Wicked Hunger

by DelSheree Gladden

Chapter Seventeen: Traitorous Mouth

  (Vanessa)

  Zander hands me the drinks with barely a word and walks away. Not far, but far enough that I can’t hear anything he’s saying. It doesn’t stop me from seeing the odd expression on his face. Troubled would be an understatement. He’s trying to hide it, but I know my brother too well. No doubt Ivy is the source of his strangled mood.

  “Are you going to give me one of those, or what?” Ketchup says.

  I jump at the sound of his voice. I hadn’t noticed that he’d come up behind me. Without taking my eyes off Zander and Ivy, I hold his soda out to him. He takes it with a grumble, which I ignore. My attention is focused on my brother. He held her hand half an hour ago, but now he is back to keeping his distance. An impenetrable buffer of at least three feet separates them at all times.

  “Your slushy is melting.”

  Annoyed, I turn and glare at Ketchup.

  “What? It is,” he says. “What’s your deal with Ivy anyway? One minute you’re ready to punch her teeth out, the next you’re chatting with her at lunch.”

  I look around the area, and ask, “Where is Laney?”

  “She got mad that I wasn’t listening to her and went to get some nachos.” Ketchup shrugs, showing how little Laney's whereabouts mean to him. That’s one thing he and Zander have in common. Neither one of them can stand talking to Laney for more than five minutes.

  “Maybe I should go find her,” I say. I turn toward the concession line, but before I can get a good look, Ketchup hooks his arm around my shoulder and jerks me to his side. I look up at him, startled. “What was that for?”

  Just then, a few of Zander’s teammates plow through the crowd like a pack of wildebeests. Not a one of them are paying attention to what’s in front of them. They knock a few others down as they charge forward. When I look back at Ketchup, he smirks at me. “You’re welcome.”

  Throwing his arm off my shoulder, I wrinkle my nose at him and stalk over to a suddenly vacant bench to sit down. Ketchup follows, of course. He plops down on the bench and leans against the fence as he takes a drink. I do the same. The lightly carbonated slushy tickles my throat as it slides down. Usually it can make me smile, but not now. Not with Zander and Ivy chatting it up like everything is normal.

  “I’ve seen you do some cool stuff, Van, but I seriously doubt Ivy is going to spontaneously burst into flames just because you keep glaring at her,” Ketchup says.

  That thought brings a smile to my face. Ketchup laughs and elbows me in the side playfully. “Really, what do you have against Ivy?”

  I’m about to burst with the need to talk to someone about Ivy. I’ve tried handling it all on my own, keeping the details and possibilities straight. There’s just too much going on to keep everything separate and orderly. When Noah and I were talking between classes, I tried telling him some of my concerns about Ivy, but he thought I was just being overprotective. I can’t keep this all to myself anymore. Ketchup stuck by me when I started talking about strange, phantom tastes. I cross my fingers that he won’t bail on me after this.

  “I think Ivy is hiding something, and I think Zander is going to get hurt because of it.”

  Ketchup’s eyebrows rise as he takes another long draw from his soda. His lips slide off the straw thoughtfully, drawing my attention. I turn away from him quickly. “You think she’s playing Zander?” he asks.

  “I think she’s doing worse than that. I think she came here just to hurt him.” It’s a big accusation to make, one I couldn’t bring myself to mention to Noah. I wait for Ketchup to laugh or elbow me again.

  Instead, he leans closer to me until our shoulders are touching. “What makes you think Ivy’s going to hurt him?”

  The fact that he’s at least willing to hear me out is encouraging. In a hushed tone, I spill out all her odd comments, sneaking questions behind my back, insistence on being near my brother, and strange reactions to Zander’s bad treatment. As I’m telling him everything, it sounds a little crazy even to me. A small part of me orders my mouth to stop making noise. Deep down, I know I’m right. I watch Ketchup’s eyes narrow in thought, his mouth twist into something between believing and passing off everything I’ve said. I decide to take a big risk and tell Ketchup more than I should.

  “He hurt her, Ketchup. She showed up after practice and he grabbed her arm hard enough that she was still favoring it a couple days later. Despite that, she kept making an effort to be around him. And…” My voice trails off. Maybe I can’t tell him as much as I thought I could. The words stick in my throat. My fight with Zander earlier this week starts replaying in my head. He would have left if you’d told him the truth. I argued that he was wrong, but my confidence isn’t nearly so great sitting next to Ketchup with the words frozen on my lips.

  “And what?” Ketchup asks. When I don’t answer, he sets his drink down and curls his hand around mine. “You can tell me, Van.”

