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Cure for Wereduck Page 4


  “Why thank you, Bill,” said Dirk, adjusting his headphones. He smiled. “That’s kind of you to say.”

  “What’s your question for Dirk?” repeated the host.

  “Right,” said Bill. “I was wondering, how do you keep a straight face when you’re presenting this nonsense to the country? I mean, it’s so convincing. It’s like you actually believe this garbage.”

  Dirk cleared his throat.

  “Great question, Bill,” said the host. “Dirk?”

  “Well, it’s simple,” said Dirk, a little defensively. “I have no problem keeping a straight face because it’s true. Every word.”

  The line was quiet for an awkward moment before both Bill and the host broke out laughing.

  “You really are remarkable,” laughed Bill. “One of the greats. Thanks for the laugh!”

  The host chuckled. “Thanks, Bill. Our next caller is Jan in Seattle. What’s your question for Dirk Bragg?”

  “Hi, Mr. Bragg,” said a woman’s voice. “When you’re inventing a crazy story for your, um, newspaper, do you first—”

  “Hold on,” interrupted Dirk. “I’m a bit confused.” Dirk faced the host. “Is the whole pretence of this interview that I’m…making up news stories? That I’m a fraud?”

  The host shifted nervously in his chair. “Well, I don’t know if ‘fraud’ is the right word, Dirk, but….”

  Dirk was indignant. “Maybe you prefer the term ‘phoney,’ then? Or how about ‘fake’?”

  “We’re going to take a quick commercial break,” said the host, effortlessly shifting back into his friendly announcer voice, “but we’ll be right back with more questions for Dirk Bragg.”

  The host yanked off his headphones the second a life insurance commercial began.

  “Dirk, I don’t know what to say here—I mean, you do work for Really Real News,” said the host.

  “And that automatically means I write untrue stories, does it?” said Dirk. “Am I a joke to you?”

  “Okay, I see what’s going on here,” said the host with a nod. He glanced at the clock. There was less than a minute before the commercial break ended. “Dirk, I’m going to be straight with you, because you seem like a nice guy. You’re a rising star. You are going to be super huge, if you play this whole thing right. But the thing you have to understand is that you’re not famous for exposing the secret world of werewolves.”

  “But—” began Dirk.

  “Seventeen seconds,” warned the host, tapping his watch. “Dirk, people love you because they think you’ve taken crazy and cranked it up a notch. They think you’re making fun of newspapers like Really Real News from the inside.”

  “But I—”

  “Dirk,” interrupted the host, putting his headphones back on. “Just go for it, man. Let them love you! Enjoy the ride.” The host flipped a switch to turn on his mic. “Welcome back! We’re going straight to the phone lines for Dirk Bragg. Libby in Dallas, what’s your question for Dirk?”

  “Aaaah, I can’t believe I made it through!” said Libby. “Mr. Bragg, can you sing that song for us? That wheels on the road song? I love that song!”

  “Whaddaya say, Dirk?” said the host, as the opening notes of a country song began in the background. “Give it a go? For your fans?”

  Dirk closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

  “Sure,” he said finally. “Anything for a fan.”

  “Okay, I’m going to go over this one last time,” announced Bea. The entire household—her sister’s family, her mum, and John—sat at the kitchen table in the early evening. The full moon was low on the horizon out the window. The sun would set in less than an hour. They’d been living here with Bea for a month.

  “This isn’t the backwoods of New Brunswick,” continued Bea. “This is farmland Ontario. Tonight, when you become wolves—”

  “Or ducks,” interjected Kate.

  “Or ducks,” acknowledged Bea, nodding politely. “If you dare let out one howl—”

  “Or quack,” said Kate, grinning widely.

  “Or quack,” said Bea. “There are neighbours nearby. They will hear you. They will freak out. They will dial 911. Understand?”

  The group nodded. All but John.

  “How do we answer the call of the moon without howling?” he asked.

  “That’s the only exception. But we will answer the call very quietly,” said Bea, eyeing Brian, who had a special fondness for howling very loudly. “I think we should restrict ourselves to the forest on my neighbour’s farm, which is just about as far away from anyone as you can get around here. Which, I will say again, is still not very far. Got it?”

