I stood outside the concrete prison where I went to school. I’d looked forward to it for so long when I didn’t know whether I could go. Now that I was here, I already didn’t want to go back. I paced the parking lot in agitation, trying to laugh it off. I should go back and say I had another attack, which was true enough. I’d say the pain caused me to scream, and I left to… to get my medication. That was it. No one could fault me for urgently needing medication. Better to be the sick kid than the crazy one.

I turned back toward the double glass doors, resolved to try again. I stared into the great amber eyes of the white wolf. He sat on the concrete steps, blocking my way. Translucent and insubstantial, the mist which formed his body was barely visible in the harsh daylight. The eyes seemed to float almost unsupported in the air.

“You’re fading, like my other symptoms.” Even hating the curse I carried, I still felt disappointed. “That’s twice I’ve felt the hunger while I was with you.”

I looked around to make sure I didn’t get a reputation for talking to myself too. Everyone else was in class though. If Doctor Warmal really was here to keep an eye on me, then he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“The hunger isn’t coming from you though, is it? Next to you, everything feels… manageable. In control.”

The wolf lay down in front of the door. It was blocking my path, but I bet I could walk straight through and only feel the peace of its presence.

“So if you’re not the hunger, maybe you’re hunting it. Are you here because of Doctor Warmal?”

The wolf only stared. Those eyes could watch a forest grow and wither. I grew frustrated.

“Move aside then. I have to go back to class.”

The wolf didn’t move. I took a step toward it, and the aura of peace that it brought intensified and quenched my anger. Nothing evil could bring such comfort to such uncertain times.

“You don’t want me to go back to class.”

Raising its head, the wolf cocked it to the side. Its long ears remaining rigid in their tilt.

“It is Doctor Warmal, isn’t it? What’s he doing here? Does he know something about the medication I took?”

A strong breeze swirled what was left of the wolf’s incorporeal body. A flurry of patterns and eddies in the wind, and he dissipated. I didn’t know what to do. I trusted the wolf without quite knowing why. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want the hungry thing to see me when I couldn’t see it back. And as much as I fought it, I didn’t want the thoughts and feelings I felt from others to leave my mind.

Throughout my sickness, I have been extremely isolated at times. Feeling the intimate connection of another’s thoughts was a kind of intoxication I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t go back to seeing people look at me without knowing what they really felt. Left to only wondering whether they thought me weak and broken.

I pulled my cell phone from the pocket of my jeans and called my father.

“I had another attack. I need to go home,” I said.

“Are you alright? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m okay, but I won’t be if this keeps happening. I need more of the medication. It was working, but I need another dose.”

“We need to make sure you aren’t having any other side effects first. You know how unpredictable genetic engineering can be.”

“I don’t care. There aren’t any other symptoms. Just bring me another syringe from your lab.”

“I only prepare it immediately before injection. I’ll have another one ready by tonight. But we’re going to need to run some more tests after that to make sure it isn’t affecting your kidney or liver. Do you still want me to pick you up, or are you going back to class?”

I looked back at the empty steps where the wolf sat. Then across the nondescript windows, searching for the one that might conceal Doctor Warmal’s classroom. Next time I met the hunger, I was going to be ready. A fresh shot of psychic juice in my veins, I would look into him and see what he was hiding from me.

“Take me home, please,” I said weakly. “I’ll go back tomorrow after my second dose. Now we know I need it every five days, and I’ll be okay from now on.”

“Unless the tests reveal any other effect. Very well, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.”

I hung up the phone. I thought about whether I should tell him Doctor Warmal is teaching my chemistry class. If he really did know about the medication I took, then my father could be in trouble. But at the same time, the hunger within Doctor Warmal made me think he was here for another reason.

I picked up a stone and hurled it across the street while I waited to be picked up. I watched it roll onto the other side and rest, indifferent to its new home. I was in two worlds now. Doctor Warmal and his hunger must belong to the second one, the psychic one. I didn’t want my father involved in that world. I didn’t want him to know about my symptoms and take me off the medication. I wanted to live. And more, I wanted this new power. Why would I want to be normal, when I could be so much more?

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I might have to be a witch now. Well, whatever the male version of that is; a warlock I suppose. What I mean is, I decided there was no use trying to hide the fact that I was strange. You don’t get to scream and hurl your desk on the first day, and return on the second as though nothing happened. From that day on, I was going to be strange whatever I did. I might as well roll with it.

That evening I took the second dose. My father was concerned, but it was night and day how much stronger I was now. I think he was proud of his work, and encouraged by the results. He gave me the syringe without prompting. The pale blue liquid sent shivers of dread and anticipation through me.

“Do you need help with the injection?” my father asked.

“I know what I’m doing now.”

I should know what to expect, but the first experience was so surreal that I could hardly remember it. The mental battle with the needle was still daunting, but my eagerness supported me better than my fear had before. I looked forward to the hurricane rush through my veins. I lay down in bed first, turning off the lights in case they became too overwhelming. Deep breath. Deep breath. Then I got up again and opened the window, letting in some fresh air and a little light in case I became dizzy or sick. Then lying down once more, breathing, I was ready.

