Chapter 1
“Ah man, I’ve got fleas!” I said, dropping the game controller and scratching the back of my head.
“Don’t you dare come near me!” said Chris as he got up from the bed and moved to a spot on the floor closer to the TV. “I just got rid of them.”
“How did I get fleas… again?” I asked, roughly scratching my shoulder.
“You probably got them while hunting birds last night,” Chris answered with a smirk.
“Ugh,” I groaned, “who would have thought a few ducks could be so much trouble?”
“Serves you right, Sam. You should be hunting big game like a regular werewolf.”
“I just wanted a snack,” I said, scratching the back of my neck again. “Is a snack too much to ask for?”
“A snack is a coyote or rabbits. Not birds.” Chris scowled.
“I was craving duck, and besides, rabbits aren’t as good,” I said rolling on the bed. “They’ve got more fur than meat.”
On the TV screen, my guy died in a fiery explosion. Chris’ character came running through and picked all the gear my army man left when it died. Chris smiled as his inventory doubled. I paused the game and Chris looked up.
“As for coyote, no way! To me, coyotes are like cousins, and it’s just not cool to eat family, no matter how far down the family tree they are.”
I like being a werewolf most days, but not at times like these. Fleas are the worst. They bite and make you itch. In people form it’s not so bad. When we change into our wolf forms, and all our fur comes out everywhere, those little bugs spread. They drive a wolf crazy. Even in people form, those bugs are still a pain; they’ll bite you in the weirdest of places.
Do you think it’s easy to get rid of fleas when your entire body is covered with fur? Nope, they have a party on me with my curly black hair being so thick. I’d become an amusement park for fleas.
We werewolves are not like what you see in the movies. We’re not the clawed monsters that only come out on the full moon. We’re like regular wolves but bigger. Whoever came up with the full moon idea obviously had never been to Wolves’ Crossing, Alberta. My little town in the Canadian Rockies is the only werewolf community in the world. We had an entire forest all to ourselves.
Who came up with that goofy moon idea, anyway?
“Put on a flea collar at least,” said Chris, “You’re making me itchy watching you twitch.”
Chris has been my best bud since we were pups. He lives down the street from me, and we are always together. To me, he is the brother I should have had, and I would gladly trade him for my annoying sister.
“I think I’ll go wash with flea shampoo.”
“Okay, I’ll keep playing till you get back,” said Chris as he resumed the game. The sounds of machine guns, alien screams and explosions followed me down the hall.
Under the bathroom sink, I searched and searched. There were bottles of conditioner, bubble bath and a whole lot of girly products. I pushed the brown bottle of tick remover aside and crawled further inside.
From the door came the voice of my sister Julie. “What are you doing, creep?”
“Ouch! I just smashed my head thanks to you!” I said, rubbing the top of my head. “I’m looking for the flea shampoo.”
“Yeww! Sammie has fleas.” Julie sang, “My Sam has fleas… My Sam has fleas.”
“Stop it!” I yelled.
“What are you going to do about it, creepo?”
“I’ll tell Mom!” I screamed.
“You’re such a baby,” she said, taking a bottle from the top of the medicine cabinet. “That’s why I’m babysitting you and your friend.”
I glared at her. “We’re not babies; we’re almost ten!”
Julie is thirteen and thinks she is so much better than me because she is older. Every chance she gets, she reminds me. Like I could forget that.
“Here, use this.” She smiled as she handed me the bottle. “Besides, Mom and Dad won’t be back until supper time.”
Waltzing out of the bathroom, Julie continued to sing. “My Sam has fleas…”
Sisters suck! I thought as I stuck my tongue out at her.
After placing the bottle on the shower shelf, I turned the water on to warm up. When satisfied, the water was warm enough. I stepped into the shower. With my eyes closed, I put my head under the water. Keeping my eyes closed, I fumbled for the bottle of flea shampoo. My fingers finally found it and with my eyes still closed, I flipped open the lid. The smell of rotten eggs filled my nose as I poured a large handful of the smelly cream into my hand.
“Yuck! This shampoo smells awful,” I said, crinkling my nose. “It better be worth it.”
Continuing to slather the smelly gloop through my hair, it wasn’t lathering like it usually did. It was thick like the glue I used at school. I spread it all over, and my butt started to itch too, so I lathered it as well.
Can’t be too careful. Besides who wants to be caught itching their butt in public?
The smell of rotten eggs got stronger, my scalp started to tingle and became a slight burn.
