Gray.
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