This chapter is character development heavy, but provide more complexity to the characters, while also introducing new characters and plot arcs into the story.

"Monday Morning" is a chapter that shows five different perspectives at the same time, four days before the full moon.

The first chapter can be read here:http://www.furaffinity.net/view/20765988/
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Monday Morning, 7:47 AM

Derek opened his eyes as the clock struck 7:47 AM. He rolled onto his back, pushing the bed sheets off his body. To his irritation, he noticed the gapping tears that went down the length of his comforter. He immediately knew his nails had sharpened during the night slashing the bed sheets. How he was to explain this to his mother was beyond his imagination, as he tried to push the thought to the side.

Even worse, he found himself thinking back guiltily to what transpired between him and Ethan just the past week. He still couldn't comprehend as to why he felt the compulsion to attack his best friend, someone he felt passion for. He had told himself that it was a combination of rejection and derogatory comments, but he couldn't fathom as to why his desire to kill his friend was so heightened. It was true that he was wolfing out, but it was still him...wasn't it?

It shattered him when he learned the next morning that Ethan had been lying in a pool of his own blood until he was found, unconscious, hours later by school maintenance. Derek wasn't sure if the school had cameras that had recorded the incident or if Ethan had said anything, yet either way, nobody had contacted him about it.

He pushed the sheets off of himself, standing up. His sweat pants and t-shirt he had slept in were in tatters. His gray sweatpants, which were normally baggy, were split at both thighs. He could feel a breeze on his butt and looking back, saw it was exposed for all to see. It was a definite sign that he had grown a tail and burst it through his pants again. His t-shirt had a gaping hole in the shoulder, which he grabbed and tugged at, tearing the shirt off him.

He rolled his eyes, recognizing things were bound to only get more obnoxious, and hairy, in the days leading up to the night of the full moon, which of course, was on the night of the big football match. Incidentally, his concern was not being able to play due to his werewolf nature, but more...what was the team going to do without Ethan. As their star wide receiver, it was going to come down to one of the under classmen to take on his position, all of them being unlikely to fill his shoes.

He had just come out of the shower, when his phone beeped, indicating a message. Still dripping wet, he grasped his phone, glancing at the text. He dropped his phone when he realized his nails were extended into thick and sharpened claws. He stared at his hands, slightly trembling, before wiping the mist from the bathroom mirror. Staring back at him was his face, patchy with sprouting fur, his ears extended into points.

He bared his teeth in pain as his stomach cramped, just as his molars intended into fangs. He gripped the sink as he doubled over, feeling his spine lengthening into a tail.

Staring at his reflection, he couldn't understand why he kept transforming uncontrollably.


~~~~
Monday Morning, 7:47 AM

"You're probably wondering why I asked you here this morning?" Coach Stevenson said, sitting down behind his cluttered desk. He stared back at the sophomore, attempting to be discrete in his uncertainty of his decision.

Tyler Mertens rested his elbows on his legs as he sat forward, half-asleep and unsure as to why his coach had asked him via email the previous night to conference with him this morning. If this was a come on, he was not interested.

Coach Stevenson folded his hands on his desk. "Tyler, there's a reason why you advanced past freshman football and started with varsity last year. It's because you're a talent. You have strength, you're fast, and you can anticipate the ball coming to you before it's even thrown. You have wolf-like qualities."

"Wolf-like?"

"Yeah, Tyler! Your senses are incredible on the field, which is why you're in varsity. You excel in practice and, quite frankly, you know what the hell you're doing. Some underclassmen bust their balls to get into varsity and then get intimidated with seniors claiming they've paid their dues."

"Their dues mean nothing to me," Tyler said. "It's about winning. I want to win and that's all there is to it."

"You're a killer," Coach Stevenson replied, pointing to Tyler. "That's what I want in the field." He sat back in silence for a moment, hesitating on what to say. "You...you do know Ethan Barrow is in the hospital?"

"Yeah," Tyler muttered. Rumors were going around that Ethan was mugged and beaten, which seemed bizarre, considering how white bread the area was.

"Are you friends with him?"

"Not really. He's a year before me, and he's friends with Derek Tremblay, who I've never really liked."

"Well, you're going to need to start liking him."

Tyler cocked his eyes and stared at his coach with curiosity on his face. "Why's that?"

"Cause you're going to be our new starting wide receiver," Coach Stevenson announced. "You'll be working closely with him, so you best make friends with him."

Tyler beamed with delicate, flashing his signature smile. "Woah, wait. Me? Starting?"

"Congratulations."

"Woah. I'm at a loss."

Coach Stevenson stood up, indicating the conversation was over and for Tyler to leave. "So talk with Derek and get chummy with him. I'd encourage you to be by his side all week, as is you two were conjoined twin, which you practically will be for the next five days already."

Tyler stood up, still dazed. He extended his hand, to which Coach Stevenson shook it. "Sir, this is an honor. I'll be sure to convey those wolf-like skills to Derek, starting today. I'm sure by the end of the week, we're going to be completely in sync."

