My arms and legs tingled in anticipation of the coming night’s phase. It wasn’t usually that bad, but Dad and I had never gone so long without phasing. We used to run maybe two or three nights a week through the woods a mile from our house. We would chase deer, run through streams, and race so fast that I felt like we were flying across the ground. My muscles ached for that release, and anticipation shivered through me even though I knew I would be locked in the basement, unable to take part in the monthly run. “So tonight, huh?” Brock asked, guessing my thoughts. I nodded. “Are you worried about the pack?” “I’ll be staying inside,” I said, though the regret in my voice was undeniable. He glanced at me and mercifully changed topics. “You ready for Mr. Henry’s math test?” I shook my head. “Algebra was never my strong subject. And for some reason, I can’t keep my mind on studying.” “For some reason,” Brock laughed pointedly. I glanced at him. “What does that mean?”
