Wicked Hungry (6 page)

She starts talking about my family. Stuff I’ve never heard, let alone talked to people about. About my grandfather, and how he ate beef five days a week and had heart disease. And my grandmother and her omelets. And how after my mother joined the church and the coven she made a pact with Diana, with the goddess of the moon, the goddess of the hunt, that she would take none of her animals, and she would protect them, if Diana would protect her family. How her children would never eat meat, honoring this sacred pact.

Oh dear Goddess, not only am I letting down my brother and my mother, I’ve also defiled some pagan pact she’s made with the moon deity.

It all sounds ridiculous, but what if she’s right?

What if I’ve made all the wrong decisions and she doesn’t know?

My face goes hot. I just want to get out of there, now, but I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don’t even have to turn to know who it is, because he’s talking in my ear.

“You need anything, Stanley?”

And I just nod. My little brother is sitting next to me, squeezing my hand, and I don’t want him to know.

“I’ll slip you a bottle at coffee hour,” Zach whispers in my ear. “But you’re going to owe me a favor. Will you be able to follow my instructions, when the time is right?”

I nod, although I wish I knew what I was agreeing to. But hey, what’s a favor? I mean, he’s helping me out, right? And right now I am seriously strapped for cash.

He’s silent for a moment, then touches my shoulder again.

“Good. Now listen to your mother. I never would have figured Diana had anything to do with it, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Like I always say, your body is your temple. I sure hope you’re not polluting it.”

Josh is looking up at me, trying to figure out what Zach is whispering in my ear.

But Zach? He’s already standing up, walking down the aisle. People look at him; my mother looks at him. Even my brother Josh stares at him.

Am I surprised? He’s always been the one with the crazy charisma. The power of persuasion. The manipulative charm that he can turn on at will. And now, standing at the podium, he’s turned it on. Everyone is listening, everyone is staring, and he hasn’t even started talking yet.

I sigh out loud, and my brother reaches out a hand to quiet me. My mother gives me a disapproving look.

And Zach? He starts to talk. For my mother, for my brother, for the whole congregation, it’s like I’ve suddenly become invisible. Zach is the son, the brother, the congregation member they’ve always wanted.

And me? If my mother only knew what I’ve already eaten. Just this morning, as I was getting ready to go to church.  If she had any idea, what would she do?

Renegotiate a new pact with the goddess? Everyone vegetarian except for Stanley? Or would she trade me for Zach, who speaks so eloquently in all his vegan purity?

Though I need a plan, I just want to go home.

Unfortunately I need to wait for coffee hour. I can do without the coffee and the conversation, but I need those pills.

A
month passes. A whole cycle of the moon, of secret cravings, of meat snacks hidden everywhere, of pills and beef jerky consumed in private. Of growing guilt and growing chest hair. Not just on my chest. Hair everywhere. Ugh.

But why dwell on the negatives? There are definitely some pluses. Like no pain. Three pills a day is not the end of the world. Pain-free, I can walk and keep up with my friends. I can even run, almost keeping up with Enrique. When he’s jogging, that is. Not on the sprints. Maybe in a few weeks, but for now, he still leaves me in the dust.

Meanwhile Zach has been real relaxed about his favor. I mean he did ask me if I could get him an athame, which is this kind of ceremonial sword. It’s important to Wiccan rituals. I don’t know if he thinks he’s becoming a witch or what, but he asked me to bring one to school.

Now I’m not stupid enough to bring a metal blade to school and keep it in my locker, like he asked me to. I mean,
no one
is that stupid, I hope. That would be like a one-way ticket to the juvenile detention center. But I do have this wood one that my mother carved for me and blessed when I turned twelve. It’s in my room, and it’s as easy as can be to just throw it in a little cloth bag, put it in my backpack, and stuff it in my locker. I mean, who cares about some carved wood? Except for Wiccans and other wannabe magicians?

At least I’m finally done with the favor. It had really been hanging over me.

Not that I’ve just been moping, either. I’ve had a lot of homework. Biology and geometry are killing me. Progress reports are coming up, and if I do as bad as I figure I deserve it’s goodbye gaming, goodbye what little life I have.

