The patio door burst open and Claire looked up, relieved for the interruption. Dan’s mother tore into the yard wearing bloodstained hospital scrubs.
“Mom?” Dan sounded confused and annoyed. Mostly annoyed.
“Get your stuff,” she panted. “We’re going.”
Claire’s mother stepped forward. “I’m sorry, is something wrong?”
“Yes. The news just came over the police dispatch at the hospital—someone thinks they spotted the werewolf at the edge of the woods. These woods.” She gestured over the brick wall that surrounded the Benoits’ backyard. Her hand shook as she pointed. “In broad daylight. The police are patrolling until the FHPA squad comes. I’m sorry, Ms. Benoit, but I can’t let Dan stay here. It’s too dangerous.” She looked at the rest of the group. “It’s too dangerous for all of you. You all need to go, now.”
Right on cue, several cell phones around the pool started ringing.
Emily looked up at Claire, her phone glued to her ear. It’s on the news, she mouthed. My mom’s freaking.
Cars screeched into the sweeping drive of the Benoits’ house and the guests grabbed their stuff. Claire scratched at her hands and shivered as she watched everyone stream into the house. A strong hand gripped her upper arm and she jumped.
Matthew stood behind her. A grin played across his face as he pulled her behind the pool house. He was so close, Claire could feel the heat from his skin.
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Nah. Why should I be? The chance of a werewolf attacking in broad daylight—it’s practically zero.”
“But that’s why everyone’s freaking out, right? Because if someone actually saw a werewolf during the day, it might mean it would actually strike before dark?”
“Claire! Come inside, please,” Claire’s mom called from the back door.
The thread of electric energy running between Claire and Matthew faded.
Argh! No!
He stepped back, tucking a lock of Claire’s hair back behind her ear.
“I’d better go,” he said. “I had a great time. A really, really great time.”
She nodded. “O-okay. Thanks.” Her voice shook. “Be careful getting home.”
“Don’t worry about me—I’ll be fine. Call you later!” He smiled and darted around the pool house.
Claire leaned against the wall, dizzy with happiness. Oh my God! He said he’d call! Oh my God! She wrapped her arms around her damp bathing suit and twirled around.
“Claire,” her mother called from the door. “Everyone’s leaving. Claire?”
After the party, Lisbeth was too freaked about the werewolf to deal with the mess outside, but, of course, Claire’s mom was too bothered by the mess to let it be. She cleaned it up herself, her lips pursed, while Lisbeth hid in the kitchen doing dishes. By dinnertime, the tension in the house was thicker than the frosting on the birthday cake.
Claire sat at the kitchen island between Lisbeth and her mom. Half-eaten sandwiches lay in front of them—rare roast beef for Claire and her mother, and a vegetarian-friendly grilled cheese for Lisbeth. The news was running another special expanded edition about the werewolf sighting, which was pretty much just them saying, “We don’t know anything else, but we’ll tell you as soon as we do. In the meantime, here’s everything we do know, again,” over and over and over. Claire ignored it, but her mom’s eyes were glued to the screen, watching as a police sketch artist held up a rendition of what they thought the wolf might look like.
Lisbeth picked at the remains of her sandwich and patted the back of her sunburned neck. “I’m worn out. I’m gonna slather on some aloe and go to bed,” she announced. She leaned over and pecked Claire on the head. “Happy Birthday, sweetie. Sixteen. Wow.” She sighed. “I better hurry up and find a guy to sweep me off my feet, or you’ll head off to college and I won’t have anyone to take care of but your mother.”
It sounded like she was joking, but Claire could see the concern that crinkled up the corners of Lisbeth’s eyes.
Guess the thing with that guy from her yoga class must have flopped.
“Nah, you can come with me and fold my laundry in the dorm.” Claire stuck her tongue out at Lisbeth. Next to Claire, her mother snorted.
Lisbeth rolled her eyes. “I’ll let that go because it’s your birthday.” She leaned into Claire. “See you in the morning.”
“’Night.” Claire stopped scratching the backs of her hands against the rough underside of the granite countertop. She snaked one arm around Lisbeth for a quick hug.
Marie tore another bite out of her sandwich and nodded at Lisbeth without taking her eyes off the news. Claire felt Lisbeth stiffen beside her—just a little—before she turned and left the room.
Claire fished an ice cube out of her glass and held it against the prickling itch in her ear.
“Are you still mad at Lisbeth about the cleaning thing?”