YOSHI
A STEEL-TIPPED COWBOY BOOT jabs my shin. The half- *13 naked girl in my arms gasps, and I blink at the double- *12 barreled shotgun pointed at my nose. Sloppy. I’ve been *11 having so much fun that I didn’t hear Grams coming. 10 And I’ve got damn good ears. 9 “Get up and get out!” my grandmother yells, grip- 8 ping the stock. “I’ve had enough of you tom-cattin’ around 7 while I’m workin’ day and night to keep your belly fed.” 6 “ Yoshi?” whispers the drowsy girl draped across me in 5 the barn loft. W“ ho —?” 4 “Stay calm,” I reply. “No sudden moves. It’ll be okay.” 3 Wide- eyed, she sits up, grabs her sweater, and holds it 2 over her bra like a shield. 1
3rd Pass 3rd Pass master master 1 What’s her name again? Zora? Zelda? No, Zoë. That’s it. 2 Zoë’s visiting town from Topeka over winter break. 3 Last night, we hit it off, standing in line for chili cheese 4 dogs at Dairy Queen. I’m not sure what time it is, but we 5 headed back to the farm at around midnight. 6 Now Grams is standing with her boots shoulder-width 7 apart between us and the loft’s one-story drop-off. She ges- 8 tures with her weapon toward the wooden ladder. 9 Zoë doesn’t have to be told twice. She hurries out from 10 beneath the Mexican blanket and across the straw-littered 11 floor. Then she scrambles down to the ground level and 12 sprints out the open barn door without looking back. Not 13 that we bonded emotionally or anything. 14 Zoë will be all right. Her cousins’ property is just down 15 the road. 16 Meanwhile, my grandmother returns her attention to 17 me. “What’d I tell you about picking up strange girls?” 18 “Well,” I begin, “you don’t like me hooking up with 19 local girls, either, and I only have so much willpower. After 20 all, they’re usually the ones hitting on me and —” 21 “You know better than to bring anyone home!” Grams 22 fires a warning shot, knocking a hole in the roof that she’ll 23 be cussing later. She isn’t the type to kid. The way I figure 24 it, this effectively terminates her role as my legal guardian. 25 “What?” I ask. “No good-bye hug?” 26s As Grams lowers the barrel, I push up into a tight 27r crouch and launch myself over her head. It’s a glorious,
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master ninja- looking move, one I’ve nailed a hundred times. But 1 not with a gun pointed at me or after slamming a six-pack 2 of Bud Light. 3 Instead of landing neatly behind Grams on the plank 4 floor, I overshoot the edge of the loft and, waving my arms 5 for balance, fall another story down to hit the ground near 6 the hogpen. Contrary to superstition, I don’t always land 7 on my feet. 8 Off- balance, I turn my ankle and, wincing, dart into 9 the early-morning light. 10 I didn’t feel the winter chill in the barn. Not half buried 11 in straw with a warm, enthusiastic girl draped over me and 12 alcohol heating my belly. 13 Outside, the wind bites my skin, and I yank together 14 my unsnapped Western-style shirt. Glancing at Grams’s 15 old farmhouse, I hesitate. I don’t have much in the way 16 of belongings, but a change of clothes would be nice. 17 Besides, it’s the only home I’ve ever known. 18 Bam. Grams gets another round off. So much for 19 that idea. 20 On the upside, she’s a great shot. Grams must have 21 more familial affection for me than she realizes, or I’d be 22 dead by now. Still, it’d be idiotic to push my luck. 23 What the hell. It’s time I moved on. Because of my 24 grandmother, I’ve got no friends, and I wasn’t getting much 25 out of my senior year of high school anyway. s26 Within seconds, my semi-restored 1972 Mercury r27
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master 1 Cougar roars to life. I make a U-turn and hit the accelera- 2 tor, peeling out on the long gravel drive. 3 Farewell, Kansas! 4 I’ve got a few hundred bucks on my cash card. Enough 5 to hightail it to the only family I have left — my big sister, 6 Ruby, in Austin. 7 8 Could be the adrenaline, could be my metabolism, but 9 I feel sober enough to drive. I stop for gas and munchies 10 (four bacon cheeseburgers, six packs of beef jerky, and a 11 two- liter bottle of Coke) outside Wichita, and just over an 12 hour later, pull over in Tonkawa, Oklahoma, for a nap. I 13 don’t, strictly speaking, need the sleep, but I relish it. 14 Continuing on my way, I sing along to country music 15 and the pain in my ankle fades to a dull ache. By the time I 16 hit OK City, it’s gone and the bruise has vanished, too. 17 Being what I am has its advantages. 18 I don’t feel that guilty about disappointing Grams. 19 Wind blows. Seasons change. And I hook up with nearly 20 every smokin’ girl who catches my eye. Since puberty, I’ve 21 worked my way through a sizable percentage of the decent 22 Homo sapiens females (and a couple of the gloriously inde- 23 cent ones) near my age residing in Butler County. 24 So, no regrets, or at least few regrets, even if Zoë did 25 cost me room and board. 26s I don’t blame Grams, either. She’s got a no-tolerance 27r policy when it comes to friends, babes, or showing so
