Wicked Hunger (5 page)

“It was nothing,” I say with a sigh. “It’s over with.”

“Zander…”

“Leave it alone, Van.”

She doesn’t say anything else, so I pull out of the parking lot and drive home. Crickets fill the warm night air as we walk up to our modest home where our grandmother waits for us. The only sound that joins their serenade is the second wooden step that creaks on our way to the porch. I have hopes of making it inside and up to my room wrapped in the same silence. That dream is dashed when Van lightly touches my shoulder as we reach the door. I freeze, fearing what she has to say.

“It was Ivy, wasn’t it?” she asks.

I don’t answer, but I’m sure she can feel the way my body tenses at the mere mention of that name.

Van sighs. “Then it’s not over, Zander. You’ll see her again. You’ll have to fight off the hunger again and again.”

“You don’t know that,” I say, hating how quiet and fearful my voice sounds.

“Just trust me on this one,” Van says. “Ivy is here for a reason.”

That’s the last thing she says before slipping past me and into the house. It takes me a few minutes to follow her in. My grandmother’s voice follows me, letting me know there is dinner in the kitchen. I mumble my thanks and walk past without going in. I’m not hungry. Not hungry for food, anyway. All I can think about is Ivy. I still don’t believe there is any design behind her appearance, but I do agree with Van on one thing. Today wasn’t the last time I’ll have to battle my hunger because of Ivy.

She’s pure, unadulterated Kryptonite to me, but I want more of her. As much as I can get. No, it isn’t over yet. I won’t let it be over.

On my way to the cafeteria, I am surprised when Zander appears beside me. I look over at him in question. “Is everything okay?”

“That’s what I wanted to find out,” he says. “Have you seen Ivy today?”

I shake my head, and bite back the desire to ask him the same question. If I pry, it will only inspire another argument. I decided last night that the only thing I can do to protect Zander is watch as carefully as I can and find out what Ivy is before anyone gets hurt.

“How are you doing with everyone else?” Zander asks, the conversation becoming more normal. Checking in on each other is a regular habit.

Grandma wanted our parents to homeschool us to limit our contact with people who elicit our hunger, but Mom and Dad knew we would need to learn to control ourselves in the real world. Outside of school, though, we tend to avoid crowds, just in case.

“Being around Ivy seems to make everyone else a little harder to deal with,” I admit, “but I’m doing okay. It helps that Evan Conners moved last week. I don’t think I could handle having three classes with him right now.”

Zander nods in agreement. “If you need me…”

I wave him off. “I’ll be fine. The only class we have together is Home Ec. Being around her when I’m cooking helps. There are lots of distractions.”

“Don’t you eat lunch together?”

“Sure, but I don’t sit right next to her or anything, and Ketchup’s there.”

The grunt that slips out of Zander’s mouth makes me look away.

“It helps to have him around,” I say quietly.

Zander shakes his head, but doesn’t argue. “Just be careful, please.”

“Yeah, you too.”

His shoulders bunch, but he doesn’t say anything else. He turns to leave, but something makes me stop walking. A sound? I pause, trying to figure out what exactly it was. My nose wrinkles as I realize it wasn’t a sound or something I saw, it was a taste. Without making it obvious I’m scoping out the hallway, I try to figure out where it’s coming from.

“Van, what’s wrong?” Zander asks looking very anxious. “Is it your hunger?”

I shake my head, still scanning. “No, it’s this weird taste. I can’t figure out…”

Turning to face my brother, the taste intensifies. Zander? Then I notice his wide eyes and tense posture. I’m about to question him, when it suddenly vanishes. I test for the taste again, but it’s gone. Maybe it was nothing. “Huh, that was weird. Has that ever happened to you?”

“What?” Zander says, flinching at the sound of his own voice. He looks away from me as if the hallway suddenly holds something more interesting than milling teenagers. “Hey, I better get to class. See you later.”

And then he takes off.

I stand there for a few minutes totally confused. That seems to be happening a lot lately. Now, I am sure I didn’t imagine the strange taste, or that it was coming from Zander. He obviously knew what I was talking about, too. Why wouldn’t he tell me? As close as Zander and I are, the idea that he might be keeping a secret from me is not only surprising, it’s frightening. Keeping secrets when lives are on the line never turns out well.

