Wicked Hungry (16 page)

“Enrique?”

It’s Enrique’s big brother, Andres. He’s eighteen and looks like Enrique if you added six inches to Enrique’s height and shaved off his Mohawk. Andres is already working full-time at their uncle’s garage.

Enrique opens the door.

“
¿Qué pasó?
” he asks his brother, and they shake hands like gangsters. Enrique has tried to teach me the sequence but I always mess it up.

Andres looks around and whistles. “
Órale, hermano
. What are you all up to in here?”

“Come on in and shut the door,” Enrique says.

Andres’s eyes widen. He’s looking at the jaguar, glowing still, in the middle of the Ouija board. And then at the candles, and the books that lie open around the board.

“
Oye, hermano.
Those aren’t comic books,
¿verdad?
” asks Andres.

Enrique shakes his head.

Andres turns his head. “I look at them at first, and I see a comic book. Then I look again, and I see an old leather book with funny writing. This is magic?”

We nod.

“Not
our
magic, though,” Enrique says.

“You bought it at that shop, didn’t you?” Andres asks.

“What shop?” I ask.

“Don’t act stupid,” Enrique says. “I trust my brother.”

“Sorry,” I say. “You mean Natural Magic?”

“The one and only,” Andres says. “Although I hear they are going to have a bigger shop right in the middle of the new mall.”

“The mall?” I ask. “You mean here in Lansfeld?”

Andres nods. “Right now they’re just digging the foundation. I hear rumors they found some weird stuff down there. Anyway,
feliz Día de los Muertos
. Happy Day of the Dead. I need to go help Mom with some stuff.”

Before he can walk out the door, though, a phone is ringing and buzzing. It takes me a minute to realize it’s mine and to pull it out of my pants.

I just stare at it dumbly.

“Who is it?” asks Jonathan. “Your mom, or what?”

“No, it’s your mother,” I say.

“Dude, you are so
not
funny,” Jonathan says, and looks over my shoulder at the ringing phone. Then he belly laughs.

“Stanley and Meredith, sitting in a tree,” he says. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“What?” Andres says from the doorway. “You have a girlfriend, Stanley? Is this true?”

I nod sheepishly, still staring at the ringing phone.

“Answer the phone, Stanley,” Enrique says. “We’re not listening.”

I push talk. “Hello?”

“Stanley?”

“Hi,” I manage to croak out.

“You okay? It’s me, Meredith.”

“Hi, Meredith,” I say.

Wow, I’m some great conversationalist. My eyes move to the glowing jaguar on the floor, then to Andres shutting the door.

“Are you ignoring me?” she asks then.

“Huh?”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“I’m listening,” I say.

“Good,” she says. “How come you ignored me on the school bus?”

“I ignored you on the school bus?”

“You barely even glanced at me. Thank God Carolina was talking to me—I was so embarrassed. It was like you didn’t want to be seen with me or something.”

“You’ve got it backwards,” I say. “
You
weren’t looking at
me
.”

“I was looking at you the whole time, you idiot. But it’s hard to get the attention of the back of someone’s head.”

This doesn’t seem to match what I remember, but I try to let it drop.

“I’m at Carolina’s right now,” she says.

“Oh,” I say. “How did you get my cell number?”

“I called your mom,” Meredith says. “She was just delighted to give it to me.”

“Look,” I say, “I can’t really talk right now. I’m over at a friend’s house.”

“Oh,” she says. “Let me guess. The same Mohawk-wearing friend you were sitting with on the bus when you were ignoring me?”

“Actually, yes,” I say. “But I told you already: I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Jonathan is trying to hold in his laughter. Enrique is rolling his eyes. But the figurine in the middle of the Ouija board glows, its eyes green now.

“Well,
fine
,” she says. “I wanted to talk to you. I actually wanted to
see
you, but when we went by your house, your mother said you had already left.”

“I just went next door,” I say.

“I know. Your mom told me. But I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends,” she says.

“You don’t embarrass me.”

“Look, I’m not going to keep you. But if you really care about me, you’d better come by and say hi to me tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“If you
like
me, you’ll figure out a way. You’re a smart boy.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? I’m not sure Blaine and Morgaine would approve.”