  “Got it,” said Brian, nodding earnestly with the rest of the group. “And what about Mr. Whiskers? Can he come out and play?”

  Bobby laughed.

  “The cat is locked in my bedroom,” said Bea, waving a finger in his face. “No cat, Brian. No cat.”

  Brian pouted.

  “What about me?” asked Bobby. “Can I come?”

  “I don’t think so, sweetie,” answered his mother. “I think we’d have a hard time explaining to the neighbours why an eleven-year-old boy is out prowling the woods at night. Best stay here.”

  Bobby deflated. He remained at his spot at the table as the rest of the group got up like soldiers dismissed at the end of a briefing session. Bobby watched quietly as his family prepared to head into the woods.

  “If it helps, I’ll try not to have too much fun,” said John, patting Bobby on the head.

  “Great,” said Bobby, watching the group file out the back door and into the growing darkness of the evening.

  Kate was the last to leave. She paused in the doorway. “Hey, do you mind checking on Wacka for me before you go to bed? She was sleeping in my room, but she may want to spend a few hours in the pond tonight.”

  “Sure,” said Bobby. He crossed his arms as the door shut behind his sister.

  Bobby slid off his chair and wandered into the living room. He plopped on the couch and turned on the TV. He flipped mindlessly through channels, never sticking to one for more than a few seconds. He cycled through every station on the dial before switching it off and throwing the remote on the couch beside him. He let out a slow breath and closed his eyes.

  Wacka woke with a start. She looked around. She had been sleeping in her nest in Kate’s bedroom. The room was dark but for a bit of fading light through the basement window.

  Wacka stood up and stretched her wings and neck. She shook off the stiffness in her legs and stepped into the cool water of her pool.

  What an odd night, the duck thought to herself. Odd, too, because she realized she had expressed that thought in her head with actual words. The more time she spent with Kate and her family, the more their human words seemed to make sense. As time went on, she even found herself using them herself in her own little duck head.

  Tonight, she was feeling off. Anxious. And a bit excited.

  Wacka couldn’t figure out where these feelings were coming from. She paddled in a small circle and nibbled the tips of the pond grass at the edge of the pool.

  The last bit of dusky light in the room faded as the sun dipped below the horizon. Wacka felt a wave of cold energy ripple through her body.

  She jumped in fright as she heard an unfamiliar voice. Deep and resonant, it seemed to be calling her, as if from the Earth itself.

  “Whooooo?”

  Bobby jerked awake and rubbed his face. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes.

  He got up from the couch, wandered into the kitchen, and pulled open the refrigerator. Bobby stared at its contents for a full minute. He wasn’t really hungry, but he broke off a piece of cheese and put it in his mouth before closing the door.

  Another boring full-moon night spent at home. He looked out the window a
nd saw the sun had already set. By now, Kate would be a duck, the rest would be wolves, and he was still boring old Bobby, stuck in this boring old farmhouse. It would be a bit more than a year before he turned thirteen and became a werewolf himself, but right now that seemed like forever away.

  He heard faint noises from downstairs. A small thump. A rustling.

  “Right,” he said out loud. “Wacka.”

  Bobby thundered down the basement stairs. He could hear frantic movement from inside Kate’s bedroom.

  That duck must really want to go outside, he thought.

  “I’m coming, Wacka,” he said as he grabbed the door handle to his sister’s room. “Keep your shirt on….”

  Bobby froze in the open doorway. The room was dark, but there was no mistaking the silhouette of a person standing in the kiddie pool. Before Bobby had a chance to scream, the person began to make horrifying sounds of its own.

  “WHAH-WHAH!” it screamed in a girl’s voice. “WHAH-WHAH!”

  The girl stepped from the pool, dripping dirty pond water on the floor as she rushed to wrap herself in the quilt on Kate’s bed.

  Bobby flipped on the lights. The terrified eyes of a sopping wet teenage girl stared back at him. Even beneath the tightly wrapped quilt, Bobby could tell she was shivering with cold. Her teeth chattered. Clumps of wet brown hair dripped streams of water down her face.

