Apparently, as an Indian Muslim gal living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, I'm supposed to be quiet, soft and sweet. I guess whoever believes in those myths about women from the Republic of India never met me. My name is Nadira Duwesh, and I was born in Uttar Pradesh, Northern India, and raised in Canada's Capital region. I'm five-foot-seven, one hundred and twenty six pounds soaking wet, with brown eyes, dark bronze skin and long, curly black hair. I look harmless and innocent, and I can probably kick your ass. One of the perks of being more than human.
Six months ago, my parents Ali and Noor Duwesh sat me down in the living room of our Barrhaven townhouse and dropped a bomb on me. Apparently, I'm a Werewolf. And here I thought those nighttime blackouts I've been having at least once a month for the past year were purely accidental. Now I know better. Well, I guess sometimes the family's secrets are so terrifying that parents feel that they must lie to you for your own good. I am not making excuses for my parents, but I kind of understand why they did what they did.
Honestly, I've got enough shit to deal with and totally didn't need this. I'm working my butt off at my security guard job while trying to stay on top of my civil engineering classes at Carleton University. Life definitely goes on. Got to keep grinding, you know? Keep it moving. So what if once a month I transform into an otherworldly, bipedal wolf-like beast with a furry body, yellow eyes, claws and fangs? Just something else I've got to deal with.
It's funny the things I notice now that I know what I am. In the movies, it's the light of the full moon that transforms ordinary men and women into Werewolves. In real life, that's simply not true. I am a Werewolf because it's in my family genes. Creatures like me have existed for thousands of years. We're in every country, every culture. Does that frighten you? It really shouldn't. We are your friends and neighbors. Deal with it.
Before we go any further, here are some basic facts, ladies and gentlemen. At least one percent of the human population carries Werewolf genes inside themselves. Of that one percent, most of them are unaware of it and live their entire lives without knowing. The inner Wolf has to be awakened, usually through trauma. It's what separates me from you, I guess. Most of the Werewolves out there are Latent, blissfully aware of their true nature. Me? I'm Active. And loving it.
As I sat in class inside the Minto Center, I found myself looking at my classmates. It's amazing the things I can tell about people now that I've been Activated. For example, I can smell that Ronda Roswell, a blonde-haired chick who loves wearing short black skirts, is a total lesbian. I can smell the scent of her "good friend" Holly Holbrook on her. Those two are inseparable, and lots of guys in my class like to ogle them, but I pity those fools since these broads are a lost cause. A Werewolf's nose knows, ladies and gentlemen.
There's this guy named Watson Chang in class, and he's always looking at me and smiling, but I know what he feels for me isn't attraction but pure dread. Chang is a smarty pants and he's used to being the smart one in class and fears me because I'm smarter than him. Just another insecure human male threatened by female intelligence. I cannot stand people like Chang, seriously. I smile politely at him and then focus on what the professor is saying. Why won't this little creep stop staring at me? I wish he'd go away. Oh, well. Can't always get what you want.
Class ends, and I am the first one out the door. I take to the tunnels, and super-speed through them on my way to the campus library. I am meeting my favorite guy at Starbucks. I run up the stairs and see him. Clad in a blue silk shirt, black silk pants and black Timberland boots, my boo, Justin Laguerre. Practicing Catholic, aspiring lawyer and prince of style. A tall, dark and handsome gentleman originally from the island of Haiti. We met last year, connected, and we've been together ever since.
I greet Justin with a smile and a kiss, and my favorite Haitian stud smiles and puts his arms around me. Justin is looking good and smelling even better. Underneath his Cologne, I can smell his masculine scent. I can also smell the comic book he brought me from the bookstore. Justin smiles and pulls a shiny black bag out of his backpack, and I grin as I see the comic book Batgirl : Introducing Aruna, penned by Scott Peterson and Mike Deodato. Aruna is a shape-shifter, and the only Indian female superhero in mainstream comics!
My eyes lit up as I hold the comic book in my hands, and I grab Justin and kiss him with such force that this six-foot-one, burly brother shudders. All around us, people are staring. Justin and I get coffee and egg sandwiches, and we smile and catch up. Justin is in his final year in the Law program at Carleton University. I'm in my third year in civil engineering. Time is catching up to us, that's why Justin Laguerre and I take advantage of every day. I love this man. Justin makes me feel like no one else before. I thank Justin again, and he excitedly tells me about his visit to the University of Ottawa's Law School. I listen attentively, as I love to encourage my man in his ambitions. Justin is just awesome.
