"They've locked him up?"

Grady stared in disbelief at his father. Despite his doubts about John, this wasn't what he had suspected.

"It's for the best," Mr. Tucker insisted. But he kept glancing nervously to the side while telling his family the news, and Grady had the feeling he wasn't telling him something. "You know I warned you to stay away from him. There have been rumors about him for a while. It's honestly a shock no one has investigated him sooner."

Emily snorted. "What, you're not going to defend your swamp friend, Grady?"

Grady stayed silent. He couldn't defend him. The rumors about him were true, but the people spreading the rumors also fit them.

Mr. Tucker had returned from the local police station, where they were keeping John locked up. He had the keys to the place, as well as the keys to John's room. "Don't worry, there's no chance of him escaping," Mr. Tucker assured. "It'd take a miracle for that. I'm surprised they entrusted me with the keys, though. I'm a newbie here."

"Good," Emily agreed disdainfully. "He should be locked up like an animal."

Grady didn't say anything. "Honey, you don't mean the rumors about him are true?" Mrs. Tucker asked uncertainly. "You know, about..."

"About him being a werewolf?" Mr. Tucker let out a forced laugh. "Of course not. At least, I don't think so."

"What do you mean by that?" Emily demanded.

"Nothing," Mr. Tucker insisted, but Grady could tell he wasn't sure. "Of course it isn't true. That's just ridiculous. There's no such thing as werewolves."

Grady felt a lump in his throat. For the rest of the day, he was quiet, going over what his father had told him. Him and Emily stayed indoors while their father went out to investigate, playing card games.

"I win... again," said Emily dully, lacking the smugness in her voice from beating him. Even she was getting bored of that now. "Come on, what's up with you, Grady? If anyone should be sulking about being forced to move here, it's me."

"It's not that," Grady insisted.

"Oh, I get it." Emily rolled her eyes. "Do you still care about your swamp friend?"

"No!" Grady insisted. "Of course I don't."

"You're a total weirdo," Emily said. "It's no wonder you don't have friends. The only one who wants to be friends with you is someone just as much of a freak as you."

Grady turned away, his sister's words effecting him more than he expected. He knew she was right. He didn't fit in. Even his family didn't fully accept him. Even his father, despite their shared love of science, always insisted he make friends and stop spending so much time alone.

But it wasn't nearly the same as what John felt. Not only was he a werewolf, but an oddity in his own species. He had even killed off- no, Grady refused to believe that. He had gone so far as to fight others of his kind.

To save him, Grady remembered. Maybe now, it was his turn to save him.

At one point, his sister got bored and decided to mess with him, as she always did. She snuck into his room and knocked everything onto the floor. When Grady found out, he let out a cry and chased her through the house.

Just then, the door opened as their parents arrived. "Grady!" Mrs. Tucker scolded. "Stop chasing your sister!"

"She messed up my room," Grady complained.

As his parents followed him into his room, his mother remarked, "We're always telling you to keep your room clean."

"Yes, you always put your books and drawings everywhere," Mr. Tucker added. "Don't blame your sister for that."

Behind them, Emily stuck out her tongue at him. Grady glowered at her. She was always trying to ruin things for him. He remembered when she had told his classmates that he wetted the bed. He had been the laughingstock for ages, and she had cheered them on.

Once Grady was finished cleaning his room, he refused to play another card game with her, writing in his notebook. Emily reached over to grab it from him. "You're always on that thing. What's so special about it?"

"Give it back!" he cried, trying to snatch it back.

Emily held it over her head. She was much taller than him. "It's just a bunch of lame drawings."

"Give it to me!" Grady insisted. He hadn't drawn or written anything too embarrassing in there, but he didn't like anyone else looking at it. It was his personal notebook.

"You spend way too much time on this thing," Emily griped. "Maybe if you spent as much time with people, you'd actually have friends."

Grady watched in horror as she started ripping apart pages of his notebook. He managed to wrestle it from her, but as he tried to tug it away and she tried to hold onto it, more of the pages ripped apart. He quickly let go as she hid it behind her back.

"I only took a little out," she said. "I thought it'd help you take your head out of there for once."

Grady stared at the ripped-up pieces on the floor. Rage filled him. He was tempted to lunge at Emily, but she sat down casually and continued applying nail polish on her hands. She placed the book next to her, the open pages showing some of Grady's drawings, and as she heard Grady make a low growling sound, rolled her eyes.

"Oh, fine, here it is." She reached out her hand to give it to him, but in doing so, accidentally knocked the bottle of nail varnish over, staining the notebook which was open and seeping through the pages.

