Wicked Hungry (8 page)

Something tore apart a raccoon as a snack. Why isn’t my stomach turning?

When I get home my mother tilts her head to the side, squints at me as I walk through the door. She sniffs the air.

“What’s the matter now, Mom?”

She shrugs, still squinting at me. “I know you don’t like to hear about it, but there’s a lot of weird talk in my coven.”

My mom’s Unitarian church has these special interest groups that meet once a week. My mom is a member of two. One is for Earth based Judaism, or Jewitchery. Another is for Wicca. The second one is her “coven.” It’s like a dozen middle-aged to elderly ladies who leap around burning sage, hitting each other with aromatic herbs and chanting things. That’s as much as I can figure out. There may be more to it than that.

“And that makes you sniff at people?” I ask her.

“I know,” she says. “It’s a strange way to greet you on your birthday. But Morgaine says dangerous things are happening to teenagers. And that they’re taking some weird new drug.”

“Weird new drug?”

She nods. “And we’ve found a few animal kills.”

“Animal kills?” I ask, my mouth dry.

She nods. “Rabbits. Squirrels. Raccoons. Is there something you haven’t been telling me, Stanley?”

All of a sudden I wish I could answer that question. But I can’t bring her into it. Just mentioning the Slim Jims would destroy her. She may think she’s some kind of witch, but to me she’s just the hippy artist with a flower in her hair, listening to the Cocteau Twins while cooking a big pot of organic kosher vegetarian chili.

So I don’t say anything. I don’t want to lie to her.

She shrugs and sniffs the air once more. “You do smell strange. You even look strange. Were you playing with a dog or something? Teasing Max again?”

“Max won’t come near me.”

“I’m sorry to be so suspicious, Stanley. I’m just scared.”

“Mom, we live in Lansfeld. Nothing ever happens here.”

She shakes her head, biting her lip. “I’ve told you more than I was supposed to. And we’re having a birthday party here.”

I am suddenly exhausted. “It’s not a party, Mom. It’s just a little get-together.”

“Your friends are still coming over, right?”

“I think so. But Karen can’t come. At least not until full dark. Her skin.”

My mother’s eyes narrow.

“She’s got a skin problem. It gets worse in the sun, Mom. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like she chose to have an allergy or something.”

She just chose to take a pill. And after that, her choice was taken away.

“Sorry, honey. I’m just nervous.”

“Can I go take a shower?”

She nods, giving me one last searching look that I do my best to avoid. Really, she doesn’t want to see the secrets hidden in my eyes.

I almost make it to my room when I double over. Josh stares at me.

“You okay, Stanley?”

I nod. He’s got Max in his arms and I try to smile. But Max jumps down with a little hiss and runs off into Josh’s room.

“Sorry,” I say, straightening up.

“It’s okay,” says Josh. “He gets nervous sometimes. He’s been like this a lot lately.”

“Not just with me?”

Josh shakes his head. “Not just with you.”

“You coming to my party?” I ask him.

“Am I invited?”

I can’t help smiling over the pangs in my stomach. I nod my head.

“Then I’ll make you a present,” my brother says, and goes back into his room.

As soon as I have my own door shut behind me, I pull out the beef jerky from under my bed. My fingers throb and want to change; my palms itch, and I want to growl and howl as I tear into the dried meat. It’s tough and too salty compared to what I ate in Mr. Piper’s office. But for me, right now, it’s heaven.

But then I look down. A black glass bottle is clenched in my shaking hand. How did it get there? What if my mom and Karen and Mr. Piper, what if they all were right to warn me?

Too late now. I dry swallow one bitter pill.

One pill, one hot shower, three pieces of beef jerky and one extra long Slim Jim, and I’m a new man with steady hands. Dressed in black jeans and an old tattered t-shirt, I’m ready for my little birthday get-together.

Which is good, because the doorbell is ringing. “Stanley?” my mom calls. “Can you get the door?”

It’s Enrique. He’s brought a tray covered in aluminum foil. I sniff the air eagerly, but smell beans. Still, there’s something that makes me sniff again. Something hidden under the rest of the tacos. My mother reaches out her hands to take the tray, then hesitates. She looks at Enrique.

“What’s the matter?” Enrique asks, looking at me.

