THE WEREWOLF SWITCH

MIRANDA'S POV

The day I found out I was moving, my entire world stopped on its axis. I didn't know what to think, what to do, or whom to blame. I just remember staring up at Mother with an impassive expression on my face, not believing her.

“Why?” I sought in a gentle tenor. I knew better than to raise my voice since my mother raised me to be a lady. “Mother, please tell me this isn't true.”

Mother exhaled, taking off her glasses and polishing them on the hem of her cotton sweater. “Miranda, you know I don't do jokes. They offered me a new job, one that pays four times more than what I'm earning now.”

“But we don't need more money. We're already rich,” I yelped, immediately covering my mouth, realizing my mistake. I knew I sounded like a brat, but my parents couldn't have chosen a worse time to be moving. Stanley Fisher, captain of the science club, had just asked me out on a date and I accepted. I was sixteen and no other guys had even glanced my way but Stanley. He was a bit of a nerd, but us nerds have to stick together. Plus he had gotten way hotter since the beginning of the school year. He lost his braces, his acne cleared up and he also seemed to have hit a growth spurt. His muscles were ripped and he even caught the eyes of the school's Queen B, Sara-May Cornfield.

“Miranda, don't be a brat,” Mother scolded. “Nothing is wrong with wanting more than what you have.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. My mother was a little high-maintenance. She was a science professor at California State University and my father was a lawyer who comes from a long generation of lawyers, plus he owns the Whitmore Gas Stations all over the US. “What about father's business?”

“Honey, don't worry about me. I can run my business from anywhere in the world. Your mother and I have talked this over and we made the decision to move to Howling Cliffs, Maine at the end of the month,” Father explained, sticking his head in the door and then disappearing once more when he was done saying what he had to say.

I swallowed hard, feeling the colour drain from my face. This couldn't be happening, but I knew better than to challenge my parents. I guess I had only two weeks in Blue Springs, California. “OK, Mother. I will start packing.”

“Good girl. Just pack what you need. I'm having new wardrobes delivered for us,” Mother kissed my cheek then made her way out of my bedroom.

Now I was left alone with my thoughts. “How the hell will I tell my two best friends that I'm moving?”

************

I walked into the schoolyard after my driver dropped me off. The sun gently touched my skin, warming me up slightly. It was a cool day, even though summer was near. I sighed. I was going to miss the California weather for sure. The night before, I didn't sleep a wink. How could I when all I could do was think about how messed up my life had become? I had plans, but of course, my plans didn't matter to Mother and Father. All they cared about was the Whitmore family name and making millions. I even googled all I could about the state of Maine. The most interesting thing was that it was like 88% forest. I hoped and prayed that there was at least a mall or two where I could get my shopping on. I entered the building and my eyes travelled over the bodies of teens, all gathered in their respective cliques. Some were whispering and giggling with each other, while others were engrossed in the screens of their phones or their tablets.

It was easy to spot my best friend Clarke. Her ginger hair and orange blazer were the brightest things in the hallway. And even though her sense of fashion was very chic, and she was the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school, she still hung out with me and Roger. The geeks; the weirdos; the nerds, just to name a few words they used to describe us. Sitting by the locker next to Clarke was my other best friend, Roger. He had his massive earphones over his head, playing with his Ectoplasma Machine. Roger was convinced the school was haunted, so he spent his entire savings to buy himself a Ghost Catcher 3000, and he was confident he had caught a ghost. I watched him furiously picking on the buttons of his gadget, and I grinned at his hopelessness.

“Hey guys,” I greeted. Clarke smiled the moment she saw me, and then her eyes went soft.

“Sup homegirl? Who died?” She asked. She grabbed her chemistry book from her locker and then slammed it shut. “Your face looks all depressed and edgy. Did Stanley call off the date? I will break his face.” She punched the locker door.

“No,” I sighed, leaning down to grab the earphones from off Roger's head. “I'm moving.”

Clarke's mouth dropped open, and her chewing gum fell to the floor. “No!”

“Yes,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders and trying not to cry.

“What?” Roger threw his Ghost Catcher 3000 to the side and fumbled on the floor while he tried to get up. “Where to?” He blurted as he finally stood up.

“Howling Cliffs, Maine,” I declared, groaning as the words spilled from my lips.

“Is that even a real place?” Clarke inquired, coming in for a hug.

“Apparently so,” I sniffled, throwing myself in her arms.

“When?” Roger demanded, wrapping his arms around us.

“Next weekend,” I confessed, my tummy got weak thinking about finishing high school without them.

****************

Moving day was approaching too fast for my liking. Stanley hadn't spoken to me since the moment I informed him I was leaving. My eyes couldn't take seeing him and Sara-May exchanging love notes in Maths class. When the last period bell on my final day as life as I knew it rang, I leaped up out of my chair, grabbed my things, and bolted from the room before anyone could notice that I was crying. I bumped into Roger outside, who offered me a ride to the only home I had ever had.

Clarke was soon by my side, helping me into Roger's Volkswagen. “Don't be sad. Roger and I will come visit you all the time.” Clarke tried to cheer me up.

“Yeah. It's only a fifteen hundred dollar round trip to Maine,” Roger added sceptically. Clarke kicked the back of his seat.

I knew money was tight for the both of them. Roger had never met his father, and his mother worked day shifts at one of my father's gas stations and the night shifts at the Old Oaks Nursing Home. Clarke's parents owned and operated a small Bed and Breakfast a mile from the town, but things got slow ever since they built the new highway, steering traffic away from the establishment.

“Don't worry, Miranda. Even if we have to drive that forty-eight hours to Maine to see you, we will,” Clarke rested her head on my shoulder and hugged me tightly.

“Promise?” I asked.

“We promise,” Roger whispered, gripping the steering tightly as he drove me home.