Rules for Werewolves

—Hey, it’s cool. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna let you know you can’t sleep there.

—Why not?

—It’s gonna get cold tonight.

—I’ll be all right.

—Yeah, but you could do a lot better.

—Says who?

—My name’s Susan.

—All right. So?

—It’s cool if you don’t wanna tell me your name.

—All right.

—But you should also know there’s a security guard who comes around.

—I’m not scared of rent-a-cops. They don’t have any real power.

—You figured that out on your own, huh? How long you been out here?

—About a week. But I’ve been here before. You?

—Shit. I dunno. It’s been months.

—My name’s Bobert.

—What kind of name is Bobert?

—It’s a nickname, I guess. I hate it.

—Then why tell people that’s your name?

—I got so used to being called Bobert, I guess that’s who I’ve become.

—You know, you could use this running away to become something else.

—I’m doing all right.

—You’re in the parking lot huddled up between a Dumpster and the walls of a Speedy Stop. Without a roof. You’re not doing as good as you think.

—I’m trying.

—I know, Bobert. It’s cool.

—Do you have some kind deal with the Speedy Stop where they give you a free burrito for every homeless kid you scare away from the Dumpsters?

—I should ask ’em about that.

—Hey, you’re not really helping. You’re just doing the rent-a-cop’s job for him. Telling me to move along. He might not even see me.

—He saw me when I tried to sleep there.

—I just. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t know what to do. I …

—All right. All right. It’s cool. Don’t cry.

—I don’t—

—All right. It’s cool.

—I don’t wanna get inside the Dumpster.

—Let me get to what I’m trying to say, Bobert.

—This sucks.

—Why don’t you come with me.

—Why?

—Because.

—Where are we gonna go?

—I have some friends. They have a house. Not a house they own, but just a place where we can stay. There’s about twenty of us sleeping there, maybe. Look, it’s not legal. They don’t own the house. But it’s warm. It’s warmer than this. And it smells better. You just have to go along with what they say.

—Like what?

—Nothing really. They just like to fight, some of ’em. Mostly it’s
bickering. But if someone catches us in this house we have to be ready to run. And if one of my friends tells you to do something you have to do it. Or be sure you could win a fight against that person.

—What do you mean?

—You’ll see.

—I don’t want to come.

—It smells like shit inside that Dumpster, Bobert. And when I was in there, I thought it was the lowest I could go. But it’s not. I’m not gonna tell you what lowest is. You wouldn’t even look at me if you knew. But if you come with me then maybe this can be the worst for you and everything’ll just get better from here.

—What kinds of things do people tell you to do at your friends’ house?

—It’s not like that. It’s weirder than I can really explain. But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. In fact, it could help you become someone who never does.

—Okay. All right.

—Don’t cry.

—I know. I don’t want to … Just let me get my bag. I’ll get my bag, and then we can go, and I’ll get myself behind a door and get warm.

—All right. You’re gonna like these guys. It’s like a family. Everybody sleeping in the living room. Watching out for one another. It’s safe. And it’s warm. And it’s all ours until somebody finds out.