VPOV

Of course I'd heard of the wolf attacks. The GlenfieldTrailer Park wasn't overly far from Welker Trails- so news of the attacks had kept the neighbors buzzing for weeks. But this werewolf business- it was ludicrous.

I drove home slowly, but eventually got there.

It wasn't even a double wide, but I guess it was enough for the two of us. We didn't really need to live in it, Mom did well enough in her business that we could afford a house, but she thought it made a statement. Believed that living in a trailer made her unique and mystical.

How she could think it was unique when it was surrounded by forty other trailers was beyond me. But that was my mother for you.

Ours was different than the rest, I had to admit. The various 'healing crystals', wind chimes, and bright posters sure made ours stand out. I was lucky that she hadn't decked out my car in it yet, to be honest. If she wanted our home to be a walking billboard for her crazy business then she could knock herself out, but I was keeping my car in its nice, normal shape.

She was born Paula Dinkley, but had renamed herself Madame Gemini when she started her business as a horoscope astrologist/palm reader/ mystical healer. I'd tried telling her that Madame Gemini didn't make a lot of sense as a name, but by the time she understood she'd already had various posters printed and it was too late.

"Velma, dear, hurry inside!" She opened the screen door and called out to my car. "I need your help moving something!"

I hurried in, dropping my bookbag on the couch as I moved into the kitchen. There, sitting on the table we ate at- was baby pig. It was just sitting there, and my mother was staring at it as if its arrival was a mystery to her. Actually, she could get pretty space headed- it probably was.

"Oh, Velma," she looked at me with an expression of helplessness. "I just can't decide, dear. What does this pig say to you?"

"Oink," I snorted a little at my own joke. Real attractive Velma.

"Be serious please, darling. One of my clients gifted this to me today, and I can't for the life of me figure out what it is supposed to mean. A pig can represent strength, which would be a compliment of sorts. But it also can represent greediness. Which does this pig seem to be saying to you?"

"Well, who gave it to you?" I asked as I reached into the fridge for the iced tea I'd brewed the day before.

"Mister Williams- you remember him."

"Isn't he the one whose wife just died?" I leaned back against the counter.

"Well, it was a little under a year ago, yes. I've been helping him channel her spirit."

"Doesn't his son actually own a pig farm?"

"Yes- I think so," she was still studying the pig, looking for answers in its small, albeit it cute, face.

"Its about the time of year that a pig would have babies, Mom," I pointed out. She didn't turn towards me or respond in any way so I sighed and continued, "Is there a chance that his son had too many baby pigs on his hands and Mister Williams was just thought his psychic would want a baby animal?"

"Hm, maybe," she allowed. "I'll probably head over to the library and see what information I can get on pigs and their symbolism. Something more reputable than the internet, you know?"

"What are you going to do with it while you're gone?" I asked, not liking the thought of being put in charge of the thing.

"Can I just put it out in the yard? I have an old dog collar from when we had Brutus, wouldn't that work?"

They were probably the same size- the piglet and my mom's now dead miniature schnauzer- so, "Sure, probably."

"Alright, dear. I'll be at the library. Is there anything you want me to return while I'm there?"

"Yeah, actually there is. Hold on, let me get them," I hurried over to my room to get the two books that I had finished since my last trip to the library.

My room was small, but not unbearably so. It wasn't cramped- just comfortable. There were books everywhere, in really no discernable order. Every now and then I'd attempt to organize them, and they'd be in a nice order for a few days. Then I'd be reading a book and set it down somewhere, or want to quickly check a certain passage of another, and before I knew it there would be chaos again. I'd given up on maintaining order for the most part.

These two books, and a majority of the others in my collection, were mysteries. I loved mystery books. I loved reading them for the first time- challenging myself to try to solve it before the main character. But I also loved rereading them. I liked to try to guess where the author decided who the bad guy would be. I loved dissecting the motives of all of the characters- thinking about who else it could have ended up being.

I handed the two over to my mother before she hurried out the door. Glancing out, I noticed the pig standing there. That thing was going to become the next family pet- I could feel it. Maybe I was a psychic too. Ha.

-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l

School had two different sides to it. There was the good- the challenging classes, the engaging professors- and there was the bad- the spoiled classmates, the uniforms. The uniforms weren't flattering. That was just a fact. Not all of us could be Chloe Harrison, Jessica James, or Daphne Blake and looks fabulous in anything. Some of us had drawn the short stick of looking like actual people.

