Yes. This is veeeery late. Much apologies. I can't even give the excuse that school has been keeping me busy because, frankly, it hasn't. At least, not lately. I am just a very bad updater. Forgive me?
So, where did we leave off? Sadie and Simon have made up for all the recent secrecy, and Sadie has spent the night as Simon's house. Last night Sadie had a nightmare about Simon. How will that affect them? Read and find out!

Chapter 10

I woke up the next morning way too early. The alarm clock on Simon's beside table blinked 8:30 at me, almost as if to mock me. For some reason I could never seem to sleep in on weekends. My body goes on autopilot and always tries to wake up early for school. Knowing that it was useless to try and fall back to sleep, I got up and tip-toed out of Simon's room.

I went into his kitchen and rummaged through the kitchen for something that resembled breakfast. I had been at Simon's house so much that going through his cabinets didn't even feel weird. It was my second home. I managed to find some off-brand cereal with marshmallows in it. As I was pouring the milk and sitting down at the table, Simon's mom emerged from the hallway, surprising me. I hadn't even known she was still home.

She looked just as shocked as I was. She did her best to put on a perky mom face, and greeted me. "Hi, Sadie! Long time no see! I didn't know you had stayed over." Ms. Reese was a thin woman, who was close to five feet ten inches, only a little taller than Simon. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was in a messy bun atop her head, and the blue bathrobe she wore was a little too big, and hung off her shoulders a bit.

I rubbed the back of my head and smiled a bit. "Yeah, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision."

"Well, it sure is surprising seeing you here. I was under the impression that you and Simon were fighting right now. Every time I've mentioned your name to Simon he would just scowl and change the subject."

I tried not to look irritated by this news. He must have known that I wouldn't have believed him. No normal person would. "It was a dumb fight, Ms. Reese. We made up."

She smiled as she poured herself a cup of instant coffee. "Well that's great. I missed seeing you."

I agreed with her and changed the subject, knowing that if it the conversation stayed on course for too much longer, I would have had to lie about what we were fighting about. So I switched the subject to her work, and for about a half hour I got to hear about the joys of being a nurse. After a tantalizing tale about changing a bedpan, Ms. Reese glanced down at her watch and noticed the time.

"Oh my! If I keep talking about work I'm going to be late!" She shuffled back to her room to go get dressed. She came back minutes later in her hospital greens and with a look of concentration on her face as she attempted to tie her short blonde hair up in a ponytail. I smiled at her and handed her her keys before she walked out of the door without them. Simon's mom could be a bit scatter-brained, but I loved her.

Before she left, Ms. Reese came over to me and put her hands on my shoulders. "It's so nice having you back, Sadie. I think Simon's missed you, too." I smiled at her, and she kissed my cheek and hustled out the door. Normally I don't let people do affectionate things like that to me, because I'm not the most touchy-feely person, but with Simon's mom, it was okay.

After Ms. Reese left, I put my bowl in the sink and headed back to Simon's room. I flopped down on his bed, hoping the innocent noise would wake him so I wouldn't have to feel so alone in his empty house. His face twitched for a second before returning to a mask of sleep. I sighed and settled for lying on his bed as I waited for him to awake.

I looked around the room. The walls were a cobalt blue, and the ceiling and floor boards were made of a dark wood I couldn't identify. I remembered when the walls were covered with our third grade art work and pictures of us from all our school field trips. Once we had clipped newspapers for hours, looking for the funniest typos we could find, glued them all on a piece of cardboard to make our own collage. The comic strips we had drawn ourselves used to be taped above his dresser. Though the walls were now bare, the memories were still there. One thing that I noticed that was still left on the wall was a picture I had drawn some time back in middle school. It was Simon and I, but since I was never good at drawing people, I drew us as animals. I had drawn myself as a turtle, sticking my tongue out, and I had drawn Simon as a wolf.

For a long time I sat on Simon's bed wondering why he would have kept that picture up, but taken all the others down. I mean, it was okay picture, but nothing museum worthy, not amazing. And it struck me as odd that the one picture Simon would keep would be the one with the wolf in it. But maybe it was just coincidence.

I turned back to Simon, asleep on the floor, and wondered how he coped with being the wolf. While I was the turtle, barely going anywhere or changing, Simon's world was radically flipped upside down within weeks. As I looked at his sleeping figure, a thought that had been churning in my head began growing and growing.

Maybe Simon wasn't the only one out there. It seemed impossible that out of all the werewolf stories and folklore out there in the world, that Simon would be the only real one. Considering that thought seemed highly unlikely, my mind kept floating back to the topic of other werewolves. How many others like Simon were out there? They could be anyone I had met on the street, or even someone that I knew, and they could be living a normal life despite being a part animal. And with that thought, an idea occurred to me. I went over to Simon's printer and grabbed a piece of copy paper. Before running out of Simon's house, I left a note on his table saying I would be back.

I returned to Simon's house a little after 11 am, and Simon looked like he had just woken up. He was walking around the kitchen, half asleep, making breakfast.

"What's in the bag?" He asked groggily, as he spread peanut butter over a piece of slightly burnt toast. When I walked into the house Simon had barely glanced up, showing no concern whatsoever that I had left, and not bothering to ask where I'd been. The only thing Simon asked about was what I had brought home with me.

I dropped the canvas bag on the table and upturned it. Out of it spilled books, lots of them, from the library. I found books from the teen section, the adult section, and even a couple from nonfiction. It had taken me a long time to compile a variety of books, and the librarians gave me weird looks as I checked out 15 books all circling around the same subject: werewolves.

"What's all this for?" He muttered as he pushed some of the books out of the way to set down his breakfast on the wooden table.

"This, my friend, is research." He frowned and stared at the books on the table as if they were two weeks' worth of extra homework. I picked up one of the books from the stack and began thumbing through it. There were pages after pages discussing the habits and thought-processes of werewolves in it, and I was itching to read right then and there.

I looked up at Simon. "Do you ever wonder if there others out there?"


"Werewolves. Do you ever wonder if you're the only one, or if there's more than just you?"

He looked down at his toast, deep in thought, then back up at me. "Well, yeah, there are probably others out there. I don't really know what you're getting at though, Sadie. It's not like I can just go up to stranger and ask if they turn into an animal when the moon comes out. They'd think I was crazy! And even if they were, they wouldn't tell me the truth. And what do these books have to do with anything? What do you mean, research?"

I sat down across the table from him. "You said so yourself that even if the person was a werewolf, they wouldn't tell anyone about it. But what about writing about it?"

"I still don't really get your point."

I sighed and tossed the book at him. "Books, Simon! If you decided to write a book about being a werewolf, no one would look twice at you because of it. They wouldn't think you actually were one just because your story had werewolves. Imagine how many authors out there really are supernatural beings! They could be trying to tell you something about your condition right in the pages of their best-selling teen novels."

"So you're saying that one of the authors of these books could be a werewolf?" I nodded. "And reading all these could help me out somehow?" I nodded again. He sighed and looked down at the pile of books. "I hate homework."

I smiled and picked up another book from the stack and opened it up. "Too bad."

Voila! Chapter ten! (Sorry if there are no pagebreaks. The editing mode on fictionpress isn't letting me add them.)I'm excited to get this story up and running again, so here's hoping my next update will be soon! So, how about you leave a review and tell me how you like it so far? Because, let's face it, I love getting reviews. The main reason authors write is to hear the feedback. So, you get reviewing, and I'll get writing! The next update will be way faster. Promise!