Disclaimer: I don't own Big Wolf on Campus nor do I make any profit from this fictional story.
A/N: Angsty…
Friend or Foe
Tommy picked up his backpack and started out of the locker room when the football coach grabbed his arm.
"Dawkins, I wanna talk to you about the next game. We're playing Prozacville in a week and a half and I wanted to let you know that a scout for the University of Michigan will be there. You're the best on our team—the best I've seen in a long time—and I'd like to see you impress the hell out of him."
"Coach, that's great! Thanks for telling me."
The older man smiled knowingly. "There's one other thing. I got you something to help you perform at your best." He thrust a pill bottle into Tommy's hands. "Y'know, don't abuse 'em or nothin', but they can't hurt. Just for this game."
Tommy didn't know what to say so he nodded and left, clutching the bottle tightly in his fist.
Tommy stood just inside the room, listening to Merton wrap up his meeting of the Gothic Fantasy Guild.
"And so, as we've learned from our friend, Groplin the Menacing, don't go crazy 'cause you'll end up destroying your entire country and where will that leave you? Guild dismissed; have a goth-y day. Hey, Tommy."
"Hey, Merton."
Merton gathered up the many objects he used to turn the math classroom into a medieval sanctuary. Most of them fell out of his arms. "A little help here?"
"Sorry."
"How was football practice?"
"It was okay."
They walked to the car and drove home in silence. For some reason, Tommy wasn't very talkative. He didn't even want to go hang out at the factory and gaze at Stacy. Halfway home, Tommy told his best friend about the scout, and Merton responded with his usual enthusiasm. Afterwards, though, Tommy lapsed back into quiet.
"Everything okay?" Merton asked as he pulled into the Dawkins's driveway.
"Yeah, everything's just fine. Guess I'm a little nervous about the game that's coming up. This is a big opportunity."
Merton leaned over to get a better look at his friend who was leaning against the door of the Hearse. "Tommy. You are gonna do great. You're gonna blow them all away. If they're not on their knees begging you to sign on, I'll eat my snake."
"Really?"
"No, of course not! But I know you're gonna do fine, so stop worrying."
Tommy smiled. Merton was right. Merton was always right. Tommy needed to stop worrying; everything would be just fine.
Everything was not fine. Practice went horribly the next day. Coach had given Tommy all the poor players and put him up against the best on the team. Football practice was suddenly Wrestle Mania.
Limping off the field, Tommy found Merton waiting for him.
"I came to lend some support. I see I should have brought the 21st Airborne Division. Are you okay?"
"I'll heal. I think."
"Well, you're lucky you're a werewolf because I think that pounding would have killed me."
Tommy gave his best friend a skeptical look. "Merton, a paper cut would kill you."
"Do you want a ride home? Because I have no qualms letting you limp the whole way, buddy. Injuries or no."
"Merrrrrrtoooooon!"
He winced at the whining. "Fine, fine. Get in the car, ya big crybaby. Big, whiney fur ball. It's a good thing I'm so patient."
"I love you, too, buddy."
Tommy again didn't want to go to the Factory or the Lair. Instead, he sat in his bedroom staring at the bottle of pills. After half an hour of just sitting and looking, he opened the bottle and eyed the inside. There were small white pills and a note. The note was from the coach, telling him how often to take the steroids. He took out one of the tablets and held it in his hand.
"It's not like I'm gonna take them for a long time. Just a little over a week. And I'm not gonna abuse them. I'll take 'em just how the coach told me to. And it's important to play well. I mean, if I could play for Michigan—that would be fantastic! They'd give me a scholarship and my whole future would be set. This is not a bad thing as long as I only do it for a week. It's okay."
He swallowed the pill.
In some alternate reality, Tommy told Merton about the pills and the knowing Goth threw them in the trash. He then explained that even for normal people, steroids are dangerous, but for a werewolf, there was no telling what the body, mind, and mood altering chemicals could do. Then again, in another reality, Merton was dating the head cheerleader.
"Got enough food there?"
Tommy looked a little sheepish. Actually, thinking about looking sheepish made him even hungrier. Before him sat the meatloaf, two hamburgers (with cheese), the chicken surprise, and three ham sandwiches. Missing were the two turkey breasts he had already devoured. "Actually, I'd really like some sheep."
Merton sat down and pulled out his own lunch. A Yoo-Hoo and some Twinkies. A growing boy needs his sugar highs. When he spoke, he lowered his voice. "Is the inner wolf okay? The full moon isn't for another couple of weeks; why so much meat?"
