Trifles of a Teenage Werevulture by Emily Martha Sorensen

Author:Emily Martha Sorensen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emily Martha Sorensen
Published: 2018-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13: Whose Stupid Idea?

“Don’t go yet!” Georgie shouted, waving his arms. “Wait! Don’t go yet! Wait!”

I gasped and flung my door open. “You came!”

“What’s going on?” Kegan’s mom asked sharply.

“How last second can you get?!” I shouted.

“I’m sorry!” Georgie cried, reaching the car. He panted for breath desperately. “I wasn’t sure — I couldn’t decide — until I heard the car start. Then I — I — I — I knew I couldn’t just let you go off without turning me.”

“What in the world?” Kegan’s mom rolled down her window. “This isn’t the time for that! We have a deadline!”

“Worry about it afterwards,” Kegan’s dad said, nodding.

“I — I — I can’t,” Georgie stammered, looking frantically at each of us. “I — I mean —”

“I have to turn him before we can leave,” I finished for him. If I waited for Georgie to say it, it would take the rest of the week. “If I die, there has to be a way to make more griffon vultures. If I turn Georgie and I leave him my turning stone, he can make more of them in my place.”

Silence fell over the car.

“Okay, that sounds logical,” Kegan’s mom said. “But your parents —”

“I have their permission,” Georgie said rapidly. “They won’t mind. Don’t worry.”

Liar. I gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“What about your clan?” Kegan’s dad asked. “I presume you’re meant to be a turkey vulture.”

Georgie developed a flinty-eyed stare. “It’s none of their business. It’s my business. It’s my choice, and I’ve made it.”

I sucked in a deep breath. Now that he’d agreed, I was terrified of what might happen if we went through with it. “Umm, Georgie? The chances are over seventy percent that it’ll go wrong. You know that, right? And I don’t know for sure that it’s a turkey vulture stone. I only suspect it is.”

“So there’s a thirty percent chance I’ll end up a griffon vulture, a thirty-five percent chance I’ll end up a turkey vulture, and a thirty-five percent chance I’ll wind up something random,” he said. “Got it. I’ll take that bet.”

I wasn’t sure he really understood the depth of the risk he was taking. “Georgie —”

“Someone has to test it out, right?” he demanded. “And you don’t have time to find someone else. I’m the only one who can.”

“Yes, well, technically that’s true . . .” I hedged.

“Let him do it.” Kegan’s mom opened the door of her car and got out. She headed to the trunk and unlocked it. “If he’s sure he wants to, let’s get it over with. We don’t have any more time to waste. The deadline’s in three hours, and it’ll take two and a half to get there.”

“And a half?” Kegan’s dad asked, tapping his phone screen. “Ghoulgle Maps says an hour and fifty minutes.”

“It’s the morning after the full moon. There’ll be traffic.”

“Oh, right. Crush hour.”

I followed Kegan’s mother to the back of the car, and she opened the trunk to pull a plastic grocery bag from the back right corner towards her.

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