When we aren’t running, we walk around the neighborhood, Jonathan, Enrique, and me. Dogs hate us. One day, this big monster dog that looks like a cross between a Rottweiler and a Great Dane comes up, barking. At me.

It’s showing teeth, its ears are back, and it’s like my friends don’t even exist. The dog doesn’t see Jonathan’s big afro or Enrique’s mohawk. He’s only got eyes for me.

I feel Enrique freeze up next to me. My eyes close, my fingers itch and, I feel this urge to bring my head back and howl. I try to hold it in, but it’s too much. Just when I’m about to explode, I feel Enrique’s hand on my arm.

“What?” I snarl, pulling away.

“Stanley?” Enrique says. “You okay?”

I open my eyes. The dog is gone.

“Dude, Stanley?” Jonathan says. “You are seriously weird sometimes.”

“Why do you think I hang out with you?” I say.

At school, they let me run again in P.E. I almost think about trying out for the track team again. But I’m not nearly fast enough. Yet.

I’m not telling anyone about Zach’s vitamins. I don’t know about Enrique, and I don’t want to ask him. Because if I ask him, he’ll ask me. And I don’t want to talk about it. I do know the vitamins disappeared from his doorstep. There are definitely others taking them: runners who want to bulk up, kids with bad skin, all kinds of problems. They come to Zach’s locker, but he’s smart enough not to hand out pills in school.

Karen has been avoiding everyone. My only opportunity is science class. We’re lab partners, but she avoids touching me. Or looking at me. Or talking to me.

Is it all about the stupid vitamins? I’ve tried calling her, but she won’t return my calls. I’ve walked by her house, but she doesn’t answer the door. I sent her an invitation, but she’ll never come.

Because today is my birthday. October twentieth. My second month of school. A full moon.

So I’m in P.E. We’re playing basketball in the gym, and I’ve just scored a basket.

I could fly up into the bleachers, my feet are so light. I run back towards the center court, and then suddenly I
am
flying, a foot in front of my foot sending me sailing, to land teeth first on the hard, waxed floor.

There’s blood in my mouth as I get shakily to my feet. I flex my knee carefully.

Still no pain. Except in my mouth. Blood drips onto the wax. They’re going to have to call the custodians to clean it up.

Someone is laughing.

He’s on the other team, but mostly he’s just Gary Frumberg, a big one hundred and eighty-pound pain in the ass. How can I put this? My fingers and teeth itch, frankly, to rip out his throat.

He points to his foot. I wipe my mouth, taste and see blood.

Where are the coaches? Probably watching television in their office.

I walk towards Gary, dripping blood all over the gym floor. He is going to be very sorry.

I am sure of this.

Which makes no sense whatsoever, since I’ve never even been in a fight before, and he outweighs me by more than sixty pounds.

But something inside me is ready to do more than fight.

For the first time I can remember, I feel dangerous.

Our eyes meet. Do I scare him?

Probably not.

But at least he shuts up for a minute. I walk into the locker room and go to look at myself in a mirror. My lip is split and swelling. Blood from my lip is smeared across my face.

Happy Birthday, Stanley.

But my self-pity is interrupted by someone behind me. It’s Gary. He’s smiling at me. I guess my eyes didn’t scare him. Not enough, anyway. He shouldn’t be here now. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I feel ready to rip him apart.

“You okay, Stanley? It was just a joke, right?”

My fists clench and my eyes close. But I can’t avoid smelling him there behind me. My senses seem in overdrive. I can almost smell the burgers they’re grilling in the cafeteria. But Frumberg’s sweaty stink overpowers everything, and it fills me with rage.

I don’t know what’s happening to me, but one thing is clear.

Gary should have stayed in the gym.

“Just an accident, right, Stanley?”

How can he use the word “just” together with “an accident?” The pills gave me a second chance to run. Would I get a third one?

That’s when it happens. My teeth, loose already, fall out of my gums, filling my mouth. I spit them out onto the floor with a gasp, my mouth full of blood.

But that’s not all. Great pain rips through my shoulders, my legs. My skin itches all over like I’m covered with sores that are about to burst. I feel this terrible pain in my feet, like my shoes are suddenly way too small. There’s a ripping sound and I flex my toes.

