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Scott wriggled underneath the sheets. They stretched tightly across his body. Nurse had tucked them underneath the mattress, holding him down. She was a really nice lady. She smelled nice, wore pretty flowered dresses, and had the head of an eagle and sixteen rows of razor-sharp teeth—but she would tuck Scott in so tightly that he couldn’t move.
Last week he had escaped, and she clucked her tongue when she found him clawing at the front door, nails deeply gouging the wood. (The moon was full, and so pretty; he wanted to go out to say hi.)
“Oh, Scott. You have to stop this.”
He snarled and foamed , still thinking about the moon. “But—”
She put her claws on her hips. “You want to be a good boy, don’t you, Scott?”
He froze. He did want to be a good boy, even if he didn’t fully understand why. Since then, he had mostly been able to keep himself from trying to escape at night. Once the moon wasn’t full anymore it was much easier. She rewarded him with extra raw steak at dinner.
But he still itched. A lot. Coarse fur was growing all over his body, and it made him scratch like crazy. Right now he was trying to move his arm behind his back, so he could scratch at a new patch that was coming up.
When he’d woken up for the first time, he had almost no fur, and was covered in blood. It had been so cold. His bones and teeth rattled, feeling like they would rip straight out of his skin. He was scared, wanting to run from something that wasn’t chasing him; until he smelled something, and deep within him, it surged. He was so hungry. He’d pushed through and ran towards the smell. He didn’t remember much after that.
When he’d woken up a second time, he was in this room, with Nurse leaning over him, sweating as she tried to hold him down on the mattress. He’d stopped struggling almost immediately.
Now, the room was his. Nurse told him that he would be staying here until he finished transforming. He didn’t really know what that meant, but he’d been here for almost a month now. It was small, smelled like medicine, and had no windows, but it was home. The only home he could remember.
Memory was funny for Scott. There were a lot of things he couldn’t remember. Some things were crystal clear: the feeling of running, the wind on his face. A stream burbling underneath a worn wooden bridge. Dinner coming fresh out of the oven. Quiet conversation.
Yet he couldn’t remember who was talking. It felt important, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing else came. He knew he was Scott, but couldn’t remember where he’d come from, or anything before he woke up in his bed in Nurse’s office.
Most important, he couldn’t remember “parents.” It was the thing he most wanted to remember, even though he also couldn’t remember why it was so important. He knew there were parents—most kids had them, and they took care of them and gave them hugs and love and head pats—but he couldn’t remember specific parents. Specifically, his parents. Nurse said it was normal—“someone in your condition will not remember many things”—but it didn’t help his frustration. He wanted to remember so badly. He went between that, and needing to scratch.
He was about to give up on wiggling and try to use his teeth to rip the sheet when he felt a little shiver go up his back that wasn’t itchiness. It was like the feeling of being watched. Scott lifted his head up, and the edges room got a little darker. A black puddle spread from the crack underneath the door.
Scott blinked, and suddenly another kid was standing there, their back to Scott. They had on a soft-looking yellow jacket with shiny gold buttons, and they were dark—just looking at the back of their head felt like looking up into a starless sky. From out of nowhere, Scott remembered a cool breeze, and the smell of grass: sitting in a huge open field, looking up at the night sky while lying on his back. It made him happy, even though he didn’t know why.
“Hi!” he said.
The kid jumped about a foot in the air. Two wide eyes gazed at Scott. Suddenly there were stars in the sky.
They backed up against the door, their shoulders hunched, shaking a little.
Scott smiled. “Hey, don’t worry! I’m a good boy, I promise.” He put on his friendliest grin to prove it. “My name’s Scott!”
“...H-Hi.”
The inside of Scott’s head rung a little with the words. He heard them inside his head, rather than in his ears like normal. “How did you do that?”
“What?” they asked.
“That! I can hear you inside!” he said. “That’s so cool!”
They blushed a little. “Um, thanks.” They tilted their head to the side. “Scott. Is that your family name?”