  Can I really? I stare at our hands intertwined. This isn’t just the guy futilely trying to get me to date him. This is also my lifelong friend. He’s backed me up plenty of times when I really needed someone on my side. And it’s cost him to do that. Ketchup is incredibly good looking. He’s fit and athletic, has strong features that could easily belong on film, thick jet black hair that reminds me of Superman, and the best smile I’ve ever seen. I know I’m not the only one who thinks this about him either. In any other reality, girls would be falling all over him, but because he’s friends with me, no one at school will even think of asking him out. He and I are a pair, even if not in the way he wants.

  “You know the way Zander feels about you?” I ask him.

  His brow crinkles, but he says, “Yeah. What does that have to do with Ivy?”

  “He feels the same way about Ivy, and so do I.”

  “What?” He stuck through the rest of my explanation with barely a comment, but this obviously doesn’t make any sense to him. “I don’t get it. I can believe you hate Ivy, but if Zander hated her, too, why would he be holding her hand and inviting her to football games?”

  “Zander doesn’t hate Ivy. I don’t hate Ivy either.”

  “But, you said it was the same way Zander felt about me.”

  I sigh, knowing that explaining this without actually explaining everything isn’t working very well. “Zander doesn’t hate you.” Ketchup stares at me, not convinced. I try to give him a little more. “Zander may think you’re a little annoying and pushy, but he doesn’t hate you.”

  “Annoying and pushy aren’t strong enough emotions to force his sister to dump me, Van. There has to be something more to it than that,” he says.

  “There is,” I say, “but it’s not something I can explain to you right now.”

  Frowning, his thumb starts wandering back and forth across my hand. The sensation pushes me to close my eyes and memorize the feeling. I don’t want him to stop. Ketchup’s voice seeps through my focus and pulls me back. “It has something to do with Oscar, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  He nods slowly. “I still don’t understand what’s going on with Ivy.”

  “There are certain people Zander and I shouldn’t be around. Ivy’s one of them. For Zander, you’re one of them.”

  “I’m not one of those people for you, though?” he asks, hope visible in his eyes.

  “No, not for me,” I admit, even though lying would probably make things considerably easier between us. His hand tightens around mine, and for a moment, I feel my fingers mimicking his.

  “So why is Zander with Ivy?”

  I shake my head wearily. “He thinks he’s in love with her. He knows he should stay away, but he can’t, or won’t. But that’s not really the strangest part. What’s really weird about Ivy is she’s the only person Zander and I have both needed to stay away from. That’s never happened before. Along with everything else, I know there’s something wrong with her. She didn’t end up in Albuquerque with me and Zan
der by accident, and she isn’t interested in my brother because he’s tall, dark, and handsome. I just can’t figure out what she’s after.”

  I wait for Ketchup to say something, my gaze traveling to his mouth in anticipation. My thoughts get a little jumbled as I stare. The way his lips press together as he thinks makes me wonder how they would feel against mine. I almost got to taste him once. Seconds before Ketchup actually got up the nerve to kiss me, Zander had come home and nearly devoured him. Ketchup thought Zander flew at him because he saw him trying to make out with his little sister. I didn’t know what else to say at the time, so I let him believe it. Now, even with Zander standing only a few feet away, I’m desperate to pick up where we left off.

  Ketchup’s head drops, stealing my focus, and reminding me of the impossibility of my secret desires. If my only problem was that Zander wanted to kill Ketchup, I know I could make it work. The sickness is a bigger problem. With how fast it progresses, I would have to see Zander every few days. We can never live very far apart. Zander will always be a very important part of my life.

  At one time, I thought I could get around this by relying on Oscar. It would have worked perfectly since Oscar not only didn’t want to maim Ketchup, he actually liked him. But that’s hardly a possibility now. Maybe someday I will figure something out that will allow me to stay in my brother’s life and have the one person in this world I want most, but for now I have to stay focused on keeping us alive.

  I make myself refocus on my discussion with Ketchup, and hold my breath for his reaction. Expecting either agreement or disbelief, when Ketchup doesn’t do either it throws me for a loop.

  “So, it isn’t just your brother being ridiculously overprotective that’s stopping you from letting me do more than this?” he asks, lifting our joined hands just enough to make sure I know what he’s talking about.

  It so wasn’t what I was expecting him to say that all I can do is stare at our hands. I know I should pull mine away. Until I can offer Ketchup a real future with me, I’m only hurting him. I know this is true, but my hand stays where it’s at as I say, “No, it’s more than that. Zander can’t be around you.”

