Wicked Hungry (7 page)

“How come you’re not bleeding now, then?” he asks.

“You know, Coach,” I say, “that’s a very interesting question.”

Coach blinks once, twice.

“All right, whatever. I don’t even want to understand this. The two of you stay away from each other.” Then he turns away and blows his whistle.

“What are you all staring at? Get dressed, the bell’s about to ring!”

He walks out of the locker room.

Enrique puts his hand on my shoulder. “You going to stay cool, Stanley? Make it through the rest of the day?”

I shrug. “I don’t know if I can control it.”

“Just think calm thoughts, man. And maybe think of a good story to tell the assistant principal.”

“Ok, Enrique,” I say, “but come by the house later.”

He nods, and then his voice goes down to a whisper: “I’ll bring your teeth.”

I
get to my locker and it’s slightly open. The lock is missing, too. Which is bad. Very bad. Because if there’s anything I’m OCD about, it’s locking my locker. Slamming the door shut and snapping in the combination lock. Even turning it a couple of turns for good measure. Always. Every single time. When was the last time I opened it? Closed it? This morning, before class. When I took out two Slim Jims. Which are already in my stomach.

I pull the locker open and just stare for a moment.

The boxes of Slim Jims and beef jerky are gone. And the bag. The bag with the athame. The wooden sword my mother had blessed, told me was sacred.

There is nothing in there but my history and biology books.

And a little note. A yellow post-it.

“MEAT IS MURDER.”

I turn around, looking for who could have done this to me. My stomach doubles over in a cramp. I feel a little dizzy. I need to lie down. It’s hard to believe that just a few minutes ago I was feeling on top of the world. Invincible.

There’s a tap on my shoulder and I turn around, look up to see Mr. Piper.

He’s got black hair cut very short and a goatee. His eyes are dark brown; he has thick, dark lashes and wears thin-rimmed Italian glasses.

“Stanley Hoff?” he says.

I nod, trying to straighten up, but another cramp hits me.

“In my office,” he says. “Right now.”

“But sir—”

“Now,” he says.

“My stuff,” I say. “It’s gone.”

“We’ll discuss that
in my office
.”

Oh my God, has he found the athame? What must he think of me—that I’m going to sacrifice someone? That I’m some kind of devil-worshipping dagger-wielding freak?

I’ve got nothing to do but follow him, because Mr. Piper is our ninth and eleventh grade principal.

He’s already sitting at his desk when I stumble in. He doesn’t get up. His desk is covered with piles of papers. There’s a note on top of all the others that I can’t help noticing. All it says is: “CHECK STANLEY HOFF’S LOCKER.”

In cut-out letters from some magazine.

Somebody turned me in. Zach, maybe? But why? I’m taking his vitamins. I brought in the athame—isn’t that what he wanted? Or is the meat? That I’m not eating ethically, like he talked about? But if that’s it, couldn’t he have just talked to me at church?

Next to the pile of papers are my boxes of Slim Jims and beef jerky.

Exhibit A and Exhibit B.

But there’s no Exhibit C. No wooden sword. Where is my athame?

Behind the desk are some diplomas in gothic script and a flute. It’s silver and shiny, and he has it affixed to the wall.

Mr. Piper smiles at us every day out in the halls. But he isn’t smiling now.

“Take a seat.”

I sit down.

He stands up, walks over to the door and shuts it. This isn’t a good sign. Principals almost always have their doors open.

“You’re one very hungry guy, aren’t you, Stanley?”

I nod. “I’ve been having weird cravings.”

Mr. Piper seems to find this quite amusing. He chortles a little. “You’re thin as a rail, Stanley. You expect me to believe these are all for you? You know you aren’t allowed to sell food in school, unless it’s a fundraiser. Or keep food overnight in your locker. Can you explain this?”

“How come you searched my locker?”

“We received a note. Anonymously. Tell me, Stanley, what’s all this about?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been very hungry.”

“We’ll just have to get something for you, then, won’t we, Stanley? Can’t have you starving here in my office.”

Just as he says this, the smell hits me. Food, rapidly approaching. It smells like the cafeteria, but stronger.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Mr. Piper says, loud and firm. The door opens.