~~~~~~~
Monday Morning, 7:47 AM

"This is not working," Kevin DeSanto said, pushing back the copy in frustration. The 17-year-old Editor-in-chief of the school newspaper stared at his staff of six with anxiety lining his face. "How are we to maintain a readership if we aren't staying on top of what is trending, not to mention, this article is littered with comma splices. It's called 'grammar,' people!"

Kevin took out his phone, opening his lock screen. Staring down at his phone, he muttered, "I really hope you're all connected to the school twitter, as well as each and every athletic twitter as well in association with this school." He stared up at everyone. "We shouldn't be chasing the news; we should be creating the news!"

"Like...fake news?"

Kevin sternly stared at his copy-writer. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that nonsensical phrase." He held up his phone to everyone, showing the latest tweet from the school's football department. "This Friday is the game against Griffin High School."

He observed the blank stares, making him want to fume. "Okay, so I see we are disinterested. Well, this game is kinda a big deal. Why, you all may ask? It's big enough that our football team may actually have a chance at districts, and maybe regionals, if we're lucky. More so, Griffin is always the reason why we're held back. Every year we have a chance at some awards and they deny us it. So, what does that mean? It means we get to sensationalize this game. We make this game 'The' story when we publish and post Wednesday."

"Yeah, Kevin, you would want that to be the story since you wish you were on the varsity team and couldn't make it," said Melanie Driscoll, one of his copy-writers, who openly despised him for demanding newspaper period wasn't simply another study-hall period.

"I never even tried out for varsity, let alone for any sport." He tucked his phone back in his wallet and glanced in the corner to see if any coffee was brewing in the Mr. Coffee he had brought to his newspaper classroom. No coffee. He turned back to his staff, still appear somewhat unaware of his passion. "Guys, if you really want a reason even beyond the game, it's this: things suck around here lately. If you haven't noticed we're hurting. In August we lost Brandon Lanskey, who was mauled by who-knows-what, and just the other day Ethan Barrow was apparently mugged and beaten right here, right on the school premises." He looked to one of his sophomore staff-writers. "Leon, that's your task before the end of today: Whip up a 500 word article about Ethan. Make it bold, but also give it a slight edge of sentimentality." He paused for a moment, stopping himself from lecturing any further. "All right, you all know your tasks. Get started and aim to have all projects completed before the deadline, not by the deadline."

Kevin walked to his coffee maker, wishing he hadn't settled for cheap and had gotten something fancier that could make expresso.

"What's the angle you're looking for with this game on Friday?" Asked Nicholas Fredmont, the only staffer Kevin actually could put any faith into.

"I'm not sure yet," said Kevin, pouring some purified water from the classroom water cooler into the coffee pot. "We need to go beyond the game itself or even what it means to us. We need, I don't know, the game needs a hero. Someone we can root for."

"How about Derek Tremblay?"

"What about him?"

"Word is out he may be our new quarterback in due time? He's a wide receiver, but from my understanding he was second in the running before Brandon Lanskey was given the position."

"Who's been the QB since Lanskey?"

"I'm not sure," Nicholas said, shrugging. "It may be Jack Parsons, but I've heard through the grapevines that Mr. Stevenson isn't exactly thrilled with his game day performance."

"Why?"

"Supposedly, he's a choker. Does great in practice, but when the pressure is on him, he panics. You don't get that with Derek."

"Not bad." Kevin clicked the coffee machine on and slide into his chair in front of his computer, pulling up the student directory. He quickly typed in Derek's number, getting his school schedule and contact information. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled at Nicholas, "We have our hero for the week. He is going to be the centerpiece of our newspaper this week."

He typed Derek's number into his phone. "I'm going to personally interview him today," Kevin said, texting a request for an interview appointment with Derek.