"I dunno. I guess I just wanted it. What's so wrong with that?"
"Nothing. It's just a little odd. And if you keep it up, Pleasantville is gonna run out of food. Hey, do you want to go to the Factory tonight? I think that new guy who rents the bowling shoes is actually an evil troll. He has these funny hands and way too much body hair."
"Um, excuse me. Werewolf here."
"Sorry. So, do you want to come?"
Tommy gave it a moment's consideration, ate both of the hamburgers, and nodded his agreement. He then proceeded to finish off the chicken, meatloaf, and ham sandwiches, washing it all down with four pints of milk and a steroid.
Tommy finished tying his bowling shoes and picked out a ball. "He really does look like an evil troll."
"I told you."
"We'll have to go bowling more often to keep an eye on him."
Merton grinned. "Excellent idea. Come to think of it, the cashier at the Bucket O' Cluck has been acting suspicious, too. We should probably go there after we bowl."
The suggestion was met with heartfelt agreement from Tommy who muttered something like, "chicken good."
The first game was okay, though Merton noticed a growing tension in his friend. By the time the second game started, Tommy was definitely on edge. After a gutter ball on his first try, he let out a growl and threw the sixteen-pound ball at the pins.
"Nice trick, using that really light ball to throw," Merton yelled loud enough for nearby bowlers (and dead people in China) to hear. He laughed nervously and pulled Tommy aside. "Hey, buddy, that was an awesome throw. And if that's how bowling was played, I'm sure you'd win. But it's not. So what the heck are you thinking tossing a sixteen pound bowling ball like it's a baseball?"
"I was angry."
"You were—are those your fangs?"
Tommy tried to cover up his teeth with his lips. "No."
"What is up with you?"
"Look, I'm just really tense. Football has me a little stressed out and I guess I'm taking it out on the bowling ball. I'm sorry!"
Merton sighed, sitting back down. "Well, at least that's all you're taking it out on. But you gotta be more careful, Tommy, unless you want to tell all of Pleasantville who the werewolf is."
"Got any good haikus I can use?"
"Yeah, I'll bring 'em to school tomorrow. Maybe you should run home; work off some of that wolfy energy."
Tommy smiled, relieved for the meantime. "Thanks, buddy. I don't know what I'd do without you. See you at school tomorrow."
"Bye. And if you see any evil bowling balls on the way home, I guess you know what to do."
The haikus helped. A little. And not for long. The wolf was stronger, angrier, more vicious, and rearing his head more often. Although it helped Tommy at football, it was doing damage off the field.
The next day, after school ended, TnT confronted Merton.
"Hey, Dingle!"
"Aw, geez! What do you two want? You already took what little money I had earlier today."
Tim smiled. "Yeah, it bought two extra lunches; tasted really good. I love the meatloaf surprise."
"Bro, we gotta stay focused, remember? Dingle, we know you're friends with Dawkins, so tell us what's up with him. Why's he gone crazy?"
"Crazy?"
"Yeah," Tim replied. "He yells at everybody and tackles us even when we're not practicing a play. He even broke Joe McMullen's nose this afternoon. We're all for breaking noses, but on the other team."
Merton's jaw fell. If TnT were complaining, it had to be bad. "Anything else?"
"'Nah, 'cept he growls a lot now. What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know," Merton answered in all honesty. "He says he's tense about football but that's all I know."
"Boy, Dingle, for a geek, you're not a lot of help. We'll see you tomorrow. C'mon, bro, lets go get a soda."
Merton was now very perplexed and determined to speak with Tommy.
The day after that and Merton hadn't had a chance to speak with Tommy. Instead, they sat in economics. Quite possibly the most boring class in existence. Its one redeeming factor: the household project, wherein one boy is paired with one girl and they're given an income to work with.
As Mr. Holcomb, the painfully monotonous economics teacher, rattled off names, Tommy had only one thought: Stacy.
"Come on," he muttered. "Tommy and Stacy, Stacy and Tommy. Just say our stupid names before I go up there and strangle you!"
"A little louder, Tommy. I don't think everybody heard you," Merton whispered behind the agitated jock. "Calm down. It's just an in class project. She's not really gonna be Mrs. Tommy Dawkins."
Tommy didn't reply but continued paying Mr. Holcomb rapt attention.
