Page 5

ALICE

W e reach the lake just as the last echo of the sob disappears into the trees.

My breath’s already tight in my chest—not from running, but from the feeling. That deep, rattling instinct something isn’t right. Jason moves ahead of me in long, fast strides. Even in human form, there’s something distinctly wolfish in how he scans the shoreline—alert, quiet, coiled.

“There,” he says, pointing.

Just past the canoes, huddled near the edge of the dock, is a boy. Small. Arms wrapped around his knees, head buried. His shirt’s soaked, sticking to his back like he either fell in or sat down in the puddle without caring.

“Nolan,” I breathe, already moving.

I kneel beside him carefully, ignoring the wet soaking into my jeans. “Hey, sweetheart,” I say softly. “Are you hurt?”

He doesn’t look at me.

Jason hovers behind me, breathing hard. He stays back, for once. Watching. Letting me lead.

My heart’s hammering. I glance down and catch sight of Nolan’s name tag, the edges torn, dangling by one corner. A little dragon head sticker half-scratched off.

“Can I sit here with you?” I ask.

Still nothing.

So I do anyway.

It’s quiet for a long time. Just the water lapping against the dock. Somewhere out in the woods, someone’s blowing a whistle. Probably a counselor trying to wrangle their group back for snack time.

I pretend I don’t hear it.

“I’ve had a hard day too,” I murmur, mostly to the lake. “Fell in a mud puddle. Everyone saw. I looked ridiculous.”

That earns a tiny sniff.

“I didn’t think it’d be like this,” I continue. “I thought I’d come here, help kids, make friendship bracelets, you know? And instead... it’s been hard. And messy. And loud.”

Another sniff. “They called me fake.”

I turn, gently. “Who did?”

He doesn’t answer, but I can guess.

The boys in his cabin. The ones Jason had to break up earlier when they started arguing over who got to be “the dragon” in dodgeball. The same ones who whispered and snickered every time Nolan walked a little slower. Every time he flinched at noise.

“They said I’m not a real shifter,” Nolan mumbles. “’Cause I can’t do it. I try and try and nothing happens. I just get this buzzing in my chest and then it goes away.”

“Oh, Nolan.” I want to pull him into my arms, but I wait. Let him lead.

“I’ve never shifted. Not once. And my dad said... he said I should’ve by now.”

He sounds so small. So unsure. My heart cracks a little wider.

Jason moves closer, finally crouching down beside us.

“You know,” he says, voice low and gentle in a way I haven’t heard from him before, “I didn’t shift ‘til I was eleven.”

Nolan lifts his head slightly. Just enough to look at Jason from behind his curls.

“It’s true,” Jason says. “Full moon came, I thought I’d grow fur and claws and rip off the screen door like my brother did. But I just got itchy and fell asleep.”

Nolan blinks. “Really?”

“Dead serious. My mom thought I was sick. Gave me herbal tea and put on Mozart.”

That gets a small laugh. Barely there. But it’s something.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Your body knows what it’s doing, Nolan. It’s not a race. You’re not broken.”

“They all think I am.”

“Well,” Jason says, leaning forward, “how ‘bout we prove ‘em wrong?”

Nolan looks at him. Hopeful. Scared. “How?”

“We show ‘em what you can do. Even if you’re not shifting yet. Doesn’t matter if you got wings or not—your strength’s still in there. We just gotta bring it out another way.”

Jason grins. And it’s a real grin. Not the smug, alpha one he throws around like candy. This one’s soft. Honest.

“I got an idea,” he says, turning to me. “You game for a little obstacle course?”

I blink. “Like... now?”

“No. Tomorrow. Let’s build it tonight. Secret mission. Just for Group C. Nolan’s gonna be our coach. Show the others how to get through it.”

Nolan sits up straighter. “Me?”

“You,” Jason says. “’Cause I saw you today. You’ve got eyes like a scout. You watched the whole Capture the Flag game without flinching. Knew where everyone was.”

“I did,” Nolan whispers. “I even saw Miss Alice slip.”

I groan. “Of course you did.”

“But you didn’t cry,” he adds quickly. “You just got up.”

That makes me smile. “Thank you.”

Jason stands and offers Nolan his hand. “What do you say, champ? Want to show those punks what a real dragon does?”

Nolan hesitates.

Then takes it.

I blink hard. Blink fast. Because if I don’t, I’m going to cry.

Later that evening, while the kids are finishing dinner, Jason and I are dragging logs and rope into the woods like some weird bootcamp duo.

“Think this is gonna work?” I ask, brushing pine needles off my jeans.

“With you planning and me yelling?” he shrugs. “Yeah. We’re golden.”

We pause, both of us panting.

Jason leans on the log and glances at me. “You’re good with him. With all of them.”

I flush. “I just... I remember what it’s like. To feel wrong. Like everyone else has the manual and you’re just faking it.”

He nods. “Same.”

We’re quiet a moment.

Then Jason says, “Thanks for not brushing me off earlier.”

I glance over. “You mean... the walk?”

He smiles. “And the almost-kiss.”

I go still.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I felt it too.”

I open my mouth, no words come out.

He shrugs, grabs another rope, and says, “It’s fine. We got time.”

As we finish anchoring the last rope between two trees, I take a breath. The sun’s dipped below the treetops now, and fireflies are starting to blink lazily across the clearing. The whole forest feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting.

I glance over at Jason. His hair’s a mess, there’s dirt smudged across his forearm, and his shirt’s got a tear in the collar. But he looks... steady. Centered. Like someone who knows how to hold space when it counts.

“You were really good with him,” I say softly.

He pauses mid-tug on the rope. “Nolan?”

I nod. “You didn’t push. Or talk over him. You just... listened. And then you gave him something to believe in.”

Jason looks at me like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the compliment. He runs a hand through his hair, laughs once—low and sheepish.

“Yeah,” he mutters, eyes dropping. “Surprised me too.”

I smile. “Don’t be.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be some hero. I just... saw myself in him. I remember bein’ that age. All teeth and confusion. Wantin’ so bad to be part of somethin’ but not knowin’ how.”

There’s something raw in his voice. Something that makes me want to reach out and touch his arm, but I don’t.

Not yet.

“I think,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “he needed exactly what you gave him today.”

Jason lifts his eyes to mine. For once, there’s no smirk. No teasing. Just him.

“Thanks, Barbie,” he says.

I almost roll my eyes at the nickname—but there’s warmth in it this time. A softness.

“Get some sleep,” he adds. “Tomorrow we build a legend.”