Under My Skin

  I think of Dillon killing himself because he was so scared of being taken away.

  I return his narrow gaze. "So how's that working out for you?" I ask. "Are you saving many from hurting themselves?"

  Anger flickers in Matteson's eyes, but he keeps his temper in check.

  "I'm not getting into a pissing match with you, kid," he says. "Not today. Not with what we found down there. But the free pass doesn't last forever. Keep your nose clean and you've got nothing to worry about."

  "From you."

  "From the Bureau. None of this is personal." He starts up the stairs again. "Let's get you back to your mother."

  When we get back to the foyer, he stops me again.

  "Wait here," he says. "I'm going to go out and give a 'press conference.'" He makes air quotes. "When you see the reporters gathering around me, go collect your mother and get out of here. If you're lucky, it'll give you enough of a breathing space to get home. I'd send an escort with you, but if I do that, I might as well hang a sign around your neck saying 'here I am.' Are you okay with that?"

  "I don't really have much choice, do I?"

  He shakes his head. "'Fraid not. Freedom of the frigging press and all."

  "Is there any way to stop them from harassing me?"

  "You could appeal to their sense of humanity." He gives me a humourless smile. "Just wait it out. In a couple of days, you'll be old news and they'll all be in a frenzy about something else."

  That's starting to sound like a tired old refrain.

  I wait while he goes outside and moves away from the front of the building to the barricades that the reporters and their cameramen are now pressing against. I suppose once word gets out that the FBI Chief is on a case, it generates all this fresh media attention.

  When Matteson approaches them, I slip out, get Mom, and we walk to our car. She keeps her arm around my shoulders as we go. I don't know if it's to make sure I'm really here with her or to keep anybody from trying to take me away. Whichever it is, I find it comforting.

  Marina

  Chaingang drops me off a couple of blocks from home. Bad enough that I'm arriving the day after having been out all night. I don't want to announce my arrival home via motorcycle to Mamá or the whole neighbourhood, for that matter.

  I cover the last two blocks on foot, go around back and slip in by the back door. I tiptoe down the hall toward the kitchen and there's Mamá on her knees on the floor, all of her santos statues spread out around her, and every votive candle in the house lit in front of her. My framed high school picture is in the middle of it all. Her head is bowed and her eyes are closed. Her lips move in fervent prayer. She seems oblivious to the fact that it's stifling hot in here because of those candles.

  "Mamá, I'm home," I say softly. "I'm okay."

  She raises her head and opens her eyes. Her red eyes well up with new tears. It's clear she's been doing a lot of crying. I feel like a piece of crap for making her go through this.

  "Gracias, Dios," she sobs and reaches for me.

  I get down on the floor beside her and hug her for all I'm worth.

  "You heard about Josh getting kidnapped from school?" I say into her ear.

  I'm looking at all those saints and thinking I'm about to get struck down for telling my mother lies, but I go ahead anyway. It's not as though I can tell her the truth.

  Josh

  Home feels good, normal. Normal is exactly what I need. Mom has put a macaroni and cheese casserole into the oven and we're both sitting at the kitchen table.

  "They cut off all your dreads," she says, reaching over and rubbing her hand across my stubble. The gesture reminds me of Elzie and I feel a little pang of loss.

  Tears well in her eyes. I know they're not about my hair. They're about me. About what almost happened to me.

  "Tell me the truth now," she says. "Are you okay? Do you need to see a doctor?"

  "I'm fine," I tell her. "Just really tired."

  She nods. "I can't understand. Why did they take you? Why you?"

  I suppose I could try to spin something out, but I stick with the truth.

  "They think I'm a Wildling," I say.

  She holds my gaze, searching for something. Then she asks the question I don't want to hear.

  "Are you?"

  I hesitate, remembering Elzie's story about her family, but this is my mom. This is different. We're different. And while it's one thing to just not tell her because she's never asked me directly, it's a whole other thing to lie. I already did it once with that whole business with Steve. I'm not going to make a habit of it. Everything else might be messed up in my life, but I'm not going to add lying to my mom.

  "Yeah," I say. "I guess I sort of am."

  "And you didn't tell me?"

  Her voice is quiet. I wish she were yelling at me the way she and Dad went at it toward the end. I wish she'd just get mad. But all she does is give me a disappointed look that hangs there in the air between us forever.

  "I'm sorry," I say.

  I mean it, but the words don't seem enough.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" she asks. "How could you not trust me enough?"

  "It wasn't that," I say. "I thought your knowing would put you in danger."

  I hear Marina's voice in my head. This is the same conversation she and I had, except this time I'm the one who didn't tell the truth.

  It's not my proudest moment.

  I don't say anything more and Mom doesn't press me on it. I take a shower, change into some clothes of my own. We have a really uncomfortable dinner, during which we mostly just push the food around on our plates. I'm hungry, but every bite I take is hard to swallow and it has nothing to do with Mom's cooking.

  She finally breaks the silence. "So who knows about this?" she asks.

  I shrug. "Marina and Desmond. Elzie."