Ms. Jensen walks in carrying a cafeteria tray. It’s all I can do to keep from growling and jumping at the plate.

“Here’s the steak you ordered, Mr. Piper. I’m sorry it’s so rare.”

“That’ll be fine, won’t it, Stanley?”

I nod, my fists unclenching, reaching out for the tray, but Mr. Piper is faster. Out of his chair before I can react, he grabs the tray and lets Ms. Jensen out, thanking her.

“Still hungry, Stanley?” he asks me, holding the tray.

I nod, stand up to take it from him, but he keeps it out of reach, puts it down behind him on his desk. The smell is so strong I can taste it. I try to stand up but he pushes me down with one hand. He’s surprisingly strong.

“Just a moment, Stanley. You’re going to have to earn your meal.”

“What do you want?”

There’s something about Mr. Piper that isn’t quite right. Like if I look at him sideways, he kind of glows a little. Like the flute. What’s going on here? I just want to eat.

Another cramp doubles me over.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? I understand better than most people what you must be going through. I know you aren’t dealing in meat snacks. The whole thing is ridiculous.”

I look up, hopeful.

“But the teachers are crying for blood, you know that? They’re finding wrappers all over their classrooms. Now I realize it’s not just you. A lot of children seem to be having meat cravings these days. But not everybody has two whole boxes of meat snacks in their lockers. You see how we’re in kind of a sticky situation?”

God, the meat looks good on that tray.

“What do you want?”

If his hand wasn’t still pressed against my chest, I would jump past him and dive at the tray. I’ll tell him anything he wants if he’ll just let me eat.

“I’d like to vouch for your character to the teachers, but I don’t know you well enough. I’d like to give you a free meal right now, too, but these two things, you have to earn them, you see? And you’re going to have to owe me a favor, too. And I take favors very seriously.”

“Tell me what you want,” I say. “Please.”

“What I want is a reason not to call your mother. Does your mother know about your meat, Stanley? About the three solid pounds of meat snacks we found in your locker?”

I shake my head.

“Is your mother encouraging you to deal in meat snacks?” he asks me.

I shake my head again, my face growing warm.

He shakes his head, smiling. “No, she doesn’t like meat, does she, your mother?”

I shake my head.

“Okay, listen. You owe me a favor.”

I nod my head.

“You promise to repay the favor when you’re asked.”

Piper has let go of me and is back in his seat. The flute, strangely, is in his hands. Stranger still is the fact that I can’t remember him taking it down off the wall or putting it to his lips. And yet it seems so natural there, like a pencil in his hand.

“I’m not sure,” I say.

He plays a little tune. Just a few notes, but I find myself nodding.

“Of course. I owe you a favor. I’ll repay the favor when asked.”

His smile is as big as my confusion, but I forget everything else as he hands me the still-steaming tray.

Biting in, I taste the juices that I’ve been smelling for what seems like hours. It’s all I can do to keep myself from ripping it apart with my bare hands.

“So, Stanley. Let’s cut to the chase. Have you been taking the supplements?”

I stare at him, my mouth open. What if they’re illegal?

“Just nod or shake your head.”

I close my mouth.

“I said just nod or shake your head, Stanley.”

Why can’t I just shake my head?

“You can’t tell me, can you?”

“I don’t know. I want to talk, but—”

“How much do you know?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Whatever anyone tells you, they’re not vitamins, Stanley. And they’re not organic or biodynamic, either.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“All I can tell you is they aren’t what they seem. They aren’t for you. They aren’t for people at all.”

Aren’t for people? Were they made for animals or what?

“Stanley, I’m going to talk to you man to man. Can you tell me what really happened in that locker room?”

I shrug. “I don’t think so. I’d like to, but—I mean, I didn’t do anything to him. I just went in there to clean up. And then...”

Mr. Piper waits for me for a moment to finish my sentence. “And then?”

I just sit there.

“Just tell me this. You’re leaving a whole lot out, aren’t you?”

I nod. “Don’t want to say anything crazy, do I?”

“Like about turning into some kind of animal?”

