Wicked Hunger

by DelSheree Gladden

Chapter Nine: Dreaming, Dreaming

  (Vanessa)

  I walk toward the cafeteria still stewing over Zander’s response to my question about the weird taste. I don’t believe him. His odd reaction to my questions, and generally ridiculous answers, has been under my skin all day. Zander is probably right about this having something to do with getting closer to my sixteenth birthday. The part he’s lying about is what he knows. That was pretty obvious.

  The problem is, if I keep asking him about it, he’ll avoid the questions even more, maybe even start avoiding me. I wouldn’t want that on a normal day. With Ivy around, I can’t let that happen. I huff in irritation, completely stumped on what to do.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Ketchup asks as he falls in step with me.

  I glance over at him, unsure of what to say, but glad he appeared. In my head, I know this isn’t something I should discuss with him. Words that will brush off his concern form on my lips, but I can’t say them. There is so much banging around in my head that if I don’t let at least some of it out, I am going to explode.

  “I think Zander is lying to me about something,” I blurt out before I can change my mind.

  Ketchup looks a little surprised that I actually told him, but he doesn’t let that stop him. “Lying about what?”

  Now I balk. How on earth do I explain this without sounding like a total nutjob? “I, well… um.”

  Ketchup stops walking, his hand on my arm forces me to stop as well. I can’t meet his eyes. I knew it was stupid to say anything. A gentle hand under my chin pushes me to look up. Ketchup’s stern expression is both surprising and welcome.

  “Van, I know you’ve got some weird stuff going on. I figured that out a long time ago.” His grip softens as he slides his hand to rest on my cheek. “If I wasn’t good with weird, I would have bailed already. You can tell me. I can handle it, okay?”

  He seems so sure. I’m not nearly as confident, but my earlier argument wins again. I need someone to talk to. “Okay,” I say slowly.

  Ketchup smiles, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “I keep tasting this weird taste, and I asked Zander about it and he acted really weird and gave me some lame answer about it being normal, or whatever, but I knew he was lying because he got all tense and shifty, which made it pretty obvious he didn’t want to talk about it with me, and that’s really freaky because we don’t keep secrets from each other ever, and if he won’t tell me it must be really bad and I don’t know what to do about it,” I say all in one breath, too scared Ketchup will walk away before I can finish.

  I breathe in slowly and wait for Ketchup’s reaction.

  Frowning, he asks, “What kind of weird taste?”

  It takes me a moment to speak after his mild reaction. In my head that sounded like a whole string of random, crazy crap. He doesn’t even bat an eye.

  “Um, it’s kind of… well, it’s hard to explain. It’s not really any one taste I can identify. It’s like old socks and water that’s been sitting around for too long, like gross puddles mosquitos like to lay eggs in. And rotten food. It’s just gross.”

  Ketchup thinks a moment before responding. “And you’ve only tasted it around Zander?”

  “So far,” I admit, “but I have a feeling it’s not just about him.”

  “And he won’t explain it?”

  I shake my head. “He basically brushed me off when I asked. That’s not like him at all. That’s what makes me think it means something bad.”

  Before Ketchup can say anything else, the hallway goes completely silent. Given how many students are hanging out in the hall right now, that’s really creepy. What’s even freakier is that Ketchup slips his arm around my waist and pulls me under his arm, but not in a romantic way. It’s more like he’s trying to protect me. Concerned, my eyes sweep the hallway for the source and land on one of the scariest guys I have ever seen. It isn’t his clothes or hair, or even the way he stalks through the crowd. His cold, dead eyes are what scare me. I can’t help but draw closer to Ketchup as he nears us.

  I have every intention of looking away, but I freeze when the familiar taste forces its way into my body. My stomach heaves and I panic. Spinning into Ketchups embrace, I bury my face against his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne in an effort to get away.

  A few seconds later, the world goes back to normal. Sound returns, as does the normal smell of teens chowing down on concession stand grub. Still, I don’t trust it. It takes Ketchup pulling back and forcing my chin up to convince me to rejoin the rest of the world.

  “Hey, are you okay? What happened?”

  “Who was that guy?”

  Ketchup looks at me like I’m crazy. “That guy? That was Alonso Vega. He’s been all over the news for months. How do you not know who he is?”

  “Grandma doesn’t let us watch the news, remember? Too many violent stories.”

  “Right, sorry,” Ketchup says.

  “Why has he been on the news?”

  Before speaking, Ketchup pulls me closer to the lockers. “Vega is a member of the Westsides. He was supposed to be involved in all those gang shootings last summer. He’s been on trial for the past few months, but they couldn’t pin him down and the jury let him loose even though everyone knows he’s on the gang’s cleanup crew.”

  “That guy’s a hitman?”

  “A pretty good one from what I’ve heard. Why?”

  “When he walked by, I tasted that same taste again.”

  Ketchup’s face scrunches. “So… what does that mean? Zander and Vega have something in common?”

  “Oh, no,” I say. “I really hope that isn’t what it means.”

  Neither of us knows what to say after that. We walk to the cafeteria in silence. I’m not entirely sure what might be running through Ketchup’s mind, but I am on the verge of losing it.