The familiar feeling of fear begins creeping up my spine as I walk toward the cafeteria. I balk at the open double doors, unsure if I can handle seeing Ivy right now. I begin to wonder if the strange taste is somehow connected with Ivy. Two oddities appearing at the same time seems more than coincidental. It’s a logical jump, but something seems wrong about the idea.

Trust is a hard thing when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder for someone who is ready to betray your secrets. Even within my own family, trust is difficult. Grandma tries to help, but I’ve often had the impression she holds back more than what she shares. I think there are things Zander doesn’t tell me, too, in hopes of protecting me. One thing I have learned to trust are my own instincts. They are the reason I have any friends at all. If my instincts are pointing the finger at both Ivy and Zander, I’m going to listen. I’m going to find out what is hiding behind their lies.

I plan to start with Ivy.

That’s why when she walks up to the table with her tray of nasty cafeteria food, I don’t run. Pushing my hunger away requires putting a little distance between us, namely moving away from her and closer to Ketchup. He doesn’t object, but he does throw me a questioning look. It causes me no end of guilt to use him like this. The last thing I want to do is give him false hope, but having him near me is so mind-stealing, it makes even my hunger a little woozy.

I have no idea what Ketchup is thinking, but he doesn’t try to further anything between us. I let his nearness distract my hunger, and try to think of something to say to Ivy as I take a bite of my pizza. I want to ask her how she ended up running into Zander yesterday, but I can't think of how to do that without sounding like I am attacking her. Laney saves me from having to figure it out.

"So, Ivy bumped into Zander again yesterday afternoon."

I try to look surprised. "Oh really?"

"Yep," Laney says, obviously leaving the floor open for Ivy to finish explaining. Ketchup interrupts before she can.

"Please don't tell me you're already chasing after Zander." He rolls his eyes at her. "I'll tell you right now, it isn't going to happen. Zander does not date. Plus, I don't know what girls see in him. He is the definition of boring. Try talking to him for more than five seconds and you'll see what I mean."

Laney glares at him. "Shut up, Ketchup. The only reason Zander doesn't talk to you is because you're annoying and beneath his notice. He's perfectly talkative to other people, just ask Ivy. She talked to Zander yesterday for quite a while."

That catches my attention. "Oh really?"

"It was just a few minutes," Ivy clarifies. "I ran into him by the football field."

"What were you doing at the football field? Did you watch practice?" I ask. It's a pretty direct question, but a reasonable one. I'm not into football a ton, but practice is pretty exciting to watch, especially when Zander is out there. It's not unusual for there to be a small crowd at the team's practices. It surprises me when Ivy stumbles over her answer.

"No, I wasn't. I, um, wasn't there to watch anybody. I just needed to find someone. The track coach. I ran track at my last school, and I wanted to see about getting on the team here."

I'm not sure if I believe her, but I say, "Oh, I've heard Coach Holland is pretty good. You think you'll try out?” Too many questions or doubts might spook her and make her stop talking to me. I pack her words and reaction away for later.

“Yeah, I think so, but training doesn’t start for a while,” Ivy says. “I’ve got a few months to get back into running shape, so I was thinking maybe I’d try out one of your dance classes.”

“Really? Ballet or hip hop?” I ask, not exactly thrilled with the idea, or the fact that she’s distracting me from the conversation about Zander. I let my focus slide before, but not this time.

“Ballet would be good conditioning for your legs, but hip hop would help your endurance.”

Ivy nods, and looks like she’s about to say something, but I have one more suggestion.

“Zander likes hip hop better, thinks ballet is too boring.”

Ivy’s body tenses. I hadn’t noticed her unseasonably long sleeves before, but I take notice of them when she tugs them down. My fingers bite into the table. Zander said he’d
almost
slipped up. Just how close did he come? I suddenly want her to come to one of my classes despite the risk. For ballet she’ll need a leotard, hopefully a sleeveless one, but even for hip hop her long sleeved shirt will be too hot. She’ll have to bare her arms either way. I want to know just how close my brother came to killing her. Bruises can tell stories better than most people. Hers will tell just how much danger Zander is in. If I have to take Ivy out of the picture to protect him, I will.

