Surviving Specter High: Werewolves 101

15 ~ Rusty's Family

"Yo, 'lil bro, can you get this tick off my back?" Yeller interrupted as he struggled to reach his hairy shoulder blade. "It's about to burst."

"What the—? Get away from me, you freak!" Rusty shoved him away, causing Yeller to whimper. "Just grab the turkey baster!"

"I'm not doin' that, you sicko!"

"I'm the sicko?" He rolled his eyes.

Welp, there goes my appetite. I hoped we wouldn't be eating turkey anytime soon.

"But it's really lodged in there! And I need make sure I pluck out the head."

"Shuddup! No one wants to hear it!"

Terry giggled on the floor as he drooled on his hamburger toy.

"Mooom! Can you get this tick off my back?!" Yeller shouted as he rushed outside.

Rusty looked completely mortified, but I burst out laughing.

"Ugh, we shoulda gone to Asher's house this weekend," he snarled. "Anything woulda been better than this."

"Asher? Is that a vampire name?" his mother interrogated as she entered the room with a steaming platter.

"Yeah, just some dweeb in class," he muttered. "Trust me, he's barely a vampire. I mean, he doesn't even . . ." He then glanced at his younger brother, who was happily squeezing his squeaky toy. "He's a vegetarian."

"Seriously? I'd die, man," Yeller remarked while chomping down on a piece of raw meat from the fridge.

"Yeller! What did I say about eating raw meat? And no spoiling your supper!" Lulu chided.

"Trust me, Mom. Nothing can spoil his supper," Rusty sighed.

She smacked Yeller upside the head and tossed the raw steak into the trash can. "That's not the point. Anyway, why are you letting this sweet little girl anywhere near those leeches, vegetarian or not?"

"Millie can be friends with whoever she wants," Rusty grumbled. "I'm not the boss of her."

"Oh, you're right, dear. I guess it's just in our nature to worry about what those parasites are truly thinking."

"Asher's really nice," I cut in. "Really. He wears a helmet with soup cans on his head. And he drinks them all day."

"Oh, dear." She touched her cheek.

"It's not what you think," Rusty assured. "It's some kind of concoction he makes. Probably booze."

"No, it's iron-fortified soup!" I clarified.

Lulu giggled. "Well, whatever you say. But I'd still advise you to keep a weary eye out just in case."

Rusty groaned. "Sorry, Mom reads too many paranormal romance novels written by humans."

"There's nothing wrong with staying informed, dear. Now, hush, hush. It's time to eat! Yeller, get your father out of the basement."

Yeller hurried down a flight of stairs that descended to the basement. Meanwhile, Lulu stacked the hickory table with paper plates of bacon-wrapped meat, loaded mashed potatoes, and a side of jerky bites. There was even a little bowl of peanut butter that served as a dip. Rusty swiped a root beer out of the fridge and sat down beside me.

Terry tried to climb onto my lap, but Lulu whisked him away and perched him on his own little chair. His head barely reached the table, but his ears perked up in delight at the smell of bacon. Rusty, as usual, looked completely ashamed.