  “He’s around Ivy, and you said it’s the same thing.”

  “It’s killing him to be so close to her. The only thing stopping him from hurting her is that he loves her enough to hold back, and no offense, but even if Zander doesn’t hate you, he doesn’t love you either.” I smile, hoping it will soften the harshness of my words. The corner of Ketchup’s mouth turns up, but not far, and not for long. “It’s really, really dangerous for Zander to be spending so much time with Ivy. I’m terrified he’s going to screw up and end up locked up or dead. They shouldn’t be around each other. Ivy knows that, but she still hangs around. I don’t get it.”

  “I do,” he says softly.

  When I look back over at him, I find his eyes already focused on me. The ache reflected there tears at my soul. “What do you mean?” I ask, startled that my voice is suddenly so shaky.

  “Look, Van, I won’t pretend to understand any of what you’ve told me tonight. I don’t get why Zander can’t be around me or Ivy, but I trust you enough to accept it. What I do know is that you are more than you’re willing to tell me. You’re just as dangerous as your brother, but just like Ivy, I’m not leaving.” His hand slips out of mine. I instantly miss his touch, but to keep myself from grabbing for him, I curl my fingers into a fist. I can’t give him false hope. That would just be cruel. He deserves better than that.

  That’s when his arm drapes across my shoulder and pulls me in. So much for the high road. I sit beside him stiffly, but I don’t pull away. I want more than anything in this moment to let my body sink against his. Lulled by Ketchup’s touch, what he just said doesn’t make it to my brain immediately. When it does, the falseness of his comparison of himself and Ivy clangs like a raucous cow bell in my ears.

  “Ivy isn’t in love with Zander.”

  “It’s a pretty good reason to overlook certain things,” he says. “Believe me, I know.”

  I have to close my eyes and pretend I didn’t hear that. “That’s not why she’s still with him.”

  Ketchup sighs at my refusal to acknowledge his feelings for me, but is good enough to lend some of his concentration back to our conversation. His brow crinkles as he thinks. I try to ignore the way his fingers tap on my shoulder, too, but it’s awfully hard. Not only does it remind me that his arm is around my shoulders when it shouldn’t be, it’s really irritating. I reach up to grab his fingers and make him stop tapping. Either he saw the move coming, or he planned it this way, but his hand curls around mine right as I reach for him, and he refuses to let go. Then he distracts me with an answer.

  “If Ivy knows Zander is dangerous, but isn’t in love with him, then she must be trying to bait him into hurting her.”

  “Why would she do that?” I ask. It’s not a new idea, kids have done that to me before—usually succeeding—but I don’t see what Ivy would get in exchange for the huge risk she’s taking.

  “Maybe she’s trying to expose him for what he is,” Ketchup says, “and I don’t mean like when Tommy Ned threw that baseball at your face just to watch the welt it gave you disappear within seconds. He did that to be a jerk and make you look like a freak.”

  “Which he did.”

  “You’re not a freak, Van,” Ketchup says sharply. I roll my eyes at him and urge him to spit out the rest of his explanation. I am too a freak.

  “For Ivy to put herself next to Zander, she’s got to have a bigger reason than that. She must want to show a bunch of people, or a certain person, how dangerous he is.”

  “Who would care that much?” I ask. “If Zander actually hurt Ivy, the police would get involved, but they would just think he was insane like Oscar. They’d lock him up and forget about him. Maybe it would be on the news for a while, but she wouldn’t have really accomplished anything.”

  Ketchup leans back, pulling me along with him. Before I know it, my head is resting on his shoulder comfortably. This time, I am in control enough to start to sit back up, but his arm tightening around me makes me pause. I look at him, ready to tell him that we shouldn’t. The pure puppy dog longing in his eyes begs me to give him just this one moment. I can’t resist. I realize I don’t want to. My head lies back down on his shoulder as a sense of warmth spreads through my body.

  “Maybe we can find out who, if anyone, is behind Ivy’s interest in Zander,” Ketchup says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Laney asked you both to go to her house Sunday, Ivy said she couldn’t because she wasn’t allowed to go places on Sunday.”

  My “and…” is implied in my expression.

  “I thought that was kinda weird when she said it. Unless her family is super religious, and Ivy is extremely obedient and pious—which doesn’t really fit with her pink striped hair and attraction to Zander—she’s lying. She’s hiding the real reason she can’t hang out on Sundays,” Ketchup says. “And if we try hard enough, I’m sure we can figure out what she’s really doing.”

  “Are you suggesting we spy on Ivy this Sunday?”

