If I actually start from the start, then you will have fallen asleep on the first page. But I want to keep things interesting. So, I'll start from the part when things started to get weird.
I had just finished with my book. The one that I had borrowed from Terry, who had borrowed it from Jessica.
And just as usual, I was starving for more. That happens with every story that I read. Except the few ones which have particularly magical endings.
There was nothing I could do now, except calling Terry up. So that's what I did.
Voicemail. That was weird.
"Yo, Terr, I finished Howl. Bring the next one tomorrow – what was it called again? Full Moon? Whatever, bring it on Monday," Pause, "Or turn into a werewolf."
The weird part was that Terry never, ever ignored my calls. Yeah, I was that interesting. Maybe she was in the bathroom, or whatever.
So there was nothing more to do now, except sit and whine for my book. Howl lay next to me on the bed, looking forlorn in its jacket of white and grey.
Yeah, my obsession with werewolves.
I can't really remember how it started, like a small interest that grew, and grew, and became an obsession. It became like a drug, and I asked my artist-y friend Asim to draw werewolf posters for me. And that right there defined my obsession. I considered myself an artist, and a good one. Asking Asim to draw them for me meant admitting that he could do them better. And I didn't care who drew the posters, they had to look good and be mine.
I looked expectantly at the phone next to me. The landline. Yeah, you got that right. A fifteen year old without a cell phone. Embarrassing, and annoying.
Terry still hadn't called me, and anyway, I had other work to do.