Smilodon

Chapter 3-2

I held it together long enough to walk beyond the diner’s windows, but when I reached the building’s corner, I stepped into the space between it and the general store, dropped my pack, leaned against the wall, and put my face in my hands.

What the hell happened to me? I have never been someone to force submission like that. I made that guy pee himself out of fear, like he was some tiny lapdog.

I heard footfalls on my right just before Gabrielle said, “Hey, there. You all right?”

I pulled my hands away from my face. Something inside me tried to make myself stand straight, present a commanding presence even in the buff, but I pushed whatever it was aside.

“Yeah, I guess… but no, I’m not. I mean, I’m not hurt. I’m not in pain or discomfort or anything like that, but my mind is spinning right now. Where the hell did that come from in there? I almost didn’t recognize myself when I faced down that guy, because that wasn’t me. I’m the quiet, geeky kid.”

“I told you we needed to talk,” Gabrielle replied, “but I don’t feel so bad about not recognizing your scent anymore. You’re the first Smilodon shifter I’ve ever met. Come on. Let’s at least get you some clothes, so nothing’s swinging in the breeze.”

Her eyes and the slight curve of her mouth told me she aimed for a joke. It was a little funny, and I couldn’t keep from chuckling. I leaned far enough to grab the carry handle for my backpack and fell in beside Gabrielle. The thought occurred to me I could use the pack to cover myself, for the time being, and by the time we entered the store, I was kind of calm.

A bell jingled as Gabrielle opened the door, and I smiled at the sight of an honest-to-goodness, small-town general store. There was a clothing section, a hardware section… pretty much anything you’d expect in a dry goods store.

“Afternoon, Hank,” Gabrielle said. “Wyatt, here, just experienced his first shift and destroyed his clothes. We hoped you could help him.”

Hank looked somewhere around early middle age. The hair over his ears had a few wisps of gray, and the top of his head was bald. He wore a checkered shirt with suspenders and what looked like garters to keep his sleeves away from his hands and wrists.

“I sure can, Miss Gabrielle,” Hank replied. “I’ll just need your sizes, sir. You don’t look like you’ll need something in a size I don’t carry, but proper sizes will ensure a suitable fit.”

Wyatt wanted to shrug. “Uhm… the clothes I shredded pretty much fit, but they felt off a little. Any chance we could do some measurements? I don’t think the sizes I know are one-hundred-percent correct anymore.”

Hank gave a reassuring nod. “Of course, young man. It’s very common for a person’s measurements to change after they’ve become shifters. The changes a person’s body undergoes takes what’s there and optimizes it.”

“You still hungry?” Gabrielle asked.

I nodded. “I feel like I could eat ten or twelve triple cheeseburgers.”

“While Hank’s getting you set up, I’ll go back to the diner and get them started on our food. How do you like your steak?”

I meant to say ‘well done’ out of reflex, because I ate no meat that wasn’t. But I didn’t say that. “Make sure it’s not mooing” came out of my mouth instead.

Gabrielle grinned. “Sorta figured, but I wanted to be sure. Meet you back there when you’re finished here?”

“Sounds good, and thanks.”

Gabrielle waved and left me in Hank’s expert care.

We spent maybe thirty minutes taking measurements and selecting three sets of clothes. What I didn’t wear, I folded and stuffed in my hiking pack. I couldn’t remember the exact amount left in my checking account, so I used a card my grandpa gave me for emergencies. I figured I’d pay him back across a few paychecks. When Hank handed me the receipt, he also gave me a small card that had my new measurements written on it. Talk about customer service.

“Thank you for the measurements and the card, sir,” I said, hefting my now-heavy pack. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s been a pleasure doing business, and I always take care of my customers, sir.”

I smiled. “Please, call me Wyatt.”

He extended his hand to me. “Only if you call me Hank.”

“Thanks again, Hank. I hope you have an excellent day.” I gave him a proper handshake and left the store.