With the help of music and audiobooks, which Haley kindly arranged for me, I manage to fight off the boredom until the glasses arrive. Both models are wide, round, and gold-rimmed, but one has no rim along the bottom of the lenses and an extra bar above the bridge. They look great on me, so I send Haley and George two selfies, one of each pair of glasses, and about fifty heart emojis.

Since I'm still not well enough to go to work, I take the opportunity to catch up on the homework I missed. It's not how I would have liked to spend my weekend, especially since I'm not risking my health to turn into a bear, which is making me feel even more like shit.

But what do you do?

"I think you should try it," Haley says when he comes over Saturday evening. "Didn't you say it'll just happen anyway, if you wait too long?"

"Just hand me another cigarette," I mutter, holding out my hand.

He sighs and reaches into his pocket, placing the box and lighter in my waiting palm. A car drives by as I light a cigarette before the street grows quiet again, save for a few birds. I thought sitting out front would make me feel better after being cooped up inside all day, but it's only reminding me of what I really need. The trees are practically screaming for me to get up and join them.

"I'll try tomorrow," I say.

"I'll keep you to that."

I take a drag, letting the nicotine numb me. It's almost like our roles have been reversed, except I've seen him light a cigarette at least three times since the assault, and that's just what I've been witness to. "What's your excuse?"

"What?"

"Didn't you say you don't need these anymore?"

"Oh. Well, yeah, but . . ."

"School?" I guess, offering him the cigarette.

He puts it to his lips and inhales. "It's kinda fun to pretend with them, actually," he says, watching the smoke escape his mouth. "I can tell they're terrified of me finding out what they did, and that satisfies my need for vengeance for now. No, it's . . . it's Davy."

"Oh."

Davy, huh?

Haley hasn't said much about him since he took me to the hospital. I figured it was because there was nothing noteworthy to tell considering he's the only one in their friend group who's actually trying to become a better person and all, but this changes everything. Haley wasn't talking about him on purpose. I wait for them to elaborate while they give me back the cigarette, but it takes them a moment to gather the courage to speak up.

"I don't really know what's going on," they say, putting a hand to their cheek.

"How so?"

"It seems like . . . He seems upset about something, and I can't shake the feeling that it has something to do with me. He said that's not the case, but he wouldn't say what it was about. The only thing I can think of is his brother, but he knows I know about that, so it makes no sense that he would hide that from me."

"When was this?"

"A few days ago. He stayed over and . . . he's just been more quiet than usual since then—since that conversation. I feel like I fucked things up somehow."

"What if you did?" I ask. "Hypothetically."

"What do you mean?"

"What would you do if you did?"

"Try to fix it, obviously."

"Hmm. . . ." I take another drag before I ask, "Why is that obvious, though? You never gave me the impression that you think your friendships are worth fixing."

"Okay, but Davy is different. He helped you."

"Is that the only reason?"

"Why would there be another reason?"

I shrug. "You seem really emotionally invested in finding out how you might have upset him when, a few weeks ago, you were only interested in using him for sex because you thought he didn't care about you. That's all."

"Oh, shut up."

"Just an observation."

"What are you even implying, man? That I like him? We're friends with benefits, Gus. Friends. Just because I think he's the only one—aside from you—who I might be able to start calling a real friend because he finally decided to be a decent fucking human being, doesn't mean I'm into him. Not like that. And I wasn't using him." They snatch the cigarette from my fingers. "It was a mutual agreement."

"If you say so. Either way, you're friends, so you should talk to him."

They grudgingly agree to that, and that concludes my mission. I wait until Haley has gone back home before I text Davy about my intel.

i asked him

answer inconclusive

What does that mean

it means i can't say for sure if he likes you or not

Typing . . .

OK

Thanks for asking

I know it's probably not what he wanted to hear, but I can't say anything with full confidence when Haley gives me such explosive reactions. Either he's in complete denial about his feelings, or he is, in fact, finally trusting Davy to care about him and offended by the assumption that there might be anything more between them than friendship. He got kinda riled up when we were talking about all those rumors about him, so I'm not ruling it out. I think he just hates it when people assume things about him whether they're true or not.

