For Lethero's contest.
Sunlight glittered on Kit’s red hair as he crossed the commons. It was already late afternoon, and he felt fine. Great.
He stopped for a moment at the statue of James Madison to admire the president’s knickers. Kit had always nursed a secret desire to wear knickers and play the fife and clean a rifle and –
“Hi, Christopher,” a voice said.
It was Mary’s voice. It was Mary’s voice and it was Mary’s shadow falling across James Madison. Kit didn’t even have to look over. And who else would call him Christopher, anyway?
He turned to her. “Hi, Mary.” She was small and pale and giving him a look. Kit ignored that. Look at those, he thought instead, his eyes focusing on her collarbones. I’ve never seen collarbones that jut out so much!
“What is it with you and James Madison, Christopher?” she asked, touching his arm.
Is that normal, to have collarbones that jut out so much?
Mary turned toward James Madison, touching the base of the statue absentmindedly. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen you just standing here, staring up at our fourth president?”
What if she’s sick? Like, anorexic? That happens to girls all the time, right?
Kit was feeling skittish now, wringing his hands behind his back so Mary couldn’t see. Was it just Kit, or was she leaning those sharp collarbones toward him?
A panicked look flashed on Mary’s face and she began digging feverishly in her purse. Kit would bet a million dollars she was going for her – yep. Hand sanitizer. She pulled out the bottle and looked relieved. “What do you even like about him so much?” she asked as she sterilized her hands. They were tiny, the size of a child’s. “I mean, besides drafting the Constitution, he wasn’t that great of a presi-”
“Are you sick?” Kit blurted.
Mary rolled her eyes. “Okay, Christopher, point taken! I won’t rag on James Madison any-”
Kit was shaking his head hard. “No, Mary! Are you sick?” He grabbed her shoulders. “Mary, do you have anorexia?”
Mary stared at him for a moment. He could see it in her chin; she was going to tell him she had anorexia. It was quivering! It was trembling. Oh gosh, what am I going to do when she tells me? I need to –
Mary burst out laughing. “Me? Anorexic? Haven’t you ever seen me eat, Christopher?”
Oh right. Mary usually ate twice as much as Kit did. And she talked with her mouth full.
A thought hit him.
“Bulimia then! Oh, Mary, why are you hiding it?” He pulled her to him.
“I’m not bulimic!” came Mary’s muffled voice from his chest. He could feel her hot breath through his shirt. Embarrassed, Kit let her go.
“Where do you come up with this stuff, Christopher? Honestly!” Mary straightened her glasses and fiddled with her top.
“Your collarbones! They’re so pointy – and you’re so small, I just thought maybe…” Kit stumbled, feeling his face burn. He looked up at James Madison, grazed his hand over the stone buckle of the president’s boot. When Kit ventured a look at Mary, she wore a dazed smile.
“What?” he demanded.
Mary stepped closer to him and touched his waist. “Do you want to go out tonight?” she asked in a maple syrup voice.
Kit looked down at her. Mary? No, he didn’t want to go out with Mary! She ragged on his taste in presidents and ate like a guy and was always badgering him and wearing tops that showed her collarbones and sanitizing her hands the minute she touched anything. He didn’t like her at all! Besides, he’d much rather be…
No! Kit breathed deeply to get himself under control. He wasn’t going to do that thing today. He had promised himself over and over. Why couldn’t he go one day anymore without doing that thing?
Kit looked down at Mary with a new resolve. She was pretty cute. He liked her tops that showed her collarbones. He’d go out with her and they’d start dating. They’d be together every night, and then he’d never have the chance to be alone and he’d never need to do that thing ever again. He’d be normal.
Kit lifted one corner of his mouth, trying to smile. “Yes,” he said, too loudly. “I want to go out with you tonight.”
Mary hugged him, but she was so small, Kit practically crushed her. She must be sick, he thought. Kind of like how I’m sick.
“You know, Christopher,” she said, touching the back of his hand. “I’ve always thought your hands were sexy, the way the index and middle fingers are the same length?” Her voice was trailing off. “It’s so – strange.”
Kit jerked his hand back, and somewhere inside of him, his will yielded. He could no longer look at Mary. As he touched the bristly hairs that grew in the palms of his hands, all he could feel within him was the desire, raw and ugly. It made his heart race. He felt dull pain in his groin and the acid fear spreading slowly through his stomach. He was going to do it today. The thing. He had known it all along. He was going to do it every day, and he knew it.
“Christopher?” Mary asked in a small voice.
Kit realized that he had shrunk back. He could see the uncertainty on Mary’s face and the way her hand trembled, wanting to touch his. But his hands weren’t made to hold hers. He wasn’t going to go out with her tonight. Or any night.
“Christopher?” she repeated, her eyes huge.
Kit backed away, setting his jaw tight. “Why do you always call me that?”
“What?” Mary asked, confused.
“I’ve told everyone a million times: My name is Kit. Why are you the only one who won’t call me that?”