“Ooh, do the hip hop, Ivy. It’s so much fun,” Laney says. “I totally suck at it, but I still have a blast doing it. When’s your next hip hop class that’s not for your teeny weeny dancers?”

“Tonight, actually. It starts at six.” I can’t tell whether Ivy looks eager or unhappy. Just to make sure she doesn’t try to back out, I say, “Or I’ve got ballet tomorrow at five. You’re welcome to try either.”

Ivy looks oddly relieved. “I wouldn’t be able to come tomorrow, family thing. So I guess I’ll try hip hop tonight.”

“Cool,” I say. “The air conditioning isn’t the best at the studio, so make sure you wear something…breathable.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ivy says. Her eyes drop noticeably.

Needing to breath in air not contaminated by Ivy, I make up an excuse about forgetting something in my locker and bail on the rest of the lunch hour. Once in the hall, I lean against a row of lockers and take a deep breath. The plunk of Ketchup’s body hitting the locker next to me opens my eyes. Fear that he has indeed mistaken my behavior lately makes me pull back. His hand reaches out and grabs my arm before I can escape. He doesn’t try anything more than that, and I feel the tension in my body slipping away.

“Van, what’s going on?” he asks. “You’ve been acting kinda weird the last couple days. Is something going on at home?”

I sigh, knowing I can’t refuse him. “No. Well, not exactly. I don’t know.”

Ketchup chuckles
, “Thanks. That was illuminating.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, but eventually bumps his shoulder against mine and asks again if I’m okay.

“It’s
…complicated, Ketchup. I think something might be wrong, but I’m not sure. More than one something, actually.”

“And you can’t tell me about either one.” It’s not a question. He’s too familiar with these types of conversations to ask.

“I’m sorry. You know I would explain if I could.”

Ketchup nods, but I get the feeling he isn’t done with his questions yet. The important ones are still burning in his eyes. I wait. When he speaks, I wish I hadn’t waited.

“You’ve been acting different…with me. Has anything changed?”

My fingers start twitching. They want Ketchup. I want him. Slowly forcing my hands into my pockets, I say, “Nothing’s changed.”

“Then why…?”

“Ketchup, I’m sorry.” My head drops in shame. “I wasn’t trying to tease you. It’s just…I need you to be there for me.” I shake my head. That’s not fair. I can’t ask that of him. “Never mind. Forget I said anything, okay? I’ll deal with this. I won’t ask
…”

Ketchup’s fingers close around mine. “Whatever you need,” he says quietly. “You know I’m not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t say anything else before letting my hand fall from his and walking away. It takes me a long time to start breathing again. Wiping away my tears takes even longer. I don’t deserve him. He gives me everything, and all I do is turn him away. I am the one holding him back. It was my choice. He says he’ll always be here, but I know one day he’ll get tired of waiting and walk away for real. That is every bit as terrifying to me as the thought of losing Zander.

As the herd of students begins spilling out of the cafeteria, I pull myself together. Ketchup’s touch and promise linger in my heart, but I have to focus on Zander and Ivy right now. I drag my feet down the hall to the Home Ec lab and make my way to my table. When Ivy wanders in, the battle to control my hunger renews. It is an hour of torture. I don’t have to take any extraordinary measures, like mangling a piece of cast iron cookware to avoid breaking Ivy’s bones, but I manage to hold my hunger in check by sheer force of will and lots of spices to cloud the air and distract myself.

I’m still glad Home Ec is the only class we have together, though, because my will is only so strong. By the time the bell rings, I am dying to get away from her. As soon as Ivy’s pink striped head disappears around the corner, I make a mad dash to the empty boxing gym and lock the door behind me. The strong history of boxing in our area spawned the boxing gym, but it’s really only used after school when the team practices. I’m the only one who ever slips in here during the day. It’s one of the few places on campus I can be alone to deal with my hunger.

My bag gets ditched against the wall and I take up position in front of the heavy punching bag, knowing that if Grandma ever finds out about this, I will be dead. Guilt for that, and for willfully satiating my hunger plagues me. If I were stronger like Zander, I wouldn’t need this. My weakness screams at me, but I have to do something. The first hit thwacks into the leather and makes the bag lurch.