Billy shovelled sand onto Jamie’s shoulders.  His back hurt, he’d been digging for hours.  Jamie still snored blissfully in the midday sun.  The drug had worked perfectly.
 
Billy smiled.  Danny was going to love this. Big bad Jamie, up to his neck in sand – it was too funny … too perfect.
 
For some reason, whether it was because he was the smallest, or because he had the balls to talk back to them, he always got the worst of it from Jamie and his friends.
 
What had happened last week though, had crossed a line.  What had happened last week had changed the rules forever.  Billy remembered the events vividly as he continued to shovel sand.
 
***
 
They’d been playing basketball; Jamie had set an illegal pick that bloodied Danny’s nose.  Danny had been livid and when Mr. Johnson turned away, he threw the ball at Jamie’s head, knocking the big kid to his knees.  That had done it.
 
After school, they’d squared off at the baseball diamond, just Danny and Jamie.  None of the other kids had stepped into the circle.  This was how it had to be.
 
As expected, Jamie had Danny to the ground in seconds, and was wailing on him.  Danny’s face was already swelling up. 
 
“Do you like that, punkass?  Feel like whipping a ball at me now?” Jamie punctuated each sentence with another shot.
 
***
 
Jamie was covered up to his upper arms now, and still showing no signs of waking.  God, you’re a dick, thought Billy. He remembered how Danny had turned it around, and smiled again.
 
***
 
Billy had finally seen enough and started forward. Surprisingly, Danny saw him moving, and waved at him to stay back.  The next moment, his knee was embedded in Jamie’s crotch, and the big boy flopped over on his side.  Danny rolled over and punched Jamie once – hard, just below his throat.  Jamie gasped for breath.  Danny stood and aimed a kick at the other’s head.  Billy grabbed him, and his guts turned to water as he saw pure hatred in his friend’s eyes.  After a moment, he stopped struggling and let himself be lead away.
 
Two days later, Jamie had had his revenge.  Nobody could prove he was the one who’d cut the brakes on Danny’s bike, but enough kids had seen him by the bike rack that it was a pretty safe bet.
 
On his way home that night, Danny had gone charging down the hill toward his house, flying at top speed on the bike when he saw the train crossing come down.  Billy was coming out of Dalton’s Variety store with a Coke in his hand.  He saw Danny holding his speed, waiting for the last possible minute to slam on the brakes and skid to a halt. 
 
Except the bike kept hurtling forward.  Danny’s face became a mask of terror as he tried to turn the bike away from the tracks. It jerked, and he rolled off — into the path of the oncoming train.  He was up and, with a second more, would’ve been safe.  But that was a second he didn’t get.  The train roared past, cutting Danny in two.
 
Billy had run to the tracks as quick as his legs would carry him.  His friend lay gasping beside the crossing.
 
“Billy?” asked Danny, in a soft, rational voice, “Billy, can you get help? I think I’m hurt bad.”
 
***
 
He’d gone, too.  Billy kept shovelling; Jamie’s body was only visible from the shoulders up now.  Billy took a sip of water, remembered the help he’d found, and wondered how lucky he really was.
 
***
 
Billy had run to the nearest house and started thumping on the door. The door of the place opened up, and a woman, huge and dark, was standing there. 
 
“What you doing there, child?  Don’ you know better than to disturb Mamzel Daisy?” asked the woman with a voice that was heavily accented and full of unspoken danger.
 
A chill cut through Billy’s grief. He’d inadvertently knocked on the door of the crazy witch woman. No one, not even Jamie’s crew, would have dared go near the house, even on a dare.  And now he was standing at her door.  Still — Danny, he had to think of Danny.
 
“Please Missus,” he’d said, “My friend … hit by the train.  He’s dying.  Please.  Please help.”
 
“Lord help us,” she’d replied, “Let’s go, we got to go to him.” 
“But … the ambulance,” Billy tried to insist.
 
The woman had looked over her shoulder and snapped, “You want to save the boy? Let’s go.”
 
They’d gone, but in the time it had taken him to reach the house, Danny had stopped breathing.
 
