Wicked Hunger (15 page)

We pull into the parking lot where we left Ivy’s car an hour later. I stop my truck right next to her car and turn to say something to Ivy. She hops out before I ever get the chance. Surprise at her quick exit keeps me from moving for a few precious seconds. I shake it off and jump out after her. She’s already opened her door when I catch up.

“Ivy, wait,” I say, grabbing her arm out of need to stop her. Even as tired as I am, my hunger flares to life and I yank my hand away as fast as I can. Ivy’s eyes stare at my hand, turning glassy and bright in the moonlight. The hurt radiating off of her is painful. I want more than anything to wrap her in my arms and apologize for every stupid thing I’ve done to her, but I can’t. I’ll hurt her if I touch her.

“I need to get home, Zander. Thanks for dinner,” she says quietly. Then she turns to get into her car. I panic and say the only thing I can think of to make her stay.

“You never asked me your question.”

Ivy pauses. Her body turns slowly, but her eyes don’t meet mine. My heart rate inches up every second she doesn’t say anything. It feels like it’s about to explode by the time she finally speaks. “I changed my mind about the rules. I get to ask one question and you have to answer it.”

My shoulders sag in defeat. I fall against my truck and rub my hand over my face. I can’t answer most of her questions. I can’t let her go, either. It only takes me a moment to decide between Ivy and my secrets. “Okay, what’s your question?”

Ivy’s eyes come up and pierce mine. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you toying with me, Zander? You pretend to be nice to me, but you clearly can’t stand me. Why not leave me alone and stop all of this?”

The fact that her question isn’t about the bruises or the fighting surprises me, but what really shocks me is what she said about me. I stare at her in disbelief and say, “You think I don’t like you?”

Ivy looks at me like I’m crazy. “Uh, yeah. You act like you hate me practically every time you see me. The only time you were actually nice to me was when I offered to help you with your calculus. I never really expected you to call, and when you did, you made it pretty clear it was only so I could help you study. But then you’re so nice to me out of nowhere, only to go right back to acting like I have some contagious disease. I don’t know why you’re doing this to either of us. Just leave me alone, okay?”

I can’t seem to work out a response to her. My brain is still trying to catch up. Yes, I’ve been horrible to her, but that can’t be all she sees when I look at her. My silence deepens Ivy’s frown and she turns away from me. It only takes me half a step to reach her side. I hook my fingers on her shoulder and turn her gently so she is forced to look at me. My hand trembles from the brief contact.

“Ivy, I don’t hate you. The reason I reacted to you like I did the first time we met…and the other times, was because I liked you too much and it scared me. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with you.”

Ivy glares at me. “What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I know,” I say. “It doesn’t make sense, because you don’t know me like everyone else around here knows me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t get close to people, ever. You've already heard rumors about how I don’t date, and I’m basically a loner. Well, there are reasons for that, very good ones, and until I met you I had every intention of living up to my reputation,” I say. “The second I saw you, I wanted you, and it scared me to death.”

Ivy’s expression goes from angry, to confused, to surprised and a little bit happy in a matter of seconds. “You…I thought…you really like me?”

“Yes,” I say, sighing deeply.

“Then why do you pull away every time I get near you or touch you,” she asks.

“Because I know that’s what I should do,” I say. Ivy frowns again, clearly not understanding. But who would? I do my best to make some kind of sense. “Ivy, I know I should stay away from you, because pulling you into my life will only get you hurt. I’ve lost too many people close to me to believe that won’t happen. It’s practically ingrained in me to push people away. Every time I touch you, I get scared that you’ll be hurt, and I pull away.”

Scrounging up every last spec of will power I have left, I lift my fingers and trail them down the curve of Ivy’s face. My fingers quiver with the desire to do more. The hunger racing through me is unbearable. I pull my hand away before my willpower evaporates completely. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to touch you,” I say honestly.

She thinks I mean that purely because of my past, and that’s fine with me, but I know every second I’m in contact with Ivy brings her closer to her death. I take a big step back. Relief attempts to wash through me, but it vanishes when Ivy’s hand presses lightly against my chest. I fall back against my truck, agony spreading out from her hand like wildfire.

“You’re shaking,” she says in surprise. She looks up at me with the shimmer of tears in her eyes as her hand drops away. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You like me?”

There’s so much more I feel for her than like, but I can’t and won’t admit to any more than that. “I like you very much, Ivy.”