“What the—” Gary gasps.

I turn around, ready to punch Frumberg, all one hundred and eighty pounds of him.

But he is nowhere to be seen. He’s flown the coop. The room is empty.

What the hell is going on? I turn and look at the mirror on the wall.

My face is covered with hair. My mouth is full of sharp teeth. My whole body is covered with dark, coarse hair. Dark, coarse fur.

This can’t be happening.

But somehow it is. And the pain just makes me want to tear the room apart.

My gym shorts are ripping, my shirt is tearing, and I want to do nothing else to drop to all fours and run out and find Gary. Rip his fricking head off.

Something tells me that’s not a good idea.

I let my fists relax and look down. There are torn gym shoes next to my...feet?

They look more like monstrous paws. I look down at my hands. They still itch and I feel the need to hit something.

I walk gingerly and awkwardly on my hind feet into the shower. The plan is to grab the shower handle and turn it, but my paws bend it instead, almost ripping it off. My claws rake the shower wall in anger and there is a loud crash. The tile is scratched and cracked.

Oh shit. What have I done now?

I need to calm down or soon the whole school will be in here, with our assistant principal calling on his radio for backup.

I reach out a paw again, gingerly, and try to turn the knob.

Cold water sprays out on me. My left hand is still clenched into a clawed fist.

I let it loose, let the water run over my fur, calming the hot blood that flows through my veins.

“Stanley?” someone calls.

My skin, my bones, my body shrinks and twists. I want to black out, but I stay standing. The water turns warm and I realize maybe it never was cold. My blood was just that hot.

I look down and I’m naked.

But human.

The fur is gone.

Talk about one crazy psychotic episode.

But I look at the wall, and there are the cracks in the tile next to the bent faucet.

“Stanley Hoff?” someone is calling again.

“I’ll be right there!” I call out in a panic.

There’s a cart full of towels next to the shower and I cover myself.

I reach up my hand to my face, but where is the blood? Where’s my split lip? Did I imagine that, too?

My face doesn’t even hurt.

My clothes and shoes, though, are wrecked.

Somehow it was real.

I am a monster.

But I’m also a boy.

A boy who’s about to be in a lot of trouble if he doesn’t think quickly.

I gather up my torn shoes and my torn shirt and grab a towel and throw everything else into a pile at the bottom of my locker.

Good thing I have a second pair of shoes.

“Stanley?”

I turn around.

Gary Frumberg is staring at me. His face has gone white.

“What happened to you?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

As freaked as I am, it’s still nice to see the smile wiped off of his face.

Somehow I doubt that Gary Frumberg will intentionally piss me off again. Ever.

“You played some fricking trick on me. And now you’re smiling at me like nothing happened. What are you playing at, Stanley?”

“Nothing,” I say honestly. “I’m not playing at anything.”

“I’m going to find Coach,” Frumberg says.

He stumbles out of the room as I start getting dressed.

Suddenly all I can think of is that my mother can’t know. She’d go crazy.

But who am I to talk? This is all crazy.

Behind me boys are whispering. There are kids all around me now in the locker room, but no one is talking to me. But then my buddy Enrique is there next to me.

“Man, Stanley, you are a beast,” he says. “You totally freaked Frumberg out.”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice trembling just a little.

“You okay?”

I don’t know how to respond.

“I mean,” he says, “you got yourself back under control?”

“Yeah,” I say, calmer now, pulling on a clean shirt. “I guess so.”

“Good,” he says. “Because Coach is on his way.”

“Is he mad?” I ask. “Am I in trouble?”

He shrugs. “I picked up your teeth,” he whispers so low that only I can hear. “I don’t think anyone saw them.”

The coach walks in.

“What happened, Hoff? What did you to do Frumberg?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing happened,” I lie.

Nothing you would believe, anyhow.

“Why did you come in here, then?”

“Gary tripped me, and I fell down and my nose started bleeding. My lips too. It was all over my shorts and shirt. So I came in here to wash up. He must have got freaked out by all the blood.”

The coach just kind of stares at me.