Daphne Blake- there was a puzzler. I'd just sort of pegged her for the vapid sorority girl, after tutoring Chloe for a year I'd assumed they were all the same. But she'd proven me wrong right before proving me right.

Her paper had been practically flawless. Sure, she was in a lower level English class than I was, but she didn't need to be. Her paper had answered the prompt with surprising insight, and there were less than a few grammatical errors. She was a writer on par with the kids in my Advanced English class. She could probably have moved up and been fine, if all of her work was like that.

But then she had immediately jumped on board with Fred Jones' outlandish theory. Sure, she'd seemed a little hesitant at first- but I assumed that was just for show. Someone who actually recognized the craziness of his scheme would have questioned him a lot farther.

I hadn't even realized they were friends. Weren't Glenfield kids and those from Deacon Hill supposed to be enemies? High school rivalry, or something? I didn't really follow sports, but I wasn't blind enough to the animosity between the two groups.

I'd gotten into my first period, and was still contemplating the whole thing. Jones I understood. He was a dumb jock with a theory- that wasn't out of the realm of what I'd experienced before. But was Daphne really as smart as her paper had lead me to believe?

Maybe she hadn't written it, the idea popped into my head. There was an idea! And it seemed to be the most logical one. She had already gotten someone to write her paper, just as Chloe'd had hers written by me. She was still the girl I'd always assumed she was- and her hopping on board with Jones made a lot more sense to me.

I was just patting myself on the back mentally when I heard my name called. Apparently class had started while I was doing my figuring. And now the teacher was looking right at me. Crap.

"Yes?"

"Call from the office. They need you down there. You can leave your things here," he explained, looking at me strangely. Teachers weren't used to me spacing out.

Standing quickly, I made my way out of the room. What would the office need me for? I was scanning through a list of possibilities when I ran into someone.

"Sorry, sorry. I wasn't looking at where I was going," I said out of habit. It wasn't the first time that I'd bowled someone over because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.

"Listen we need to talk," her voice was a little surprising. I'd figured that I wouldn't talk to Daphne again until our next tutoring session, next Monday.

"Um, I can't right now, I have to go to the office." I tried to get around her, but she blocked my path.

"No you don't. I have office aiding this hour, I'm the one that made the call to get you out of class. We really need to talk."

Great. She was probably mad at the things I'd said yesterday. Sure, I might have gone over the boundaries considering we didn't really know each other. I'd spoke without thinking, and now it seemed it would pay for it.

"Fred wants you to help us," she said directly.

"What?" That was almost the opposite of what I'd been expecting.

"Fred wants you to come with us on search for his monster or creature or whatever." She probably thought she had clarified, but I still had quite a few questions.

"I think I made my opinion on his theory pretty clear yesterday."

"That's what I thought," she rolled her eyes. "But he was insistent. Thinks we need you. You're smart though, so maybe we do."

"Need me for what? Want me to calculate something for you?" I asked sarcastically. "Want me to write an essay for you on how ridiculous the concept of werewolves is? Sure, I'd love to help out!"

"If this is about his werewolf thing then don't worry about it. Its not like we're actually going to find one."

"I'm not worried that we'll find one, because we won't. I'm just refusing to have any part in an activity that is pretending like mystical beings actually exist." I had enough of that at home.

"Listen, Velma," she blew a breath out from between her teeth, looking frustrated. "I'm not going to lie. I know this is stupid. I recognize that there is no such thing as werewolves. But this is about more than that!

"This is a chance for Fred to try to be a hero. That's his biggest dream- did you know that? And this could be my only shot for a long time to try my hand at investigative journalism. Sure, there's no monster. But it's a chance to change lives anyways. That's why I'm doing this, and why I think you should too."

She sounded sincere. Okay, I took back my decision that she hadn't written that essay herself. The way she spoke- she was obviously the one who had written it. And she wasn't as one hundred percent on board with Fred's idea as I had thought. And her reasons for agreeing actually made some modicum of sense. But still.

"I don't want to spend my time working on something when I already know I won't find anything. Sorry Daphne." I shook my head and started to turn around, back towards class. But as I spun so did she, so that she was still positioned in my way, blocking my path.

"So then don't focus on finding this werewolf. What if you went out there trying to prove that there wasn't a monster? What if your purpose was to prove Fred wrong? Then you'd be working towards an attainable goal, right?"

Well she sort of had me there, didn't she?
"Fine."

"Great," she beamed. "I'll let Fred know that you're on board."

Well. There was that, then.

SPOV

"Did you go to school today?" Dad came out of his room running his hands over his eyes. He'd probably just woken up.