***
 
“There,” said Billy, patting down the sand.  Only Jamie’s head poked free now.  Yeah, Danny was going to appreciate this. Thanks to Mamzel Daisy, he’d get the chance.
 
***
 
“Oh, you poor child.”  The woman had gone to her knees and was cradling Danny.  The strange intimacy of the moment made Billy avert his eyes, and he saw the bike — and the cleanly snipped brake cable.
 
“No,” he’d said.”No, Jamie, you rotten bastard.”
 
Mamzel looked up, “What is it?”
 
“I know who did this to him.”  Billy’s voice had shaken with rage.
 
“Someone?” Mamzel’s face had drawn down in a scowl.  “Someone, took this child’s life?”
 
“Yes.  It was a boy at school.  He cut the brakes; I’m sure of it.”
 
Mamzel lowered Danny to the ground and looked at Billy. Her stare had been galvanizing. 
 
“Listen child.” She’d said, “You want your friend back? You want this other boy to pay?”
 
Billy had replied without thinking; grief and rage had driven rational thought far from his mind, “Yes.  Yes to both … but how?”
 
She’d nodded, “You leave that to Mamzel. But you give your word now — I’m puttin’ this child’s life in your hands.  He’s yours to care for.  Will you?”
 
He’d agreed.
 
And with that Mamzel had drawn a small package from her purse and started to chant.
 
***
 
“Wake up, jerk,” said Billy, tapping Jamie on the head with his shovel. 
 
Jamie’s eyes snapped open, “What the fuck?” He flailed his head around before looking up again, “Let me go you little shit!”
 
Billy smiled, “Not yet.  Someone wants to talk to you.”
 
The bully started to say something back, but instead his jaw dropped open as he saw the shape pulling itself along the sand toward him.
 
“See?” asked Billy with a smile, “He’s all right after all.  I lied though, he doesn’t say much anymore.”
 
With eerie strength, Danny walked on his hands, closer and closer, trailing his sand-caked innards behind him.  They could see the milky whites of his eyes now. 
 
“I’ve been looking after him. Funny though, I couldn’t figure out what he wanted to eat until now.”
 
“Nnn. Nnnn.”  Jamie stuttered in terror, “No, man.  Keep him away.”
 
“Oh, come on.  I had to give him a fighting chance. You can see he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”  Billy was laughing now. 
 
This was going to be great.

_________________________

©2010 Chris Allinotte

LYCANTHROPY  Contestant

Oh. My. God.  Tiffany, Marcus is so GROSS,” said Chelsea. 

She walked into the kitchen, wireless phone pinned snugly between shoulder and ear.
Tiffany was watching TV and snacking loudly on cheese puffs, but replied, “Like, why?  He’s got a totally bitchin’ bod.”

Chelsea was rooting through the fridge, “I KNOW, he’s buff, but he’s all HAIRY and junk.   Like, I just thought it was his arms and everything, but he wore a tank top …”

Tiffany gave the appropriate response, “Eww.  A tank top, on a first date?  Were you at the beach?”

“As if!” Chelsea said indignantly.

“No, we went to a movie.  Me and him and his hairy, stinky body.”

“Stinky?  Barf me out Chelsea!  No WAY he’s stinky too.”  Tiffany’s voice was hard to make out with the obscene amount of crunching going on.

“Tiff? Are you trying to like, make me deaf?  As IF you’re chewing louder than a horse, right in my, like, ear.”  Chelsea moved aside a grody looking casserole that Mom had left, but it was all lentils and beans and junk.  Ick.

“ Oh my god, you’re being a total RAG.” Tiffany sounded hurt, but the crunching slowed to a dull roar, “So what movie did he take you to anyway?”

Chelsea was inspecting half a bacon cheeseburger, but she thought it might be a week old.  God, she was so hungry.  It was making it hard to think. 

“Chelse? Are you still there?” , said Tiffany, still chewing. 

Chelsea was totally starving; it was making it hard to think, but she replied, “I don’t know, some slasher movie thing.  The guy was all burned and gross, like OBVIOUS rubber mask. Marcus totally put his arm around me at the jumpy parts.”