  “Yep.”

  “You really think we can do it without being caught?”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  He says it with such confidence that I wonder whether or not he has reason to be so sure of his abilities. Has he spied on me before? That leaves me with both an icky feeling, and an excited hum running over my skin. I’m not sure which one is more powerful, but I’m definitely going to make sure my curtains are closed tonight.

  Hoping my thoughts aren’t blatant in my expression, I turn to look at Ketchup. With my head on his shoulder, it puts our faces rather close together when he turns toward me as well. His eyes are suddenly all I can think about. In the dim lighting, the grayish blue color looks more gray than anything else. When we were little I used to tease him that his eyes were the color of mud. It made hi
m furious every time I said it. They’re still a strange mixture of grey and blue, but they don’t remind me of mud anymore. Instead, the colors look to be slowly blending together, a potter’s clay not yet molded into what it is meant to become. They hold immeasurable possibilities, and I think they are the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

  “You really want to help me?” I ask him quietly. In the midst of thumping bass and melodramatic voices blaring through the party, I’m not sure how he even hears me, but he nods with conviction. “Everything I’ve told you tonight sounds like a bunch of crap, but you’re willing to go along with it. Why?”

  “Because I trust you,” he says simply. The other reason is left unsaid, but it’s echoed in the way he holds me. Because he loves me, too.

  “We may get into trouble doing this,” I warn him.

  He grins. “That’s nothing new.”

  “I’m serious, Ketchup. This may lead to serious consequences for you.”

  “I said I’ll help, so I will.”

  Several minutes pass where neither one of us speaks. It isn’t uncomfortable. I have no desire to look away from the intensity of his gaze. I want to be swallowed by it.

  “You could have told me why you really broke up with me, Van.”

  “I still haven’t told you, not really,” I admit.

  “Tell me.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  “Yes you can. Nothing you can say will make me leave, Van.”

  “This will.”

  “No, it won’t. Whatever this thing with you and Zander really is, we could find a way to make it work.”

  My chin drops down. “If I choose you, I’d have to give up Zander. He’s my brother, Ketchup. I can’t do that to him.”

  Ketchup’s fingers glide across my cheek, tricking me into looking back up. His mouth hovers just above mine. “I’m not going anywhere, Van.”

  “I don’t want you to,” my traitorous mouth whispers.

  The desire in his eyes staggers me. When he leans in, I don’t move. I don’t even want to. I want to recapture the moment I lost two years ago.

  Incredibly loud slurping right next to my ear diverts my eyes to find Laney staring at me. I jump away from Ketchup and scramble to my feet. Laney turns on her heel to follow my frenzied movements. Looking annoyed as anything, Ketchup tries to follow me. He darts around Laney in an attempt to reach me. She’s no help at all, turning out of his way and watching with a fascinated grin while trying not to drop her nachos.

  “Van, wait,” Ketchup says when I elude him.

  I grab Laney's arm and start dragging her toward the parking lot. “I’m going home, Ketchup.”

  “Home?” Laney squeaks. “I just got back. Things are getting interesting. I don’t want to leave, yet.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Ketchup says as he catches up to me and tries to grab my arm.

  “I… no. No. Come on, Laney.”

  As I pass by Zander, he looks over at me questioningly, a hint of concern in his eyes. I shouldn’t leave him there with Ivy, but I turn away and keep walking. He isn’t the only one with problems. He’ll be safe enough with so many other people around. I push through the gate without looking back. I spot Laney's car and make a beeline for it.

  “Van, wait!” Ketchup grabs my hand and yanks me to a stop. I spin around to face him, unsure of what to say. Luckily, he talks before I have to figure it out. “What time should I pick you up on Sunday?”

  There’s so much more hiding behind those words, but I force myself to ignore all of it. “Um, I don’t know. Early? What time do you think we should start?”

  Before he can answer, Laney pipes up, and for once I know how Zander and Ketchup feel. “I thought you were going out with Noah on Sunday. Aren’t you going to start writing your scene or something?”

  Jealousy tightens Ketchup’s grip on me. “Not until later,” I say through my teeth.

  “Eight o’clock then?” Ketchup asks.

  “Sure.” I slide myself out of his hold and shove Laney toward the new car she just got for her birthday. She has sense enough to shut up until we’re inside and pulling away.

  “So, you wanna talk about what just happened… or what almost happened?”

  Glaring at her, I say, “No.”

  She shrugs and lets me be for now. If only my own heart and mind would do the same. All the way home, the only thing I can think about is the favor Zander owes me and how I know exactly what I want to ask for.