Clicking send, he turned got up from his chair. "What's next on the agenda?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday Morning, 7:47 AM

Josh wiped the dried blood smeared on his chest and legs with a discarded rag he had found in the abandoned cabin. He had awakened in the middle of the woods thirty minutes prior, disoriented, naked and drenched in dried blood. Considering the smell, he was sure he had killed an animal, likely a deer, during the night. It was definitely not a person, as the smell of human blood was more distinct, more sweet.

Giving up on trying to get the blood off him, recognizing a hot shower at home would be the solution, he boldly walked outside to his car. Inside, in the backseat, was his gym bag. Within it was a pair of gym sweats and a gray hoodie he had stolen from his ex-boyfriend, Caleb, both of which he threw on over his naked body.

....

Driving back into town, he thought to himself that the cabin work well with his plans for Friday. He simply needed to be sure Derek was involved, as he was the catalyst to make his plan work.

He tensed his back and shoulders, both sore from the previous evening. He tried to ignore it, but it was difficult not to acknowledge that the transformation took much out of him, each time getting worse. He knew why too. His wolf genes were becoming more dominant, causing each transformation to being a thicker and more aggressive werewolf. He had to just give into it and realize that if he wanted to lead a pack, he had to look the role of an alpha.

He was immediately in the shower as soon as he got home, scrubbing his chest vigorously with his loofah. He found himself deep in thought. His fury, his anger over being told what to do was gnawing at him. Even the concept of being granted permission to transform made me feel repulsed.

He scrubbed harder, the his body still red from blood.

Worse, he despised the fact that the town was beginning to brim with other werewolves, a competition he never agreed to. He needed to find the source.

Blood continued to drip from his body as he scrubbed.

But before the source, the obstacle of Connor needed to be eradicated. A plan was in motion, but Friday couldn't come fast enough. The plan had been conceived the moment Connor had begun to blackmail him. He had also blackmailed Adam Levinson as well, threatening to divulge about their lycanthropy if they didn't reveal any information. Unlike Josh, Adam chose suicide as an escape, a decision that still had Josh angered.

Josh yelled out in pain, realizing the blood all over his body was his own, having scrubbed so aggressively that he broke the skin. He stood in the middle of the shower, water pouring down his body. He knew he just needed to bide his time. By Friday, he would be finally rid of Connor. It all depended on Derek, his perfect beta. Even from afar, he knew his control over him was deep, and he would keep digging deeper with that control.

Josh knew it was imperative that Derek lose all semblance of control for Friday to succeed. That control was Josh's to dictate.

~~~~~~~

Monday Morning, 7:47 AM

Connor walked past the tombstones of the graveyard, looking for the specific plot he was overdue visiting. Cradled in his arms, he held a dozen white lilies he had purchased prior to parking at the graveyard.

The leaves crunched beneath his feet as he walked slowly. There was a strange sense of solace he felt in the empty, isolated graveyard. Away from humanity, and yet, an odd respect it emitted. He knew it was a possibility he may find himself buried in due time, but it didn't bother him. There was a sort of serenity he felt with death. If it came, it merely meant his life had met its limit.

He stopped at the grave at the far right corner. He placed the lilies at the foot of the grave before sitting down on the ground before the metal slab.

He smiled briefly, reading and rereading the name on the tombstone. "I've been thinking of you lately," he said out loud. "I remember you once telling me about being strong, and that strength isn't about the exterior, but rather what one does with their smarts...granted they have any."

He nodded, looking around. He stared back at the name before him with tears welling in his eyes. "I miss you," he choked out. "You'd be proud of me. I changed the rules. Well, there's rules, but I'm following my own."

Tears streamed down his face. "It's about correcting the world order, you know. There's a hierarchy that needs to be followed."

He wiped the tears from his face, sniffling as he did so. "I am done being second in line while those who lack any concept of talent get handed the award." He exhaled, trying not to break down in tears. "You had promise and could have been something, but no, you had to vanish. Our family had to bury an empty casket and I'm talking to an inanimate granite slab cause you had to die." He choked out a cry in anguish. "I know you're dead. *I* know it....It's why I'm going to murder them all this Friday. Every last one of them will be killed." He inhaled deeply, picking himself up onto his feet. Staring down at the grave, he said, "I just wanted you to know that."

Connor turned and walked away from the plot, headed back to his car. He bowed his head, the sun rose from the horizon, gleaming over the cemetery. The sun's beams shined on the recently visited grave, with the name 'Caleb McCullough' clearly visible from the headstone from a distance away.