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master much as a whisker in public — like I’d be stupid enough to 1 tell anyone that we’re werecats. I understand that it’s a dan- 2 gerous world, that our keys to survival are secrets, lies, and 3 loneliness. My whole life, I’ve never known any different. 4 Cruising down I-35 South, I’m ready for some- 5 thing new. 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 s26 r27
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master CLYDE
13* 12* 11* SOMETIMES IT FEELS LIKE I’m the one haunting this little 10 neighborhood park, but no. That’s the literal domain of my 9 best bud, Travis. The big question is why. 8 Why is he still here? Why isn’t he resting in peace? 7 I start off with a safer subject, our friend Aimee. “She 6 hasn’t been to the paintball range since . . . you know,” I 5 say. We don’t usually talk about the night he was murdered. 4 “She claims nobody wants to go with her.” 3 “Why don’t you go?” Travis asks. 2 Maybe talking about Aimee isn’t so safe after all. 1 She’s attractive enough in a friend sort of way, and her
3rd Pass 3rdPass master master comic- book collection rivals mine. But paintball seems 1 more like a date than just hanging out, and no way can I 2 cross that line. 3 I’d never do that to Travis, especially now that he’s 4 dead. 5 Seated by the chain-link fence that’s become a shrine 6 to his memory, I peel a blade of dry brown grass in two. 7 “You know I’m a lousy shot.” 8 Partly to distract him, I display the most recent cards in 9 a row on the paved walk, and Travis floats down for a closer 10 look. At first,p eople from all over Austin — including a few 11 ass- wipes from Waterloo High who never spoke to him 12 when he was alive — brought not only cards (“Forever in 13 Our Hearts”) but also homemade signs (“We Love You, 14 Travis!”), flowers, andc andles. Now it’s just those of us who 15 knew him. 16 With the holidays came red bows, candy canes, and a 17 beaded snowflake ornament, not that we get a lot of snow. 18 I spot a new contribution, a four-inch-lo ng Oaxacan wood 19 carving of an armadillo. Like the plush dillos, it obviously 20 was left by someone in the loose network of local shifters 21 who knows that Travis was a werearmadillo. 22 “Do ghosts make New Year’s resolutions?” I ask, toss- 23 ing the grass aside. 24 “Like what?” Travis replies. “You think I should lose 25 weight?” s26 “Very funny, Mr. Incorporeal.” He appears vaguely r27
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master 1 translucent, but otherwise looks like he always has — barrel 2 body, bowl haircut, Longhorns jersey, and blue jeans. 3 Travis is the first friend I’ve lost . . . or sort of lost, given 4 that his spirit is still here. As the wind picks up, blowing 5 empty swings, it’s hard to know how to feel about that. 6 I’ve been doing my homework, trying to figure out why 7 he became a ghost in the first place. At first, I figured he 8 was too upset to move on — pissed off at having been mur- 9 dered, wanting his life back, and freaked out by the grieving 10 of the family he left behind. But Travis doesn’t seem stuck 11 or angry. He doesn’t seem lost or afraid or confused. He’s 12 not haunting his own home, where he could watch over his 13 loved ones, and his remains were properly buried with full 14 honors. 15 “ Clyde,” he begins, “what’re you trying to get at?” 16 “Like . . .” I return the cards to the fence, use the links 17 to raise myself, and maneuver into my wheelchair. “Maybe 18 you should think about, you know, going into the Light.” 19 Travis’s grin is good-natured. “What would you do 20 without me?” 21 “I’m just saying,” I reply. “It’s been a while since . . . it 22 happened.” Travis was slaughtered near this very spot — 23 closer to the tennis courts — over three months ago by a 24 skanky werecat named Ruby Kitahara, who hasn’t been 25 seen or heard from since. 26s When he doesn’t reply, I add, “Do you want to talk 27r about it?”
