Some time later back at the chapel, Tom and Judy were engrossed in homework from their respective schools. Tom laid down his pencil and checked the clock.

"It's almost 5:30," he said. "I wonder what's keeping Penhall."

Judy shrugged. They both turned when they heard a moan coming from the stairwell.

"Speak of the devil," remarked Tom.

He put down his pencil, walked toward the stairs, and peeked over the rail. Doug was slowly making his way upstairs, muttering various curses under his breath. Tom thought a couple of them sounded like a foreign language.

"You all right?" Tom called.

"Yeah, just perfect!" Doug called back.

He could barely move his legs. Hell, he was having a hard time moving his arms too.

"I almost can't blame those kids for juicing up," said Doug as his head popped into view. "It's for survival. That coach over there, Gavin, he runs that team like they're the Marines." He limped across the room and dropped into his desk chair.

"That's good motivation to bust the supplier quick, isn't it?" asked Tom, returning to conjugating Spanish verbs.

Doug leaned forward onto the desktop, using his folded arms to pillow his throbbing head. "All the angels and saints," he groaned, "I'm hurtin'."

"And just think, you still gotta hit the books, Dougie," Tom taunted.

Doug abruptly sat up. "Why, you little freakin' weasel-" he started through gritted teeth.

"Hanson, knock it off," Judy said firmly. "Penhall doesn't rag on you when you've had a tough day."

"Yeah, he does. He does it all the time, in fact."

"Can't you see how worried he is about that test on Friday?"

"Uh, yeah, Judy, he made that pretty clear this morning."

"Hey! Quit talkin' about me like I'm not here," said Doug, his words slightly muffled because his head was back on the desk.

Judy raised her eyebrows. "Well, excuse me for tryin' to help you."

All three heads turned as one to the sound of a door opening. Captain Jenko had just come out of his office.

"I'm hearin' a lotta bad vibrations out here," he said. "What's going on?"

Judy spoke up first. "Penhall's tired. He had a long day and just got back. Hanson started teasing him about how Doug still has to do his homework-"

"And he called me a little freakin' weasel," Tom cut in. "That's totally uncalled for! Not to mention, I don't know, unprofessional!"

"Will you pipe down?" Doug snapped. "I got a headache over here."

Jenko sighed. Sometimes he felt like he was a principal with a particularly unruly bunch of students.

"Do we have to have a group meditation session?" he asked.

"No," Doug and Tom said quickly.

Neither of them were fans of that.

"That's what I thought," said Jenko.

"I'm sorry, Doug," Tom apologized.

Doug picked up his head and nodded to show he accepted the apology. He knew that the sooner he did at least some of his homework, the sooner he'd be able to go to bed, so he reached under his chair for his backpack. He took out his textbooks and notebooks, then reached into one of his desk drawers for a pencil. He found one, along with a shiny red apple. He took both items out, laying them next to his books and papers. He looked up and met Judy's gaze.

"Jude," he said quietly, "thanks for stickin' up for me."

She gave him a gentle smile. "No problem, Penhall. I know you got a lot on your mind."

Doug took a huge bite of the apple. "You can say that again," he mumbled through his mouthful.

He picked up his pencil and began working on algebra equations. He thought ruefully that he could probably teach any high school subject after this job.

By the time everyone completed their homework and debriefed Jenko, it was close to 10:00.

"Hey, Jenk," said Doug as his supervisor was pulling on his jacket to leave, "practice did a number on me today. I don't think I can drive home. Mind if I crash here tonight?"

"Not at all, kid. You can use the cot in my office."

"Thanks, Jenko, but it's okay. I sleep on my couch at home all the time."

The not-quite-ex-hippie shrugged. "Whatever turns your wheels, Doug. I'll see ya in the morning."

Once everyone had left the chapel, Doug started to make himself at home. He brought the wheeled TV cart out of Jenko's office and into the lounge. He plugged it in and pressed the 'power' button. A Mets/Yankees game immediately filled the screen. Doug groaned; the last thing he wanted to see right now was baseball. He changed to the next channel, which turned out to be showing a black-and-white monster movie.

Doug took off his shoes, stretched out on the couch, and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this tired. Or hungry. One lousy apple hadn't been nearly enough dinner. He forced himself to get up and search the chapel for food that wasn't contained in the pink box still on Judy's desk. He struck gold in the small community pantry: a partially-full box of Cheerios that Tom had undoubtedly left in there. He took the box back to the lounge and settled in for the movie, eating handfuls of cereal like it was popcorn. Exhaustion overtook Doug before he found out whether there really were werewolves living in the woods behind the mansion or if it was just the elderly caretaker's imagination.