Later that night, Cordelia popped her head into June’s room, interrupting her studies. “Hey June, grab some hiking clothes. We’re going for a trek.” Her voice was strained, her hair still dull and sticky. Her purple sweater had an obvious coffee stain on the left side.
Halfway through sharpening a pencil, June dropped it in surprise and it clattered on her glass desk. The room smelled of pencil shavings—June loved that smell, and she did not love the idea of going anywhere at night, especially into the deep, dark woods with someone who looked like a crazy person. “Didn’t you hear about the missing people?” June asked. “Who goes hiking in the middle of the night under these circumstances?”
“We do, for your birthday.”
June understood Cordelia’s lack of fear; any normal human who tried to kidnap Cordelia would not survive long. “You’re being weird, Mom. What aren’t you telling me?” She waited for the punchline.
Cordelia stiffened and crossed her arms. “Please get ready without a million questions. After all, who is always right?”
“Is this about me Shifting?”
“June, who is always right?”
“I’m not even going to humor you with that.”
“The correct answer is Mom. Let’s go.” She spun and disappeared, ending any debate.
“You’re lucky you have such an obedient daughter,” June called. She scratched the neck of Abraham Lincoln, her black beachball of a cat, who was sprawled along the right side of her desk. “You know, the way she’s been acting lately, it’s almost like she’s worried I will Shift tonight,” she whispered to Abraham. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. Abraham looked back at her pointedly and blinked his yellow eyes. Sometimes June swore he understood everything she said to him.
*******
Two hours later, deep in the forest, far from any trails or signs of human life, June and Cordelia walked down a gentle slope. The light of the nearly full moon filtered through gaps in the tree canopy overhead, but pools of darkness spread far and wide where the beams didn’t reach. The wind blew softly through June’s hair and carried a chill that matched the changing colors of the leaves, which June had pointed out several times couldn’t be fully appreciated when one hiked late at night. She did, however, manage to note the names of just about every tree and plant they passed that she could see—Cordelia had drilled identifying plant life in the forest into June at a young age.
June watched her mom step around a blackberry bush, avoiding the thorns. Cordelia hadn’t exactly been talkative on their trek—after many one-word answers, June had given up asking questions and focused on trying not to trip over anything. But that hadn’t stopped her from wearing a wide grin through the dark forest. The very fact they were heading into the woods gave June a ballooning hope that she would be getting her dream after all, and that, when midnight struck, she would Shift into an enormous owl. The skies would be hers, and the world of birds would open to her like a textbook.
They found a round clearing with a fallen southern red oak lying through the middle. Moonlight filled the open space. Cordelia pointed to the tree and said, “Let’s sit and wait.”
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June’s shoes crunched on fallen leaves. Without branches overhead or the lights of civilization around, June could admire the full expanse of the sky—the stars shimmered bright and clear. The calculator watch on her wrist—a birthday gift from Brendan last year—said it was 11:59 p.m. Cordelia's timing was impeccable; in one minute, June would be fifteen.
Cordelia sat down next to her and said nothing. June’s stomach knotted with anticipation. “Tell me again why we had to hike out to the middle of nowhere tonight?” she asked, though she hoped she already knew the answer.
“I—I just wanted you to get the experience,” Cordelia said. “We’ll call it a family tradition, to be in the woods at midnight when you turn fifteen.” There was an odd tone in her voice. It almost sounded like nerves.
“Yeah, I really would have preferred a different family tradition instead, like two birthday cakes,” June replied. Cordelia didn’t take the bait—normally a mention of indulging in desserts would at least get a sharp glance—and instead scanned the woods around the clearing. That settled it; Cordelia was definitely nervous.
June grinned to herself and looked up at the moon. Then her smile grew even wider; she knew what Brendan would think of as soon as he saw it: werewolves. She heard several plinking noises nearby and realized it was just acorns falling. When she glanced at her watch again, it was 12:01 am. She was now fifteen. Cordelia followed June’s eyes to the watch, let out a trembling breath, and looked to the sky like she was thanking somebody.
A terrible wave of disappointment racked June, and the balloon of hope that had been growing inside her popped painfully. Tears formed thick and heavy in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. How could she not Shift? What about the changes she’d experienced this week? And as she sat there, the crushing realization that her life’s goal was as good as dead crashed down upon her. The trickle of tears became a steady flow and she sobbed.
“Nothing—happened,” she managed between heaving breaths.
And then something did happen.
June shot to her feet as her skin rippled with fire; she was certain that her insides were exploding and becoming her outsides. Her bones snapped and then snapped again, and all she knew was pain. She fought back the urge to scream, then couldn’t tell if she was screaming because her mouth wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She thought she heard Cordelia’s voice, but it echoed far away, as if from the other side of a tunnel. June fell to the ground and thrashed wildly, but the leaves and dirt did nothing to extinguish her agony.
As suddenly as it appeared, the pain disappeared, and the world around June erupted with new sounds and new smells uncountable—she could hardly make sense of the clash and rush and jumble. She lay still, her eyes closed, breathing with relief that she no longer felt like she was dying. She tried to calm her mind and make sense of things. Rhythmic thumping surrounded her, like a million little tribal drums. An avalanche of skittering and rustling beat against her ears. The wind roared through the trees. And everywhere were sounds that formed a soaring, expanding music, like every tree, plant, and creature played a part in a living orchestra.
Opening her eyes, June could see the trees and colors around her with a clarity she hadn’t known even in daylight. She eased to her feet and looked for Cordelia. June found her standing a few feet away and realized that she was staring down—instead of up—at her mom. Cordelia’s ragged breathing and racing heart sounded like they were blaring through a speaker.
Cordelia moaned. Her face was an unhealthy shade of white, her mouth hung open and slack, and her eyes were—were those tears?
“June—oh my—June.” Her voice trailed off. She put her hands over her mouth.
“I knew it!” June cried. “I knew I would Shift! Why are you looking at me like that—I’m fine. What’s wrong? Come on, you at least knew this was possible, right?”
Cordelia winced at the sound of June’s voice. “Oh June, no, I never—no one knew this was possible.”
The fear in Cordelia’s voice made ice water trickle down June’s spine. She looked down at her body…and roared.