“Carolina says you can bring your friends, too. We’ll leave the window unlocked.”

“Maybe,” I say.

“Maybe you care about me... Maybe you don’t.”

But before I can respond to that, there’s a
beep-beep
. She’s hung up on me.

“D
ude,” Jonathan says. “That was
hilarious
. Meredith’s got you under her cute little thumb.”

“Shut up,” I say.

“What did she want, anyway?” Enrique asks.

“She’s at Carolina’s house. Past the cemetery.”

“Past the cemetery?” Jonathan asks.

“Yeah, on the way to the mall. She wants me—actually, us—to go by and see them. Tonight.”

Enrique shakes his head. “I have a bad feeling about those Whelans. Carolina may be nice, but her dad would probably eat me for breakfast.”

I just stare at him. “You don’t think they eat
people
, do you?”

“What do you think they eat? Broccoli?” Enrique asks.

I look over at Jonathan. “But people? You all think they eat real live people?”

Jonathan shrugs. “According to the books, some do, some don’t. Ghouls are the worst. That’s all they eat. People, I mean. But you’ll only find those—”

He stops, and looks at me.

“Where did you say Carolina’s house was again?”

“Past the cemetery, near the new mall.”

“Am I the only one hearing things I don’t want to hear?” Jonathan says.

I shake my head. “So we’ll try to avoid the cemetery. What about the zombies?”

“They aren’t as bad as ghouls,” Jonathan says. “They don’t eat much. Sometimes they get the munchies and they eat up everything in a convenience store, or somebody’s cat.”

“Somebody’s cat?” I gulp.

“Yeah, or a squirrel, or whatever they can catch. They’re not very particular. Just kind of stupid and mean. Usually they’re too slow to get a person unless there are a lot of them.”

Enrique risks a peek through the window. “Wow, they got some big guys out there. And does twelve count as a lot?”

“
Twelve zombies
?” Jonathan says. “How are we going to get past
twelve?”

“Don’t they have any weaknesses?” I ask. “Anything at all?”

“They can’t stand bright light,” Jonathan says. “They’re almost as photosensitive as vampires.”

“That must be why they’re always wearing those hoodies,” I say.

Jonathan nods.

“I guess we need to find out what’s going on at that mall,” I say. “And Carolina’s house is wicked close to the construction site. And the cemetery. Kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Definitely, dude,” Jonathan says. “And remember, they’re going to have their new store there, too.”

“So we’re going to run?” Enrique asks.

“Okay,” Jonathan says, “But no hunting.”

“Not even a little fox?” I ask innocently.

Jonathan just stares at me. “Are you being
funny
? Because I am not feeling it, Stanley. I’m just not feeling the laughter.”

And then he belly laughs.

“Maybe a little snack before we go?” Enrique asks. “I am hungry.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling my own hunger there inside me. “But no foxes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “And no
people
, either,” he adds.

“So,” Jonathan asks me, “How do you change — I mean, into a wolf?”

“I don’t know,” I ask. “How do
you
change?”

“I’ve never done it.”

“You’ve
never
changed?” I ask.

Jonathan shakes his head.

“But,” Enrique says, “we see a fox when we look at you, and you said...”

“What?” asks Jonathan. “I
dreamt
about it, okay? But dude, I have
no clue
how to do it.”

“I thought you were the expert in all things supernatural,” I say.

“There’s no how-to book explaining how to change into a fox, okay?” he says. “Maybe you can help me, I don’t know.”

“I’ve only changed twice, both times when I was angry,” I say. “But now I feel it, all the time, ready to happen.”

“It’s almost a full moon,” Jonathan says. “That kind of figures. It should be harder to stay human.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m hungriest around the full moon, and changing is easier, too.”

We just sit there for a moment.

“Jonathan, have you even tried?” Enrique asks.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A pretty logical one,” I say. “If you ask me.”

“Well,” Enrique says. “Have you?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “I feel this itch, sometimes, like my body wants to change, but I resist.”

“Sometimes,” I say, “you have to scratch the itch.”

“Did I tell you before you’re
odd
, Stanley?” Jonathan says. “Because you. Are. So. Odd.”

