The half moon hung in the sky like some great celestial yin-yang. Four people sat on the grass, bathing in the moonlight. Silence reigned though the feelings raged like rivers through rapids. Every few moments, one would take a deep breath as if to say something, but then pause and let the breath out as a faux sigh.
“It’s been a great summer,” one finally spoke, choking out the words.
“It sure has,” another agreed, nodding.
“I find it funny that we snuck out almost every night , but never did anything illegal. We just came here and hung out most of the time,” the third added.
The first laughed and looked to the fourth, who appeared to be deep in thought.
“Hey, you alright, Angie?” the first asked.
“Yeah, definitely,” she said. Her expression didn’t change. Her eyes refused to meet his.
“What’s bothering you, Ang?” the second asked, catching on to the conversation.
“It’s nothing.”
“Have you had fun this summer?”
She laughed, “How much more fun can dashing around in the night be?”
The second bit her lip, trying not to remember, “Sorry we’ve had to keep you so secret, Ang. You’ve been a great friend either way.”
“It’s alright, not everyone changes into a carnivorous beast in the blink of an eye,” she smirked.
“We’ve taken care of you pretty well, right?”
“Right,” she nodded determinedly.
“We’ve learned so much,” the third reflected.
The second and first nodded, and smiled. Silence dominated over the group again as Angela returned to her distant, dreaming state.
The short grass blew lightly in the wind, but still couldn’t compare to the large trees which swayed slowly but dramatically in the heights above the group. They sat in a close cluster in the middle of a large field. The tall and varied trees surrounded the grassland on all sides. The only direction not covered was up, and the stars sung their silent song down on the peaceful scene.
Each of the four had a bottle of grape soda which they held onto all too tightly.
“It sure sucks we’re all going to different schools,” the third broke the tension.
Angie didn’t break from her trance, so the first stood up for her, “Angie can visit us whenever she wants. It’s not like she’s a furry beast twenty-four-seven either; she looks human most of the time. She dresses like one too. She’d fit in anywhere.”
“Yeah! We can still visit each other on the weekends too!” the second added, “Do you think we should still help her every time there’s a full moon?”
The first thought awhile before asserting themselves into a decisive position, “Probably. We don’t want her, or anyone else, getting hurt.”
“Angie? Why are you zoning out so much?” the first looked back to her.
She forced a laugh. It continued on and on, wearing off all the tension that she felt. A laugh could cure anything. The first punched her playfully on the shoulder.
She giggled again and punched him back, her inhuman strength sent him sliding.
“Oopsie, sorry,” she shrugged and smiled a guiltily smile, embarrassed.
“Gosh, I’m going to miss you,” He smiled, sitting up while massaging his shoulder.
“Look, I heard you guys talking about coming every full moon, and I don’t think I’ll be okay with that,” Angie started.
“You heard us? Why won’t that work?” The first asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.
“Well, what am I going to do when you three go off to college if all I do is depend on you? You all have helped me through the most difficult and vulnerable stage of this…strange disease, but I need to learn how to deal with it on my own. If I wait forever, then I won’t be able to control myself on my own,” her grim face turned into a sly smirk, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, eh?”
Her joke didn’t penetrate the bleak feeling which surrounded the group. The second timidly spoke up, her eyes still fixated on the grass she was ripping out of the ground and tearing into small pieces, “Do we have to say goodbye forever?”
Angela sighed, not wanting to answer, before she nodded, “It’s for the best. I’ll miss every one of you. I don’t want to leave but I think that’s what needs to happen if I’m going to live a life like this.” She burst into tears and hid her head in her knees.
“Angie? Everything’s alright. Couldn’t we visit you once more? Sometime later in life?”
“No,” she gasped out, “no. I clean break is always easier to heal from.” Minutes passed and nothing but pain and silence filled the air. The third’s cheeks were covered with silent tears and the third was hugging Angie’s curled up body tightly. Almost as if to keep her there forever.
“I don’t know how often us three will talk, then,” the first pointed out, “You’re the thing that keeps all of us together, as a group.”
Angie looked up and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Her eyeliner and bright eye shadow had been smeared by the tears. Some of it had washed away all together, “I wish I could stay forever, but it’s not right to do to you. I’ll remember all of you forever.”
Silence again.
“One last run?” the second asked, with a hint of shyness in her voice.
“Sure,” Angela smiled sadly. Then, she stood up and began to change. The light blonde hair from her head grew and grew until it was reaching down her spine. Her clothes became a part of her body and the hair grew from it as much as it did from her skin. She went onto all fours and her lungs grew larger. She sprouted a tail from the tip of her backbone and fangs where her canine’s used to be. She was about the size of a small car. She looked at them, her brown eyes dancing with both sadness and exhilaration. She took off running and they dashed off after her, yelling in the darkness.
When they tired and stopped to rest, she continued running into the darkness of the woods. The trees slowly consumed her as she ran further and further. They watched, knowing it was the end. Eventually the light blonde fur that covered her from tail to head was gone into the forest forever.
“I’ll miss you Angie,” first called out after her, speaking for all of them.
Then, they all went home, and never spoke to one another for a long time. They never forgot, but they never quite remembered that time they knew as the summer. And another summer was never quite the same.
