Page 92 of Such Sharp Teeth

“That’s good.”

“But you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You weren’t truthful.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

She sighs. “Not now, okay? I’m not ready.”

“That’s even more cryptic. I don’t get it. I was honest with you about . . . you know, my whole deal. Why can’t you just tell me?”

She twists the bag closed. “Let’s go inside. It’s freezing.”

I help her up.

“I know you’re the one who fucked up Matty’s shoulder.”

I consider denying it.

“He didn’t tell me. He’s suddenly wearing a sling and wouldn’t say what happened. Seth told me.”

Have to say, newfound respect for Matty for not ratting me out.

“It was an accident,” I say. “I swear.”

“Okay.”

She drops onto the couch, puts her feet up on a pillow. I sit on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

“You’re really not going to tell me why you kicked him out?”

“Just . . . take it easy on him,” she says. “Please?”

“Seriously?”

“Let’s watch TV. Take this candy away or I’ll eat it all.”

I do as she asks.

“You want something to drink?” I call from the kitchen.

“No, I’m okay,” she says. “I’ve got water.”

I spot a note on the counter. It’s in Scarlett’s neat handwriting. My name is at the top. Then an address. A date. A time. Another name.

A doctor.

“Hey, what’s this note?” I ask.

“I made an appointment for you with the therapist I mentioned.”

“Why do you think I need to see a therapist?”

“Why do you think you’re a werewolf?”