"Margaret and Theodore. Amy and Tommy. Jennifer and Merton. Fran—"
"No."
"I'm sorry?"
Tommy stood up. "I said no. I want Stacy. Pair me with her."
"When I drew names last night, yours came up with Amy. Please sit back down. Fran and—"
Tommy moved out from behind his desk. "Un-pair me with Amy and put me with Stacy. It's not difficult; just do it."
The entire class was silent. Merton sat in wide-eyed shock at his normally calm friend. Stacy was somewhere between angry and horrified.
"Sit back down, please," Mr. Holcomb droned. "I will not pair you with Stacy, especially with that tone of voice."
"I'm not asking; I'm telling," he hissed. His eyes flashed yellow and he stalked closer to the teacher. "Just switch some names and we'll all be happy. I. Want. Stacy."
Mr. Holcomb looked like he wanted nothing more than to crawl under his desk, but he stood his ground. "I will not tolerate this behavior. Now sit down or go to the principle's office."
Tommy's dwindling human side made one last ditch effort and he turned around to leave the class. Just before he exited, he lashed out and struck the desk closest to him (Merton's), fracturing the wood.
Moments later, the bell rang, excusing them, but nobody moved.
"His eyes…they looked…yellow," the teacher whispered.
Merton regained his senses and jumped out of his seat. "Crazy what contacts can do, huh? The boy really can't handle caffeine in the morning. Makes him kind of nutso." He ran out of the classroom and in search of a wolf.
"Okay, something is seriously wrong. What the hell was all that about?"
"Lay off, Merton."
They were in the cafeteria again where Tommy's ravenous appetite was continuing more pronounced, as was his attitude.
Merton sat down at the table, his tone and bearing confidential. "Look, I don't want to sound like your mother—I'd sooner have my hair bleached—but I'm worried. You've never acted like this before. It's as if the wolf is taking over. It's scary."
"The wolf is not taking over; I'm just stressed out."
"Stressed out really doesn't explain what just happened in class. Humor me. Come to the Lair after school and let me run a couple of tests."
"I have practice after school."
"Then come after practice."
"I'll be hungry after practice."
Merton ground his teeth and sighed in frustration. "Then I'll bake you a friggin' cake. Just come by my house!"
Tommy was about to find another excuse when the word "cake" stopped him. "Cake? Chocolate?"
"Whatever."
"All right. I'll be there after practice, but make it quick."
He reached into his bag, grabbed a pill, swallowed it, and stood up to leave. Merton put a hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him.
"What was that?"
"You better bleach your hair because you sound just like my mother. It was a vitamin. Now leave me alone." He shrugged off Merton's hand and left the cafeteria, pushing people out of his way.
"Cake."
Tommy had walked into the Lair and there was only one thing on his mind. There was, however, something else on his shirt.
"Oh my gosh! Tommy, is that blood?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Brad Breccon said something stupid so I corrected him. Cake."
"It's, um…uh, it's upstairs in the kitchen," Merton mumbled, entranced by the few blotches of blood on his friend's shirt. What was happening to make him so violent? He had a few theories, having researched werewolf diseases, but it was difficult to find text. Merton was fast becoming the definitive authority on all things wolfy.
The sound of Tommy's backpack hitting the bed shook Merton from his reverie. He stared at the bag for a minute and noticed it had opened and a small pill bottle had rolled out.
"Okay," he said to himself as he got up, "so this is technically an invasion of his privacy, but those don't look like vitamins and I need to find out what's going on. Sadly," he mused, as he turned the bottle around in his hands, "I haven't got a clue what these are." Fortunately, one can find anything out on the Internet, and that's exactly what one did.
"Mmm, good cake. Do you have any more food? I'm still hungry."
"I'm not surprised," Merton replied, looking angry. "The wolf must be starving, what with the steroids and all."
Tommy stopped dead in his tracks. "What are you talking about?"
Merton held up the bottle. "A little something rolled out of your bag when you tossed it on my bed. It's no wonder you've been acting psycho! Do you have any idea what these are doing to the wolf? What are you thinking taking them?"
"Give them to me," Tommy demanded, advancing on his friend.
"You can't take them; you've got to stop. Even if you were just human these things would screw you up. But you're a werewolf! These are making the bad side of the wolf come out. For Heaven's sake, Tommy, look at your shirt! You broke Joe McMullen's nose yesterday! You nearly attacked Mr. Holcomb and you broke my desk. Even TnT thinks you've lost it. Tommy—you've got to stop."
