R. Stine: Werewolf Skin

The two boys stared at me intently. They didn’t say anything. Sean shoved his hands into his baggy jeans pockets. Arjun fiddled with a silver ring on his little finger.

Finally, Sean broke the silence. “You don’t believe in werewolves,” he said softly.

“Huh? Well…” I hesitated.

“You didn’t raise your hand,” Arjun added. “Everyone else did.”

“Yeah. I know,” I replied. “I really don’t believe in them. I mean, come on, guys. It’s practically the twenty-first century. See a lot of guys with fur on their faces walking around the streets? I don’t think so!”

I meant it to be funny. But they didn’t laugh. They kept staring at me with their solemn faces.

“Werewolves exist,” Arjun said softly. “We can prove it to you.”

“For sure,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “The Easter Bunny exists too. I saw him riding a bus back home in Cleveland.”

“We can prove it to you, Alex,” Arjun insisted. “We can show you a werewolf.”

“A real one,” Sean added.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I really-”

“You can take pictures of it,” Arjun interrupted.

“Yeah. You can take a whole roll!” his friend cried.

That made me stop and think. I remembered the photo contest I planned to enter. I needed a Halloween photo-a really good Halloween photo-for the contest.

They moved closer, surrounding me, forcing me to back up until I bumped into the windowsill.

“Want to see a real werewolf, Alex?” Sean demanded.

“Want to take photos of a real werewolf?” Arjun asked.

They stared hard at me, challenging me.

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

Aunt Marta laughed. “Hannah-you look dreadful!” she cried, pressing her hands against her cheeks.

“Thank you!” Hannah took a low bow. “Thank you!”

After dinner, Hannah had come over to show off her Halloween costume. She changed her mind about dressing as a pirate. The costume she chose instead was hard to describe. She had taken a lot of old clothes, torn them all up, and sewn them back together.

Her baggy pants had one brown leg and one green leg. And they had checkered patches at the knees. She wore a ragged shirt of yellow, blue, red-every color you can imagine. An even more colorful jacket over the shirt. And a floppy rag hat that kept falling over her face.

“What are you supposed to be?” I asked. “A junkyard?”

She didn’t laugh. “I’m a rag doll,” she replied. “Don’t you get it?” She tugged at the jacket. “Rags?”

Aunt Marta and Uncle Colin both laughed. I was happy to see them enjoying themselves. They had both seemed tired and low at dinner. They had barely spoken to me.

“There used to be a song about a rag doll,” Aunt Marta said. “Remember it, Colin?”

My uncle shook his head. “I don’t remember anything anymore,” he replied. “I’m lucky if I remember to get up in the morning!”

“Oh, give me a break, Colin!” Aunt Marta scolded. She gave him a playful shove. She began singing a song about a rag doll.

Hannah did a silly dance, twirling her hands above her head. One of her jacket sleeves fell off, and we all laughed.

“Where’s your costume, Alex?” my aunt demanded. “Go put it on. Come on. Let’s have a preview.”

“I–I haven’t put one together yet,” I stammered.

“Well, let’s get some old clothes and make you a costume tonight!” Aunt Marta insisted.

“No. I… need to think about it,” I told her.

I didn’t have my mind on costumes. I kept glancing out the front window at the darkening sky. Thinking about what I planned to do later.

I planned to meet Sean and Arjun in the woods by the creek. At school, they told me to take my camera and meet them there.

They said that the werewolf comes to that spot every night when the moon is at the highest point in the sky. “It howls up at the moon,” Arjun said in an excited whisper. “And then it lowers its head and laps up water from the creek.”

“Wait till you see it!” Sean exclaimed. “It’s a man and a wolf at the same time. He’s half-human, half-animal.”

I narrowed my eyes at the two of them. I tried to decide if they were goofing or not. Their expressions were so serious-and so excited-I decided they were telling the truth.

Was it possible? Did werewolves really exist?

I pictured the howling creature in the Marlings’ window. And I pictured the two animals in the woods, ripped to pieces.

By a werewolf?

The back of my neck tingled. I’d never believed in werewolves. But I’d seldom been out of the city.

Here in this small town surrounded by woods, they began to seem real.

“Will you meet us at midnight?” Sean asked.

I didn’t want to return to the woods at night. Not after what I’d seen there.

But I didn’t want them to know I was afraid.

And I really needed a great photo to win the contest. A photo of a werewolf would definitely win! What else could come close?

So I agreed to sneak out of the house and meet Sean and Arjun at midnight in the woods. But now, as it grew later, I began to feel really nervous about it.

As I glanced out at the darkness beyond the window, I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. And my hands were suddenly cold and clammy.

“Alex, what are you thinking about?” Aunt Marta’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Huh?” I blinked and shook my head.

Everyone laughed. “You were staring out the window with the strangest look on your face,” Hannah declared.

“Oh. Just watching the moon,” I said with a shrug.

“It’s Moon Madness!” Uncle Colin joked. “OOOH. Looks like a bad case!”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“How should I know?” my uncle replied. “I just made it up!”

We all laughed again.

Everyone was in such a good mood. I wished I could relax and have fun too. But all I could think about was sneaking out to the woods.

Hannah went home a short while later. I said goodnight to my aunt and uncle and closed myself up in my room.

I glanced at the bed-table clock. It read ten fifteen.

Nearly two hours to wait.

I checked out my camera. Made sure I had it loaded with high-speed film.

Then I sat down to read a photography magazine-and wait-hoping the time would pass quickly.

My eyes stared at the pages of the magazine. But I couldn’t read. I couldn’t concentrate.

Every few seconds, my eyes went up to the bed-table clock.

Why does time move so slowly when you’re waiting?

Finally, at about ten to midnight, I closed my magazine. Pulled on an extra sweater and then my jacket. I grabbed my camera case and slung the strap over my shoulder.

Then I tiptoed to the bedroom door.

My aunt and uncle were probably out in the woods, photographing night animals. But in case they decided to stay in tonight, I didn’t want them to hear me sneak out.

I clicked off the lights in my room. Then I reached for the doorknob and tugged.

“Hey-!”

I turned the knob and tugged again. I turned it the other way and gave the door a hard jerk. “I don’t believe it!” I gasped. I’d been locked in.

The door must be stuck, I decided.

I tugged it hard. Tugged it a dozen times. I even tried pushing. But I couldn’t budge it. It had definitely been locked, locked from the outside.

I angrily spun away from the door.

Why did my aunt and uncle lock me in? I wondered. Because of last night? Because of my close calls in the woods?

“They can’t do this to me!” I exclaimed.

I ran to the window. I jerked the curtains apart and reached for the window handles.

The window slid up a few inches-and I let out a gasp.