Mary stepped closer to him. “Kit? Are you all right? Your eyes – they’re, they’re – all foggy.”
“I’m fine,” he said calmly, lengthening his stride.
“Why are you acting like this, Christoph-, I mean, gosh, I’m sorry! I’ll call you Kit from now on, okay? I just thought-”
Kit shook his head. “Thank you, Mary. But, I can’t go out with you. It really won’t work out.”
The devastated look on her face only made him more annoyed. “What? Why, Kit?”
He tripped over his feet, suddenly embarrassed. “Well,” Kit shrugged, feeling his face go red, “I, I have a – a thing to do.”
Mary leapt forward, grabbing Kit’s arm. “What does that mean, Kit?”
No. He couldn’t answer any more questions. He didn’t have any answers. All he knew was that the sun was going down and he needed to get out of here.
“I’m sorry,” Kit mumbled.
“Please, Kit, don’t do this to me!”
He turned sharply on his heel and began to hurry away. As embarrassed as he was for the way he was acting, there was one feeling stronger: the savage desire.
***
By the time Kit hobbled up to his dorm, he could barely see. Everything was moving shapes and hazy colors in the dusky evening. His mind was cloudy, too; all he could think about was getting to his room and getting his belt.
Kit tripped up the steps, swaggered to his single bedroom at the end of the hall. A dark shape that might have been a person might have spoken to him, but his senses were too muted to be sure. Get to room. Get belt. Kit nearly swooned.
He slammed the door behind him and collapsed on his bed. It had been worth his parent’s money to have a single room this year. Roommates raised too many questions.
Kit writhed on the sheets. He might have been growling as he fumbled at the foot of the bed for a bottle of water, but it was too hard to tell. His throat was dry and his tongue was heavy.
His hand shook and the water spilled down his face. Just then, the last ray of twilight disappeared from the western sky, and only cool darkness shone through Kit’s window.
Kit’s mind cleared momentarily as potent desire hummed through his body. It’s night. It’s time for the thing.
Kit ripped off his clothes and crawled over to the dresser. He clawed through the t-shirts in the bottom drawer until his hand felt the leather of the belt. Madly, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it. My belt.
When Kit was fifteen, he had gotten a dirt bike for his birthday. Every free moment he had, he’d ride the trails in the woods behind his house. Usually, he was flying so fast that everything around him was a blur. One day, however, he noticed the sunlight glittering on something half buried in the dirt.
Kit jumped off his bike and knelt next to the object. It was a belt buckle. Gingerly, he cleared away the dirt and leaves. The belt was some kind of leather with the signs of the zodiac stitched into it. The buckle had gleamed silver and nearly blinded him.
He was entranced by the belt. Mechanically, he had lifted up his shirt and fastened it around his bare skin. Pulling it tight, he slipped the buckle into the ninth hole.
Then the thing had happened for the first time.
Now, Kit crawled back to his bed. He felt a shiver on his bare skin as the buckle danced over it. He lay down and felt the cold, wet sheets under him from where he had knocked the water bottle over.
Kit arched his back and fastened the belt around him. Suddenly, his eyes sharpened and he could see clearly the texture of the cinder block wall. He could hear a whispered conversation in the next room, could smell stale cologne across the hall.
His body went limp, limbs tingling. Kit began to laugh a strange laugh in the back of his throat. His heart pounded as the acid fear coursed through his blood stream. This was the moment that haunted him in the daylight, the reason he let the thing happen every day. This was the moment when the carnal was satisfied, when the desire worked itself to a pinnacle and softened into dark relief. Kit panted, contracting his muscles, swatting at the damp hair on his forehead, smiling.
Suddenly, Kit thought, What was I thinking? I’m in my dorm room! I can’t do the thing in my dorm room!
But it was too late. The pain had set in. Thick hair shot up all over his body and his nose lengthened. His teeth sharpened. It felt like all his bones were breaking at once. He folded in on himself, dropping to all fours just as his hands and feet shrunk into paws.
Kit was a wolf.
He felt high and powerful and out of control. Kit had never been so stupid as to put on his belt anywhere but the middle of the woods, where he could run and howl and feed. Now he dashed around the small room, chewing on the pile of t-shirts in front of the dresser, clawing on the door.
Kit stopped abruptly in the middle of the room. No, no, no. It was the unmistakable smell of Mary’s hand sanitizer coming down the hall.
She knocked on the door. “Kit?” she called. “Can we talk?”
Kit’s fur bristled. He growled, picturing her sharp collarbones. He was hungry.
“Kit? What’s going on in there?”
Part of Kit cowered as her small hand pushed open the door. He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her because he was addicted to turning himself into a wolf every night. Because he had found a strange belt in the woods five years ago. And once he had it, nothing could destroy it, no matter how badly he wanted to be rid of it. It was pathetic, what he was doing to his life. But there was no way to stop now.
Part of him didn’t want to kill her.
But most of him did.
Mary screamed as Kit bared his teeth at her.