Mr. Piper stares at me for a while, waiting for an answer. That’s when I notice something strange about a book on his desk. When I look at it directly, I notice that it’s a yearbook from ten years ago. But when I look at it from the side, it’s a lot older. Something’s fishy here. That’s not a yearbook. Yearbooks don’t have weird gold lettering that shimmers.

I look back at Piper. “Do
you
think I turned into an animal?”

“The world is a strange place,” Mr. Piper says. “All I can say is that you’ve got to be careful what you wish for. Everything carries its price.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I say.

“Good,” he says, nodding. “Now off to class with you. I’ve got other fish to fry.”

Outside his office I see Carolina, sitting in a chair, waiting. She’s in my English class, but I don’t know her very well. All I know is she’s new and she hangs out with Meredith, who I used to hang out with in elementary school. Carolina and I have never talked before, but now she looks up at me from her chair. We lock eyes for a moment, and she winks at me, like we’re sharing a secret.

But if so, what’s the secret?

I want to talk to her, but I need to get to class, and she’s already being called into Mr. Piper’s office.

I
n the halls I catch people looking at me. Old friends from cross-country start talking about me when I pass by. But they get quiet when I look at them.

In English we work in groups. Today Meredith and Carolina are working with Jonathan and me. We’re supposed to be writing a Halloween story together. But I don’t think Meredith and Carolina came over to our group because they are interested in our writing skills. They want to find out what happened to Gary.

Meredith is tall; her hair is long and straight and black, pulled back into a pony tail. Her eyes are huge and brown, her lips are red and full, and I think I’m staring at them just as she nudges me under the table.

I’ve known Meredith since elementary school. I think she even came to my birthday party in fifth grade. I’ve had a crush on her for years, since we were little. But she hasn’t talked to me for just as long, as I became weirder and she became more popular.

Carolina though just moved from Salem with her parents. It’s just like an hour and a half from Lansfeld, but I’ve never been there. Which is weird, I guess, since my mother is a witch.

That’s not all that’s weird about Carolina, though. I catch her look around quickly and then take a bite out of something. Swallow. I don’t have to see it clearly to know what it is. I can smell it. It’s meat. Beef jerky. Carolina catches me sniffing, or looking, and for the second time today our eyes meet. For a moment I feel her hunger, feel the moon, the call of the forest. I want to get out of this building and run out into the trees behind the school.

I want to hunt.

Pull yourself together, Stanley.
I shake my head to clear it. Meredith nudges me again, and I look at her blankly.

“Stanley!”

“Huh?”

I think I need to get some kind of
Small Talk for Dummies
book.

“How’s it going?” Meredith says.

Carolina giggles, and I look at her again. What is there about her eyes? Why is she sneaking Slim Jims?

“Fine,” I say.

Carolina giggles again. “We’ve
got
to invite you to my Halloween party.”

Meredith pumps her fist. “
Yes
! That would be so cool. It’s going to be really scary. Carolina lives over by the cemetery.”

I nod. “Okay...”

“But tell us how you scared Gary like that,” Carolina says.

I don’t look at her this time. I look at Meredith instead as I screw up my face and hold my hands up above my head like claws. They stare at me in shock, but I crack up, and then everyone at our table is laughing.

Meredith sticks out her tongue at me.

I thought I could only be like this with Jonathan and Enrique, but maybe not. Maybe if I relax, I can make pretty much anyone laugh, or at least smile.

If only I could get Karen out of my head. I finger the friendship bracelet on my wrist.

And if that wasn’t enough, track tryouts are coming up. If Lauren gives me the okay. She can’t hold off much longer, I figure. All the scans show no scarring. I feel fit as a fiddle, but if so, why are my hands shaking?

Just as we are about to be released from class, Carolina is called away to the office for a second time. She looks confused, surprised. She even looks at me for a moment, like I could clue her in, but I just shrug.

Unless ... unless she’s been hiding meat snacks in
her
locker, too.

What have I gotten myself into?

W
alking home from the bus, I smell something in the wind. It’s sweet, tangy. The smell of blood. I follow it into the woods by my house. First there is just the smell, faint in the air. Then there’s a raccoon. Or what was left of one. It’s torn apart. All I can really recognize is the tail.