The Turning Book 1: What Curiosity Kills by Helen Ellis

Author:Helen Ellis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2011-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

chapter twelve

Nick says, “Don’t worry, we didn’t see anything.”

I’m on the terrace floor, wrapped in Mags’s comforter.

“And when you turned before, you turned in your pajamas. You were so small, you crawled out your pajama leg.”

He helps me onto the lounge chair, but I don’t need help. Although my movements are limited in this goose-down burrito (made heavier by the snow puddle I’ve been lying in), I am invigorated. I want to repel down the side of the building. Run through the park. Climb trees! Chase squirrels and steal their nuts!

I sit and rock, gripping the comforter in front of my bare breasts. I’m not cold. I’m feverish. But the fever feels good. I rub my calves together. The fur is gone. I feel my own silky, albeit stubbly, skin. I don’t need a stitch of clothing to stay warm. I fight the urge to hop to my feet and flash Nick.

Sitting beside me, he pats my back.

“I’m calm.” I tell him what he wants to hear. Back-patting is international for There, there. Get a hold of yourself. Excitement’s over. I look around for Yoon.

I find him sleeping under the foot of the lounge chair. Yoon has not returned to boy form. His emerald eyes are shut, the lids camouflaged within his black mask. His mouth is curled up at the corners in a satisfied smile. He’s on his back, which is broad enough for him to lay flat and keep him from toppling to either side. His front legs are bent, black paws loosey-goosey in the air. His hind legs hang open. His copper belly and balls are exposed. Yoon looks unbothered by his vulnerability. If I looked like him when I fell asleep in public, I might do it more often.

Nick says, “He’s exhausted from helping you.”

“I thought you were going to help me.”

“I am. I did. What, you wish it was my tongue all over you?”

Good lord, the thought of it. I can barely bring myself to speak—but I do. “You think Ling Ling would like that?”

“I don’t care what she likes.”

I venture farther. “Are you two not together anymore?”

He leans his shoulder against mine—a nudge. Don’t I get it? Temple to temple, his windblown curls tickle my eyebrow. Our warmness mingles. He slips his hand inside my comforter and fishes out my hand. He laces his fingers between mine. That’s a good enough answer for me.

I ask, “Yoon’s too tired to change?”

“Nah, he just prefers it this way.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I have to go to school. If I don’t show up, my folks will find out. I’ll get expelled, not detention. If I turn at night, I won’t sleep. My grades will suck. Or, like Yoon, if I turn too much, I won’t be able to stop myself from sleeping. It’s like passing out wasted. You could wake up anywhere, but be bare-ass—”

“Naked.” I finish his sentence. I squeeze his hand. I’m not embarrassed, and I don’t know why.

Nicks says, “I have this theory that the less I turn, the shorter this phase, as Yiayia calls it, will last.

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