  “WHAH-WHAH!” she repeated.

  Bobby took a small step forward. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently, raising his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “WHAH-WHAAAA!” said the girl more urgently.

  “I don’t know what you’re saying,” said Bobby. “Look, calm down. Why don’t you just tell me your name?”

  Her eyes widened. She took a deep breath. “WHAH-WHAH,” she said.

  “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. What’s ‘whah-whah’?”

  The girl rushed forward, her eyes wild. She pointed to the kiddie pool. “WHAH-WHAH!” she cried. She pointed to the duck’s nest in the corner. “WHAH-WHAH!” she said. She pointed to herself. “WHAH-WHAH!”

  Bobby stepped back. He didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense.

  Then, all of a sudden, it made perfect sense.

  He turned to the girl. “Wacka?” he said. “Wacka, what happened to you?”

  Wacka’s wild eyes flared with joy. “MORE!” she cried, shoving the last bit of an apple into her mouth. “MORE!”

  Bobby rushed around the kitchen. “Just a sec!” he laughed, putting together a small feast for his ravenous friend. “I’m coming!”

  After finding her some of Kate’s clothes and bringing her upstairs, Bobby realized Wacka was hungry. He gave her normal foods—bits of grass trimmed from the side of the pond, a handful of sunflower seeds, and a few scraps of bread. She spat out the grass and seeds before shovelling the bread into her mouth.

  “Y-Y-Y,” she said, struggling to turn sounds into words. “YUM!”

  “More bread?” asked Bobby.

  “M-M-MORE B-BREAD,” she stammered, as if the words were sticking in her mouth.

  “Hey, you’re learning to talk!” he said. “Great job, Wacka!”

  “G-GREAT JOB, WACKA,” said Wacka slowly. “MORE BREAD.”

  Wacka inhaled a few more slices of bread before finishing half the fruit in the bowl on the table. After she devoured her third apple—core included—Bobby set a plate in front of her.

  “BREAD,” said Wacka. “MORE BREAD.”

  “Not just bread,” said Bobby, lifting the lid on her sandwich to reveal layers of meat, cheese, lettuce, and tomato. “This is a sandwich. Sandwich.”

  “SAND-WICH,” she repeated. “BOB-BEE MAKE SAND-WICH F-F-FOR WACKA.”

  “Yup!” he said. “Try it.”

  Wacka lifted the sandwich to her mouth and took a bite. Her eyes rolled with pleasure as she savoured a big, sloppy mouthful.

  “SAAAWHOOSH,” she said between chomps.

  Bobby laughed. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  Wacka ate the rest of her sandwich in silent rapture, slowly testing and tasting all the delights of bread, meat, vegetable, and sauce. After her last bite, she picked at the crumbs of bread left on her plate, apparently satisfied at last.

  “What’s next, Wacka?” asked Bobby.

  “MORE SANDWICH!” she exclaimed.

  “BONUS LEVEL!” yelled Wacka, hours later. “TAKE THAT, ALIEN SCUM!”

  Wacka sat in the dark living room, her face illuminated by the glowing screen of the television. She gripped a video game controller in her hands as her character onscreen shot death rays into oncoming waves of alien attack fighters. Her right hand released the controller just long enough to dip into an empty plastic bowl sitting beside her.

  “BOB-BEE!” she said. “MORE CHIPS, PLEASE.”

  Bobby stuck his face into the living room. “You’re done the whole bag already?” he said, holding a tea towel and a wet plate in his hands.

  “MORE CHIPS, BOB-BEE!” she repeated. “PLEASE?”

  He sighed and turned back to the kitchen. “All right.”

  After Wacka had polished off two sandwiches, Bobby wondered what they should do next. His mind jumped to the activity he’d be most interested in: video games. For the last several hours, Wacka had been glued to the TV while he slaved in the kitchen preparing and cleaning up her snacks. It was, frankly, almost exactly like taking care of an eleven-year-old boy.

  Bobby opened the snack cupboard and found it empty. “Bad news,” he called to Wacka. “No more chips.”

  “NO MORE CHIPS?” said Wacka. “BOB-BEE?”

