Moonglow Read Online Free Page B

But that’s not the reason my reaction is so passionate. It’s because of what is on the banner: a depiction of the team mascot.
    Looking at the wall, I see the banner in full detail, maybe for the first time. Navy blue and white lettering spells out the team name, Weeping Water Timberwolves, while right in the center, the school mascot is depicted ripping through the material; its huge paw is outstretched, and its sharp nails are jutting out from its toes, as if it’s clawing its way out of the wall.
    Off in the distance I hear Jess rambling on about how she’ll have to decorate around it, but I can’t stop staring at the timberwolf’s face. It’s no longer a harmless school mascot, no longer a cartoon character, but a real live living creature. And I’m scared.
    The whole room grows dark, and the only light is coming from the moon. The light is stronger now, and the silver plank has pushed itself farther into my room, illuminating my bed and the wall behind it. Glowing in the presence of the moon, the timberwolf looks like it’s about to attack me; it’s a creature that needs to pounce and feed. Its mouth is open and hungry and eager, its fangs ready to taste my flesh. Suddenly another one of those crazy, uncontrollable thoughts takes over my mind.
    Part of me wants to jump on the silver plank and run out of my room to safety. Part of me wants to feel the creature’s fangs plunge into my skin so the two of us can become one. The frightening thing is, I have no idea which part of me I want to win.

Chapter 2
    The first day of school used to be so much fun. But all that’s been ruined thanks to Bobby Worman’s mother. Allow me to explain.
    Jess, the rest of our friends, and I are decent students, not valedictorian material, but definitely college prep and definitely filled with a healthy dose of school spirit. To us, Weeping Water High School (henceforth referred to as Two W) was the perfect mix of educational institution, social club, and, of course, fashion show. Walking down the hallway used to be like walking down a runway. And we would be starting off sophomore year modeling this year’s latest trends if Mrs. Beverly Worman read Vogue instead of the Bible.
    Last year she bought her son, Bobby, a black T-shirt that spelled out the acronym OMFG in green velvet embossed letters because she thought it translated to “Oh My Fabulous God.” Normal people know the F stands for something entirely different. But Bobby’s mother is a “born again,” very sweet, and she makes incredible brownies that Bobby brings to school on half days, but to her absolutely everything has a spiritual connection.
    I remember the day Bobby—or The Worm as he is now officially known—wore that T-shirt to school. He couldn’t stop bragging about how his mother bought it for him and that she had no idea what the F really stood for. Unfortunately, Principal Dunleavy (Dumbleavy to most of the student body as well as some of the cooler teachers) did. And since he overheard Bobby boasting about his mother’s fashion faux pas of biblical proportions, he didn’t believe The Worm when he tried to backpedal and say that the F was for fabulous and it was an expression of his religious beliefs. A week later we were informed that beginning the following year Two W would be adopting a new dress-code policy. And that’s how our school uniform was born.
    So instead of wearing an awesome eighties inspired top with shoulder pads and dolman sleeves in electric blue, vintage Jordache jeans, and Candie’s high-heeled clogs, I stand before my mirror in a white, short-sleeved polo shirt with two navy blue W ’s embroidered on the left chest pocket, paired with navy blue khakis, and simple navy flats. I look like I tighten screws into engine parts in an automobile factory. Or like I bowl. Neither of which I ever have any intention of doing.
    This morning when I got