Humans Bite Back
CHAPTER 17: A KISS AND A MISS

“Ed…” Petra attempted to reason with him as he advanced. He ignored her as he threw his head back, snarled, and cracked his neck in preparation for the attack.

“Bishop, we better run,” Petra squeaked.

I didn’t have time to recover from my shock when Petra began to drag me along as she broke into a sprint. “It’s a straight stretch for the next few feet, and most of the stores have closed for the day,” she called back over her shoulder as we continued to scan our surroundings for a means of escape.

Ed’s rear side had shifted because now I could hear the clicking of his talons as they scraped the ground; I didn’t need to look back to know that he was closing in. Just as I had decided to free myself from Petra to get her out of harm’s way, I heard the screech of tires behind me, followed by a loud thump.

I dared to glance over my shoulder and saw a familiar vehicle block Ed’s path. The passenger’s side door swung open, and Erica leaned over the cried, “Hop in.”

Petra and I obeyed without question. I was strapping on my seatbelt when I noticed Ed sprawled out across the pavement, out cold. “Did you hit him with your car?” I asked Erica as I gazed at her with a mixture of horror and infatuation.

“He’s fine,” Erica assured me, “Wolves are very resilient,” I looked back at Petra, who nodded in confirmation.

“Why was he after you anyway?” Erica asked in a conversational tone as she made a U-turn in the middle of the street and steered the car so that we were now traveling towards Aunt Finn’s house.

“That’s what I would like to know,” Petra piped up from the rear seat, “And you never got around to explaining who Petunia is.”

“Petunia is not a she; it’s a what,” I clarified, “Petunia was an item that Edna had on display at the store. I sold it to Ed, not knowing that Petunia wasn’t for sale.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“That makes no sense,” Erica intervened, “If it wasn’t for sale, why have it out on display?”

“Edna had Petunia marked so high that she never imagined anyone would purchase it,” I explained.

“Then Edna is at fault here, not you,” Petra exclaimed, sounding heated. “If Ed wasn’t happy with his purchase, then he should have taken it up with Edna instead of chasing you around.”

“Would you take a complaint to Edna?” I put forth.

“Good point,” Petra snapped, “But you must have Finn speak to her. You can’t spend the rest of your life running from Ed.”

“I’ll mention it to Edna tomorrow; there is no need for Aunt Finn to get involved; she has enough on her plate,” I reasoned.

As we pulled into Aunt Finn and Petra’s driveway, Petra exhaled in relief. “Home at last,” she cried, “I can’t wait to get into a hot bath.”

When Erica parked, Petra hopped out of the car and then turned to me expectantly. “I’ll be in soon,” I told her. She shot a knowing look in Erica’s direction before turning and disappearing into the house.

I turned to Erica, “Thank you for saving my butt today,” I told her and did my best not to gush. “That’s twice now,” she reminded me as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Twice I have come to your rescue.”

“Trust me; I won’t forget,” I told her, “Perhaps I can do something as a show of appreciation, perhaps we can go out to dinner sometime or maybe a movie.”

“Why? So I can spend my night saving you from rabid humans?” she quipped.

“I meant after all this was over,” I clarified, “Besides, it would be nice to hang out sometime, just the two of us.”

“Why do you suddenly want to hang out with me?” she demanded, “You and Kenny have been friends for years, and not once did you include me in any of your games or invite me to sleep over.”

I was at a loss. What Erica had stated was true, I knew the difference, and I was sure she knew as well, but I trudged on. “That wasn’t my fault,” I insisted, “You were the one who was always hiding out in one of your oversized hooded sweatshirts.”

Erica cracked a smile, “I miss those sweatshirts,” she admitted, “And it is true, I was hiding out, but that’s because I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin.”

“Well, I for one, and glad you came out of hiding,” I told her earnestly. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to come out?”

Erica shrugged, “I actually started transitioning when puberty hit, with my mother’s support, of course, I delayed coming out to my Dad because I was afraid,” she paused to clarify, “Not because I was afraid that my father would disown me, but because I was afraid that it would change our relationship.”