  I feel another little wave of regret when I say Elzie's name. What happened with her is one more thing I've screwed up. I'm not sure how I screwed it up. I just know I did.

  "Of course you'd tell them," Mom says. "Oh, don't look at me like that," she adds. "Do you think I was never a teenager? At your age, we always kept the big stuff from our parents."

  Does she actually understand? Mom never ceases to impress me.

  "So you're not mad?"

  Her eyes flash. "Are you kidding? I'm furious. But before I have the luxury of letting you know exactly how furious I am, I need to understand this situation so that we can contain it."

  "Oh."

  My heart sinks. So I have that to look forward to.

  "Only those three friends know?" Mom asks.

  "Plus other Wildlings."

  "What other Wildlings? Who are they?"

  "I can't say."

  "Can't, or won't?" she asks.

  "Won't, I guess. It's not for me to out them."

  "But you can just go ahead and tell them what you are, without a problem."

  "It's not like that," I say. "Wildlings just know. We recognize each other whether we want to or not."

  Our plates are pushed aside. She has her elbows on the table, her chin cupped in her hands.

  "What kind are you?" she asks.

  "A mountain lion."

  "So it was you who attacked Steve."

  I nod. "But not like you think. That was the first time I changed and I didn't even know I was doing it. Like I said, he hit me on the back of the head and the next thing I knew, I was a mountain lion, standing over him and ready to chew off his head. I took off because I didn't want to hurt him more than I already had."

  "You have some control over the animal you turn into?"

  "Yes. I'm still me—I just have a different shape."

  She sits up and wipes at her face, as though doing that might make this all go away. She looks at me again.

  "I don't know what to do," she says. "You'll have to go away for starters. You could stay with your grandparents until we figure out a better arrange ..."

  Her voice trails off as I shake my h
ead.

  "I'm not going anywhere," I say.

  "Now, you listen to me, young man."

  I don't let her finish. I've never had to stand up to her in quite this way, but I have no choice.

  "Look, I know I screwed up big-time by not levelling with you in the first place," I tell her. "But this is my problem, so I get some say in what happens next. Hiding me away isn't going to do any good—I'm sure of that."

  I wait for her to lay into me, but all she does is ask, "So what do you think you should do?"

  "Finish my school year. I'm going to try to reclaim the life that was stolen from me."

  "How does that work with everybody knowing you're a Wildling?"

  "But they don't. Only a few friends and the other Wildlings know. No one's seen me change. Nobody can prove I'm anything but the kid I say I am."

  "But that's just avoiding the issue as well. We have to figure out how to fix this."

  I shake my head. "It's not a disease, Mom. There is no fix. This is what I am now. And I don't want to change it."

  She slumps in her chair and we sit there for a while.

  "Can you show me?" she asks finally.

  "What? You mean change?"

  She nods.

  "I don't think that's such a good idea."

  "Why?" she asks. "Is it too dangerous? If you can't control the animal, then how can you expect me to let you go back to school, where you might hurt someone?"

  "No, I can control it. It's not what you think. It's just ..."

  Embarrassing, I think. It's like she's asking me to drop my pants, which, although she doesn't know it, is kind of what she has done since I haven't had a chance to practice the change back. As soon as I come back to my human shape, I'll end up naked again.

  But I find myself remembering that trick that Cory did the first time I saw him—how for a moment he showed me a coyote head on his shoulders, then he was human again.

  I close my eyes and think about how I do the change, but instead of letting it take all of me, I focus just on my hand. I have no idea what I'm doing, but the next moment Mom gasps and I feel the difference.

  My right arm now ends in a mountain lion's paw. Opening my eyes, I see Mom staring, her eyes wide. I can smell her anxiety, but not fear. That's good. At least she isn't scared of me. I lift my paw and flex the toes so that the claws pop out. I wiggle them for a moment, then I bring my human hand back.

  "That—that's really something," she says.

  Then she falls silent, just staring at my where my hand lies on the table.

  "Mom," I say. "Could you just yell at me or something? I can't stand knowing you're so mad at me but you're just sitting there so quietly."

  She reaches over the table and takes the hand that changed in her own. She covers it with her other hand.

  "I'm not really angry, Josh. I think I had to see what you just did to really understand. I won't say I'm not disappointed that you didn't feel you could confide in me, but this—this situation—is so extraordinary that I can't say what's right or wrong in how you've been dealing with it."

  "So—are we okay?"

  She nods and gives my hand a squeeze, then she lets go and stands up.

  "I need to think about all of this some more," she says.

  "Please. You can't tell anyone."

  "I know. But—I have a lot to process right now. I think we both need some rest."

  She goes to her bedroom and quietly closes the door.

  I sit there at the table for a little while longer. I think about Mom's reaction and how much more mature it was compared to how I dealt with Marina.

  I am such a jerk.

  Mom falls asleep. I sit in the living room for a while and use my Wildling hearing, listening to her breathe. It soothes me somehow. Maybe I can still find some normal in my world.

