R. Stine: Werewolf Skin

“So what?” I shot back. But I felt a shiver as I saw something move in the dark front window.

Was someone staring out at us?

I lowered my camera.

“Come on, Alex.” Hannah tugged me toward the back. “Are we going into the woods or not?”

I squinted up at the Marlings’ house. “Why was my uncle so upset when I asked about that house?” I asked Hannah. “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t really know,” she replied, dropping my arm. “The Marlings are supposed to be a weird old couple. I’ve never seen them. But… I’ve heard stories about them.”

“What kind of stories?” I demanded.

“Frightening stories,” she whispered.

“No. Really. What kind of stories?” I insisted.

She didn’t answer. Her olive-green eyes narrowed at the broken porch, the faded, stained shingles. “Let’s just stay away from there, Alex.”

She started jogging along the side of the house toward the backyard. But I didn’t follow her. I crossed the driveway and stepped into the tall weeds of the Marlings’ front yard.

“Alex-stop! Where are you going?” Hannah called.

Holding my camera at my waist, I made my way quickly up to the house. “I’m a city kid,” I told Hannah. “I don’t scare easily.”

“Alex, please-” Hannah pleaded. “The Marlings don’t like kids. They don’t like anyone coming up to their house. Please. Let’s go to the woods.”

I stepped up carefully onto the rotting floorboards of the front porch. I raised my eyes to the front window.

The reflection of the setting, red sun filled the glass. For a moment, it appeared that the window was on fire.

I had to look away.

Then, as the sunlight faded from the window-pane, I turned back-and gasped.

Inside the house, the window curtains were slashed and torn.

As if some kind of animal had clawed them, clawed them to shreds.

“Hannah-did you see this?” I called. I couldn’t take my eyes off the shredded curtains.

She stood across the driveway, leaning her back against my aunt and uncle’s house. “I don’t want to come over there,” she said softly, folding her arms over her chest.

“But the curtains-” I started.

“I told you they’re weird,” Hannah said sharply. “And they don’t like kids gawking through their windows. Come on, Alex.”

I backed away from the Marlings’ house. My shoe caught on a raised floorboard of the rotting porch, and I nearly fell.

“Are we going to the woods or not?” Hannah asked impatiently.

“Sorry.” I pulled my shoe free and followed her toward the back. “Tell me more about the Marlings,” I said, jogging to catch up to her. “Tell me some of the frightening stories you heard about them.”

“No way,” Hannah replied in her breathy voice.

We trotted across my aunt and uncle’s backyard. The tall yellow and red trees of the woods, tilting in afternoon shadows, stretched beyond the smooth lawn.

“Please?” I begged.

“Maybe in a few days, after Halloween,” Hannah replied. “After the full moon.”

I followed Hannah’s gaze to the sky. A bright white moon-almost round as a tennis ball-rose over the trees, even though it was still daylight.

Hannah shuddered. “I hate when the full moon comes,” she said. “I’ll be so happy when it’s gone.”

“Why?” I demanded. “What’s the big deal about a full moon?”

She gazed back at the Marlings’ house. And didn’t reply.

We made our way through the trees. The fading sunlight filtered through the leaves, sending shimmering spots of gold over the ground. Our shoes crackled over twigs and dead leaves.

I found a gnarled old tree, bent over like an old man. The bark was pitted and wrinkled like aged brown skin. Fat gray roots reached up from the dirt.

“Wow! This is so cool!” I declared, pulling my camera from the case.

Hannah laughed. “You really are a city kid.”

“But-look at this tree!” I declared. “It’s like-it’s like it’s alive!”

She laughed again. “Trees are alive, Alex!”

“You know what I mean,” I grumbled.

I started to snap photos of the bent, old tree. I stepped back and leaned against a tilted birch tree. I tried to frame the old tree so that its shape looked human.

Then I moved all around the tree, photographing its creases, its wrinkles. I shot one slender branch that lowered itself to the ground like a weary arm.

I dropped down to my knees and snapped the roots reaching up from the ground like skinny legs.

A soft buzz made me raise my gaze. A hummingbird hovered over a flowering weed. I turned and tried to capture the tiny bird in my camera lens.

But the hummingbird was too fast for me. It darted away before I could snap my shutter.

I climbed to my feet. Hannah was sitting cross-legged on the ground, crunching dead leaves between her hands.

“Doesn’t that hummingbird know summer is over?” I murmured.

She stared at me blankly, as if she had forgotten I was there. “Oh. Sorry, Alex. I didn’t see it.” She climbed to her feet.

“What happens if you keep going straight?” I asked, pointing deeper into the woods.

“You come to Wolf Creek,” Hannah replied. “I’ll show you the creek next time. But we’d better get going. We should get out of the woods before the sun goes down.”

I suddenly thought of the wolves Uncle Colin had told me about. The wolves that gave Wolf Creek its name.

“The wolves that used to live here in these woods,” I said. “They’re all gone-right?”

Hannah nodded. “Yes. They’re gone.”

And then a shrill howl rose up-so close, so close behind me. The high, shrill wail of a wolf.

And I opened my mouth in a terrified scream.

I stumbled back against the birch tree. My camera banged against the trunk, but I didn’t drop it.

“Hannah-?” I choked out. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

But before she could reply, two boys burst out from behind a tall evergreen shrub. They tossed back their heads and howled like wolves.

“Hey-you guys!” Hannah exclaimed, making a disgusted face.

They were both short and thin, both with straight black hair and dark brown eyes. They finished their howls, then gazed at me, gazed at me hungrily, like wolves.

“Did we scare you?” one of them teased, his dark eyes flashing excitedly. He wore a dark brown sweater pulled down over black denim jeans. He had a long purple wool muffler wrapped around his neck.

“You two always scare me!” Hannah joked. “Your faces give me nightmares!”

The other boy wore a baggy gray sweatshirt and baggy khakis that dragged on the ground. He tossed back his head and let out another shrill wolf howl.

Hannah turned to me. “They’re in my class,” she explained. “That one is Sean Kiner.” She pointed to the boy with the purple muffler. “And he’s Arjun Khosla.”

“Arjun?” I struggled with the name.

“It’s Indian,” he explained.

“Hannah told us you were coming,” Sean said, grinning.

“You’re a city kid, right?” Arjun asked.

“Well, yeah. Cleveland,” I murmured.

“So how do you like Wolf Creek?” Arjun asked. It didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like a challenge.

They both stared at me with their dark eyes, studying me as if I were some kind of weird fungus.

“I–I just got here,” I stammered.

They exchanged glances. “There are some things you should know about the woods,” Sean said.

“Like what?” I asked.

He pointed to my feet. “Like you shouldn’t stand in a big clump of poison ivy!”

“Huh?” I jumped back. And stared at the ground.

They both laughed.