"Wasn't feeling well," I offered up the excuse that I knew he wouldn't really buy.

"Hm," he grunted, but he didn't press me. He didn't want to bother with it, I guess. Instead he walked into the kitchen and started pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

Even with the TV on, I was hyper aware of his presence. The guy wasn't around much, but when he was I always noticed just how little we interacted. Our silences were probably record breaking- I should look that up later. The longest I could remember was six days without speaking.

So I started talking about the only subject we ever talked about- his job. "You working tonight?"

"Covering for Chris, yeah. Just a single shift 'cause I wasn't scheduled. Actually I'll be heading out soon; you'll be alright for dinner?"

"Yeah, me and Scoobs'll be fine." I looked over at Scooby from my perch on the couch. The Great Dane was sleeping on the ground in front of the door. Good luck getting out, Dad; Scooby doesn't wake up to anything.

He disappeared into his room for a few minutes and I could focus on the game show that I'd flipped it to. Then he was back and my attention was again drawn away. Now he was in his blue jumpsuit- the factory uniform. I thought he looked just like the factory workers in my history textbook, but he always claimed not to see the resemblance.

"I left five bucks on the counter. Think you can pick up some more cereal before tomorrow morning? We're almost out."

"Sure thing." I didn't look up from the TV as he scrambled around, doing the things he always did before leaving for work. Once he had shoes, wallet, and jacket ready to go, he jumped over Scooby and was gone.

I looked over at the measly five dollar bill laying on the dirty countertop and chuckled to myself. We didn't have any food in the house- that was a certifiable fact. So that five dollar bill was supposed to be my dinner fund, money for the cereal, and most likely lunch and breakfast for the next day. He'd be working late tonight- it would be four by the time the bus got to the factory and he then had to work an eight hour shift. He wouldn't be up to give me more cash until I got back from school.

Dad meant well, he didn't mean to leave me stranded money wise. He just didn't have a very good concept of what things cost.

The man tried his best, I could see that. He worked his forty hour week churning out car batteries. And he picked up any shift he could for the extra money. And he always covered the basics: electric, water, and cable. Those three when coupled with his small gambling addiction- there wasn't always a lot of cash left over.

But I made it work. I'd just gotten a job of my own. Which was why I could pull out my own wallet and see the six twenties in it. Thinking of it, I needed to work that night. If Dad was going to be off the next day, which the schedule posted on the fridge indicated, then we'd be a few hundred poorer by the nights end. You'd think with all the practice he had, he wouldn't be so bad at it. But he was.

"Time to wake up, Scooby," I called over to the mutt. Dad had given him to me for my twelfth birthday, we'd gotten him from the pound. I'm not sure what breed he is- I just know that he's big as hell and smarter than most people I know.

Of course Scoobs didn't respond, except to snore a little bit. So I did what I usually did and threw my shoe at him. When that didn't work I chucked the remote. I never hit him, but the crashing sound was enough to get him up.

"There you go, boy. Go get your leash, we're going out." He rose and obediently went into my room and picked up his leash from where I'd last thrown it. He always remembered where that freaking thing was, no matter where I put it. Good thing, too, because I sure as hell never did.

We started our walk towards the grocery store, and two minutes into it Scooby was barking like crazy. I looked around for what could set him off like that, and snorted when I saw it. Of course someone would have a pig. A pig on a leash for crying out loud. How trailer-parky could this place get?

Dad had been born and raised in GlenfieldTrailer Park, and I hated to think it but I probably would stay here like he had. He'd gone to GlenfieldHigh School just like me, and then moved into his own trailer when he graduated. Of course, his story was a little different from mine in that he knocked up his girlfriend when they were both seventeen. She'd been from the park as well, but had always had visions of getting out.

Which was why when she had her midlife crisis when I was eleven she ran away to live with her sister in Detroit. Said she'd never wanted to end up trapped in a trailer, and that's what she would be if she had stayed. Whatever.

I pulled out the cell phone that Dad didn't know he didn't pay the bills for and checked my messages. Well, looked like I had work tonight after all- good.

"Come on Scoob, we'll take this and then we can head over to the store."

My friend Alex took care of finding the customers for me. He was a real people person, and could sniff out potential buyers like it was his job. Which, it sort of was. He got a cut, anyways.

I got the stuff from a kid I used to go to school with, until he'd dropped out the year before. I didn't know who he got it from and I didn't really want to know, it was easier to just not know. Didn't really matter where he got it, he gave it to me and I got it to the people that Alex found. It worked and we were all happy enough.