  “Sorry,” he said, walking into the living room. “Hey, let’s shut that off. Why don’t you come outside and stretch your legs? Maybe we can find Katie.”

  Wacka dropped the controller and jumped up. “F-F-FIND KATE! WACKA FIND KATIE!”

  She rushed past Bobby, crossed through the kitchen, and smashed face-first into the outside door.

  “OWW,” she cried, her hand rubbing her nose. She slapped her other hand against the closed door. “LET WACKA OUT!” she insisted, pounding at the door. “LET WACKA OUT!”

  “Hold on, hold on,” soothed Bobby. He reached for the handle and turned it gently. The door swung open. “See? You have to turn the knob.”

  They walked into the cool darkness of the backyard. Crickets chirped in the long grass. The early fall air was refreshing. Dawn wasn’t far away.

  Bobby looked at Wacka. He just now noticed she’d put on her T-shirt backwards. She shivered in the cold and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Here,” he said, zipping off his hooded sweatshirt and handing it to her. “You might need this.”

  She struggled with sliding her arms into the sleeves. “OW,” she said. She clutched a spot on her arm.

  “Is that where Marcus bit you?” asked Bobby.

  Wacka nodded. It looked as if the memory hurt as much as the wound.

  She gingerly pulled her arms through the sleeves of Kate’s sweater. The zipper was a mystery to her, so Bobby helped her zip it closed. It reminded him of when his mum used to do the same for him, when he was little.

  “COLD A BIT,” she said, still shivering. “THANK YOU, BOB-BEE.” She looked around. The night was still. “WACKA FIND KATIE NOW?”

  “Sure. We can find Katie now.”

  Wacka inhaled deeply, filling her lungs to the bursting point, and released a loud and powerful scream: “KAAAAAAAAAAAAAATIEEEEEEE! WACKA FIND KAAAAAAAAATIEEEEEE!”

  Bobby waved his hands in front of her mouth before she could scream again. “No, no!” he said. “Shhhhhhh! We have to be super quiet. Other humans might hear us.”

  “OTHER HOOMANS?”

  “Yes, and they might not be nice to Wacka and Katie.”

  “NOT NICE T
O WACKA?”

  “No, so shhhhhhhhh,” said Bobby, putting his finger to his lips.

  Wacka mimicked this posture. “SSSSSS,” she said.

  “Close enough,” said Bobby.

  They walked along the hedgerow toward the forest. The glowing light in the east was getting brighter.

  “We’ll look in the forest first,” said Bobby. “Remember, we need to be very quiet.”

  “WACKA VERY QUIET,” she said. “SSSSS.”

  “Wait,” said Bobby, a few steps later. He held up his hand, motioning her to stop. “What’s that sound?”

  They stood in silence, listening. A faint whistle trilled in the distance, followed by a rhythmic sound like the beating wings of a duck.

  “KATIE!” whispered Wacka, grabbing Bobby’s arm. “WACKA HEAR KATIE!”

  Kate flew at top speed toward Bobby, ready to scold him for the racket she’d heard moments ago. She landed at his feet and began to yell at him with quacks.

  Kate had hardly begun her lecture when she was scooped up by the eager hands of Wacka.

  “KATIE!” she said, overcome with emotion. “WACKA HOOMAN! WACKA HOOOOOMAN!”

  Kate couldn’t figure out who this strange girl was, or why she was shouting what sounded like nonsense in her face.

  “KATIE!” said Wacka, holding the duck close to her mouth. She spoke slowly and seriously. “ME! WACKA! WACKA HOOMAN! BOB-BEE MAKE WACKA SAND-WICH!”

  Kate understood just as the first rays of sunshine burst over the horizon.

  “Wacka?” quacked Kate. “Wacka!”

  Bobby watched as the sun bathed the duck and the girl with golden light. Their features seemed to melt as each began to transform. Wacka dropped Kate to the ground as she became smaller and covered in feathers. Kate’s feathers withdrew into her skin as she grew larger. When it was all done, the girl and the duck standing in the dawn light had been replaced by a duck and a girl.

  Bobby stood back. “Okay, that was cool,” he said.