Grady watched in horror. The thick, bright pink nail polish seeped through the pages of the book, making his drawings unrecognizable. All the drawings he had done, all the notes he had written down, all the leaf rubbings and markings...

Emily actually looked shocked for a moment. "I didn't mean to do that."

She quickly set her nail polish bottle upright, but she didn't look too apologetic, continuing to do her nails almost lazily. "I probably should've, though. It's time you take your head out of that book and try talking to people for a change."

Rage filled Grady's vision. He lunged forward and grabbed her neck. She let out a cry and dropped her nail polish again. Their parents heard the struggle and walked in.

"Grady! Let go of your sister!" Mrs. Tucker demanded, shocked. Grady was usually very soft-spoken and never attacked others.

Grady ignored her. He let go of her neck, but tackled her to the ground, rage clouding him.

His parents pulled him off her. "That's enough!" scolded Mr. Tucker. "What's gotten into you?"

"She ruined my notebook," Grady accused, gesturing to the smeared notebook on the floor.

To his surprise, his parents didn't even blink. "Oh, that old thing?" Mrs. Tucker scoffed. "It was already falling to pieces. Besides, you spend far too much time on that thing. More than you do with anyone else."

Despite her shock, Emily smirked at him. "See?" she mouthed.

"But—" Grady tried to protest.

"You can't attack people just over that," Mr. Tucker scolded, picking up the sagging notebook on the floor. Grady watched as he walked over and tossed it into the bin.

"No!" Grady cried. His father stopped briefly.

"Your mother's right. It was already falling to pieces," he pointed out. "We can get you a new one."

"But you should apologize to your sister," Mrs. Tucker insisted.

"She owes me an apology," Grady muttered, trying to suppress the tears in his eyes as he thought about his notebook.

"Apologize!" Mrs. Tucker demanded, her hands on her hips.

"Sorry, Emily," Grady muttered. He had never been so angry at his family. Well, actually, that was a lie. There were several times things like this had happened. Some didn't even involve Emily. Like when his mother got so annoyed with his research and theories that she yelled at him that nobody cared and he'd never have any friends at that rate. She had apologized afterwards, but the words still stuck with him.

"Maybe this is a good thing," Mr. Tucker suggested, causing Grady's jaw to drop. "You spend far too much time on that thing. I can understand having a love of science and research as well, but not so much that you don't have any friends."

"Told you," Emily mocked. Grady really wanted to punch her.

For most of the rest of the day, Grady was even more silent. As stupid as it was, his parents were right. That notebook had been practically his only friend. He wrote in it whenever he felt alone or different, just the sight of it calming him down. And his parents acted like it didn't mean anything.

Well, his only friend until he met...

When noon arrived, Mr. Tucker dropped the keys he got from the police station onto the kitchen counter. "I'm exhausted," he groaned. "I could fall asleep right on the spot."

"Well, don't," Mrs. Tucker said, looking exhausted as well. "I just finished cleaning the floor." She had been cleaning the entire house, not having anything else to do. Emily had helped, but only because she couldn't stand staying there. At least they had cleaned the nail polish spot on the floor.

His parents headed off to bed, but Grady remained in the living room, staring at the keys lying on the counter. His father had forgotten to take them with him in his exhaustion. The silver edges seemed to glint menacingly even though there was no moonlight indoors. On impulse, Grady reached out his hand and swiped them, jumping at the clinking sound they made. His heart pounded as he shoved them into his pocket.

He knew where the police station was. It was actually quite close to their house. He had even wandered there last time they had visited the area. Will and Cassie had shown him, he remembered. Just remembering them made his heart clench. But he also remembered how John had saved him. How he had fought them off despite never doing it before, and despite hating fighting anyone, even other werewolves. Now it was Grady's turn to save him.

Grady could hear soft snoring coming from his parents' rooms. He could feel the keys, almost boring a hole into his pocket. He took tentative steps towards his sister's room, and could tell that she was fast asleep as well. She snored, despite insisting that she didn't. He teased her about it a lot, while she denied it. As he returned to the living room, he gazed at the front door, out into the velvety black night.

He walked up to the door and touched his hand to the knob, feeling cold against his palm. The door was unlocked from the inside, which made sense. Grady's parents couldn't imagine them or their kids breaking out at night, for good reason. They'd have to be crazy to do so. Maybe he was crazy.

Or bitter. The reminder of his family's treatment of him earlier still filled him with anger. They had destroyed something dear to him - well, one of them - and acted like it was no big deal. They hadn't even apologized, even on behalf of his sister. It was stupid, over something as small as a notebook, but it gave him the incentive to leave. He didn't even feel bad about taking the keys.