Apparently some freshmen wanted some of the action. Freshmen seemed a little young to be getting into this stuff, but I shrugged it off. It wasn't my place to judge.

Scooby and I jogged over to the movie theatre, where Alex had told me this kid would be. And yes, just as he had promised, there stood two awkward looking kids. They were dressed in almost all black- oh lord.

I approached and watched them appraise me. I knew that I wasn't what they would be expecting. With the way they were dressed they were probably expecting some buff thug, not a skinny junior in a green sweatshirt and non-matching maroon athletic shorts. My fashion sense had always sucked- to the point that when I was a kid one of my teachers had wondered if I was colorblind.

"One of you kids Frank?" I asked once I was close enough.

"I am," the blonde one stepped forward a little bit.

"Alright, Alex said you were cool paying thirty. Still good?"

"Yeah," the kid nodded his head a few more times than he needed to, shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out three wrinkled ten dollar bills. "Here."

"Cool," I grabbed the money, took my ever-present backpack off and slipped the cash in it. I pulled out the little bag of goodies and tossed it to the silent one. "Pleasure doing business with you two."

The silent one shoved the package in his pocket quickly, while Frank asked, "You're Shaggy Rodgers, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

He didn't seem to have another point, he just looked down at his feet and then scurried off with his friend. Okay then.

Maybe what I did wasn't legal, but I liked knowing that I could cover my dad's ass when he forgot stuff like saving enough to buy me shoes. Or food. You know, the luxuries.

-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l

"Hey!" Oh no. That wasn't a friendly 'hey'; that was a very angry, very big sounding 'hey'.

I didn't turn, hoping that the angry 'hey' hadn't been directed at me.

No such luck, apparently. Because Fred Jones grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him. His face looked angry enough to have bellowed that 'hey'. Or maybe it was one of the two angry, just as big, guys behind him.

"What the hell are you doing messing with freshmen?" Fred snarled, coming a lot closer to me than I was inherently comfortable with considering his level of anger.

"Um, what?" Play dumb, maybe Thing 1 and Thing 2 can relate.

"I get home from practice yesterday and my kid brother and his stupid friend are stoned out of their minds. I ask 'em where they got the stuff and they give your name! What the hell, man?"

"Hey! I didn't know that kid was your brother!" I put my hands up in defense, because the guy looked like he was ready to pound me.

"Did all that stuff kill your brain cells?" he asked, ignoring my remark. "My dads the Chief of Police, if he had found Frank and gotten your name you'd be in so much shit! Hell, me beating your ass is nothing compared to where you'd have been if it'd been the Chief."

"Listen, bro. Your brother sought me out. Not the other way around. You gonna stand there and blame for that?"

"You shouldn't be selling in the first place."

"Maybe not, but you haven't had a problem with it before," I pointed out calmly. I saw on the discovery channel that talking calmly to wild animals decreased the risk the them tearing you limb from limb. It seemed appropriate here and now.

He scowled, then snapped, "Kyle, Matt, get out of here. I've got it from here."

Thing 1 and Thing 2 shuffled off, with the helpful advice of "Don't mess up your hand too much, Fred."

"You don't go near my brother again, agreed?" he asked me, his stance shifting. I could tell I wasn't in the clear yet, but it didn't seem like I was in any immediate danger of getting my butt handed to me.

"I hear you, man. Fifty feet away from the kid at all time, if you want."

He eyed me speculatively- probably deciding whether I was telling the truth or not. Hopefully he would like what he saw.

"I'll make you a deal, Rodgers," he spoke after a while. "I've got something going down on Friday, and I could use a guy like you on it."

What was that supposed to mean? "A- A guy like me?"

"Yeah. Someone used to shady shit. Cool under pressure. All the stuff a deal would be," he looked me over again, as if measuring me up.

"What the hell are you doing that might end up being shady?" I asked, baffled. Fred Jones was one of those jocks who stayed on the light side. He dabbled a bit in booze and girls, but anything more was looked down upon. He was the exact opposite of someone who would be involved in something that would require a dealer's help. No matter what it was, though, I knew I'd end up doing it- and so did he. I didn't want my butt beat into the next century, and this was my way to get out of it.

He grinned an almost genuine smile, "Monster hunting."

Shit. What had I gotten myself into?

AN:

Okay folks, you've met all four now. Any favorites? Drop me a note, let me know if you want to hear any specifics from their pasts- if I didn't explain things enough to your liking. xoxo