---

In a Town Like This

by Maria Haskins

It’s the first weekend of summer holidays and we’re piling into the backseat of Annette’s dinky old Honda headed to some house party at the far edge of town, passing a bottle of rum and coke between us. It’s one of those two-liter plastic coke bottles and the label is slipping off and the contents are lukewarm by now, but we don’t care. We kiss that bottle and in the passenger seat, Patrik cranks the radio and we’re dancing to Bon Jovi on sweaty vinyl seats.

Erik is leaning in through the backdoor, trying to crawl in between me and Lisa and Jorge and we’re all bare legs and short skirts, muscles and sweat, Axe deodorant and drugstore perfume and his hands are on me trying to move me over. He leans in further until he’s almost in my lap, hot hands grabbing my thighs and hips, laughing while he tries to make space where there is none.

Erik’s a nice guy but on a regular day, at school and elsewhere, him and me don’t mix much. We’re from opposite sides of town and this is the kind of town where that kind of thing matters. Only reason Erik’s here tonight, trying to get into our car, is because he’s a friend of Patrik’s and everyone knows Patrik doesn’t give a shit about the town and will likely bust out of here like some kind of outlaw before we even graduate. Erik’s not like that, and neither am I.

No matter what side of town Erik is from, he’s obviously out of my league because I’m a nerdy ho-hum Podunk who hasn’t even had one boyfriend ever, and he’s one of the school’s dream boats, with those big blue eyes and that soft, curly blond hair and those long black eyelashes. Any other day I’d know better, but tonight we’re all drunk on rum and coke and summer and body heat, and there’s something about the way Erik touches me there in the backseat, first more by accident and then more on purpose, both of us still laughing, that makes me lean into his touch. Something about the way his eyes hook onto mine before they slip away again while we all jostle in the back, shouting at each other and laughing louder, and I know I don’t want him to stop touching me, don’t want him to stop looking at me either.

Mom would say “don’t”. Mom would say “think before you do something you regret”. Mom would tell me all the reasons not to. Annette would too. Because she’s my best friend. Because her and me, we’re from the same side of town. Because she’s sober tonight like she is most weekends, being the one who has a car and drives us everywhere. She’s trying to warn me off right now, not with words, just with a look when she turns around at the wheel and even though she’s laughing I can see the caution in her eyes. The “don’t” right there. But I’m not listening. Not tonight. I’m tired of listening to the don’ts. I’m tired of always thinking about which side of town I come from. In a town like this, everyone knows who and what you are and what you’re supposed to do and they will never let you forget it. But right here and now, there’s only the backseat of Annette’s car, and the laughter and the heat and the lukewarm rum and coke and me and Erik, and I’ve never been this close to him before. Close enough to breathe him in and feel his skin on mine.

Erik is squeezing in between me and Lisa and somehow there’s four of us in that backseat that is barely big enough for three and he is right there, and I don’t even like blondes, that’s what I always say, but his hands are on me and he smells so good it makes me hungry and even though he’s wearing that ugly-ass preppy shirt, all I can think is what the hell what the hell what the hell.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” Erik laughs and pulls me down on his lap and the music in the car is loud and the rum and coke is on our breath. Annette is telling us to sit still, it’s only a fifteen-minute drive to the party, she says, and we better hope no cops or adults see us, and the windows are open and the music and our laughter envelop us and this is our world now, this piece of it is only us, only ours.

Erik’s arms are around my waist, his hands on my skin between the crop top and the shorts, and when I turn my head, his face is right there and we’re kissing before I even know what’s happening. Have I ever kissed anyone? I have, but not Erik and not like this and Jorge is howling at me: what are you doing what are you doing and I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m kissing Erik and he’s kissing me back and nothing else matters.

---

When we get to the party, Lisa holds me back until Erik’s gone inside with the others. “Stay away from him,” she whispers but it’s already too late.

---

I don’t know what time it is when Erik finds me on the patio at the party and we head out together, walking away from the house through the backyard. The house belongs to Patrick’s cousin or something, and it’s perched on the edge of town, straddling the edge of the rest of the world, and walking with Erik I feel the freedom of that, the danger of that, coursing through me like another bottle of rum and coke.

Erik and I are walking and we’re holding hands and then we’re past the fence and then we’re in the meadow beyond the house, grass and flowers brushing our legs, the ground sloping down toward the river, and the birches and the pines and the dark sky and the half-moon, all of them are sleeping but we’re not.

We haven’t kissed since the car, but all night at the party, while we’ve been dancing and drinking and screaming and laughing with everyone else, we’ve looked at each other across the room again and again and now we’re here and the world’s gone quiet. The sounds of the party fading into darkness behind us.

Below, the river is heavy and wide and barely moving, moonlight and starlight shivering across its dark surface, and we are in the grass, me and Eric, and we’re kissing, and I don’t want to hurt him, I really don’t, but sometimes you just have to take a chance, even in a town like this, even when everyone says don’t.

“I want to see you,” Erik says, and I know what he means.

“I want to see you too,” I say, and he knows what I mean as well.

We stand up and step away from each other, and I let my clothes fall and so does he and he is so beautiful even before he changes, so beautiful I want to swallow him whole, and I let him change first because I don’t want to hurt him even though I’m hungry, hungrier than I’ve ever been in my whole damn life.

I watch Erik change, I watch his body shift into the sleekness and speed of a pale palomino horse, and he’s still looking at me with those blue eyes under long black lashes before bowing his head and shaking his blond mane. Then he’s off and running, his hooves almost silent as he lengthens his stride and gathers speed, and I hold off changing as long as I can but the hunger makes it difficult and then I’m shifting, too, my pale girl-skin turning into shaggy grey fur, my knock-kneed legs turning into wolf legs made for hunting, and my mouth, the mouth that has already tasted Erik, is a maw now, all wet tongue and sharp teeth, and then I’m chasing after him, loping through the dewy tall grass by the river, running hot and fast and hungry through the meadow and Erik is galloping ahead of me in the shivering moonlight, and this this this is the most joyful moment of my life, I know I will never feel this free again, and I know if I catch him I might hurt him no matter what I want or don’t want, because that’s the kind of town this is, but right here, right now, here at the edge of the world, there is only me and Erik and the night and we are beautiful together.