I had never been more relieved for a school day to end. My classmates kept giving me weird looks, especially the vampires. Now, I could focus on more important things, like cleaning my room! Rusty, Asher, and Herb had followed me to the entrance of my tower since they had promised to help me, so I unlocked the door for them.

"Man, this is where you sleep?" Asher scoffed.

"Yes," was all I said.

"I mean, are they tryin' to be funny? This looks like the same place my aunt got locked up after she went insane," he weirdly remarked.

"I didn't know it was an actual living space for students," Herb muttered.

"It's not!" Rusty hissed. "Look at it. It's a prison."

Without a word, I headed into the shadows and climbed the spiral staircase. They all followed me while coughing up dust the entire time. As soon as we reached the top, the complaining intensified.

"Man, this place is gross," Asher monotoned before taking a sip from his soup cans.

"I think my mushrooms would wither in this environment." Herb nervously chuckled.

"Forget the mushrooms!" Rusty barked. "Millie's gonna wither in this environment!"

"That's why I want to make it over a little. You know, add my own special touch," I reminded.

"Okay, you got a bulldozer?"

"Man, your life must've stank if you're willin' live under these conditions," Asher blurted.

I huffed. "It didn't stink!"

"Then why are you puttin' yourself through this?" Rusty demanded.

"You guys are my friends! How can I leave now?"

"Easy," Asher droned.

Rusty sighed and approached me with a sympathetic look in his eyes. "Look, Millie, you're our friend, too. It's not like we want you to leave, we're just worried about you. I mean, you obviously have this romantic vision of . . . whatever, but it's not like that. I mean, sure, there might be suave idiot somewhere willin' to quote poetry, but everybody else is up to no good."

"It's like that everywhere," I reasoned. "The kids at my old school were less behaved than the ones here. At least here, the adults know the dangers, so the rules are more enforced. Where I'm from, everybody denies there's a problem. I mean, teenagers would make out in the bathroom."

"Seriously?!" Rusty nearly jumped back. "That's disgusting."

"You didn't know that?" Asher scoffed.

"What?! Like you did?"

"Uh, yeah. I've seen the movies from the '80s."

I cracked a smile. "Anyway, let's get cleaning!"

"Cool! I even brought my owner feather duster," Herb proudly declared as he pulled one out of his backpack.

"I think this is gonna call for more than feathers," Rusty quipped.

"Probably. Hey, wait, could you use your tail?" I asked.

He sneered. "No. You know how hard it is to clean this thing?"

"I can brush it out afterward."

"No. Nobody touches the tail. It's sensitive."

Asher choked on his iron-fortified soup. "Boy, you really are a putz, aren't ya?"

"What?! It is sensitive!" he defended. "It's like somebody tickling your nose."

"Oh, don't worry. My corgi has a really sensitive tail, too. So, I'm gentle," I assured.

"Stop comparin' me to your corgi!"

"Then quit actin' like one," Asher retorted.

"Ugh! Fine. I'll use my tail to wipe the dust away." He then squatted in the corner and proceeded to sweep the dust out of the crevices with his tail. "This is totally humiliating. You better not tell anyone."

Click.

"What're you—?! Are you videotaping this?!" he roared, jumping to his feet.

Asher, who was already holding his phone out, answered, "No, I'm taking pictures. And nobody's 'videotaped' since the 2000s."

"Who cares?! Don't tape the inside of her room!" he snarled.

"Again, I'm takin' pictures of you. And I'm not gettin' her bed in the shot or anything."

"Ugh! See? This is why I hate vampires!" He crossed his arms. "He doesn't even act like he's sorry."

"I'm not."

He snarled and bared his fangs. "Fine. Yuk it up, parasite."

"Oh, that's a new one. Did you get a dictionary?"

"Shuddup!"

While they were arguing, Herb was sprinkling his magical fairy dust across the floor to repel the grime. Sadly, Rusty's tail was covered in dust, so I felt a little bad. "It's okay, you don't have to do any more."

"Why? It's already filthy. I'll wash it off later."

A smile crossed my face. At least he wasn't mad.

