Aiden’s hand clapped against Clyde’s shoulder, pulling him back with an undercurrent of tension. “Aria’s not exactly a hunter, Clyde. It’s probably not a good idea.”

Clyde quickly shrugged his hand free before jogging back to center court. Without waiting for anyone to finish, he picked up one of the balls and began making free throws, seemingly spurred on by some unseen mania.

“What was he talking about?” I asked. “What, is it like a senior prom for lycanthropes?”

Aiden ...