Merton hadn't noticed that while he was talking, he was walking backwards. The closer Tommy advanced, the farther back Merton walked until he was against the wall.
"Give me my pills, Merton."
The Goth looked a little nervous suddenly. Tommy's eyes glowed yellow and the fur was creeping up his hands and face. But he knew Tommy would never wolf on him. "No. These are hurting you."
His eyes narrowed. "Give. Me. My. Pills."
Deep breath. He would just have to work some sense into the rapidly developing wolf. After all, they were best friends. "Tommy, you're my best friends and I can't let you do this to yourself. You need to stop these or—"
Merton never got to finish his sentence because Tommy lunged at him and wrestled for the bottle. Merton managed to get the bottle open and scattered its contents throughout the room, but not before a claw tore a rather large gash through Merton's arm, spilling blood on the two of them.
"You…cut me." Merton was shocked.
Tommy was, too, but it was at his pills that lay all over the room. He would never find them all. At least not fast enough to avoid anymore lecture from Merton. Merton! That little goody-goody had dumped his pills. He turned menacingly to his friend. "You shouldn't have done that," he said before backhanding the smaller boy into the adjacent wall where he hit with a thud and fell limply to the floor.
Grabbing as many pills as he could, Tommy ran out of the Lair.
Merton woke up a few minutes later with a pounding headache. He trudged upstairs, trying to cradle his arm and his head while holding tightly to the railing. He sincerely wished the staircase would stop spinning. When had his parents installed that feature?
"Merton, what happened to you?" his mother asked as he was heading into the bathroom for aspirin and a bandage. She had seen his forming black eye when she suddenly noticed his cut. "What happened?"
"I fell," he lied.
She didn't believe him. "You got both of those from a fall?"
"No, actually my best friend, who is really a werewolf, has been taking steroids and it's making him nuts."
"Merton Joseph Dingle, don't you get smart with me," she warned, using his full name for effect. "Now let's get you to the doctor's office. I think that cut is gonna need stitches. Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"Just my feelings," he muttered as they headed out the door. His head reminded him painfully that it, too, had been hurt. "And my head," he added. The walls in his room weren't half as soft as they looked.
Tommy had shoved the pills into his pocket and ran out of the Lair, then around most of Pleasantville. It took him a few hours to work off all the adrenaline and de-wolf. By the time he got home, he fell into an exhausted sleep.
Later, he woke up disoriented and confused. It took him a few minutes to remember exactly what had happened. Tommy pulled the pills out of his pocket and dropped them on his bed. He stared at them with abject horror. Had he really just chosen eleven pills over his friendship?
"I hit him. I hit him. I hit him. I hit him. What am I gonna do?"
He really wasn't too fond of his options. Either he gave up the steroids and made reparations or he gave up his best friend and his sanity (something already in short supply). Why couldn't he have both? Sure, that would be easy enough.
"Gee, Merton, I'm awfully sorry for attacking you and all. I hope you can forgive me. Oh, but I'm not gonna stop taking the drugs or anything. You don't mind do you?"
That would go over famously. No, he needed to give up the steroids. There was absolutely no good reason to take them. Except that he was dynamite on the field; he'd never played that well before. The University of Michigan was gonna be there and it was his chance to shine and blow them out of the water. A football scholarship was hardly something to pass up. If he could just take them for a little bit longer, it would all be worth it. Just a little longer. Then he would stop immediately. Merton would understand. He was doing this for his education. After all, Merton could go to any college and get a full scholarship there just for being so smart. This was Tommy's big chance. Just a little longer…
As he picked up the pills, he finally noticed the blood on his hands, and even some on the drugs. Where had that come from? Blood…? Merton! He had cut Merton! And from the blood on his hands it hadn't been a little scratch. The red was like a splash of ice water on his conscience. He dropped the pills as though they burned his hands.
"I really hurt him," he murmured. "I've gone nuts and I hurt my best friend."
Grabbing the pills, he crushed them into dust with his hands, walked into the bathroom, and put the powder into the sink, washing it down with water. He leaned against the counter and watched the water funnel into the drain.
"What am I gonna do now?" he sighed.
He knocked on the door. No answer. Undeterred, Tommy opened the door to the Lair and discovered why no one had answered; Merton wasn't there. A little nervous that he had sent the Goth to the hospital, Tommy opted to wait it out and sat on the bed with a sigh.