“Jonathan,” I say. “I just mean sometimes you need to let go. Don’t resist.”

“Yeah,” Enrique says. “Scratch the itch. Turn into a cute little fox.”

“Yo,” Jonathan says. “Who you calling a cute little fox?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Jonathan’s right. I bet he’s one wicked ugly fox.”

“One wicked ugly and scary big, mean, lean, and hungry fox is more like it,” Jonathan says.

“Now you’re talking,” Enrique says. “One big, mean, hungry fox.”

I peek through the window. “There are more of them,” I say. “And Enrique’s right: they’re bigger.”

“So what do we do?” Jonathan says.

“We need to get out of here. But I’d rather practice here than out there. Since Enrique is the only one who seems to be able to just pop in and out of being a jaguar, why don’t we all practice a little? And then we can work out a plan.”

Maybe this is what it means to be a leader. Convincing people to do something that may hurt or kill them — if Blaine is telling me the truth.

“Here?” Enrique says. “In my room?”

“What?” Jonathan says. “You afraid I’m going to pee on your bed to mark my territory?”

“Or that I’ll tear your furniture apart with my teeth?” I ask.

Enrique grins. “To be honest, I’ve already scratched the windowsill with my claws.”

Jonathan examines the sill for scratches, then whistles. “I bet that felt good.”

Enrique nods. “It did.”

“All right,” I say. “Let’s get started.”

“You won’t start howling, will you, Stanley?” Enrique asks. “And what kind of sounds do foxes make?”

I shake my head, look at Jonathan.

“Don’t look at me. I have no idea. But in the dream, I think I could talk.”

“You could
talk
?” I ask. “A talking fox? What else?”

He makes a flapping motion with his arms.

“You were flying?”

He nods. “But it was a dream, man. Everybody flies in their dreams.”

“Look, Enrique,” I say, “put on some music so no one can hear us howl.”

“That’s going to have to be some loud music.”

“Dude,” Jonathan says. “I know you have some loud music to go with that loud haircut of yours.”

Enrique smiles. “Yeah, but I don’t know if Mom will like it. It’s the Day of the Dead.”

“Enrique,” I say. “You think they’re going to like it if the house gets attacked by shamblers? We need to hurry up here.”

“All right,” he says, and he goes to turn on his radio. It’s playing some loud Mexican music.

“My parents are downstairs, watching television,” he says. “We should be all right.”

He checks to make sure the door is bolted and that the window shades are all closed. Then he starts taking off his shirt.

“Hold up,” Jonathan says. “Was this part of the plan? Because you are creeping me out. What are you doing?”

Enrique looks at him as he unbuckles his belt. “You want to turn into a fox wearing those clothes, go right ahead. But if I turn into a jaguar wearing this, my clothes will all be torn to shreds and it will hurt.”

“It will hurt, huh?” Jonathan asks, putting his finger to his belt.

“A lot, probably,” I say.

Enrique nods. “More than it does already.”

“Whoa,” Jonathan says. “You two never said
anything
about
pain
.”

“What do they say here in America?” Enrique asks. “‘No pain, no gain?’”

“Yeah, but they’re talking about lifting weights. Not turning into a fox.”

“It doesn’t hurt that much,” I say. “I think. I was kind of drunk the second time, and the first time I was really angry.”

“
Not that much
,” Jonathan says. “Great, dude, I’m into this.”

“You prefer to go out there with the zombies and find out if you can change, or maybe just get eaten?” Enrique asks.

Jonathan shakes his head.

“Then strip,” I say.

“Just keep your eyes off my foxy body,” Jonathan says, and turns away from me.

“Hey, Jonathan,” I say, pulling off my clothes. “If you hear me growling, just understand I’m growling
with you
, not
at you
, okay?”

But really, what if we all attack each other? I look at Enrique, who is wearing nothing except some briefs.

“You don’t think we’ll fight?” he whispers. “As animals?”

Uh-oh. Now it’s out in the open.

“We’ll see,” I say.

“W
e’ll see?” asks Jonathan. “What’s that mean,
we’ll see
?”

But Enrique has turned around to pull down his briefs. He turns up the music, and then all hell breaks loose.