“She hasn’t seen anything yet,” Mr. Max said, his voice all but booming from above her shoulder. He was standing much too close, but there wasn’t room for Becca to move away. Meanwhile, the other women looked surprised, and he raised his hands in a frustrated gesture. “And when was I supposed to do that? When she was unconscious?”
The detective sighed. “We’re not getting anywhere until she believes. So go on,” she said with her brows arched at Mr. Max. “Show her.”
Mr. Max crossed his arms and glowered. “I’ve got my turn at the second checkpoint in just a few hours. I’m not shifting. It’d cost me too much, and I won’t put those boys at risk.”
Tonya folded her arms. “I’m not stripping for you.”
“Shut up, children,” the older woman interrupted, her tone the sound of a mother at the end of her patience. Then she turned to Becca. “I’m Marty Dawson, Justin’s mom. He’s a few years older than Theo, but I think they know each other.”
Becca didn’t know. Theo talked more about his school friends than the ones at camp. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said as she reached out to shake the woman’s hand. But she ended up with her fingers hanging there in midair as the woman untied the sash around her dress.
“I’ve been through this before. Got two older kids who went through their First Change a few years back. It’s nerve-racking, and my Sarah came back with her legs torn to shreds from some fence. She’s fine now, but it doesn’t stop a mom from worrying.”
How to respond to that? “Of course you worry.”
“And you think we’re all cracked.” Marty kicked off her big Crocs. “I wore this just because sometimes I get protective when my kids are running wild. No sense in ripping my clothes.” She looked at Becca. “Pay attention. I’m only doing this once.” Then she looked back at Mr. Max. And she waited. He just stared at her, clearly confused.
“Marty?”
“You know I have to be angry. Say something to get my dander up.”
“Uh… I don’t know anything.”
The detective snorted. “Tell her about the dog when you were twelve.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was ten.”
“And old enough to know better, I expect,” said Marty. “Come on. Out with it. What did you do to that dog?”
Mr. Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking for all the world like a man about to confess something terrible. “You know those tarts you made that kept going missing? That was me. I let the dog in and staged the scene so he’d take the blame.”
“You let me cage that poor defenseless animal? Just so you could stuff yourself with my tarts!” She took an angry step forward. “Those were for Sarah’s birthday party! Those are damned hard to make and— Grrrroar!”
Becca was watching Marty, her amusement kicking in at seeing big, bad Max put on the defensive by a middle-aged woman. But then the change happened.
She noticed the face first, though Marty’s shoulders had grown disproportionately large as she advanced on Mr. Max. Then suddenly there was dark brown hair with white tips and a long muzzle. Her arms were raised as she pointed a finger at him, but it wasn’t a finger. It was a huge paw with a claw extended toward Mr. Max. The sacklike dress pulled tight across her torso, now doubled in size, and hair—fur—sprouted everywhere.
She was a freaking bear, standing there in a dress while roaring at Mr. Max.
It happened so quickly, and yet every split second seemed imprinted on Becca’s memory.
Becca stumbled over her own feet, her entire body feeling cold as she scrambled backward. The detective was there, holding on to her with an incredibly strong grip, keeping her from falling but also keeping her from running. Meanwhile, Mr. Max stood his ground, wincing as the bear kept roaring right in his face. And most frightening of all? The big man no longer looked so big.
And then the bear turned to stare at her.
“Oh, shit…,” murmured Becca.
“Stay strong,” said the detective. “They respect strength.”
What the hell was she supposed to do? Break a chair? Bench-press a Volvo? Nothing was going to stop that creature from attacking. It was still roaring! Or maybe it was more like a growl.
The beast took a step forward. Then another.
Mr. Max slid along with it, keeping himself between the grizzly and Becca. And he kept talking as if she could still understand him.
“It was wrong of me. Dead wrong. But you know I made up for it later. I rescued that dog when he got trapped in Bennet’s fence. You know I fed him my food all the time under the table. He forgave me and loved me. You know he did. And I bought you flowers and new tarts when I could afford them. They weren’t as good as yours, but you know I meant well.…”
On and on he went, diverting the grizzly’s attention. The thing didn’t walk any closer to Becca. In fact, the more Mr. Max talked, the more the bear growled at him and not her. And then something strange happened. The creature started to shrink and the air in the room seemed to heat. Hair fell off or disappeared. The grizzly hump went down and the shoulders retracted. Pretty soon the grizzly’s face became human, displaying a self-satisfied smirk.