But I played my part. I'll let those two figure out their shit together.

☽〇☾

Haley and George come over again on Sunday to make me try turning into a bear. Since my first thought is to close the door on them and maybe even say some things I don't mean, I let them drive me to the woods. As we walk through the trees together, every noise and smell nags at me, coaxing me to get down on all fours, let the animal inside me jump out of my skin, and run into the wilderness. What possesses me not to give into that impulse, I don't know.

It's probably mostly the fact that George is here. I don't really care if Haley sees me anymore—he knows exactly what I look like now that he's tasted my blood—but I'd rather not rip through my clothes in front of George.

"Here," Haley says after a few minutes. "This is far enough."

"Okay. Help me take my shoes off."

He bends down to untie my laces and pulls them off my feet, one by one. Then he turns around and tells George to do the same. I appreciate that she makes no comment on this. I'm sure she's figured out why it's necessary.

After all my clothes are off, I carefully get down and take a slow breath to calm my nerves. From experience, I can say that small wounds don't affect me when I change forms; it doesn't hurt any more as a bear than when I'm human or vice versa. More importantly, it doesn't change shape or position. A cut on my arm doesn't really stop me from turning. But this is internal.

What if I can't do it?

"How's it going?" George asks.

"Just . . . Give me a moment."

"Okay. Good luck."

"Thanks," I mutter, closing my eyes. I'll take all the luck I can get.

Come on, Gus. . . . Just relax.

I try not to move as I change forms, feeling my skin stretch until I'm no longer human. To my surprise, it goes smoothly, but as soon as I make an attempt to twist sideways, pain stabs my chest.

Okay, I probably should have expected that.

"Are you done?" Haley asks.

Normally, I'd huff or grunt in response to questions like that, but since that requires quickly forcing quite a bit of air out of my lungs, that seems unwise, so I let out a sort of groan. This makes him turn around so fast he almost slips in the dead leaves beneath his feet, and I realize that might not have been the best noise to make.

"Everything okay?" he asks, stepping forward.

I nod.

"Oh, wow," George says when she looks at me, too. "You're, like, an actual bear."

"What did you think he was?" Haley asks.

"I don't know. I guess I just didn't expect him to be that big."

"Oh, yeah. He almost crushed me once."

I stick my tongue out at him for that.

George laughs. "Can you move?"

I take a few experimental steps forward, keeping my torso as still as possible, which is doable but probably the extent of my range of motion right now. I'm not doing any turning or twisting.

"Okay, let's go for a short walk," Haley says, picking my clothes up from the ground. "And let's hope that's enough to make you less cranky."

☽〇☾

When Kurt drives me to school Monday morning, I mentally prepare myself for the inevitable questions and stares. My bruises are a very nice green now, which is to say I look like a bad apple. During the ride, Kurt asks me if I would rather just stay home, or some variation of that, about ten times, if not more. I would, actually, but I can't fall too far behind on my classes and I won't make Haley lie to his friends any longer.

It's time for me to face them.

"If you wanna go home, just call me, okay?" Kurt says as he rolls up to the building. Already, people are turning their heads. "I'll ask Francis to cover for me."

"I'll be fine, but thanks."

"Okay. Good luck, then."

I smile at my uncle and reach for the door, then leave the safety of his truck. When everyone sees my face, a heavy silence falls. I can feel the confusion, pity, and judgment in their gaze. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened to me. I don't make eye contact with anyone as I walk up to the entrance.

Haley finds me at my locker and whispers, "Commence phase two."

I snort.

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, I took a painkiller this morning, so I feel okay for now, but I don't wanna do anything to aggravate my ribs. Can you help me put these books in my locker?"

"Of course," he says, taking my backpack from me. "You share a few classes with Davy, right? Maybe you can ask him to—"

"Gus?"

