from the novel 'Shiver'
He looked away- ashamed of his answer, I thought, until I realized he was just looking over his shoulder to parallel park in front of a row of shops. "Some of us seem to like it, maybe better than being human. Shelby loves it- but like I said, I think her human life was pretty awful. I don't know. The wolf half of my life is such a part of me now, it's hard to imagine living without it."
"In a good way or a bad way?"
Sam looked at me, yellow eyes catching and holding me. "I miss being me. I miss you. All the time."
I dropped my eyes to my hands. "Not now you don't."
Sam reached across the bench seat and touched my hair, running a hand down it until he caught just the ends of it between his fingers. He studied the hair like they might contain the secrets of Grace in their dull blonde strands. His cheeks flushed slightly; he still blushed whan he complimented me. "No," he admitted, "right n this moment, I can't even remember what unhappy feels like."
Somehow that made tears prick at hte corners of my eyes. I blinked, glad he was still looking at my hair. There was a long pause.
He said, "You don't remember being attacked."
"What?"
"You don't remember being attacked at all, do you?"
I frowned and pulled my backpack onto my lap, startled by the seemingly randomchange of topic. "I don't know. Maybe. It seems like there were a lot of wolves, way more than I think there actually could've been . And I remember you- I remember you standing back, and then just touching my hand"- Sam touched my hand- "and my cheek"- he touched my cheek- "when the others rough with me. I guess they wanted to et me, right?"
His voice was soft. "You don't remember what happened after that? How you survived?"
I tried to remember. It was all a flash of snow, and red, and breath on my face. Then Mom screamign. But there must've been something between all that. I must've gotten from the woods to the house somehow. I tried to imagine walking, stumbling through the snow. "Did I walk?"
He looked at me, waiting for me to answer my own question.
"I know I didn't. I can't remember. Why I can't remember?" I was frustrated now, with my own brain's inability to comply. It eemed like such a simple request. But I only remembered the scent of Sam, Sam everywhere, and then the unfamiliar sound of Mom's panic as she scrambled for the phone.
"Don't worry about it," Sam said . "It doesn't matter." But I thought it probably did.
I closed my eyes, recalling the scent of the woods that day and the jolting feeling of moving back toward the house, arms tight around me. I opened my eyes again. "You carried me."
Sam looked at me abruptly.
It was coming back, in the way you reember fever dreams. "But you were human," I said. "I remember seeing you as awolf. But you must've been human to carry me. How did you do that?"
He shrugged, helplessly. "I don't know how I shifted. It's the same as when I was shot, and I was human when you found me."
I felt something inmy chest, like hope. "You can make yourself change?"
"It's not like that. It was only two times. And I haven't been able to do it again, ever, no matter how badly I've wanted to. And believe me, I've wanted it pretty badly." Sam turned off the Bronco with an air of ending th econversation, and I reached into my backpack to pull out a hat. As he locked the car, I stood on the sidewalk and waited.
Sam came around the back of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. "Oh my God, what is that?"
I usedd my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pomon top of my head. "In my language, we call it a hat. It keeps my ears warm."
"Oh my God," Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. "It's horribly cute." He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again.
I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat. Sam was still holding my face; I was sure everyone in town was looking now. But I didn't want to pull away, and I let him kiss me one more time, this time soft as snow, barely a touch, and then he released me and took my hand instead.
It took me a moment to find my voice, and when I did, I couldn't stop grinning. "Okay. Where are we going?" It was cold enough that I knew it had to be close; we couldn't stay out here much longer.
to be continued in next post.....
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authored by 'Maggie Stiefvater'
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