Tiffany gave another, “Eww.  And that’s when you noticed he was stinky? Right?”

Chelsea was busy taking stuff out for a sandwich, and started nodding into the phone before she realized what she was doing, “Totally Tiff.  You know what he smells like?  Remember when Tango got stuck outside last summer, like when you guys went out and left him in the yard, and it was totally nice out, but then it rained for like, the whole afternoon, and then you got home and he’d been in the rain like, all day? Marcus smells like that.”  She surveyed the counter and realized that none of the food looked appealing; though her cat Buddy had jumped up to make up his own mind.

Chelsea became aware of silence on the other end, and said, “Tiff?”

Tiffany didn’t answer for a long moment.  In the distance, Chelsea thought she could hear singing.  There was a sound of fumbling, and Tiffany’s voice came flooding back, “Sorry Chelse, I’m watching Friday Night Videos, and they’re playing Material Girl, and they just got to the good part.  What did you say again?”

Chelsea sighed; she would like, drop dead if she didn’t eat something soon.  “You’re such a cow, Tiff.  Wet dog.  He smells like wet dog.”  She started stroking Buddy.  He felt extra soft and warm tonight.
Tiffany made her gagging sound that had stopped being cool like, last month, “Tell me you got out of there, like, pronto.”

Chelsea stayed non-committal, choosing to go with, “Umm.”

Tiffany started spluttering around a mouthful of snack food.  When she had recovered her breath, she squealed,  “No WAY Chelsea.  Why did you stay if he was totally gross?”

Buddy was staring at Chelsea now.  His green eyes were like green mirrors in the reflected light of the still-open refrigerator.   He suddenly hissed and tried to get free.  Chelsea held him tight; she didn’t want him to leave just yet.  She could smell him now too, and her stomach rumbled again.  She eyed the baloney on the counter.  Nah.

It was Tiffany’s turn to be impatient, “Chelse? Chel-SEA? Are you THERE?  Like, where do you keep going?”

Buddy was spitting now, and digging his little claws in; but it didn’t hurt, “Tiff.  Take a chill-pill, I’m like right here.  I stayed at the movie because, I dunno, he was gross and junk, but I just kind of felt like staying. Weird, huh?”  The cat was frantic now, Chelsea could feel its little body twisting this way and that in her grasp.

Tiffany asked her, “What’s that sound Chelse?”

“It’s just Buddy, he’s in heat.”

That seemed to satisfy her friend, “Well, did you make out with him then?” Munch. Crunch.
Caught off guard, the truth came in a blurt, “Yeah, a little.”

Her friend squealed again, “You SKANK!  How far did he get?”  The high pitch hurt Chelsea’s ears, and she almost dropped the phone out from her shoulder, which was starting to itch.

“Not far.  He gave me a ginormous hickey though.  I think he broke the skin.  Hey Tiffy? I gotta go get something to eat.  If I don’t get some food like, right now, I’m totally going to waste away and die. Kay?”

“Kay. But this is SO not over.  See ya.” Tiffany hung up.

Chelsea tightened her grip on Buddy’s calico sides, she was salivating. Gross. But kind of okay too — like her date. Marcus had been a biter, but that had kind of made up for his hairiness and stuff.  She probably wouldn’t see him again.  Probably.  He was so weird; but after they’d kissed for a bit, she wasn’t so sure. 

She liked him a little better now.  So maybe.

Buddy wouldn’t stop yowling, so she squeezed his little voice box and made him stop.  Her nails were totally bitchin’ today; they looked longer and thicker than ever.  The phone finally dropped from her shoulder, and when she rubbed at the warm spot, Chelsea wasn’t totally surprised to find a thick patch of coarse blonde hair had sprouted there. 

Deciding suddenly that she wanted some fresh air, Chelsea opened the back door, and walked out into the light of the full moon.  The moon was SO rad.  As she sunk her lengthening teeth into her midnight snack, Chelsea thought she could do a LOT of radical things under a moon like that. 

Totally.

_______________
©2010 Chris Allinotte