“Family name? I don’t know what that is. I just know my name is Scott.” He smiled. “It’s a cool name, right?”
They nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Underneath the sheets, Scott’s tail tried to thump in happiness. They’re nice! “What’s your name?” he asked.
They clutched their robe tightly in their hands. Then, quietly, they answered. “...Ozimiri Yesfirovich.”
Scott blinked. He had never met someone with a name like that! He only knew Nurse, and himself. They had as many names as both of them put together!
Wow!
Then he had an idea. “Hey, you can move your arms, right?”
Ozimiri looked down at their hands, then back up at Scott, nodding.
“I have to scratch my back. Can you pull the sheet out from underneath the mattress? Please? It would be really nice of you!”
Slowly, Ozimiri got up, and gripped the edge of the sheet. They gave a little pull, but it barely budged. They huffed, and pulled harder the second time. They still couldn’t get it, so they set their feet wide apart and began to pull again.
After a really hard pull and a grunt, they tripped and fell back onto their butt. “So-sorry! I’m sorry.” Ozimiri hunched over from their spot on the floor. A cloud of dark mist began to obscure their face.
“It’s okay. Try again! I know you can do it.”
They looked uncertain, but the mist dissipated. They got up and gripped the sheet again. They pulled back with all their might. “Why—ugh!—why is this on so tight?”
“I don’t know. I just know I’m not supposed to escape. I don’t really want to, anyway.”
“They’re...” Ozimiri huffed, and yanked again. “They’re keeping you in the school?”
“Huh? School?”
With the next tug, the sheet finally came loose. Ozimiri fell back onto their butt again. Scott shot up and enthusiastically scratched his back. “Wow, thanks! You’re really strong!”
“Not really,” they said.
“You got the sheet out!” He itched his back with abandon, using the wall as a kind of scratching post. Ozimiri giggled, hiding their lack of a mouth behind their hands.
“Thanks, Ozra...Ozam. . .” He scrunched his face. “Your name is long. Can I call you something easier?”
They tilted their head to the side. “Like what?”
“Ozmi...Ozm...Oz! What about just Oz?”
“Oz?” They slowly smiled, even though their face didn’t change. He felt that inside his head, too. “I like it,” they said.
“Great! Oz! Hey, are you going to be around more? It’s nice to talk to someone. I like Nurse a lot, but you’re really cool too!” He got another idea. “We should be friends!”
They looked uncertain. “I don’t know if I can. I may go to school here...but my uncle doesn’t want me to.”
He did know what school was. Faintly, like the memory of ‘parents’, he remembered it: kids went there to learn reading and writing and arithmetic. There was a room with desks, and the tickle of chalk in his nose. He didn’t feel particularly happy when he thought about it, though. He could feel sunshine through the windows, and he wanted to go outside, and play in the woods.
Seeing Oz every day would be awesome, though. “I hope so! It would be fun to see you again.”
They looked uncertain. “Really?”
“Yeah!”
Nurse’s voice floated through the door, though it was still far away. “Highly excitable...this... impossible.”
Oz flinched. “Oh no.”
Scott tilted his head, and then laughed. “Don’t worry! Nurse is really nice. She gnashes her teeth like that when she likes you!”
“It’s not the nurse.” Oz looked around frantically, and whispered, “It’s my uncle. I got away from him for a minute, but he’s looking for me.”
“And you don’t want him to find you?” Uncle wasn’t as clear as “parents,” but from what Scott could remember, it wasn’t anyone to be afraid of.
They put their hand over Scott’s mouth, and the inside of his head echoed. “Shhh!”
They were both still, and then another voice: “...it will only take a minute, Nurse Samira. We’ll be gone as soon as we find…”
“I have to hide,” Oz whispered.
There was nowhere to hide, except under Scott’s bed. He’d already tried once to hide under there to get out to see the moon—it didn’t work. But Oz looked worried, so Scott thought as hard as he could.
“Hey, over here!”
“Huh?”