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master It has to be painful, discussing your own mur- 1 der. Travis didn’t even reveal his ghostly self to me until 2 the twenty-first of December (I swallowed my gum), 3 and other than during one disastrous road trip, I’d been 4 coming here at least twice a week since he died back in 5 September. 6 “I’ve told you,” Travis replies. “It was Friday the thir- 7 teenth. Ruby said she needed to talk. She invited me out for 8 a walk in the park, and so I went.” 9 I zip my jacket. My wereopossum metabolism usually 10 keeps me warm enough, but Travis’s spiritual presence has 11 a chilling effect. Like a ghostly mini air conditioner. 12 Resisting the temptation to come right out and call 13 him a dumbass, I say, “A badly lit, secluded park on Friday 14 the thirteenth, and you knew she was a werepredator, and 15 you went anyway?” 16 He hangs his head, hunches his shoulders, and sud- 17 denly I feel lousy for picking on the dead guy. “Yeah.” I wave 18 my hand dismissively. “I know. Ruby is hot, hotty, hotness 19 personified — evil of course, but abso-freaking-lutely four- 20 alarm, red smokin’ hot.” I may have overstated my point. “I 21 would’ve gone, too.” 22 You have to watch out for Cat people. They use sex like 23 a weapon. 24 “Ruby was saying something about the local cops when 25 she suddenly froze and her claws came out. She hissed at s26 me to beat it, and I did. I hauled butt.” r27
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master 1 It goes without saying that Dillos aren’t particularly 2 speedy. 3 “When I looked back,” Travis concludes, “she’d forced 4 a quick shift — it had to have hurt — and then sprang off in 5 animal form. I’d just made it to the parking lot when paws 6 slammed me to the ground.” He shudders. “The last thing I 7 remember is saber teeth sliding into the back of my neck.” 8 Travis rubs the area as if it still hurts. 9 Despite werecats’ typical BS about their being distantly 10 related to sabertooth tigers (or at least sabertooth were- 11 tigers), no known modern species of Cat have teeth that 12 extend past their jaws. However, they insist on referring to 13 their canines as “saber teeth” because the word canine has 14 such a strong Coyote/Wolf connotation. 15 “Ruby lured you out and let you have a head start so 16 she could chase you,” I realize out loud. “I guess it’s true 17 what they say. Cats love to play with their food.” 18 “Why me?” Travis asks. “I wasn’t a fast runner. If she 19 was looking for sport . . .” 20 “She’s a Cat,” I remind him. “They think with their 21 stomachs and genitals. Logic doesn’t apply.” Shifter-on- 22 shifter violent crime is rare, though, except between certain 23 longtime warring groups like Lions and Hyenas or Orcas 24 and Seals. 25 “Has there been any progress with the police investiga- 26s tion?” he wants to know. 27r
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3rd Pass 3rd Pass master master I’ve hounded Detectives Zaleski and Wertheimer for 1 details, but they’ve as much as admitted that the case is get- 2 ting colder every day. They insist they’re not giving up, and 3 I guess it’s possible there’s stuff they’re not telling me. 4 After all, I’m not only a sixteen-year-old civilian. I’m 5 also a poster child for everyone who’s ever gotten their 6 booty kicked. My parents, my friends, the cops — everyone’s 7 overprotective of me. 8 Realizing Travis is still waiting for an answer, I say, 9 “They’re trying, but —” 10 “I know,” he replies. “They’ve got a lot of other things 11 to worry about.” And it’s not like any case, even a murder, is 12 as important to them as this one is to us. 13 Travis dematerializes without saying good-bye, and 14 who can blame him? My own best friend was mauled to 15 death, partly eaten, and what have I done about it? 16 Come to think about it, that must be why my Dillo 17 pal is haunting this park — the scene of the crime — and 18 why I’m the only one he’s shown himself to. 19 Travis’s killer — Ruby Kitahara — is living free and easy 20 and without regrets. If he’s to have any hope of resting in 21 peace, he needs me to find her. 22 He needs me to make her pay for what she’s done. 23 24 The babies are screaming. Clara is screaming in the nurs- 25 ery down the hall. Claudette is screaming in the kitchen s26 r27
