I decided to work on my research that evening. I checked my notes and my calendar. The moon was waning, still weeks away from being full again. I reviewed my observations on our romantic date with the wolves, the time I saw Brandon in the woods by the gymnasium, and watching him turn. I included these new werewolf sightings in my calendar.

Unfortunately, my efforts to make contact with Brandon weren’t going well. Brandon wasn’t returning my calls or texts. I felt so awful for him, truly isolated from me, the other students, and now from the town. I wouldn’t even be able to get to Dr. Meadows, who I knew was desperate to meet Brandon. Everything was getting so out of hand. I felt the world was caving in on us.

“It has to be wolves,” my dad said at dinner about the werewolf sightings. I was like my father — skeptical about anything unfamiliar or not scientifically proven. But now I knew that a werewolf did exist and that he was being spotted by the local community.

“People don’t have anything better to do than gossip,” my mom said, referring to the town’s rumors.

“After those wolves showed up at your school,” my dad said, “I’m sure it put thoughts in people’s minds.”

“Everyone is talking about it,” my mom chimed in.

“Make sure you don’t walk home. Get a ride or I’ll pick you up,” my dad told me. “Call me anytime.”

“I have to admit a few girls at work said they saw one, too,” my mom added.

“I want you on a curfew,” my dad said to me.

“What?”

“Just for the time being,” he continued. “You’ve already had a run-in with a pack of wolves, and then they showed up at school. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Dad!” I said.

“I don’t want to be the bad guy here, but I have to put my foot down.”

A curfew wasn’t really something I needed, as I was always back home well in advance of any grounding possibilities. But I didn’t like that the once-peaceful town was suddenly overridden with fear. It seemed full moons, folklore, and strange events were affecting not only me and Brandon but the entire town of Legend’s Run.

Meet me at Abby’s,” Ivy said when I answered my phone after dinner. “She said it’s urgent.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but she sounded upset. I told her we’d be right over.”

When we arrived at Abby’s, our friend was waiting outside on her porch. She was only slightly bundled up, and her breath was visible in the cool air.

“Pumpkin is missing,” Abby said.

Pumpkin was Abby’s five-year-old golden retriever with an orangey-rust coat and a white spot that looked like an earring on her left ear. Pumpkin was gentle and friendly and wasn’t prone to running off.

“It’s not like Pumpkin to stay away,” she said anxiously. “We can’t find her!”

We began knocking on Ivy and Abby’s neighbors’ doors.

Abby was distraught. She was usually strong but today she was frazzled. She loved Pumpkin as much as I loved Champ, and I knew if Champ were missing, I’d be devastated, too.

Ivy and I tried to console her with talk of new fashion trends, but nothing was distracting her. We knocked on every door, asking if anyone had spotted her golden retriever.

After a few hours, exhausted, frozen, and dogless, we returned to Abby’s house. We scarfed down pizza as we downloaded photos of Pumpkin on the computer and duplicated them on her dad’s state-of-the-art jumbo home copier.

“We’ll post these tomorrow,” Ivy said, taking a stack with us.

“I really appreciate this,” Abby said. “I miss her so much.”

“I know she’ll come home,” Ivy said, giving her a hug.

“I bet she’s somewhere safe,” I said.

“I hope so,” she said. “She’s my best friend — besides you two, of course.”

“Of course,” Ivy and I agreed.

Ivy put the stack of pictures in the back of her car. Ivy was sweet and drove me back to my house.

“That dog is as good as dead, I’m afraid.”

“Ivy!” I said, shocked at her morbid remark.

“I’m not trying to be heartless,” she said. “It’s just with roaming wolves and a werewolf on the loose, she should have kept her locked in the house.”

Wolves were bad enough preying on defenseless felines. But a werewolf? My werewolf?

It couldn’t be.

The following afternoon I went with Ivy, Abby, their boyfriends, and Nash to post Pumpkin’s picture on every telephone pole and in every coffee shop. We hung our fliers next to ones for other dogs that had gone missing in the past few months. Any reason for Pumpkin’s absence wasn’t good, but to me, if Brandon was the reason — he’d be beside himself. He was devoted to animal rights and I’d seen how great he was with them — even wild animals. I was distracted by this concern, but as I didn’t want to steal the focus from Abby’s circumstances, I overcompensated by being lively and chatty with my friends.

“I know why you’ve been so happy today,” Ivy said, taking me aside. “It’s because of Nash. You are always so happy when you are with him.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I tried to analyze her diagnosis of my emotional state. In a way, my best friend was right. I knew we all had a blast hanging out as a sixsome, and there was incredible bliss in having a boyfriend. But I’d never felt such depths of feelings for Nash as I did for Brandon. And because Brandon was a Westsider — and now a werewolf — there were so many difficulties to our happiness together. I knew that no matter what, I could be happier with Brandon than I could be with Nash.

Ivy dropped me off at home and I saw a strange car waiting at the end of our street. I was opening our front door when someone got out and scurried toward me. I recognized the long gray hair pouring out from under a red hat.

“Dr. Meadows?” I said. I hurried toward her.

“Have you heard?” she said, breathless. “He’s been discovered.”

“Yes, everyone is spotting him. I’m really worried. And it’s not even the full moon. What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but I must see him, too.”

“I am trying to convince him, but it’s not easy. He’s skeptical, and also really wants to keep his secret from the world.”

“I know, but you must let me see him. It is imperative. If people are coming in contact with him — he could be in danger.”

“I don’t want him to be hurt—”

“If I don’t get to him before someone else does, there could be dire consequences. No one is safe. That’s all I know.”

I didn’t like Dr. Meadows’s dramatics, but I knew her concern was real. And I feared for Brandon, too.

“If he doesn’t come to me, I’ll have to go to him,” Dr. Meadows said urgently. “I won’t be able to wait for your permission any longer. I will have to find him on my own.”

“I want him to be cured and safe. That’s all.”

“Of course you do. You love him,” she said in a soft voice. She drew my hair back from my face.

Dr. Meadows was the only one who knew my true feelings toward Brandon. I was surprised to find I felt relieved with someone else holding my secret.

“What happens if he kisses me,” I asked, “when he’s a…?”

She paused with a cold, hard stare. “You mustn’t. That is all I can tell you.”

Dr. Meadows scurried away before I could say another word.

When I let myself into the house, Frank Sinatra was serenading me from my back pocket. I scrambled for my