The psychic symptoms had all but faded by now, but I could still feel my father hovering in the hall outside my closed bedroom door. The ceiling fan whirred. A car honked outside on the street. The needle was in. I gasped, and I was no more.

I was the whir of the fan, the air of the room, the afternoon light. And then I was through the window altogether, drifting above the street to look down as I flew. I was more aware this time, more in control of my body and its direction. It was too loud in the city with its uproar of leaking thoughts and feelings. I soared higher, trying to get away, soon lost to the exhilaration of my flight.

I see the woods, and I remember myself. I don’t know how much longer this out of body experience will last, but I might as well make use of it. It’s not like I’m really flying, so nothing can hurt me, right? I might as well try to find out what’s inside the woods. I was so sensitive in this heightened state that I could feel the thoughts of people half a mile below me on the ground. I felt the hunger gnawing at the edge of my mind before I even saw the first trees.

It’s just a vision. There’s nothing to fear. I was sleeping in my bed while I dove towards the woods. I felt the torrent of wind against my face, and imagined myself as a bird. Immediately the wind changed, sleekly gliding past me, catching my wings and lifting me. I pulled my wings into my body naturally and without thought, adjusting their angle to glide low and graceful over the trees. The hunger was growing more powerful, but I couldn’t see beneath the tangled branches of the corkscrew willows which grew here.

I perched atop a twig and told myself I was a squirrel. And so it was, my little feet racing down the trunk to peer into the dark woods.

Somewhere I heard my father knocking on my door. There were muffled words, but I couldn't hear them.

"I'm alright." I heard my own voice call from far away. I never said those words, but they were said with my voice. How could I, when I was a squirrel several miles away?

Here in the fading light beneath the canopy of leaves I could feel the hunger so much more powerfully. The hunger of the trees, their roots gripping greedily at the earth to blight the soul. The hunger of the animals, mad and reckless in their pursuit. And my hunger as well, devouring my shattered mind and leaving me feral.

I must have forgotten that I used to be a boy. I only knew that hunger, that bottomless abyss. I kept going and let it grow, knowing in my entire body that it would be useless to try and satisfy. When I thought I could take no more and would tear into my own skin, I remembered the horror of harming myself with a needle. I remembered who I was, and that the most acute affects of the medication would soon wear off.

I was running out of time to find out what the hunger was coming from. I ran now, sprinting along the branches as though highways. Wild leaps through the air, not worrying whether I would fall, as I knew my body was safe at home. I raced into the depths of the gnawing void, and the trees gave way. Hidden here in the forest was an old loghouse, with an old brick chimney crumbling away. Crumbling, or devouring itself to dust, so powerful was the aura here. I made it all the way to the front door, immaculately preserved with clean white paint. It stood in stark contrast to the rotting old house. In fact, I recognized the brass knob. It was the door to my bedroom.

I reached to open it, surprised to see my human hand taking the knob. Then turning, I looked into the hallway of my home where my father stood anxiously.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "You were in there for a long time. Are you experiencing any other symptoms?"

I shook my head, numb. I looked over my shoulder, half expecting to see tangled trees. My bedroom was just as it always was, with only the open window to remind me where my soul was swept.

"I'm fine. Starving, actually. What's for dinner?"

"Hamburgers. But you'll have to wait, because I'm putting another one on for your guest."

"Guest?"

I was shocked to see Lei, the girl sitting next to me in class. She smiled brightly and waved, enthusiastic enough to be posing for a photo.

"Your classmate was kind enough to drop off your homework from the first day of class. I invited her to stay for dinner when I saw that she wasn't leaving."

Lei giggled. "Sorry, it smelled so good!"

"Um, fine, thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"I felt bad for what happened, and wanted to make sure you were okay."

And so she did. The wave of genuine empathy from her was warm and comforting. It seemed to rebound and double as it passed between us, until it seemed impossible to me a stranger could contain such a feeling.

"Why? Did Doctor Warmal send you?" I asked suspiciously. Oops. I forgot I wasn't going to mention him. My father was in the kitchen by the fridge while Lei and I sat in the living area. Father must have heard, but he made no sign.

Lei shook her head. "I saw you from the window in the parking lot afterward."

"I'm not mental. And I'm not slow either. I've just been sick."

I felt defensive. I tried to close myself off from her thoughts, but part of me couldn't resist. I couldn't believe what I was feeling, because no suspicion or doubt clouded her mind. How could she not think me a freak?

"I know. Because I saw the wolf you were talking to. Did he help you feel better?"

My mouth must have dropped open. Lei giggled again, the sound light and airy like popping bubbles. I cast a nervous glance at my father who stood at the stove. He was pretending to ignore us, but I could feel the sharp awareness in his mind.

"There was no wolf. That's a bad joke, nobody gets it."

I felt her understand immediately, and I was flooded by relief. She glanced over at my father as well, and smiled patiently.

"The big bad wolf is just a story," she said. "I don't know the American stories well. I would like you to tell it to me tomorrow."

"Who is ready to eat?" my father announced. "School, homework, friends -- here's to a normal year this time around."