Discovery, Origins of a Teenage Werewolf (Ch. 1)

Chapter 1:

The last week of summer was usually the best for me. Allow me to rephrase that: MY last week of summer was SUPPOSED to be the best for me. My dad, Harry Memoria, is a teacher. For some reason, he got a last minute transfer to a different school in some town called Song. And, of course, that would mean I would be attending that school. I would be transferring anyway, since I would be a freshman. I would be beginning a new life here. At the time, I had no idea how much truth was behind that statement.

“Trust me, Leon,” my dad said from the driver’s seat of the moving truck. “I know what you’re thinking, but Song really is a great place. And Explosion High is one of the best schools around.”

“Dad, I really wouldn’t be so paranoid if you weren’t acting so strange.”

“Is that a request? Or maybe a statement?” I couldn’t help but feel like he was joking.

“It’s an order! Dad, you aren’t telling me something...”

“You’ll find out all you need to know soon enough. Besides, we’re almost there.”

By the time we got to the new house, my dad had a bruise on his arm and I had very satisfied knuckles. My mom, Laura Memoria, had gotten here long before we did. Everything she had in the car was all un-packed and set up.

“Well, boys,” she said. “I’m all done here. I’ll be here, watching you guys work up a sweat.”

“Leon,” my dad said to me as we begun our work. “If you meet a girl that’s almost as manly as you are, spit some game.”

“Got it.”

Two hours later, the entire house was finished. My dad and I were always good at this kinda thing. I was exploring my room, satisfied with my work. I sat on the floor to arrange my CDs when I realized that my room was directly over the living room. Naturally, I thought of a way to use this to my advantage. I grabbed the drill and put a hole in my floor that looked over the living room. I put my ear against it.

“Honey, have you seen my fuzzy pink handcuffs”

“No, Harry. Look in the kitchen.”

About an hour later, I was on the couch listening to music when the doorbell rang. When I opened my eyes, my dad was already at the door. He opened it, revealing a very strange looking man with a walking stick about a foot higher than his already tall body. This confused me. Why was a man who looked to be in his late twenties need a walking stick?

“Xavier!” my dad said happily.

“Harry!” he answered before coming in for a hug.

“Where’s Laura?”

“She’s out meeting the neighbors. I already know Navaan, and I needed some rest.”

“I see. So, this is Leon?” Xavier turned to face me.

“Yes. Nice to meet you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. So, do you think you could let us talk in private? I have some important things to discuss with your father.”

“Sure thing.” I wouldn’t usually do this, but something about Xavier made me not want to be rude. I looked around and realized that I was in the living room, then immediately returned to my rude roots. I hurried up to my room. Never in my life did I ever think I would need the stethoscope I stole from a hospital a while ago. I put it on and peered through my hole.

“So what exactly do you plan to do about this?” Xavier asked my dad. “Harry, you know for a fact that he isn’t normal. He’s special. Just like you, me and Laura.”

“I think you know exactly what I plan to do. What other reason would I have to move to Song?” My dad seemed stressed as he spoke.

“Hmm... Explosion High, huh? You think the boy can handle it? Freshman year is always rough.”

My dad chuckled once. “Leon can take a little roughness. I once walked in on him handcuffed to his bed with his girlfriend pounding his-”

“SON OF A BITCH!” I yelled suddenly, but with excellent timing. I thought I was playing with my lighter, because my hand had literally caught fire. It took about thirty seconds of screaming to realize that it didn’t hurt at all. Regardless, I grabbed the can of soda from my computer desk and poured it on my hand, dousing the flame.

The door swung open. My mom was there, looking horrified.“Leon! What happened?”

She looked around. “Oh. You just spilled soda?”

“Uhh… Yeah, I guess”

“Oh... Well, clean it up.” She closed the door behind her quietly.

I tried to catch my breath. I couldn’t believe what just happened. I looked at my hand, but found nothing. No burns, no blood, no ANYTHING. How would I explain this? Would my parents believe me with not even so much as a slight burn as evidence? Then, I thought harder and realized the solution. I shouldn’t say anything at all. I would sound like a crazy person. I decided to look around the room and trace my steps. I knew I was missing something. I knew I wasn’t crazy.