The Werewolf and the Human

The Right Clothes Choice

That was weird. Why did I feel so nauseous? It came and went quickly. I was glad for that. I had too many things to do that day. I had too many things to think about. I could not add an upset stomach among them. No, it wouldn’t do me any good. I had to make a good impression. If I was going to get the answers that I upended my life for, I needed to make a good impression.

              I honestly didn’t know what I expected to find, nor did I know what I would do once I found the answer. Would I stay there? Would I leave the moment that I found the answers? I didn’t know. I was waiting until I found some answer before I even started thinking about what happened next.

              I knew that finding answers in this town would be near impossible. It was clear already this town kept their mouths shut. They didn’t like outsiders, and if I was anything, I was an outsider. Still, I was there. Still, I was trying to get answers. I was going to take answers. I was going to do what I had to do.

              And at that moment, what I had to do was make nice. I needed everyone to think I was nice enough. I needed the town to believe I was a nice person, and to do that, I needed to make nice. If I could do that, I could maybe finally find the answers I needed.

              I had got Jackie on the phone that morning. “I need your help,” I said, brushing my fingers through my hair.

              “What’s going on?” Jackie asked, her voice not frustrated with me at all, and for that, I was thankful.

              “I don’t know what to wear today.” The words leaked out of me as slowly as they would allow.

              “Does it matter?”

              “Yes,” I said quietly. I ran my fingers through my hair again. “They have a welcoming committee coming to my house, the doctor we met is coming at some point, and I think Xander is going to be the one to introduce me to the welcoming committee. I need to make a better impression than the one that I made the first time around.”

              “You could have made a worse impression,” she said, trying to laugh a little bit to herself.

              “Could I have?” I ran my fingers through my hair one more time, and it got stuck. I had been tempting fate the more times I ran my fingers through my hair. I knew that, and yet I had continued to do it. I could only blame myself.

              “You could have burned down the museum.” She continued to laugh as I started untangling my fingers from my hair.

              “True.” I pulled my final finger from the tangles. I then looked down at my hand like it was my hand’s fault for getting caught in my hair, regardless of what I knew would happen. It was still my hand’s fault. “Still, it could have been a lot better.”

              “I would agree with that,” she said. I walked over to some boxes in the hallway.  

              “So, are you going to help me?” I asked.

              “FaceTime me,” she said. I switched my phone to FaceTime and then opened one of my boxes. I started pulling clothes out of the boxes. “You haven’t started unpacking.”

              “I got in late last night, and it’s only…”

              She interrupted before I had a chance to finish. “It’s nearly 11.”

              “Yeah, exactly. So, how can you expect me to have started unpacking?”

              “Because most normal people would have.”

              “Never said I was normal.”

              “You did move to a place just because you wanted to solve a mystery.”

              I stopped searching through the box. I stood up and grabbed my phone to look directly at her. “You were the one that told me I had to be here because of the mystery.”

              “I know,” she said, a smile clearly seen on her face. “But I was right. You told me so yourself.”

              “Just because you’re right doesn’t mean I can’t argue.”

              “Doesn’t mean you should either.” I opened my mouth to say something, but she spoke. Before I could, she began speaking again. “And don’t you have other things to worry about?”

              “If you are asking if I am thinking about what to wear, of course, I am.” I placed my phone back down on a box and went back to picking through my clothes.

              “Have you made any decisions?”

              I pulled out a few things. “No.”

              “You know your closet,” she stated, as if that was new information to me.

              I threw the shirt I was holding back into the box. “That means nothing to me, and you know that. I could tell you what’s in my closet, but I wouldn’t have a clue what to pick.”

              “That’s why you called me.” There was a slight bit of smugness to her voice. A voice of knowing. She knew I needed her. She had this way of testing the waters for as long as she could.

              I just didn’t feel like letting her test the waters. What good would letting her test the waters at that point? “I called you because you know my closet too. I need you to tell me what would fit the occasion.”

              “I don’t understand the occasion any more than you do.”

              I sighed and almost ran my fingers through my hair again. I stopped myself, though. I seemed to have a better memory of what happened. “I know, but you know my closet. You know what looks good. I need your help.”

              “Fine. What about the…”