“Let me get this straight,” says Sarah.

I give her a SHUSH! We’re tucked at a little table in a hidden corner of the school library. I’ve never been way back here before. It’s dark and smells like dust. I’ve got a big book open in front of me—Werewolves: Hollywood and Beyond. “Could you keep your voice down, please?” I ask her.

“Let me get this straight,” Sarah says again, this time whispering. “You got bit by a wolf while camping. And now, you have hair growing out of your face? Very YUCK, by the way.”

“That’s not all,” I tell her as I flip through the book. Normally, I’d jump on my iPhone and hit up Google. I’m sure there’s a whole bunch of werewolf websites out there. But as I’ve mentioned, I won’t have a phone until Christmas. Besides, Mom sometimes peeks at my internet searches, and I don’t want her to know about this. “Remember that wolf on TV?” I ask, “the one that snuck into the Peak Market?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

I point at myself. Sarah covers her mouth and giggles.

“I’m not kidding,” I tell her. “That was me. I changed into a wolf during a full moon and ate a bunch of raw meat.”

“Soooo gross,” Sarah says, but she’s still giggling.

“Sarah, why would I lie about this? It makes me look like a psycho.”

Sarah shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s a joke. You’re trying to trick me into believing you so you can make fun of me.” She scans the nearby bookshelves. “Do you have someone filming us? Maybe for one of those TikTok prank videos.”

I gaze into Sarah’s eyes, trying to hold her stare. “I wouldn’t do that to you, and you know it.”

Sarah’s smile disappears. She suddenly gets very serious and whispers even lower. “You really think you’re a werewolf?”

“It’s the truth, Sarah. I swear.”

She glances over at the book on the table. It’s open to a chapter about old werewolf movies from waaaaay back in 1980s. “You’re going to prove it,” she says.

“How?”

Sarah lifts up the book, showing off a picture from a teen comedy. It’s a photo of a wolfman dunking a basketball. “I know for a fact you’re horrible at basketball. If you can play like this, I’ll believe you.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I feel my pulse begin to race. Warm blood surges through my veins. I grab the book and say, “Let’s go to the gym.”

***

Just my luck, my sister Emily is in the gym, shooting hoops with her friends. (Where else would she be, right?) The moment I walk through the door, she stops her game cold. She is not exactly thrilled out of her mind to see me.

“What’d you think you’re doing?” Emily and her friends stare at me like I’m an alien from the planet Dork-con.

“I don’t know,” I say, looking around. It’s a great big room with two basketball courts and some folding bleachers. The air is stifling and whole place smells like sweaty socks. “I thought I might get a little exercise.”

Emily gives me one of her best vampire smiles. “You?”

“Sure. How about a little one-on-one?”

Emily snorts at my suggestion and turns her back on me. “Kat, I’ve seen you trip over your feet getting out of bed. Don’t waste my time.”

“I’ll fart on all your brushes.”

Slowly, Emily turns around. “What… What did you say?”

“If you don’t play me, I’ll go home and fart on your hair brushes. Every last one of them.” Now, I’ve got her attention. If there’s one thing Emily loves in this world, it’s her hair brushes.

“Whatever,” she says. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You really want to take that chance? Or are you actually afraid to play me?”

Emily’s friends all say “Ooooooooh.” They watch Emily with big hyena smiles on their faces, waiting to see how she handles this. I notice Miss Chaney standing up in the bleachers. She’s busy hanging a banner for the school pep rally, but stops to witness the drama unfold.

Emily’s face turns to stone. She passes me the basketball—HARD! Like she’s trying to hit me with it. “Do you even know how to play?”

“I’ll figure it out,” I say, and toss the ball. I don’t think about—don’t aim or anything. My body just takes over and I chuck it.

The ball goes SWISH, right through the net.

I guess it was a good shot because everybody gets all whispery. My ears pick up every word they say.

“No way?”

“But she’s so clumsy.”

“I can’t believe it.”

Emily can’t decide whether to be shocked or angry. She jogs off to retrieve the ball and says, “Anyone can get lucky.” She bounces the ball to me, twice as hard as before. “Let’s see how you do when someone’s guarding you.”

I race down the court, dribbling the ball. It thumps a perfect drumbeat on the court’s shiny wooden floors. A weirdo feeling comes over me, like I’ve been doing this my whole life. It’s like something else has control of my body and my brain is just along for the ride. Emily struggles to keep up, but she might as well be moving in slow motion. I do this spin move and leave her stumbling. Then I jump.

It feels like I hang in the air forever. My hand swings around with the ball and… THUNK!

I dunk the ball through the metal hoop.

Everyone in the gym stares at me in total astonishment. There are no whispers this time. Some of the girls even forget to breathe. The place goes completely quiet. I notice Miss Chaney up in those bleachers, watching me with astonishment. She forgets all about the banner and lets it sag in her hands.

My friend Sarah is the first person to utter a word. “I believe you,” she says.