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3rd Pass 3rd Pass master master 1 sink. Cleatus is screaming in the bouncer chair in front of 2 the TV, and Clint is screaming in the playpen while point- 3 ing at Scooby on-screen. 4 “ Clyde,” Dad calls, “do something!” He’s supposedly 5 bathing Claudette. 6 If the kits were quints instead of quads, I might be a 7 reality- TV star by now, bitching about the paparazzi, accom 8 panied by nubile twenty-s omething personal assistants/a u 9 pairs, but alas, a grand total of five kids doesn’t cut it. 10 Still, if more humans were shifter-friendly, the Possum 11 angle might’ve sold the show. I could’ve launched an 12 improv career with off-color jokes about my prehensile tail. 13 “Pick one!” my father yells. “Cleatus! He’s closest.” 14 Cleatus just took a dump, and it’s his squalling that set 15 off the others. 16 Holding my breath, I maneuver the chair to scoop up 17 the stinky baby in one arm and roll down the hall to the 18 changing table in the nursery. 19 It isn’t usually only Dad and me versus the bellowing 20 horde, but Mom ducked out to pick up diapers fifteen min- 21 utes ago, which is apparently two minutes longer than we 22 can handle the kits without the house falling into chaos. It’s 23 not our fault. Possum babies are biologically hardwired to 24 cling to their mothers. 25 It takes some doing to get Cleatus wiped, powdered, 26s and relocated to his crib, but fortunately, my parents found 27r a wheelchair-accessible changing table. Then I roll across
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master the room to cheer up Clara by shaking a rattle and making 1 monkey noises. 2 Back in the family room, Clint’s wailing comes to a hic- 3 cupping halt as my soaking-wet dad slips a freshly towel- 4 dried Claudette into the bouncer chair. “Let’s wait until 5 your mother comes home to bathe the rest.” 6 Multiple births are over fifty percent more common 7 among werepeople than humans. But Dad spent much of 8 the past several years working at an oil rig in the Gulf, so I 9 was an only child until the kits were born. 10 I love the little poopers, and I like having my father 11 around again. 12 It’s hard on a family, being apart. 13 My parents even separated for a while, but after I was 14 born, they fell back into a rhythm together. When the quads 15 came, Dad had to commit more face time to the family. 16 Now he’s studying to get certified as a science teacher and 17 overparenting me out of guilt because he wasn’t around 18 much when I was growing up. 19 Turning down the TV, he says, “I’ve been meaning to 20 have a talk with you.” 21 “ Again?” At his expression, I add, “I aced Driver’s Ed. 22 I know how to tie a tie, and I learned everything I need to 23 know about sex from the Internet.” 24 He plops into the sofa chair. “About that monstrosity of 25 an SUV . . .” s26 The car was a gift from my friend Quincie, who sort of r27
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master 1 inherited it. Other than this afternoon’s child-care break, 2 Dad and I have spent the day sprucing it up. I can’t wait to 3 show Aimee. “I can afford the gas. Or at least I’ll be able to 4 once I get that raise —” 5 “I’d feel better about your working if your grades 6 were better.” Dad stands and navigates around the toys on 7 the floor to theC hristmas tree. “But it’s more than that.” He 8 unravels a strand of popcorn from the branches. “You’ve 9 had a lot to deal with lately — the babies, your physical 10 therapy, my moving back in, and what happened to Travis.” 11 Dad missed the funeral. Up to this point, only Mom 12 has brought up Travis’s death. I can’t tell them about my 13 newfound mission to find his killer. They worry enough 14 as it is. 15 “You’re in a growth spurt, too,” Dad adds. “You’re tall 16 for a Possum, filling out.” 17 “Hadn’t noticed,” I reply, though I did get new clothes 18 for solstice and Christmas. Stuck in this chair, constantly 19 looking up at other people, it’s hard to feel tall. 20 “I bet Aimee has noticed,” Dad says. 21 Now we’re getting down to it. Nice man, my father. Not 22 known for his subtlety. 23 “We’re just friends,” I reply, plucking a sticky discarded 24 pacifier from between the couch cushions. I set it on the 25 coffee table to be washed. “You don’t like Aimee?” 26s She isn’t one of us, so to speak. My father has always 27r seemed open-minded about others — humans and non-
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master Possum shifters. But parents tend be more conservative 1 when romance (and/or the possibility of sex) is involved, 2 and Mom and Dad were “taken aback,” as they put it, by 3 the matching half-inch-tall crosses that Aimee and I had 4 inked around our necks. 5 “ Aimee was Travis’s girl,” I explain. “I’m keeping an 6 eye on her for him. You know, to honor his memory.” It’s a 7 phrase I picked up at the funeral. 8 Dad drops the string of popcorn into a trash bag. “I 9 didn’t realize.” 10 I shrug. “Now you do.” 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 s26 r27
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3rd Pass 3rdPass master master
Feral Nights Cynthia Leitich Smith
www.candlewick.com