Scott didn’t wait. He grabbed Oz’s hand, and pulled them until they crawled over the bed, and into the corner just behind it. Then he took his sheets, and arranged it so that it looked like he had kicked it off the bed into a pile. “Don’t move, okay?”
Oz nodded, and then went completely still. Scott blinked. For a second, he wondered how his sheets got there. Then he remembered. Wow, they’re really good at this!
The voices rose again.
“What’s in that room?”
Then he heard Nurse’s voice. “No one is in there, I assure you. We’re housing a were-child in there. Recently turned.”
“Then it is of utmost importance to assure that my charge is not in there.”
“I’ve been sitting here for the past two hours. No one has gone anywhere near that door, and it’s locked.”
“They are capable of fazing through the slightest shadow. A locked door will hardly be a deterrent.”
The knob turned, and Scott quickly flopped on his back. He opened one eye to look at the sheet-pile. It didn’t move an inch. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
The door opened.
Nurse sighed. “Oh, Scott.” He could feel her frowning at his escape, and it took all of his strength not to giggle. He kept his breathing even.
Then, he felt a deep chill. It crawled slowly, clawing up his back. His lungs constricted. In the back of his mind, he felt the dark chill of a night wind—a tree limb snapping—the feeling of teeth, biting, and blood running down his back and chest, blood, so much blood—
He shot up and screamed. It slowly turned into a full-on howl.
“Scott!” Nurse came over to him, and hugged him. He felt a little better. “Principal Llorona, this is unacceptable!”
“Forgive me. Sometimes it can’t be helped. Some monsters are more sensitive to the effects of our abilities.” Another chill ran down Scott’s back, and he understood much better why Oz wanted to hide from their uncle.
Like Oz’s smile, Scott felt his voice rather than heard it. But Oz made him feel so happy—this made him feel terrified. Cold, icy, alone.
He was worse to look at: an endless void, impossibly tall, with eyes like shards of sharp glass.
“I imagine his recent...trauma makes him more susceptible. As soon as I have my charge, we will take our leave,” he said.
“As you can see, they’re not here, so please go! Now,” Nurse said. She kneeled next to the bed. Scott wiggled close to her, and she gave him head rubs. “Scott, it’s all right, it’s—“
He cleared his throat. “Ozimiri.”
It was quiet, even as Scott’s heart pounded against his ribcage. Then the sheet shifted, and Oz’s face peered out. He felt their voice—it wasn’t scary at all, and Scott latched onto it like a ray of moonlight in a dark forest. “Uncle—”
“Come here.”
Oz looked mournfully at Scott. They sighed, and got up off the floor, folding the sheet messily around their arm and putting it on the foot of the bed. They went over to their uncle. Scott couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds—it made the chills worse, and he felt so scared.
“We are going home,” Oz’s uncle said.
They nodded mournfully. “Bye, Scott,” they said, out loud this time.
Oz’s uncle put an arm around their shoulders, and began to lead them out. Scott made himself sit up, despite the deep desire to be far, far away from that man. “Nurse!”
Nurse looked at him, and Oz looked back, too.
“Can Oz come to visit again?”
Oz’s uncle stopped, and looked back at him over his shoulder. Scott felt that fear again, so instead he looked at Oz, and that helped. He grinned. “You’re really nice. Please come back?”
The fear crawled harder up his back, and he felt like he might throw up. He grinned, hoping it would make him look braver than he felt. Oz smiled at them, and the tiniest flame of happiness sparked in his heart. My friend, Oz!
After a moment’s silence, Oz’s uncle said, “Come.”
Nurse grabbed the knob, and began to pull the door closed. “I’ll be back to tuck you back in, Scott. Don’t scratch.”
Scott leaned forward in bed, trying to catch one last glimpse of Oz, but the door closed. Aww, man.
When Nurse came back, she had a stapler with her. “You’re very resilient, Scott. It will be a great asset to you. Until then—” She began stapling the sheet to the bedframe. “We need to make sure that you don’t get out.”