Hi, I’m the Wolf, and I solve problems. Well, that’s the English translation of my family name, Lupo. People call me by it all the time, over at school. Being the youngest of seven brothers means those who know our family don’t care about my first name anyways. But how, out of those seven, did I get the name the Wolf?

Well, you see, my family has an interesting trait, passed down. It used to be more uncommon, but well, that changed over the centuries somehow, and now it seems like everywhere you look, there’s some of our sort. Werewolves, that is. Not like the stuff you heard in the old stories, no, we stay werewolves, eventually, all throughout the month. Getting there takes some time, but give it a few months after you first transform, and boom, no time spent as a human.

Now, the side that has that line of wolves isn’t my father’s side, he’s just one of those folks that happened to have the last name ‘Lupo’ and became a wolf apart from the rest of his family. My mother’s side’s the one with the line, but her side has so many last names, we just call ‘em ‘the family’. The family passed on the trait for generations. When it started becoming more common, my nonna’s nonna said before she died, the government tried to study us back in the 30’s. She fought ‘em off with her Tommy Gun and her claws and they never solicited us again.

So now, what have we got? A family of wolves, all of whom experienced some kind of lycanthropism starting early in their teens, except for me! Here I am, eighteen, and nothing to show for it but sideburns that look like they come from a 70’s disco scene. So, that brings me to what kind of problems I solve: delivery problems, mostly.

You see, my family’s been involved with the grey side of the law since Capone was big, and a lot of folks owe us favors. Turns out, being a wolf does tend to produce an uncanny ability to extract protection out of people. It’s mostly in the snarl, or so I’m told. The silver bullet thing isn’t true, by the way, my pops found out the hard way. Well, it is true you get hurt, but no more than a regular bullet, and regular bullets do hurt us, as my oldest brother, Tony, found out when he lost his eye when I was three.

But, the only protection I got is my smart mouth, and sometimes, that’s more of a detriment than a defense. So, they have me deliver pizza for the restaurant. And make the pizza, when no one else is around. People say it’s the best pizza this side of the river, and that’s ‘cause we don’t do any of the nonsense where you put the cheese on the bottom. The shop may be just a front, but hey, I take pride in my work wherever I can. Gotta be the best at something.

Besides, I’m not about all that burly strongman business. Whether it’s because I’m the youngest or because I’ve just learned to accept what I am, I’m just not a fan of it. My pops and mama aren’t too disappointed. After all, they got six of that type; I'm sure they like havin’ one of the kids who might go out east for school next fall, versus staying here.

But anyways, my friends call me the Wolf ‘cause I’m not a wolf, get it? It’s poking fun at me. It’s okay, I’m used to it, having six older brothers. I just let it slide on off. And hey, if someday, I do get what’s coming to me, who’s to say I won’t have the last laugh when I’m a foot taller than all those bastards?

And so, here I sit, waiting for school to get out so I can bike to the shop, with the apartment we’re in being upstairs. Driving’s overrated, especially in the city this time of year. I only live a few blocks away anyways, and no one’s gonna fuck with me, especially once they see the name on the back of the bike. During the winter, it’s harder, but you just gotta try a little harder through the snow.

Next to me, my friend Tom is drawing something stupid. Probably something else that’s gonna get him in trouble with the teacher. He’s drawn everything from lewds to gore, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s because he’s funny or because people pay him online for that, but regardless, he keeps practicing in class. The teacher, Mr. O’Neill, is droning on about something to do with calculus. I stopped paying attention once last semester ended and I stopped needing to worry about my grades for college.

“Mr. Lupo,” he calls, staring at me.

“Yes, Mr. O’Neill, sir,” I reply.

“Describe L’Hopital’s rule,” he quizzed me.

“I can’t, sir, and I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Mr. Lupo, pay attention in my class will you?”

“Yes sir,” I replied, rolling my eyes as he turned his back.

