I take my phone out of my back pocket. There’s a single shard of screen left. Still works, though.

The next full moon is in twenty days.

I can’t undo what’s been done, but I can try to figure out a way to live with it. To harness it. Find some control.

I run the soft fabric of the onesie between my fingers.

If I can hold on to myself, every second of every day and through the transformation, if I can stay awake, stay “me” even as the monster, then maybe my situation isn’t so hopeless after all.

I tuck the onesie neatly inside a drawer. There’s a stack of children’s books on top of the dresser. I flip through thick cardboard pages. Bright pictures of animals, smiley faces. The book at the bottom of the stack isn’t cardboard. Its pages are thin, edges gilded. It’s a book of fairy tales. On the cover is a girl in a red hooded cloak wandering into the forest.

In all the fairy tales, the wolf is big and bad and dangerous. A predator. Devious and evil. Something to be feared. But fairy tales are bullshit. Maybe wolves just get a bad edit.

There are worse things to be. I know because I’ve faced those monsters.

“Are we there yet?” I ask Ian as soon as we pull out of the driveway. He’s taking me somewhere, but he won’t tell me where.

“Do you have your passport?”

“What?”

He grins.

I’m grateful to get out of the house. Scarlett has been put on something called “activity restriction.” Her mood has not improved since the hospital. She’s been pretty much nonverbal, so Mom decided to talk enough for the both of them. We had an insufferably awkward Thanksgiving. Scarlett silent, me gracelessly devouring turkey, Mom chattering incessantly.

I keep trying to summon the emotion I had that moment in the driveway when I didn’t want her to leave. But nah, it’s long gone now. Her flight out is tomorrow night, and I’ll be whistling my way to the airport to drop her off.

Ian’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh.

“We could just go back to yours,” I say.

We haven’t seen each other in a few days, not since the 7-Eleven night. I missed him. He’s sitting right next to me and I miss him.

He’s been good motivation for me to stop spiraling and get my shit together. I’ve been going for long runs. Staying hydrated. Practicing breathing exercises. I slept well the past few nights, for the first time in weeks. I feel calmer. More in control.

Well, I did. Until I got in this car. Now I just want to pull over somewhere and rip our clothes off.

But that’s probably not wolf related. That’s just me.

“You’re really not gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“No,” he says. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” I say. “Really rolling the dice here, but suit yourself.”