  I go to bed as well, but all I do is stare at the ceiling. I haven't even had time to really think about losing Elzie. Now that I do have the time, I don't want to, but she's right there in my head. Trying to put her out of my mind doesn't do any good. It's either her, or Marina, or that woman I killed at ValentiCorp.

  Then I realize it's been less than forty-eight hours since Dillon killed himself and that makes me feel worse. I've pretended to Mom and everybody that I'm okay, but the truth is, everything feels like its spinning out of control and I can't stop the jumbled mess it leaves in my head.

  I get up and start to pace my bedroom. That feels so claustrophobic that I take it to the rest of the house, walking from one end to the other. When that doesn't help either, I go out into the backyard.

  The light pollution makes the stars seem dim compared to how they were in the spiritlands, but at least there's a breeze. I can smell the ocean and hear the waves breaking on the sand. I stand there for a long time, nostrils working, listening. It makes me think of Elzie again, but not in the same way as I did before. Now I remember running with her in my animal shape, how good it felt. How free.

  I wonder how's she's doing over there in the spiritlands. Maybe she's the one who did the right thing. She gets all of this good stuff—the ocean, the beach, the stars and sky—without any people or the crap we build around us to get along.

  I miss her, but I'm feeling calmer now and sit down on a lawn chair.

  I don't get to be on my own for long.

  I smell him long before I hear him.

  "I was wondering when one of you guys was going to show up," I say as he slips into the backyard.

  Cory drops onto another lawn chair. His eyes seem to glow when he looks at me—like when animals get caught in a car's headlights. I wonder if it's the same for me. But then he blinks and the glow is gone.

  "So what …" he says. "Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

  "Yeah. I stuck it to ValentiCorp and took my life back."

  "And if they show the video with you changing into a mountain lion and killing that woman?"

  "They don't have it. They lost all of their surveillance video when the power went down."

  "Did you ever think that they could be just saying that? That they're holding on to it and plan to pull it out at just the right time?"

  "Then I'll take the rap."

  "What about the rest of us?"

  "You didn't do it."

  "I mean what it says about us. That we are dangerous."

  "They already think that. And we are dangerous."

  Cory shakes his head. "The elders are going to be pissed off."

  I think about Chaingang and puppets.

  "I don't care," I tell him. "It's my life, not theirs."

  "What you did—you know it's not going to make a lot of difference, right? It'll take years to go through the courts and even then, they'll probably get off. A couple of flunkeys do the time, but the big shots? They'll just find some other place, under another name and keep right on with their sick crap."

  "That's what the FBI guy said. But it makes a difference to me."

  Cory cocks his head and studies me for a long moment.

  "Maybe Auntie Min's right about you," he says. "Maybe you are what we need. You're just going to do it your own way." He grins. "I like that. You sure you don't have some coyote in you?"

  I have to laugh. "How would I know?"

  We don't talk for a while. Turns out when he's not in my face about what I should and shouldn't be doing, he's pretty easy company.

  "You know," he says, "you never asked me about those guys I helped get out of the old naval base."

  "What's to know? You said they got away with that floor plan or whatever from you—but—now I'm thinking maybe you helped them get over to the spiritlands and back."

  He shakes his head. "No, I did what I told Chaingang I did. The spiritlands really aren't something we want the five-fingered beings to know about. Not unless you'd like that pretty beach you saw covered in oil wells."

  I pull a face.

  "Yeah, I thought as much." He waits a beat, then adds, "Aren't you
curious about what was being done to the detainees the Feds had locked up?"

  My stomach lurches because I'm seeing Jenny in my mind's eye—or at least, what was left of her. I know Matteson claimed the FBI was just holding most Wildlings for their own protection, and a few others from hurting anybody else, but I don't really believe him.

  "What—" I have to clear my throat. "What were they doing to them?"

  "Nothing."

  So Matteson told me the truth.

  "Nothing?" I repeat.

  "They were doing just what they said they've been doing. Taking them off the streets. The kids in there had full cable, nice rooms, decent food, a gym, but no Internet. It was more like a spa than a jail. The only thing they didn't have was their freedom. And that's why they took off when I gave them the chance."

  "Maybe they were still setting up the labs."

  Cory gives a thoughtful nod. "Maybe, but I didn't see any. So, what's next for you?"

  "I'll tell you what I'm not going to do. I'm not going to be the poster boy for animal people's liberation or whatever the hell it is that the elders want. I'm going to keep a low profile. Finish my school year."

  "But what if they need you?"

  "I'll figure that out if it happens. But I know what being outed means and I'm not going to live in the margins of society. You saw what that did to Elzie."

  "Maybe Elzie has other problems."

  "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

  He nods. "Yeah, that was out of line."

  We sit in silence again until finally he stands up.

  "Okay," he says.

  "Okay what?"

  "I see where you're coming from and, for the record, I think you're doing the right thing."

  "What about the elders?"

  He shrugs. "I've been playing errand boy as a favour to Auntie Min, but this is where it ends. I've done my bit. Now I'm on your team. You need anything, let me know."

  "Just like that?"

  He grins. "Just like that."

  "How can I get hold of you?"

  "Give me your phone number."