After several minutes of deep cleaning and tail swiping, the tower was starting to look much cleaner! Finally, Rusty asked, "Well? Is it good enough?"

"Yes, it's much better. Thank you."

"Well, I guess we should get dinner. I mean, except for cup-head over there." He glared at Asher.

"Hey, I got dinner with me at all times." He pointed to his helmet. "Why would I feel bad now?"

"I dunno, maybe 'cuz you look like a freak."

"Well, if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna take a shortcut out the window," Herb mentioned.

"Hey, it's not that bad. There's plenty to still live for. I mean, I know you'll never get a girl, but still," Rusty snarked.

"You guys are awful. If we're gonna hang out, you need to be a little nicer," I chided.

Rusty's ears drooped. "We're all gonna hang out?"

"Of course! That's what we're doing right now."

"I just came here to protect you from him," Asher deadpanned.

"Yeah, but you obviously brought your phone so you could videotape her bedroom!" Rusty accused.

"Dude, did you grow up without a TV? Every phone has a camera. And there's a hundred reasons why I'd need it. Like, for emergencies."

"'Course, I had a TV! But when you got a litter of siblings, it's not like you can pick what you wanna watch!" he growled.

"Werewolves have litters . . .?" I murmured.

"Not literally. They just got a lotta kids."

Was that a pun?

"Uh, how many siblings do you have?" I asked him.

"Two."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not a litter."

He crossed his arms. "Well, I'm stuck in the middle, so it might as well be. I get nothin' but hand-me-downs and both get more attention."

"Yeah, and we can clearly see what it did to your development," Asher snarked.

Rusty shoved his hands in his pockets. "Shuddup! I'm starved, so c'mon, Millie. Let's ditch these clowns."

I didn't even realize that Herb had already flittered out the window. Asher just shrugged and left the room, but before Rusty could leave, I stopped him. "Wait. But your tail's all dusty."

"I'll brush it off with my hand when we get outside."

"Don't worry. I got a brush." I hurried to my suitcase and pulled out a pink brush. "It's for all hair types. So, it should work on fur, too."

His coppery eyes lit up with excitement "Wait, really?" He stopped himself. "I mean—cool. But I don't want you to ruin your brush. So, no big deal. This thing's pretty thick."

"Oh, it's okay. I brought six others! This one's older anyway. So, c'mon, sit down."

I perched on the floor and patted the spot beside me. He seemed a little embarrassed at first—but did as I said.

"Here, give me your tail."

He rested his tail on my lap, and that was the first time I touched his soft, silky-smooth fur. Somehow, he was ten times fluffier than Beanie. The sunshine pouring through the window gave his fur an amber glow, so I ran my brush through his tail with gentle strokes.

"Your tail is so soft," I gushed, petting it with my hand. "It's softer than Beanie's."

"Beanie?"

"My corgi."

He blushed furiously. "Is that all I am to you? A corgi?"

"No way. I'm just saying you're fluffy. Is that offensive to werewolves?"

"No, it's just embarrassing. Emphasizing the dog more than the dude—that's why I hate this stupid tail. It's all anybody sees."

Suddenly, I realized something terrible. I was treating him just like my corgi. What was I thinking? I shouldn't have been asking him so many personal questions just because I liked to read werewolf literature. And clearly, Rusty was nothing like those weirdos anyway.

I guess I was just having withdrawals and transferring my pathos onto him. Every time I felt stressed, I always brushed Beanie's soft fur to calm me down. So, I must have been doing the same thing with Rusty's tail. Thinking about it now, that was probably the case. Feeling embarrassed, I quickly shot up and tried to hide my red face.

I squirmed. "Sorry."

"No, my bad. You can brush my tail if ya want."

"No, it's fine." This was seriously awkward, so I quickly placed the brush on my end table.

"Well, if you don't mind, could I touch your hair?"

His question surprised me, and I looked him in the eyes. "Huh? Why?"

"'Cuz if you touch my tail, it's only fair. And I've never really felt human—" He turned redder than a beet. "Ugh, forget it."

"No, I don't mind. Here." I scooted closer to him.