Suddenly, the only emotion left on Ivy’s face is happiness. “I like you too, Zander.”

I can’t help it. I smile like every other stupid teenage boy in the world would. For a while, we just stand there smiling at each other like idiots and not caring in the least. Without meaning to, I’m the one to break it up when I yawn. My exhausting morning allowed me to spend time with Ivy, but it’s starting to catch up with me now.

“I guess I should let you get home,” Ivy says.

“I guess.”

“Will I see you again?” Ivy asks.

I smile. “Definitely.”

“When?” She grins shamelessly when I laugh at her directness.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I can’t go out much during the week because of football
…” And because as much as I want to be glued to her side, I know that would be suicide. “And I’ve got a game this Friday, and Saturdays are usually pretty busy with sports or chores.”

“I’m not really allowed to go out on Sundays,” Ivy says. “Family time, and all that.”

“So, that pretty much leaves us with Friday night after the game?” Once a week, I can handle that. “We can always call each other, too. Plus, I really do need help with my math. If we can’t get together, maybe you can as least walk me through it over the phone.”

“Okay,” Ivy says. “I’ll plan on Friday night, and you could always meet me in my homeroom class if you need help, too.”

“That’s right, I’d almost forgotten about that. I’m sure I’ll see you in there next week,” I say, “but for now, I should get going before I fall asleep.”

“You do look tired. I hope that isn’t from being around me all night.”

Actually…. “No, of course not. I went mountain biking this morning. That’s all.”

Ivy nods and says, “Oh, okay. Get some rest. Goodnight, Zander.” She moves slowly, after what I said earlier, her hand reaching up to touch my cheek lightly. She gave me enough time to prepare myself, so I don’t flinch away despite the torture she is causing me. She smiles up at me. “See you soon?”

“Very soon,” I assure her.

I hold the door open as she gets into her car. Before I can close it, Ivy says, “You know, that wasn’t the question I was planning on asking you.”

“Next time,” I say, refusing to let fear creep into my voice.

“Next time,” she repeats. The firm edge to her voice assures me she won’t forget.

Next time, I’m going to have to answer Ivy’s most burning questions. I’ve lied to people my entire life. I should be able to lie to her too. I want to lie to her, but I know that once I’m faced with her curious, beautiful eyes, I won’t be able to do anything but tell her the absolute truth about whatever she wants to know.

I stomp away from Grandma’s car, frustrated that Zander has managed to avoid me again. I stayed up as long as I could to wait for him Saturday night. When I nodded off around three in the morning, he still hadn’t come home. I doubt he was with Ivy that late since her parents seem pretty strict. I have no idea where he went, though.

Sunday morning he disappeared again. When he came back, not only did he stick close to Grandma for the rest of the day, making it impossible for me to talk to him about Ivy without freaking Grandma out, but that taste was back. When I tried to confront him before school, I found his room empty, but that wasn’t the scariest part. Hanging out of his laundry basket was the shirt he had on the day before.

I don’t know what made me go over to look at it. I couldn’t have seen the drops of blood on the sleeve from the doorway, but I certainly saw them when I picked up the shirt. Then this morning, Grandma announces that Zander had to be at school early so she would drive me. He won’t be picking me up from school, either. I am just about ready to kill my brother.

Ketchup rushing over to me is a welcome relief to my horrible morning.

“You look pissed,” he says. “What happened?”

The whole stream of insanity bouncing around inside of me almost spills out. Almost. I stop myself in time.

Ketchup looks at me expectantly. “Did something happen the other day? You never called, but…”

“No,” I say quickly, not wanting to talk about Noah. “It’s Zander, again. I need to figure out what he has in common with Vega.”

“Did that weird taste thing happen again?”

I nod, my stomach churning as I remember the sickening taste. “There’s got to be a reason for it.”

“Have you tried asking Zander again, or your Grandma?”

The shake of my head makes Ketchup frown. “Why not?”

Reasons spiral through my mind. There are so many, but the one that is the most honest is what slips past my lips. “Because I’m afraid to.”

Ketchup stops walking. Unwilling to be without him quite yet, I stop as well. My eyes stay down, but I don’t need to look up to feel Ketchup move closer to me. His hand touches my cheek briefly, hesitates, then falls away.