My mother shakes her head. “Nothing’s the matter. These are vegetarian, right?”

“Vegetarian?” he says.

“No meat,” my mom says.

He shakes his head. “No meat.”

“They smell delicious,” my mother says. “But you... Have you been playing with a cat?”

“Cats hate me,” Enrique says.

My mother shrugs and takes the tray.

“What’s up with your mother?” Enrique asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know where to start.”

Enrique has burned me a CD for my birthday, so we head for my room to listen to it. It’s this weird mix of Mexican rap, rock
en español
, and a bunch of alternative things I don’t even know what to call. But maybe it’s just what I need right now. We shut the door, and as soon as it shuts, I can’t help it—I pull out another Slim Jim from under the bed.

Enrique looks at me. “Does your mom know? Is that why she’s so weird?”

I shake my head way too energetically. “No way does she know what happened. Mr. Piper didn’t call home.”

“He let you off, just like that? After Frumberg? After they searched your locker?”

I can’t meet his eyes. “Well, I think we agreed to something. It’s kind of hazy now.”

“What did you agree to, Stanley?”

“I think I owe him a favor.”

“A favor?” Enrique says. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that...”

But downstairs the doorbell is ringing again. Jonathan is here.

He smiles at me in the light of his porch light; his dark black skin contrasting with his bright white teeth. He’s brought sushi. I’m not a big fish fan, but it’s the only meat-like thing my mother lets in the house, so I can’t help smiling. Meanwhile Josh is going crazy, jumping around the kitchen. The boy would eat raw fish for breakfast, lunch and dinner if we let him. My mom gives him a piece now. But that just seems to make him hungrier. Max hovers in the background, and Josh turns to him. “You interested, Max?”

Max meows at Josh softly, but keeps his distance, eyeing my friends and me.

We leave my brother and his cat downstairs in the kitchen and let my mother work it out.

Up in my room we check out some new comics Jonathan brought along while we listen to Enrique’s new mix CD.

“Dude,” says Jonathan. “It’s a total disaster area in here.”

“Yes,” Enrique says. “What do you call it? A minefield?”

“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t clean up much.”

“Well, it
is
your birthday,” Jonathan says. “You don’t have to clean up your room when it’s your birthday.”

Enrique nods at this like Jonathan has just expressed some real wisdom. Jonathan is always saying wise things. Come to thing of it, he is kind of crafty like a fox.

“Are we going to eat anytime soon?” Jonathan asks. “Because I’m starving. I eat like five times a day.”

Enrique nods. “Me, too.”

“Me three,” I say. “Good thing we’re teenagers, or I don’t know what people would think.”

“My mother wants me to eat a lot,” Jonathan says. “But she still gets freaked out about how much I can put away.”

“My mom doesn’t want me to eat meat,” I say. “But I can have as much of the vegetables as I want.”

“And that fills you up?” Jonathan says, his eyebrow raised.

“You’ve seen me snacking.”

“Why don’t you just tell your mom?” Enrique asks. “She might understand.”

I shake my head and Jonathan guffaws.

“What?” Enrique asks. “What’s so funny?”

“You think he should tell his mother?” Jonathan asks. “Dude, did you see how she was looking at us and sniffing? She would go ballistic.”

“It was just an idea,” Enrique says.

“It was an
awful
idea,” Jonathan says.

“Let’s just drop it,” I say.

From downstairs, I hear the bell ringing.

I run down the stairs, jumping two at a time. And then I’m afraid to open the door.

“Stanley?”

My trembling hand grabs the handle, turns it, and pulls open the door.

Karen is wearing a hoodie and shades, even though it’s already been full dark for at least fifteen minutes. Night comes quickly and early in New England.

“Hi,” she says. “Are you going to invite me in?”

I just stare at her for a moment.

“I...I thought—”

“Thought I wasn’t coming? I’m not happy with you, Stanley. I’m worried. But I haven’t meant to ignore you.”

She stares at me waiting.

“We missed you,” I say.

“Yeah, long time no see,” Enrique says from behind me.

Karen smiles a thin smile. In her arms is a baking sheet covered with aluminum foil. Cookies, if my nose does not deceive me, although I smell something else that is even more enticing. Maybe she’s just been to a restaurant, but I smell something meaty on her.

