Page 37 of Raised By Wolves

Get it together, Kai.

Waylon hurries to catch up to me. “Don’t growl at me for asking, but don’t you think it’s ironic that you’ve gone from being a convict to an aspiring crime solver?”

This ridiculous question breaks the spell that Waylon doesn’t even know he put on me. “I’m not a convict, because I was never even charged with anything, let alone convicted,” I say. “And Ireallyhope there’s no crime we’re going to uncover.”

As we walk past the diner, I catch a glimpse of Holo through the window. Lacey had promised him ice cream after school. I wave, but he doesn’t see me.

You don’t need fangs for three scoops of ice cream, Holo. Hell, you don’t even needteeth.

But why am I annoyed? Isn’t this what I wanted for us—to live like everyone else? I shake off my weird feeling of unease and keep walking.

“Do we have far to go?” I ask Waylon when we’ve reached the far edge of town.

“Define ‘far,’” he says.

I think about this. “Ten miles.”

His mouth drops open. “You’re joking.”

A wolf pack’s territory is a hundred square miles or more. “No.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says.

“There” is a faded yellow house overlooking a weed-choked pond. A couple of dogs on the front porch get to their feet as we approach. I check for stiff legs and raised hackles. But I don’t see those signs of aggression.

The dogs sniff our legs as we climb the steps. One of them wags its stumpy tail. Waylon gives it a pat and then knocks on the door.

After a while a twentysomething guy with pale, scruffy cheeks and a confused expression opens it and says, “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Carl,” says Waylon. “How’s your score onRed Dead Redemption?”

“Better than yours, bro, that’s for sure,” Carl says. His bloodshot eyes shift over to me. “You two selling Girl Scout Cookies or something? I only like Samoas, so fuck off with your Thin Mints and your peanut-butter whatevers.”

Waylon gives a tiny shake of his head and mouthsHe’s not my broat me. I try not to laugh. Then he says, “I had to quit the Girl Scouts, Carl. I just couldn’t earn my sewing badge.” Then he gets serious and his voice goes lower. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen Julissa around.”

“Julissa?” Carl repeats. “Who’s asking?”

“Us, obviously,” I say sharply. I don’t like this guy. He smells sour. Weak. He wouldn’t survive a day in a state park, let alone a lifetime in the wilderness.

Carl frowns and starts to close the door on us. But Waylon puts his foot in the way and turns to me. “Carl is Julissa’s secret boyfriend, Kai, so we should be polite to him.”

I look more closely at skinny, greasy Carl in his sweat-stained T-shirt.That guy? Ewww.

Carl starts to protest, but Waylon calmly keeps explaining things to me. “Carl’s twenty-five, so Julissa hasn’t told her mom about him. She hasn’t told her friends, either. Theydefinitelywouldn’t approve. No offense, Carl.”

“Then how doyouknow about him?” I demand.

“Because I’m an observant person. Generally I’d rather watch people than talk to them.”

How come you keep talking tome, then?I think. But I say, “You didn’t notice that Julissa was gone.”

Waylon ducks his head, acknowledging this. “True. But she skips school a lot.”

Carl says to Waylon, “So you’re Nancy damn Drew now, huh?” He looks mad.

“I guess,” Waylon says good-naturedly.

Carl stares at Waylon for another minute, like he’s trying to decide whether to punch him or invite him in to play video games. Eventually—probably because he knows he’d lose the fight—Carl opens the door wider and says, “All right.”

---