Hey there. The name's Todd. Todd Webster. I'm seventeen, 6'1" Caucasian male, brown hair, blue eyes. I'm the forward on the varsity basketball team, my current cumulative GPA is 3.8, and I play clarinet in the concert band. Or I used to, before my schedule started getting too hard to juggle and something had to go. I hope to rejoin next year; I miss playing the clarinet. Even if there are like fifty others. Anyway, I live with my mom, my dad, and my little sister Barbara, who's eleven. I call her Barbie. She hates that. We're a pretty normal family, I guess, though I don't get along with my dad much. He's got some sort of office job, accounting or something. I hate office jobs. Mom's a teacher. I don't really want to be a teacher, either. I'm not really sure what I want to do at all.

But then, you've got a limited amount of job opportunities when you're a werewolf.

I mean, you can't have an office job where you have to show up every day. How're you going to explain to your boss why you're gone a day or two each month? I can't even explain why I don't get my homework done to my teachers. First of all, they think you're bonkers if you tell them you're a werewolf. They say, "Very clever, young man, back to your seat and that's a detention for you." I know that from personal experience. I was in second grade and wasn't used to it yet, okay?

Yeah, I became a werewolf pretty young. I don't even really remember how it happened. Mom says we were vacationing in Canada or something and I wandered away and got bitten by one. She says she knew it wasn't a normal wolf bite, because it was huge for one thing--nearly took my whole leg off, don't know how I didn't get killed--and the wolf wasn't rabid, which was weird. Only rabid wolves attack people, you know. Some people out hunting saw it attacking me and managed to shoot it, but it got away. They took me back to my mom and told her I'd been bitten by a werewolf. She didn't believe them, of course, but they knew better and said to lock me up when the full moon came round.

Well, Mom said she didn't believe them, but she wasn't stupid, and at sunset on the eve of the full moon she locked me in the woodshed. And the next morning she found me naked on the floor of the woodshed, and the door was nearly splinters and there were gouges in the walls all around. That's the part I remember, actually--being locked in the woodshed. That kinda thing doesn't slip easy.

My dad didn't take it too well. Said he couldn't stand to have his only son turn out to be a freak. Mom slapped him a good one, the first time he said that, and she told him never to say that about his son again. Werewolf or not, I was still his kid. That was what she said. I heard this all from my sister later (she was spying on them). Mom's pretty cool. For a mom, anyway. I can't take my dad. I guess I got along better with him when I was younger, but, well, the whole werewolf thing kinda turned off our relationship. Sometimes it seems like he forgets, but most of the time it's like he's ashamed of me. Like I can help it if I turn into a wolf?

There's some pretty nifty parts about being a werewolf, though. For instance, I can turn into a wolf on my own--but I couldn't do that really well until I got into high school, when I was smarter and stronger. It's easier when the moon's waxing--that means it's going towards full, not away. New moon's the hardest to do it. Our backyard drops off into a forest-type place, and sometimes I like to change and just go running around in the forest. Sometimes it's hard to control the wolf, though; one time I ran down a rabbit and had eaten half of it before I realized what I was doing. I got sick after that. But most of the time, it's cool. Great way to blow off steam. The only time it's dangerous is during the full moon. Then I can't control myself at all, and that's when Mom or Dad locks me in the woodshed until morning.

Full moons are the worst. I get hardly any homework done; nowadays I just try to get it all done before the moon rises. Like I said, the teachers won't listen, yanno? And Mom or Dad don't want to tell anyone, anyway. Mom says that they'll take me away and lock me up. Dad just doesn't want anyone finding out his kid's a freak. Makes me really bitter, sometimes, my dad. But, I mean, the full moon also tends to have really bad timing. One time there was a full moon on the night of a really big game. I had to miss it; Mom wrote me a note and everything, said there was a death in the family, I don't know, but I still felt really bad. The team still won, but it was really close. They said it would've been a sure win if I'd been there, but there wasn't anything I could do about it.

The worst is picking up girls, though. I mean, c'mon, I'm a guy. I like looking at girls. And I like to think that I'm not bad-looking or anything, so girls like to look at me, too. And I think that a girl would really like me once she got to know me--I mean, I have a monthly problem and everything, yanno? But wouldn't you know it, one time I got a date with this really hot chick--and it was on the night of a full moon! I tried to reschedule, but she got all miffed--thought I was telling her I changed my mind and was just trying to let her down easy. Well, I figure snobby, uppity girl like that wouldn't have been right for me anyway. But it's still a real letdown.

Barbara's real cool about it, though. She's not so bad for a little sister. Sometimes she gets real protective. It's so weird, this little girl trying to stand up for her big brother. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Actually, it is sometimes. She was having this bullying problem at school when she was in the fourth grade, so I turned myself into a wolf one afternoon and went to school with her. Pretended to be her dog. C'mon, little kids are so dumb nowadays, they can't tell a wolf from a dog anyway. And I was a big dog, too. Werewolves are twice the size of normal wolves, and normal wolves are already pretty big. But anyway, I scared those kids shitless. And no one's ever touched my little sis again. Mom got mad later--said someone coulda figured it out. But nobody did, so it was okay.

But anyway, I've gone on long enough, so I'm gonna run. Gotta help Dad with the woodshed; I almost tore the door off its hinges last month. He's handy with tools, I'll give him that.



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