For some reason, his hand trembled as it inched closer and closer to my head. He then patted my hair, and my face warmed up.

His jaw dropped. "Woah. It is like the human shampoo commercials. It wasn't a myth."

"You know, if you want me to stop calling you a corgi, you need to stop calling me a human. I mean, we got two legs and opposable thumbs."

He laughed. "Okay, I got it. Sorry. It's just how everyone around here talks, so I guess it rubbed off on me."

I smiled. "Well, I'll try not to ask too many weird questions from now on."

"No, I don't mind. I mean, if I can ask you some questions, we can get to know each other better."

"You have questions, too?"

"Well, yeah. I wanna ask somethin' about you that I can't get from a book. What's your favorite food?"

I was a little surprised. "Hmm. Probably chocolate cheesecake."

"You know, dogs are allergic to chocolate. I'm not."

Oh, no! I had forgotten to ask him if he was allergic before giving him that candy bar. Rusty just laughed.

"Yeah, I thought you were tryin' to kill me or somethin'," he joked.

"No, I just didn't think about it."

"Really? Good. Makes me feel better. Like, you're not always thinking of me as a dog."

"I never think of you as a dog!" I insisted.

He flashed a grin, revealing a fang. "Liar."

Before I could argue, my stomach growled, and his ears perked up.

"C'mon, let's get some food. There's a café on campus."

A café? That was actually perfect! I could really go for a sweet refresher.

We both hurried down the stairs and returned to the twilit schoolgrounds. Satyrs were casually strolling together in herds, and fairies were darting through the air like butterflies. The vampires, however, quoted terrible poetry under the shadows of golden elm trees.

The sky had paled into a serene lavender, and wisps of pink clouds drifted across the sunset. Rusty's blonde hair flickered in the breeze, and his tail swished restlessly. Was he excited about something? I couldn't tell.

Soon, I noticed a small bistro that looked more like a Tudor home. The wooden sign above the door read: The Uncanny Café. Satyrs were sitting outside with their school laptops, and vampires were studying tomes while drinking suspicious green liquid.

Rusty opened the glass door for me, and I skittered into the crowded eatery. The swirling of blenders clashed with the sound of chattering customers. The walls were paneled with rich cherry wood, and a pale green carpet covered the floor. A sweet perfume lingered from the potted dahlias.

We both waited in line, and during that time, I checked out the menu written in chalk.

REFRESHERS
Bacon Bubbly
Fodder Frappe
Non-Sanguine Smoothie
Pixie Potion

MEALS
Meat Bun
Barley Stew
Plasma Pop
Poppyseed Parfait

. . . Only four options?! And why were they all sold exclusively for each species? Couldn't they just sell a strawberry lemonade?

"Why is everything assigned by species at this school?" I asked. "What's the point in bringing everybody together if you're just gonna separate them?"

"Good point. We just don't like each other's foods. Or each other."

"Why? I mean, I don't even know what these drinks are made of."

"Neither do we. The titles are just cool."

This guy seriously needed a dose of reality. That was why we were taking a road trip this weekend into the real world.

When it was our turn to order, Rusty told the satyr barista, "Bacon Bubbly for me. Oh, and a meat bun."

He nodded and wrote down his order.

"So, what's in the Pixie Potion?" I asked.

He looked shocked as if no one had ever asked that before. "I dunno. Fairy dust. Glitter. Sprinkles. Y'know, pixie stuff."

"Glitter? Seriously?"

"Oh, it's the edible kind."

"Is this place being regulated by the Health Department?" I demanded.

I think I just exploded his pea brain. "What's the Health Department?"

My jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me? You do live in America, don't you? Is this place being run by some kind of underground organization hiding from the law?"

"I dunno, I just work here."

Obviously, this guy knew nothing. "Well, anyway, do you have lemonade?"

"Yeah, I think we got some in the back."

"Then I'll have that. And I'll take the Poppyseed Parfait.

Hopefully, it was being refrigerated. Did these people even own refrigerators? The barista wrote down our orders and then told us the fee, but just as I reached into my purse for my wallet, Rusty pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and paid the total amount.

