Page 138 of Such Sharp Teeth

Hours pass. Everything hurts. Everything is sore. My muscles. My bones. My eyeballs. My skin. My teeth. My nipples. My eardrums. Parts of me I didn’t even know I could feel, I feel. Plus, I’ve got the spins.

I reach for my phone, the blankets rubbing my hand raw.

I have a message from Mia. If you feel like trash, it’s working.

I can’t do this. The solution can’t be worse than the problem.

I call Ian. I put him on speaker.

“Hey,” he says. He sounds groggy. “What’s up?”

“I feel sick again,” I tell him.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Are Scarlett and Matty there? Do you want me to come by?”

“Nah,” I say. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost two.”

“A.m.?”

“Yeah,” he says. “You don’t sound good. You sure you don’t want me to come?”

“I’m sure. Just wanted to hear your voice. Hey, do you remember when we got in that fight sophomore year because I said Oasis is overrated?”

“I tried to put that out of my mind,” he says. He fucking loves Oasis. “It wasn’t a fight.”

“Spirited debate,” I say. “You like me anyway? Even though I think Oasis sucks?”

“You’re wrong. But, yes, I like you anyway.”

If he can get past that, then maybe the werewolf thing won’t be that big a deal.

“Promise you’ll never play me ‘Wonderwall’?”

“I’m not going to promise you that,” he says. “Won’t do it.”

“Fine, fine. It’s late. I should let you go. My mom and stepdad are coming, and the baby is due, so this week’s gonna be a shit show.”

“You know where to find me,” he says. “Hope you feel better. Good night.”

“Night,” I say. I hang up and go right to sleep.

—

“Hi, baby,” Mom says. I open my eyes to find her kneeling beside me. “You look terrible.”

“Good to see you, too.”

“What can I do?”

“Actually, can I have a sandwich?”

She’s back five minutes later with turkey and Swiss on a roll. She sits on the bed while I eat on the floor.

“Do you think it’s the flu?” she asks me.

“No,” I say. “It’s nothing contagious.”