By Thomas Ott
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She shrugged. “Something is bothering her. ” We got into our own sleeping bags. Lindsey turned out our main lantern and turned on a small penlight. It cast a ghostly glow. ” she asked quietly. “I’m not sure. ” 57 “You need to be careful. ” “I don’t think Mason’s like that. ” “Just be careful. ” “Yeah, that’s what they all say,” Brittany muttered. “Thought you were asleep,” Lindsey said. ” Lindsey stuck out her tongue at Brittany’s back. I stiﬂed a giggle. Lindsey settled down into her bag. “Just be careful,” she whispered before curling up to go to sleep.
I don’t know,” Connor said. “Dr. Keane could be onto something here. There was a guy in my dorm that could have been a werewolf. He never shaved, cut his hair, or bathed. ” I bit back more laughter. Apparently none of us were taking his theories seriously. “But what if it is true? ” Mason asked. He was sitting on a 51 log beside me. He was very particular about his marshmallows, toasting them slowly and carefully to a golden brown. On a good day, I didn’t have that much patience. Tonight I was so tired that I had none at all.
For some reason, except for last night, I didn’t have the nightmares when I was around Lindsey—maybe because she didn’t deﬁne me by my past. In some ways, she was far more accepting than my therapist. I’d met Brittany last summer as well, but I didn’t feel 58 as close to her. Maybe because I sensed that she had her own issues. She was snoring now. It was a little snufﬂe, similar to the sound my Lhasa at home, Fargo, made. But it wasn’t the light or the noise that was keeping me awake. It was wolves.