The door made a creaking sound as it opened ever so slightly. Even the slight gap made Grady's heart pound, the cold night air spilling into the room. He remembered John fighting off his own kind to save him, returning his silver watch even as it burned his skin, the carving he had made for him and his passion for sculpting, inviting him into his shack and telling him all about the swamp. Even so, he couldn't believe he was doing it even as he stepped out into the cold night air. As soon as he did, the darkness encompassed him, the cold making him shiver and draw his arms up around himself. He immediately returned outside, but only to fetch a jacket and flashlight. At the last moment, he remembered the present John had given him, and quickly fetched that as well. It seemed appropriate to bring it on their possible meeting. Then he returned, stepping outside as quietly as possible while shining the narrow beam of light along the front yard.

Even so, he couldn't help trembling as he walked away from the house. His entire body was shaking, the keys burning a hole into his pocket despite how cold they were. As he stepped up onto the silent, empty street, he almost turned back. It wasn't too late. But he kept remembering John. If he could go against everything he stood for to save Grady, so could he.

Despite the violent fight he remembered, Grady couldn't imagine John killing them. Despite his affliction, he had such kindness and gentleness in his eyes when it wasn't the full moon. Grady remembered his eyes. He had such distinct, deep green eyes that Grady had recognized while he was a werewolf. He couldn't see him as a monster.

His footsteps sounded deafening as he walked down the street. Grady couldn't even stand being inside his darkened bedroom at night. He had only recently stopped using his nightlight after his parents kept telling him he was too old for it and his sister kept teasing him non-stop. Every little noise sounded darker at night. Just hearing the smallest bang or snap inside his house at night made him jump. And that was when he wasn't outside. Now, every slight whisper of the wind and rustle of the trees made him jump. The darkening shadows overlapped on the pavement and over the houses. Even they looked different at night.

Grady told himself to stop being such a wimp. He had not only left the house at night last time, but wandered into the swamp and been chased by vicious werewolves. This was nothing compared to this. And even that was nothing compared to what John had gone through for him.

When he arrived at the police station, he almost let out a sigh of relief. He was almost worried he'd forget where it was and get lost. And at the same time, he also kind of hoped that he would. He wished he'd have to return home and wouldn't be able to find it.

He reached his trembling hand into his pocket and pulled out the keys. The slight jingling sound made him jump, sounding even louder in the dead of night. As he walked up to the front door of the police station, his hands were trembling so much that he almost couldn't slip the right key in. He dropped the keys multiple times. He didn't know which the right one was, so he had to test all of them. He was both relieved and fearful when he found the right one that pushed the door open with a slight click. The sound made him jump out of his skin.

He peered into the seemingly endless darkness of the inside of the station, almost turning back. He remembered the flashlight and pierced it through the darkness, but the thin tube barely offered any light. Still, he stepped inside, keeping the door open behind him. He didn't want to lock himself in.

He started shaking even more. He almost dropped the flashlight, which wouldn't make much difference since it barely offered light, but then he touched the silver watch on his wrist. Feeling it calmed him down. It made him feel more confident, which was ironic, since it warded off werewolves and he was trying to rescue one. But he kept his hand on it as he headed through the station.

The flashlight did help a little. He found himself in a long hallway with several rooms. Each one was locked, and he didn't know if he wanted to try all of them for the slight chance that he'd find John in one. He prayed that no one would be in the building, but justified that no one in their right mind would willingly stay in a place with a werewolf overnight.

Suddenly, he heard a noise coming from one of the rooms. It was so slight that he would've missed it. It seemed like an ordinary noise in a station, slight rustling and jingling. But as he stepped towards the door, it had to be a person making the noise. A frustrated, entrapped person. There was a high, rough noise that made him wince and his ears ring. It sounded like hands rubbing against metal.

He pulled the keys out of his pocket and made them jingle loudly on purpose. Immediately, the noises stopped. The person inside sounded scared now. No doubt he thought it was one of the police officers.

Grady's hands shook as he turned the keys into the lock. By some miracle, he managed to find the correct one on the first try. As the door creaked open, he raised the flashlight, and almost dropped it when he spotted what he was looking for immediately.

A metal cage with tall bars and a complicated lock in front of it, like a supersized animal cage. Inside was - there was no mistaking it. It was the man he had met last time. He looked in even worse condition than he usually was. His hair was a disheveled mess, the scars on his face seemed even larger than before, and there were cuts and bruises on his body visible through his tattered clothes. But what Grady noticed first were his eyes. The deep, mossy forest green stared at him with shock, dark bangs hanging underneath.