“Can you see anything with those shades?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I guess I don’t need them now,” she says. “But better safe than sorry.”

“Are you going to just stand there outside in the cold?” says Jonathan.

“No one’s invited me in.”

She stares at me expectantly.

“Come on in,” I say.

When Karen moves, she’s a blur. It’s amazing, and the transition is too fast to see. It’s as if suddenly she’s no longer on the step but inside, past us, without us even seeing her move. She’s gotten past me somehow without even touching me.

She hands me the cookies and takes off the hoodie, revealing her long red hair. She pockets the shades. Did she always look this pale? There’s this burn on one cheek, and she must have caught me staring.

“It’s nothing,” she says. “I got a little too much sun sitting in math class the other day.”

“We haven’t seen you in school much,” says Jonathan.

“They’re trying to fix my schedule so I have no classes with natural light. A whole schedule of classes without windows. Can you believe that?”

We’re all quiet for a moment.

But she breaks into a smile then, flashing white teeth. Her incisors look sharper and pointier than I remember. “Hey, this is a
birthday party.
Happy Birthday, Stanley.”

And she bends down a little and kisses me.

Her lips are cold; my face burns and tingles.

I stand there like an idiot until Jonathan clears his throat. “Dude, we
are
going to eat, right? My sushi is getting cold.”

I turn to look at him. “Right,” I say.

“Hello? Earth to Stanley?” he says. “That’s a joke. Sushi is already cold.”

“Yeah,” I say.

I shut the door.

“Karen! You brought cookies,” my mother says.

“Don’t worry, Mom, they’re vegetarian,” I say.

My mom gives me
the look
. It’s a good thing it’s my birthday.

“Are you all ready to eat?” my mother says, breaking the silence, and I remember to exhale.

“I’ve made my chili,” she adds.

“Great,” says Jonathan. “I love chili.”

Enrique nods. “Nice and
spicy.”

“It really hits the spot,” Karen says, “especially on a cold night.”

Now my mom is beaming. Sure they’re laying it on a bit thick, but why can’t
I
make my mom feel like this?

All I can do is carry the sheet of Karen’s cookies into the kitchen. At least it’s my birthday. And even if Karen is mad about the vitamins, she still brought a gift. And she kissed me. On the cheek, but still. She touched me.

Soon we’re all eating in the kitchen. My dad comes in to be social and says hello to everyone and then my parents leave my friends and me to eat.

Karen and Enrique pass me bean tacos with a secret beef center and a small hamburger that Karen had concealed in her hoodie. I wolf it all down.

With my stomach full of forbidden flesh, it’s a lot easier to concentrate on my mom’s chili. My parents turn off the already-dimmed lights and come in with the birthday cake with its fifteen candles. My little brother Josh is singing at the top of his lungs, holding his terrified cat in his arms, and I’m so happy and sated that  I’m only a little ashamed to tell you that as my parents and friends and little brother sing me happy birthday, Stanley the teen werewolf weeps.

As I blow out the candles I wish for just one thing, and a microsecond later, it comes true.

Her cold hand makes mine tingle. A strange pricking tingle that grows up my arm to my face, like a thorny climbing rose covered with cold, burning thorns. The pricking, tingling cold runs down my face to my chest, to my legs and feet. I burn as hot as a sun; my vision goes red, and I can’t smell the candles, can’t smell anything—

Anything but the roses, gloriously red.

Blood red.

I
meet Enrique after school at my locker. They’re having cross-country tryouts. He smiles at me. “How does it feel to be fifteen?”

“It feels good,” I say. “I think. Are we running fast today?”

He nods.  “If your knee can handle it.”

“My knee can handle it.”

Enrique is so cool. I’m lucky to have him as a friend. I have this feeling if someone walked up with a gun in his hand he would just stare at him and keep on walking. He seems impossible to faze, kind of like my opposite, the anti-Stanley.

We walk into the gym and into the locker room. People I knew years ago from cross-country stop and look at me. I ignore them. Me and Enrique go to our lockers.

“How about you?” I ask him. “You sure about this?”

He nods. “You have seen me training. I am ready.”

Someone comes up to me. “How are the vitamins working out with you two?”

I look at Enrique.
You two?