  “Van! What took you so long?” Ivy says in a rush, surprising both me and Ketchup with her sudden appearance.

  Even my hunger takes a minute to roar to life. I practically jump back in hopes of getting away from her, but she follows me. In a moment of panic, I grab Ketchup’s hand for strength to resist my hunger and yank it behind my back where Ivy can’t see it. Either Ivy doesn’t notice, or just pretends she doesn’t. Either way, she rattles on.

  “You meeting up with Noah this weekend wasn’t supposed to be a secret or anything, was it?”

  “What? No. Why?” What on earth made her think that?

  “Who’s Noah?” Ketchup demands.

  “Are you sure?” Ivy asks, ignoring Ketchup’s question entirely. “I mentioned it to Zander and he got kind of weird about it.”

  All the fear and confusion I’ve been carrying around today suddenly gets ten times worse. Mixing with my hunger, I begin to feel lightheaded. “You talked to Zander? When?”

  “You talked to Zander?” Laney repeats, popping into the conversation as well. “Ooh, tell us all about it. What did he say?”

  “Uh, can we go sit down first?” I beg as my hunger begins to escalate. I need a little more separation as soon as possible. Thankfully, everyone agrees and scurries over to the table.

  Sitting a good five feet away so my hunger only simmers instead of rages, I focus on Ivy. I want details. “You talked to Zander?” I ask as casually as possible.

  “Yeah,” Ivy says slowly, watching me just as closely as I am her. “He was in my homeroom class. I guess Mr. Dalton was helping him with some homework.”

  Dalton. It’s plausible, but I’m not real big on coincidences. If it wasn’t by chance, Zander was the one who sought Ivy out. This screwed up day is getting worse by the minute.

  “Who cares about homework?” Laney says. “What’d you two talk about? And what did you say about Van going out with Noah? Who’s Noah?” When her waterfall of questions finishes, she stares at me and her cousin eagerly.

  Her questions about Noah dredge up a pretty heavy dose of guilt. Suddenly, I can�
��t even look in Ketchup’s direction. “Noah’s my new English partner, and it’s nothing,” I say with a shrug. “We might get together this weekend to start working on our project.”

  “We’ll discuss Noah more later,” Laney says, turning back to Ivy.

  Ketchup seems to be echoing that same sentiment when I risk a glance at him. I shrink down in my chair even more.

  “Now what about Zander?” Laney asks.

  “Nothing,” Ivy says. “We just talked for a few minutes in the hall. I asked him if he needed any more help with his homework. He said he might, and I offered to help him with it this weekend. That’s when I brought up Noah. He seemed… not upset, but really surprised. I thought maybe I wasn’t supposed to mention him.”

  I wave away her concern, and hopefully Ketchup’s as well, with only half my attention on them now. The rest of my mind is scrambling to make sense of what she just said. The idea of Ivy and Zander simply talking in the hall is laughable. Whether she saw it or not, he would have been fighting his hunger the entire time. If that had been me, I would have needed to go demolish another punching bag. Zander has way more control than I do, but I bet he’s suffering right now, which makes me bite my lip with worry.

  He can’t possibly be planning on letting Ivy tutor him. I know he doesn’t believe me that there’s something up with her, but his hunger for her is reason enough to stay away. It would be insane to purposely subject himself to that. Which I guess is what he thinks I’m doing by not ditching Laney, but at least I have friendship and protecting family as a reason behind my choice. What does he have? Does he want to screw up? Doesn’t he understand what that would mean?

  I don’t get it. I want to crush Ivy every time I see her. That’s pretty hard for me to ignore. Zander’s more developed tastes are even harder to push away, especially the way his hunger leans. If he doesn’t stay away from Ivy, he’s going to end up killing her.

  Laney’s elbow bangs into my ribs, jarring me from my thoughts. “What?” I snap.

  “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “Um, no.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Movie. Seven o’clock. The three of us, plus whoever else wants to come. You can even invite this Noah guy if you want.”

  I can feel Ketchup stiffen next to me.

  I shake my head right away. “Laney, it’s Friday. You know I can’t go. Besides you know how Grandma feels about us going to movies.”

  “It’s a tame enough movie. Come on, you’ll be back in time to go with us,” Laney argues.

  “It doesn’t matter. You know Fridays are hard. I won’t want to go anywhere.”

  “It might make you feel better to go out and do something afterward.”

  She tries over and over again to get me to go somewhere on Friday nights. I don’t know why she doesn’t give up. It never works. “No, Laney. Leave me alone about it, okay?”

  Surprisingly, she does. Her bottom lip pushes out in a sulky pout, but she doesn’t say anything else. Ivy pipes up instead.

  “Where do you go on Fridays?” she asks.

  I debate ignoring her, but if I don’t tell her someone else will. Taking a deep breath, I say, “We’re going to visit my brother, Oscar.”

  “Oh, where does he live?”

  “Peak View Hospital.”

  Ivy’s eyes grow sad and wide, though I doubt her sincerity. “Oh my gosh, is he sick? I’m so sorry, Van. What does he have?”

  “No,” I say slowly, “it’s not that kind of hospital. Oscar is in a psychiatric facility.”