Free Feral Pride by Cynthia Leitich Smith Page A

Jess and Freddy are loaded down with shopping bags. She’s also holding a case of supplies from her mom’s beauty parlor, and he’s carrying a few plastic-covered items on hangers. Raising her arms, Jess asks, “Where do you want all this stuff?”
    “Upstairs,” Freddy says, taking charge. “The bedroom at the end of the hall.”
    I give Jess a hand, noticing the Bikes & Babes shop logo. “How’re things at home?”
    “Peso is at my house,” she says, tromping after me up the front stairs. “My family’s looking after him, and he’s having a bang-up time playing with —”
    “What happened to my parents? Are they okay?”
    “They’re fine, but . . .” Jess’s shoulders slump on the landing. “Peso couldn’t even go outside to do his business without cameras flashing. Some nut was selling rhinestone leather collars just like his outside your house, and there’s a forty-person cult in town that claims you’re the ancient Egyptian goddess Bastet.”
    I admit, “That’s flattering, the Bastet part.”
    Coming down from the attic, Clyde says, “You are kind of goddess-y.” Realizing that bordered on flirtatious, he asks, “Uh, where’s Aimee?”
    “With Yoshi,” Freddy says. “They’ll be right back.”
    I’ve definitely given the neighbors something to talk about. “The media, how’s —?”
    “Your dad’s handling it like a pro,” Jess assures me. “Father Ramos stayed to act as a family spokesperson.Everything that’s happened lit a fire in your dad. You should hear him. He feels guilty, Kayla, that’s he’s been so quiet about shifter rights up until now. There’s a lot of whispering about what’ll happen in Texas politics if Governor Lawson isn’t rescued. Oh, and you’ll never believe this, but —”
    “There’s no such thing as the FHPU,” I say. “Miz Morales told us.”
    “They never went public,” Freddy points out. “They couldn’t. It was a ploy to bully one small-town sheriff and a handful of shifters who’d likely be wary of human authorities.”
    “They picked the wrong sheriff,” Jess says with satisfaction. She adds that the phony feds did, however, manage to get away from Pine Ridge with Tanya and Darby. There’s been no sign of Evan, Peter, or Junior the yeti.
    “Anyway, they’re now wanted for kidnapping and murder and impersonating federal agents.” Jess drops her bags on the bed. “Believe me: nothing pisses off real law enforcement like fake law enforcement.”
    “Daemon Island Inc. kidnapped and killed even more,” Clyde points out, joining us in the bedroom. “And did the big, wide oh-so-human world give a damn?”
    “The big, wide oh-so-human world didn’t know,” Freddy (human himself) points out, hanging a few more purchases on a hook on the back of the closet door.
    Jess certainly didn’t know. She has no clue what we’re talking about. “Kayla?”
    Werepeople aren’t as secretive as yetis. From what I’ve gathered, our living among, even with,
Homo sapiens
isn’t that unusual. But the secrets we keep aren’t only for our own protection. Before I was outed as a werecat, my mom and dad led happy, successful, uncomplicated (or at least less complicated) lives.
    Is Jess already in so deep that we owe her as much information as possible? Or will filling her in make her a target, too? In the end, I say, “It’s not my story to tell.”
    Clyde goes silent at the window overlooking the portico balcony. For whatever reason, Jess takes that as no for an answer better than I would.
    Then Freddy breathes life back into the room by unveiling some of the most spectacular outfits I’ve seen in my entire life.
    MCC Injections has announced the development of a transformation-suppressing patch and vaccine to be administered to shape-shifters.
    “We’re working with state and local government officials in Texas to make these options available to those shape-changing creatures who have no desire to pose as a threat to the human