He seems to think I’m just another dumb mobster kid, even though I aced every test he ever gave me. I can’t blame him after he had some of my brothers, but a little confidence would’ve been appreciated, especially when I wasn’t 300 pounds of wolf meat. Then again, my fifth brother Vito had thrown a chair through the wall in his class, so the bar for my performance was abysmally low.

Eventually, the bell rings and school gets out. I wave to Tom as we leave, and start on my bike. As I start pedaling, dodging the little areas of ice on the sidewalk, I get out of breath pretty quickly. The winter cold has recently been getting to my lungs, I think. I decide to take a rest stop at the local corner store, lock up my bike and walk inside for some soda.

“Hey Lupo,” the clerk, an old man called Mark, calls out, “back for some cola?”

“It’s all I ever get,” I call out in reply, pulling the soda out from the cooler and walking up front.

“You’re gonna run me out of business when you leave for one of those big schools out east. Your brother Jimmy tells me you might be goin’ Ivy League.”

“Oh I’m not so sure about that, you know how selective they are these days,” I reply, grimacing at the thought of the application process he’d just gone through.

“Hogwash, that’s what I say, they’d be lucky to have a little smartass like you. Might even be president or something someday,” he says, “not that that’s much of an achievement after the last guy.”

“I’m not about that life and you know it. If anything, I’d like to get into medicine, maybe help reduce some of the bias against people like my family?” I reply, “I remember the doctor barely knew what medicine to give Tony after he got his eye put out.”

“You’re a wolf too, y’now,” Mark says, looking at me intensely, “your brothers say it’s just a matter of time. Don’t be talkin’ like you’re not one of ‘em.”

I want to snarkily reply with something, but I know Mark only ever means the best, and I don’t want to bother the guy.

“Sure,” I reply, offering my best smile, “just better hope it’s the case before I get to ‘Haavad’, or however those assholes pronounce it out there.”

“That’s the spirit, Lupo,” he replies, “take care of yourself!”

“Seeya, Mark!”

Arriving home, I walk into the shop a few minutes early for the dinner rush, to find the door to the kitchen locked. Wait, that’s right, we close on full moons, and it is a full moon. Well, that is a stroke of luck, because I’m not exactly in the mood for working on them. It kind of sucks when every night since you were nine, you expect to be getting the changes you’ve been told about since you were born, but nothing ever happens.

Instead, I lock my bike up in the back of the shop and run up the stairs in the back, finding myself in the apartment. My brother Rob, the youngest besides me, waves to me as I enter. He’s at some trade school in the city, learning to be a mechanic, but they gave him the night off on his internship to come home for this moon.

“Hiya Wolf,” he greets me, “long time no see.”

“Heya Rob,” I ask as I kick the slush off my boots and slide them off, “how’s it going?”

“Not bad, they got me repairing those new types of cars all week. Built like shit, that’s what they all are. Nothing like the beauties they used to make, but hey, it should pay the bills once I can open my own shop. How’s life treating you, smart stuff? Any letters to the esteemed Mr. Lupo in the mail yet?”

“Nah, they don’t even do letters anymore,” I reply, opening my soda, “I gotta access this link online that tells me if I got in or not.”

“That’s some bullshit,” he replies, snorting as he slouched even further down on the sofa he was sitting on, “they should be sending you a singing telegram for all you’ve done.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I reply, “don’t go messin’ them up if I get rejected, though.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he replies, grinning, “they’re not worth my time. Can’t promise that Tony and Ricky won’t, though.”

“Great, I’ll be sure not to tell anyone unless I get in, then,” I yell as I walk to my bedroom and shut the door.

Just as I walk in, I notice myself begin to sway. I catch myself on the bed, making a decent bit of noise as I stumble.

“Wolf, you okay?” Rob calls.

“I think so!” I reply as I actually fall onto the floor.

My vision dances brightly as it fades to black. The last thing I hear before I black out is Rob running into the room full speed, yelling my name. Funny, I think somewhere in the recesses of my fading consciousness, he passed out too when he first wolfed out.