table, where I wait for everyone else to join me.
“You guys were joking earlier, right?” I fearfully inquire, once they’re all seated. “About the werewolf thing, I mean.”
Mom and Dad contain their smiles, like they’re embarrassed I’m asking such a question. Mom’s the first to reply.
“Candra, why on earth would you believe we’re werewolves?” Visibly becoming more irritated, she adds with a sigh, “It’s such a silly inquiry, we had no choice but to think you’re joking.”
“But I’m not joking,” I emphasize.
“All right, Candra, that’s enough,” Dad belittles. “We’ve all had a long day—hell, a long month—and we understand you’re just as tired as we are, but that’s no excuse to continue this skit.” He spoons a huge bite into his mouth and compliments Beth on her cooking.
“It’s not a skit,” I mumble.
Dad’s fists pound the table once, causing the tableware to clink. “Enough!” he shouts. Lowering his voice, he adds, “Stop it. Do you understand? This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree. “It’s not hilarious. It’s not a joke. I’m being dead serious. Am I really not here to become a werewolf?”
Randy and Beth refuse to look at me. Instead, they keep their gazes directed at their food, as if I’m not even in the room.
“I’m with your father on this one,” Mom says, raising her voice. “Go to your room.” She extends her arm, pointing toward the stairs.
Lifting my chin, I respond with a bold-faced, “No.”
Dad pulls the napkin from his lap and tosses it onto the table. “That’s it, young lady. You’re grounded. I don’t care if you are in someone else’s house. No TV. No phone. You go to school, eat, sleep, and do your homework. That’s it.”
“That’s all I do anyway,” I retort. Ignoring both my parents, I turn to Beth. “Are there Rendall’s or Thomas’s who live around here? Do you know them?”
Fumbling over the right words, Beth finally says, “I’ve heard the names, but I’m not familiar with them.”
Well, that’s somewhat of a relief. Let’s hope it’s actually the Jana Rendall and Blake Thomas I came to know and befriend.
One more question . . .
“Candra, what’s the meaning of this?” Mom interjects before I open my mouth.
My resolve undeterred, I press forward. “And the Conway’s? Do you know them, too?”
To my surprise, Beth’s face illuminates. “Oh, yes. I know the Conway’s well. They’re good friends with Randy and me. As a matter of fact, they have a son who’s your age.”
My heart soars, and the intense mass in my stomach has lifted, leaving a bundle of pulsating nerves in its wake. “Ben?” I squeak.
Beth chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s concerned, and she has every right to be. “Candra, dear, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know so much about a town that you’ve never visited, with people you’ve never met?”
“Call it a hunch,” I say. “Or maybe I have a third eye. Or maybe I’m just a creepy stalker on Facebook, who searched for kids going to the same high school as me.”
Shaking her head, Beth says, “The Candra I’ve known my entire life is not a stalker.”
“So I’m right, then? They have a son named Ben?” I push for more information, wishing and hoping Beth will supply me with the response I’m searching for.
“Yes, dear, they have a son named Ben. They have another son, too.”
That doesn’t sound like the Conway’s I know. “They should have two more sons—Cameron and Ethan,” I dispute.
For a moment, Beth seems completely flabbergasted. She recovers promptly and replies, “They do have an older son named Cameron, who is off at college. I’m afraid I don’t know Ethan.”
My throat swells up so tightly I can’t swallow. “No Ethan?”
“No, dear,” Beth confirms, appearing uneasy about my mental well-being.
“But that means . . .” Oh, my poor, sweet Ben. If he’s my old Ben, if he remembers me and everything that’s happened over the last year, I honestly don’t know how he’ll handle the news. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a sibling. He thought we’d return to our previous lives—we both did—yet everything’s changed. And if Ethan never existed, who else is left out of the equation? Jana? Blake? Maggie, Sean, and Layla have already been removed.
I guess Georgina was correct when she informed us that our previous existence, and all that we had known, may not be as we remember it.
“I’m not gonna lie, kiddo,” Randy says, “you’re freaking me out.”
Speechless, I scoot my chair away