Page 110

Dylan ripped one earbud out and glared at Harley over the back of the couch. “What?”

“We’re eating soon. Go wash up and set the table.”

“I’m in the middle of a match.”

“Save your game and go wash up.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Dylan,” I said, “your mom said to wash up. It’s time to put the game down.”

“No! You’re notlisteningto me.” Smoke filtered out of his nostrils.

Harley reared back, shocked at hearing Dylan snap like that. “If you want to keep playing that game at all this week, you better watch your tone.”

I was shocked, too—I’d heard Dylan snipe at his mom here and there, but not at me. Part of me was a little thrilled that he was comfortable enough to be angry with me. But I had a feeling it wasn’t merely hormones causing this bad mood.

“Dylan.” I stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Dylan put his game console down with a frown. “What?!”

I knelt in front of him, then pulled down Dylan’s lower lip. As I’d expected, his lower fangs were out, and his upper fangs were beginning to show as well. Dylan growled, then pulled away from my touch and batted my hand away.

“You’re shifting soon,” I told Dylan. “In the next few days.”

“Huh?” Dylan’s anger disappeared, and his eyes shot open wide with fear. “How do you know?”

“Your attitude,” I said with a grin. “You’re feeling pretty irritated and angry, right?”

He nodded.

“I remember. It’s your dragon getting ready to come forth. You’ll feel a lot more relaxed when it’s over.”

Dylan nodded again. His eyes were still wide. I took the console from his hands gently and set it aside. “Why don’t you apologize to your mom, then wash up before we eat dinner? I’ll set the table for you.”

“Okay,” Dylan said in a small voice. He climbed off the couch and skittered into the kitchen, then hugged Harley. She ran herhands through his hair and looked at me with the corners of her lips downturned.

“It’ll be okay,” I said. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Dylan sighed, but he nodded.

“You know what?” Harley said. “Since you’re feeling so bad, you want to skip family dinner and eat in your room? Maybe watch a movie? Or play your game?”

Dylan nodded again.

Harley leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “All right, just this once, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled.

Harley rolled her eyes over his head at me with a fond smile. She squeezed Dylan’s shoulder, then he turned around and looked at me, his lower lip quivering. “Thanks, Dad.”

“No worries, buddy.”

Dylan grabbed his video game off the couch, then slunk upstairs to his room. Harley sighed, then summoned me over into the kitchen. “Stretch out a pizza for me?” she asked.

“Sure.” I immediately began working my knuckles into the dough, stretching it out and shaping it into an oval.

She blinked. “You know how to do that?”