coffeepot and sat in the chair I’d sat in when I spoke to Beck. Behind his empty chair stretched the bookshelves with the hundreds of books he’d never read again. Every wall was covered with them; the coffeepot was nestled on the few inches of shelf not occupied by books. I wondered how many there were. Were there ten in a foot of shelf space? Maybe one thousand books. Maybe more than that. Even from here, I could see that they were tidily organized, non-fiction by subject, battered novels by author.
I wanted a library like this by the time I was Beck’s age. Not this library. A cave of words that I’d made myself. I didn’t know if that would be possible now.
Sighing, I stood and browsed the shelves until I found that Beck had a few education books, and then I sat on the floor with them, carefully setting my coffee mug beside me. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been reading when I heard the stairs creak softly. Glancing up, I saw a set of bare feet descending: Cole, looking musty and sleep-tussled, a line in the side of his face where the couch pillow had pressed into it.
“Hi, Brisbane,” he said.
“Hi,” I said. “St. Clair.”
Cole unplugged the coffeepot and brought the entire thing over to the floor where I was. He topped my coffee up and poured a cup for himself, silent and solemn during the entire process. Then he turned his head to read the titles of the books I’d pulled out.
“Distance learning, eh? Heady stuff first thing in the morning.”
I ducked my head. “This is all Beck had.”
Cole read further. “Acing the CLEP test. Legitimate online degrees. How to be an educated werewolf without leaving the comfort of your own basement. Bothers you, doesn’t it? School, I mean.”
I glanced up at him. I hadn’t thought I sounded upset. I hadn’t thought I was that upset. “No. Okay, yeah. It does. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to finish high school. I like studying.” I realized after I’d said it that Cole had chosen NARKOTIKA over college. I wasn’t sure how to explain the thrill I used to get when I considered college. I wasn’t sure how to describe the anticipation when I looked at course catalogs — all those possibilities — or just the sheer pleasure of opening up a new notebook and a new textbook next to it. The appeal of being someplace with a bunch of other people who also liked studying. Of having a tiny apartment that I could rule like a queen, my way, all the time. Feeling a little silly, I added, “I guess that sounds corny, doesn’t it.”
But Cole looked thoughtfully into his coffee cup and said, “Mmm, studying. I’m a fan, myself.” He pulled one of the books to him and opened it to a random page. The chapter heading read Studying the World From Your Armchair and there was a graphic of a stick figure doing just that. “Do you remember everything that happened in the hospital?”
He was asking in that ask me more way, so I did. He detailed the events of the night, from when I’d started throwing up blood, to Sam and him taking me to the hospital, to Cole puzzling out science to save me. And then he told me about my father punching Sam.
I thought I must’ve misunderstood him. “He didn’t really hit him, though, right? I mean, you just mean that he …”
“No, he whaled him,” Cole remarked.
I took a sip of my coffee. I wasn’t sure what was weirder, to consider my dad punching Sam, or to realize how much I had missed while lying in a hospital bed or shifting. Suddenly the time I spent as a wolf felt even more like lost time, hours I’d never get back. Like my effective lifespan had been abruptly halved.
I stopped thinking about that, and started thinking about my father hitting Sam instead.
“I think,” I said, “that makes me angry. Sam didn’t hit him back, did he?”
Cole laughed and poured himself some more coffee.
“And so I was never really cured,” I said.
“No. You just didn’t shift, which isn’t the same thing. The St. Clairs — I hope you don’t mind, I’m naming the werewolf toxins after myself, for purposes of the Nobel Peace Prize or Pulitzer or whatever — were all built up inside you.”
“So Sam’s not cured, either,” I said. I put my coffee cup down and shoved the