Haley and I both turn to face the speaker. It's one of Haley's friends, but not one of the assholes who beat me up. A short girl with brown curls. Nichola. I remember seeing her in the dining room during the party. She cheered for me.

"What happened to you?" she asks.

"Fell out of a tree," I say.

She frowns.

"He's joking," Haley says as he takes my books out of my backpack. "Which ones do you need until lunch?"

Nichola patiently waits while I tell him, looking between the two of us. I'm surprised she doesn't just leave, but I guess she's not too bright and still waiting for an answer. I smile at her and say, "Some people just don't want me to have friends, I guess."

She frowns again.

"Like, they beat me up."

"Yeah, I get that," she says, a little sharply. "I'm just . . . processing. That's a really messed up reason to beat someone up, even if they're lower class."

Oh.

Sorry, I misjudged you, Nichola.

"I'm glad you think so," Haley says with a smile. But when she leaves, they narrow their eyes at the back of her head and mutter, "I can't tell if she's being genuine or trying to suck up to me."

"She seemed genuine to me."

"Hmm . . . she's a bit of an opportunist."

"Maybe you can stop doubting everyone and see this as a good thing? Even if she's trying to suck up to you, others will follow her lead, and that's exactly what we want."

"True." They hand my backpack to me and lower their voice to say, "The foundation has been rocked. Phase two is underway."

"You're having way too much fun with this."

"It's that or seething fury."

"Right. Please continue."

☽〇☾

Lunch break is when the second phase of Haley's plan truly begins.

I was more than happy to keep sitting with Margie and Haley, and occasionally Davy, for the rest of the year, but when Haley said it would be easier to change people's minds if I spent more time with them, I couldn't deny that he had a point, so I take my tray and walk over to the rich-kids table. There's an empty spot between Haley and Nichola that I unwaveringly head to, but apparently Daniel is on his way there, too—he appears by my side out of nowhere.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Are you really going to do this here? Please don't make a scene."

His face is the picture of innocence. "What do you mean? I'm just talking to you."

"And I'm just going to sit with my friend."

"Haven't you learned your lesson?"

"I learned that you have issues and probably need corrective therapy or jail, or both, and you should be glad I didn't let Haley press charges against you and your friends. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

He laughs. "You really expect me to believe that? You didn't even tell him."

"I didn't?"

He looks at Haley, who waves at him with a sly smile, and his face pales.

I stop to ask, "Do you wanna know why I didn't let him?"

"Because you'd never win," Daniel says with a glower that does nothing but make me laugh.

"With the Sinclairs on my side? I wouldn't be so sure. No, we didn't press charges because we don't need to," I say, and with that I leave him and join Haley at the rich-kids table. Nichola scoots over to make more room and greets me with a smile.

Across from us, Davy says, "Hey, how are you?"

"Better," I answer truthfully.

He nods. "Good."

The girl next to him promptly offers me a hand. "Maddie," she says, pushing her dark hair behind her ear with the other hand. "Nice to meet you."

I wonder if Haley would call her an opportunist, too—I've never spoken to her before today—but I take her hand and call it another win. Soon after, another boy joins us, and although he looks surprised at first, he, too, introduces himself to me and acts like there's nothing wrong with me sitting here. If it keeps going like this, it shouldn't take too long before we can move into phase three.

But for now the plan is for me to keep inserting myself into Haley's friend group and for Haley to—

"You can't sit with us," Haley says.

Following their gaze, I find Sam Harding frozen beside the table, like an ice sculpture, hands clenched around the edges of his tray. The only thing that moves is his gaze, which goes from Haley, to Davy . . . to me. He can't look away fast enough.

"Why not?" Maddie asks.

Haley opens their mouth to explain, but Sam turns around before they can say a word. While he rushes to an empty table, Nichola nudges Maddie and gestures at me, at my face. And that's all it takes. Maddie's eyes widen as understanding dawns on her.

Yeah, the plan is for Haley to do that.

"Anybody else who can't sit with us?" Maddie asks.

It's nice to see it's working.

☽〇☾