“Van, I wish you would just talk to me. Tell me what this is really about.” He sighs, knowing I can’t tell him without me having to explain. He continues in my silence. “I don’t know what they have in common. Vega is a gang member, something I seriously doubt straight-laced Zander would ever consider. There have been rumors about Vega and drugs, but again, Zander’s not the type. Unless Zander is running around killing people, I can’t imagine what they would have in common.”

My entire body goes ice cold. I look up at Ketchup, my body trembling. “What did you just say?” I whisper.

“What? About the drugs?” Ketchup searches my expression as worry clouds his features. “You think Zander might be doping?”

“No, not that.” My hands are shaking so badly and I can barely control them. “No, the last thing.”

“You mean Zander killing people?” Ketchup says slowly. His arms wrap around me and pull me to his chest. I can feel his heart pounding. He sighs with so much regret it nearly suffocates me. “Van, I’m so sorry. I never should have said that. I didn’t think.”

I’m too scared to respond. Where has Zander been at night? What is he doing in those hours when the rest of the city is at home in their beds? Why was there blood on his shirt this morning? He’s always been the one with the most control. I shake my head, unwilling to let myself believe that Zander could be doing something so terrible.

“Hey, hey,” Ketchup says, his voice begging. He pushes my face up to meet his gaze. The agony in his eyes is nothing compared to what is racing through my veins right now.

“Van, please. I’m sorry.”

I don’t want to think about the possibility that Ketchup is right, but in the darkest corners of my mind I know I can’t brush this aside. If it’s true, I have to know.

“Ketchup,” I say haltingly, “I need to find more people that have killed someone.”

For a moment, Ketchup just stares at me. It takes him a while to realize I’m not joking. When he does, his whole body tightens. “You really think…?” He rubs a hand across his face. “Okay, um, short of wandering around Westside and tasting people, how do we find people like that?”

“Prisons?” I offer.

Ketchup scowls at me. “I am not taking you to a prison.” He’s quiet for a moment before saying, “What about a senior center?”

“What?”

“Well, think about it. The center in my neighborhood where my grandpa used to hang out has a strong Veteran population. If they went to war, there’s a good possibility that they were involved in the fighting. I mean, it’s not the same as what Vega does, obviously, but maybe it could work.” Ketchup shrugs. “And it’s safer than a prison.”

I don’t know if it will work. What if the weird taste is only attached to violent crimes? I have no way of knowing. That may not even be what it means. It’s a place to start, though. I don’t know what else to try.

“Will you take me?” I ask quietly.

“Of course,” Ketchup says. “I’ll take you after school today.”

***

I sit down at our usual lunch table, focused more on the impending trip to the senior center than anything else. Ketchup isn’t here, yet, and I find myself missing him more than usual.

“Van!” Ivy pounces, startling me almost out of my chair. “Do you absolutely hate me? I’m so sorry I told Zander about training with Noah. I had no idea it was a big deal. I’m so sorry!”

Her wide-eyed, high speed apology slams into me. I stare at her in surprise. As I push my chair farther away from her in an effort to cool my hunger, a million thoughts run through my mind. I want to attack her for outing me, but I know that won’t accomplish anything useful. It makes me want to scream, but I force myself to stuff my anger and hunger away as best I can.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Ivy blinks at me in surprise. “Really? You’re not mad? Zander looked furious when he stormed out of the restaurant.”

Restaurant? I thought they were studying! I am seething at Zander, but I push it aside for now. It’s a struggle to get my thoughts back on the conversation. “We talked and it’s fine now.”

“I felt awful when I heard him yelling at you.”

The compassionate expression on Ivy’s face seems somehow false. There’s an edge of delight to her apology that freaks me out. I realize why when I think of the things Zander said to me that night.

“You heard him yelling at me?” I ask.

Ivy’s eyes dart down to her feet once then back to me. “I didn’t really hear what he said. I just heard his raised voice when I came out of the restaurant. He calmed down right after that.”

I can’t tell whether she’s trying to make me feel better about overhearing us by saying she didn’t catch our words, or deliberately hiding what she knows. Either way, she’s lying. My irritation amps up my hunger and I have to move my chair further away from her.

She heard at least some of our argument. My brain calls up the fight, and I scramble to remember everything Zander said. He asked whether Noah was okay, not me, implying I was the dangerous one. Zander begged me not to be scared of him, and questioned whether I could really not lose control fighting with Noah. He also mentioned my birthday and how things might change for me. I’m sure she’s smart enough to draw some damaging conclusions. I have a feeling math isn’t the only thing Ivy’s good at.