"Thanks," I smiled.

He looked away to hide a blush. "No biggie."

We then found a table next to the window, and I sat down to admire the lavender sky. And even though the sun peeked through the trees, the crescent moon was barely visible.

"Hey, look, you can see the moon." I pointed through the arched window.

For some reason, Rusty's ears drooped, and his tail fell limp.

"Is something wrong?" I worried.

"What? No . . . why?"

"Your ears are drooping."

"The moon. It mocks me," he weirdly remarked.

. . . Wait. Werewolf. Moon. Full moon. Slowly, I connected the dots. "Wait . . ."

"Yeah, that's the one thing your books got right. We turn into monsters under the full moon. So, I just stay at home and black out my windows, hopin' it'll help. But it doesn't," he grumbled.

"What do you mean 'monster?'"

"Aw, c'mon. Don't tell you think we always look like this. We're werewolves, not corgis."

"So, you all change?" I held my breath.

"Well, not the kids. It happens when you're a teenager."

"When did you change?"

"Twelve. My mom said that it's 'cuz I had too much angst about it, so I was an early bloomer. But my older brother was just waitin' 'til the day for it happen. And he didn't turn until sixteen. Actually, I phased before he did."

"Well, I seriously doubt you're a monster. You're too nice."

"No, I just look like an idiot." His ears flopped in defeat. "I mean, worse than I do right now."

"Don't say that. It's who you are."

"Then why are we forced to hide in the shadows for the whole world to think we're fairytales?"

My heart ached, and I stayed quiet. "Well, what do you do on school nights?"

"Study."

"No, I mean, when you phase."

"I try to sleep it off. Or I go eat everything in the fridge 'til I'm sick the next morning. Okay, and sometimes I go running off in the woods by myself, but that's only when I'm mad." He then groaned. "Ugh, I'm pathetic. But I don't run on all fours! It's hard to explain."

"Well, don't worry, I'll keep you company on the next full moon so you won't feel so alone," I encouraged.

He seemed baffled. ". . . You're not scared of me?"

"Why should I?"

"I dunno. I mean, I'm not a very good werewolf if I can't scare you off."

"I think you have an identity crisis," I blurted.

He seemed shocked at first, but then he laughed. "Well, I seriously doubt you can hang out with me after I phase. I mean, we got a curfew. Well, the werewolves don't. But I seriously doubt they'll give the new girl a permission slip to keep me company. That's when they're gonna wanna lock you in the tower the most."

"Well, we could spend thirty minutes together outside before I go to bed. Or I could sneak out."

"Sneak out? No way! I'm not gonna let you start breakin' the rules on account of me."

I flashed him a mischievous smile, but then I asked something that had been bugging me. "So . . . was what Asher said true? Do you really transform when you get angry?"

"The way I see it, everything's a choice. I mean, don't you have violence back where you're from? People choose that path. There's nothin' I can do to stop the full moon, but every other time, yeah, we can control it."

Before I could respond, the barista called out Rusty's name, so he retrieved our drinks from the waiting station. The "Pixie Potion" was a glass jar with a straw poking through a colorful glop of whipped cream. Edible glitter garnished the top, and swirls of pink and blue colored the milkshake. The Poppyseed Parfait was layered with crème and slices of strawberries.

Surprisingly, it actually looked pretty tasty! So, I took a bite of the fluffy crème. However, Rusty's smoothie looked like an abomination. It must have been some kind of root beer float—except with a milk bone and a slice of bacon sticking out of the frothy mixture of cream and chocolate syrup.

"Is it good . . .?" I fearfully asked.

"Well, it used to be. Now, I'm not sure," he cryptically replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno. It's, like, after meeting you, most of the things I used to like just make me feel nauseous." He shifted uncomfortably.

"Wow, that's a great thing to say to a girl," I huffed.

"That's not what I meant. It just feels weird. Like, not human."

For some reason, I actually felt flattered. I wasn't sure why, but either way, I didn't want him to feel bad. "I don't want you to change who you are. If you like it, just eat it."

"Yeah, but now I don't like it anymore."

And then the rest of the evening was awkward.