He looked around the room and noticed the remainder of the pills lying on the floor. He began to pick them up. He would flush them down the toilet and be done with the matter. As he reached for the last one under Merton's bed, Merton walked it. He had been upstairs nursing the last of five Yoohoos and catching the end of a Buffy rerun. Now he stood tensely in the doorway.
"Got ya," Tommy muttered as he crawled out from under the bed, tablet in hand. "Merton!"
The Goth stood starring at the pills in Tommy's hand. After a deep breath, he met Tommy's eyes. "Take 'em and go."
"Merton, I—"
"Just go."
Instead of leaving, Tommy walked slowly towards Merton and grasped his wrist. He dropped the pills in Merton's hand, folded the hand closed, and stepped away. He didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say at that point.
"How?" Merton asked simply. He knew why, but he needed to know how.
Tommy shrugged. "Football coach. He wanted to help me. Guess he screwed that one up."
"You need to tell the principal."
Tommy looked up, surprised. Yes, it bothered him that his own coach had given him illegal drugs, but he hadn't meant any harm. He was only trying to help Tommy. "He shouldn't have had them and he certainly shouldn't have given them to me. But if word gets out, he'll lose his job. He's a good coach and he meant well. I don't know if I can tell on him."
"He did something wrong, Tommy. And who's to say you're the first player he's done this to. He could be putting a lot people in danger. You need to tell somebody."
"I don't know if I can."
"You have to," Merton stated, setting the pills on his desk and walking out of the room. He was angry and hurt. Tommy didn't seem to realize that the coach had hurt someone. Merton. Both of them, actually. And now Tommy had a decision to make.
True to his nature, Tommy told the principal about the steroids. There was a huge uproar when it was learned that Tommy wasn't the first player to be given drugs. There would be no game. No scouts. No scholarship. The entire situation sucked monkey.
And he stood in front of the door to the Lair. Not a happy place to be.
"Why are you knocking?" a wary voiced from inside asked. "You never knocked before."
Tommy opened the door. "I just didn't want to scare you or anything."
Merton lay on his bed with his hands clasped behind his head. "Do I look scared?"
"You look tired."
"So do you."
And awkward silence ensued which Merton finally broke. "I'm sorry you don't get to play for—"
Tommy interrupted him. "Merton, I'm so sorry! I went crazy from those pills but I know it was my own fault for taking them and I couldn't ever expect you to forgive me but I'm really sorry. I was so worried about impressing the university and those pills seemed so easy—I didn't think anything would happen! There's no excuse for what I did but please forgive me, Merton. I'll make it up to you. Somehow. Okay, I don't know how I can make this up to you, but I will. And I'm sorry. And are you gonna say anything?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know—anything!"
Merton sighed and sat up. "Geez, Tommy, what do you say when your best friend throws you into a wall? Nice throw? Sometimes I forget how dangerous a werewolf can be."
"I'm not dangerous! I'm a good werewolf!"
"But you can be dangerous. Let's face some facts—I may be some sweet eye candy, but I'm not as strong as, say, pretty much anyone else in the world. Add in the fact that you're a werewolf and you could probably break my neck with your pinky finger, if you didn't just slice my carotid with your claw instead. It never occurred to me that I should be scared of you."
Tommy started to object but stopped. What was there to object to? He turned to leave the Lair.
"But—"
Tommy spun around. "But?!"
"But…you're my best friend. And although the werewolf might be dangerous, I know you, and you're not. At least, not when all of your brain chemicals are well balanced. It'll be awhile before I trust you with—oh—anything at all, but you're my friend. Even as a psycho werewolf. I don't want to lose my friend."
Excited, Tommy ran over to Merton and grabbed him in a crushing hug. "You're the best friend in the world! Whatever I have to do, I'll make it up to you. You name it and I'll do it! You—"
"Air," Merton rasped. "Can't…breathe…"
Tommy let go immediately. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly.
"Hey, who needs oxygen when you have friends?"
"So what do you want to do? Wanna go look for some bad guys to beat up? We could grab a couple of stakes and some garlic and go kick some butt."
"After yesterday, I think I'd rather just chill out. There's a Buffy marathon on FX tonight. I thought I'd just drool on the television."
"Drink some Yoo-Hoo?"
Merton smiled. "Now that sounds like something you do with a best friend. Oh, and could you grab a towel? I do a lot of drooling."