“I had no idea you’d get in trouble for training with Noah or I never would have mentioned it. I promise Van,” Ivy says.

“I know. It’s okay,” I say tightly.

Ivy sighs and relaxes. “Zander said he was upset because of your grandma’s rules, but he didn’t explain why she’s so strict. He just said there were reasons.”

“Reasons,” I sigh. My mind inevitably strays to that night.

There are the obvious hunger-related reasons my grandma doesn’t want us fighting, but there are even deeper reasons as well. Losing someone you love changes you forever. It makes you go overboard, take things farther than you normally would.

“Yeah, there are definitely reasons. When your family experiences violence firsthand, you do everything you can to make sure you never see it again.”

“Violence?” Ivy asks, quiet and intensely curious at the same time.

My mind snaps back to the present. Visions of blood and insanity vanish, leaving me staring at Ivy’s eager eyes. I immediately shy away from her gaze. “Never mind,” I say quickly.

“Wait, what happened? Why is your grandma so strict?”

“It’s personal.” I stab at my mushy mac and cheese and refuse to look up.

“I’m just trying to understand so I quit getting you in trouble,” Ivy complains. “Just help me out, Van. Nobody else will.”

Dropping my fork, my fingers clench the edges of my food tray. Cracks spread out from my fingertips. “What is that supposed to mean?” I say through my teeth.

“What?”

“What do you mean by nobody else will help you? Have you been snooping into my personal life?”

That last part came out a little loud. Heads turn in our direction, but look away as soon as they see me. Fine by me. The only person who doesn’t react is Ivy. She faces me dead on with a patronizing expression.

“If you didn’t act like everything about you was some huge, monstrous secret, I wouldn’t have to ask other people about you to figure out who I’m sitting next to at lunch,” Ivy snaps.

We’ll see how long she’s sitting next to me after that! “If I want you to know something about me, I’ll tell you. My other friends respect that. Why can’t you?”

“Maybe it’s because you haven’t saved my life, yet,” Ivy snaps. “The rest of them do whatever you say because of what you’ve done for them, but you can bet they all have the same questions I do.”

“And what questions are those?” I ask. Let’s get this all out in the open, if that’s what she wants. What is she really after?

Ivy squares up her shoulders and juts her perfect little chin out at me. “Why is your brother in a psych ward?”

“He went crazy.”

“Why can’t you fight?”

“People we know died.”

“I saw your hand get burned in Home Ec. How’d the burns disappear?”

“They didn’t. I never got burned in the first place.”

Ivy grits her teeth and fires again. “Why is Zander so strong?”

“He works out a lot.”

“Why don’t you like me?”

I lean toward Ivy, pushing my anger and hunger alike to their limit. “Because you have secrets, too.”

Her eyes open wider in surprise, but I don’t stay to bask in it. Without another word, she slides her tray down a few seats and stews in silence. Turning away from her, I search the cafeteria for my actual friends. Ketchup and the twins are thankfully on their way to the table, now.

I contemplate grabbing Ketchup and opting for sitting outside or in the halls, anywhere but here. Before I can gather up my tray, Noah slips into the chair across from me. I’m too surprised to say anything. I panic, knowing that Ketchup is on his way over. Hanging out with Noah is one thing, him sitting at our lunch table…with Ketchup, that’s something else entirely. A hurried excuse that will get him out of here forms on my tongue, but not fast enough.

“Who are you?” a none-too-pleased voice says next to me. Unfortunately, it’s not an unfamiliar voice. My stomach drops right along with my head. I am not going to make it through this day without losing my mind.

“I’m Noah.” He extends his hand politely. Ketchup glares back at him.

“What are you doing at our table?”

“Uh, I needed to talk to Van. We’re English partners.”

“Does this look like English class?” Ketchup snarls.

“Ketchup, please,” I beg.

Ketchup’s eyes flare. “Please what?”

“He just wanted to talk for a minute.” 

The way his eyes pierce me is unnerving. “Talk? What happened? Why is he here? I would have thought you’d have told me if you saved…”

I cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “Nothing happened. Noah is my partner for the English project. He wanted to talk to me. That’s it. Just let it go, okay?”