“Did it change your relationship?” I asked her. She nodded, and for a moment, I thought I might regret pressing her, but then the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. “Yeah, it changed our relationship, for the better actually,” she turned to me and added, “I was lucky to have him as a father.”

Her voice caught when she said the last part, and I had to restrain myself from wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close. “I think I was too now that I think about it,” I said, coming to the same realization, “My father was quirky and a bit strict at times, but he really loved me.”

“I am sorry for your loss, our loss. Right now, I need my dad more than ever,” she told me, turning away so I wouldn’t see that her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

We sat in silence for a moment, and when I didn’t think I could take it any longer, I asked, “Why did you choose the name, Erica?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she retorted, though she sounded mildly amused.

“Well, your birth name was Eric. Doesn’t Erica seem a little too close to home considering that you are starting a new chapter in your life?”

“I never hated myself, not even when I was Eric. I chose Erica because that was how I always thought of myself. When I was younger, I would pretend that my parents had made a silly mistake and had forgotten to add the “A” to the end of my name when signing my birth certificate. So, I guess in my mind I was always Erica and have no desire to be anyone else.”

“Whoa,” I said, combing the hair back from my forehead, “I guess I assumed….”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” Erica cut me off, “Not every trans kid hates themselves for being born the wrong sex, nor do they resent themselves for it.”

“I was going to say that I assumed that you would have chosen something more exotic,” I managed after she finished ranting.

Erica’s cheeks flushed with color, “And here I was, lecturing you about making assumptions,” she paused, “No, I like myself just fine, but when I chose to go public with my transition, I was afraid that the other girls wouldn’t like me because….”

“Because you’re beautiful,” I finished for her and then waved a dismissive hand, “They’ll get over that with time; what they may be envious of is your sweatshirt collection.”

“Why would you think that?” her tone was coy, “Are you jealous of my sweatshirt collection?”

“Honestly, I am a bit green,” I told her truthfully, “Especially when you were going through your Nintendo phase.”

Erica threw back her head and laughed as I added, “I was particularly sore when you snagged the last Yoshi limited edition sweater that one year, and though my father took me to a dozen shopping centers, we couldn’t find another.”

Erica clapped her hands together, “I had almost forgotten about our mall rat days. It seems like a hundred years ago, is the mall even still open?”

“I don’t know; I quit going after I discovered online shopping,” I reckoned with my nostalgia as I said, “It’s crazy how much the world has changed.”

We sat there for a moment, mourning the loss of our childhood. It was Erica who broke the silence, “Thank you for what you said, by the way,”

My mind scrambled; what did I say that had earned her gratitude? Was it admitting to coveting her hooded sweatshirt? No, that can’t be it. I searched my mind and came up blank. Luckily, I had Erica there to come to my rescue. “What you said about me being beautiful,” she blurted out. I color creeping up her color bone and seeping into her face.

“Why wouldn’t I tell you the truth?” I asked her and nearly did a fist pump when I could articulate what I was honestly thinking without sounding like a bumbling idiot. Erica cocked her head to the side. “You know Bishop; I always had a bit of a crush on you.”

If Erica wasn’t sitting next to me, I might have whooped with pleasure, but attempting to play it cool, I simply gazed back into her eyes. Our faces were so close that I thought about cupping her cheek and drawing her into a kiss.

The moment I worked up the courage to make my move, Erica seemed to remember herself and withdrew. I turned away because I knew my face would register my disappointment.

“I should be getting home,” she said abruptly, “I’m going to be in trouble when my mom sees the werewolf-shaped dent in her front bumper,”

“I suppose you do have some explaining to do,” I relented, “If you need an adult to back up your story, I’m sure Petra wouldn’t mind; you did save us after all.”

“Perhaps your Aunt Finn can help pay for repairs,” Erica said, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

“She can take it out of my inheritance,” I assured her as I opened the door and began to climb out of the car. Before I shut the door, Erica called out to me. I ducked down so that I was at eye level. “If you want that Yoshi shirt, it’s all yours,” she offered, “Maybe I can bring it by some time.”

I felt my disappointment disperse as I replied, “I would like that.”

I watched Erica pull away before I retreated into the house. I was anxious for a bath and early bedtime, anticipating the sweet dreams I would have that night.

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