“Look, Van, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I knew you were hiding something when I saw the note in the kitchen. It’s just that when I found out where you went today, I panicked.”
“I…I wasn’t really trying to lie about Noah, I was just afraid to tell you,” Van admits.
The way my chest tightens really scares me. “Van, you can’t be scared of me. You’re the only one I can share any of this with. You can’t be afraid of me like everyone else.” I’ve lost so much already. I can’t lose her, too.
“I won’t do it again, okay? I’ll tell you the next time I practice with Noah,” Van offers.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to try it again? Even if things really went fine today, what if it gets more intense? What if you lose control at some point?”
“Zander, please trust me on this. I’m not going to hurt Noah. I’ll stop before I ever get close. I promise,” Van says.
Sighing, I lean against the building. “You can’t promise that. There’s not always a clear line, or a warning, especially this close to your birthday. Things could change for you at any moment and you might not be prepared.”
“It was nothing like I thought it would be, Zander,” Van says. “The fighting, I mean. It didn’t make my hunger worse. It was like…like it fed it without me having to hurt anyone. It was great, actually. Maybe we could do it together sometime. At least we wouldn’t be able to really hurt each other.”
“I don’t know, Van. It sounds risky. You know your hunger gets carried away. It would be safe enough with me, but you could never let go like that with anyone else.”
“Sometimes you have to take risks, Zander,” Van says quietly. “Just think about it, okay?”
“I’ll…” A noise from behind me makes me turn. Ivy’s concerned face is watching me from the corner of the building. I instantly feel like the biggest jerk in the world. I completely forgot about her. “Ivy, I’m sorry, I’ll be right there.”
“What?” Van screeches in my ear. “Did you just say Ivy? Where are you, Zander? Are you with her?”
Oh, crap. I really should have covered the speaker when I said that. I don’t even bother saying anything. I just end the call and slip my phone back in my pocket. Half a second later, it’s buzzing against my leg. I close my eyes, knowing exactly how much trouble I just got myself into. Here I was just yelling at my sister for being an idiot and putting herself at risk, and then she finds out I’m doing exactly the same thing, only worse.
“Zander, is everything okay?” Ivy asks. The softhearted concern in her voice melts away the weight of the impending fight with Van. Being torn apart by my hot tempered little sister can wait.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry for running out like that. I just needed to check on Van and make sure she was okay,” I say.
Ivy frowns. “Why wouldn’t she be? I mean, none of us really knows Noah very well, but I don’t think he’d try to hurt her.” Her heads tilts to the side as if she’s trying very hard to find the answer in my expression.
“No, it wasn’t that,” I say honestly. “Van and I aren’t allowed to do things like martial arts because of the violence. If my grandma finds out what Van was doing today, she’ll kill her. And I would probably get into trouble, too, for letting her do it. We’d both be grounded for the rest of the year.”
Disbelief settles on Ivy’s face. “Seems a little harsh.”
“Well, not if you knew my family. There are reasons my grandma is so strict.”
“What reasons?” Ivy asks.
“Is that your one question?” I ask, hoping desperately it isn’t.
“Will you answer it if it is?”
Without hesitation, I say, “No.”
She looks equally disappointed and frustrated, but she merely shrugs. “Then that’s not my question. Now, can we go back in and finish dinner?” she asks. She approaches me casually, her hand brushing lightly against my arm in an invitation to follow her.
I step back from her at the stab of hunger that rushes through me. “Sure.”
Ivy turns away quickly and saunters back to the front door of the restaurant, staying just out of reach as we walk back to our table. Our waitress gives us a strange look when we sit back down, but I barely notice her. My eyes are fastened on Ivy. She sits down like nothing happened and takes a bite of her risotto. At first I feel relieved that she’s letting the matter drop. Our dinner continues quietly, though, and I begin to wonder if she’s just biding her time until I drive her back to her car so she can bolt and get away from me. The idea of her wanting to run bothers me, a lot.
I try to get her talking again a few times, but her answers are always short and subdued. What Van said about needing to take a risk keeps running through my mind. She didn’t know when she said it, but I did take a risk. I took a big risk calling Ivy. It was probably more stupid than anything Van did today. I’m scared to death that I’ll regret ever meeting Ivy. That doesn’t change the fact that I want to be with her. It’s the first risk I’ve taken in a long time, and I can’t stand the thought of walking away from her with nothing.
We pull into the parking lot where we left Ivy’s car an hour later. I stop my truck right next to her car and turn to say something to Ivy. She hops out before I ever get the chance. Surprise at her quick exit keeps me from moving for a few precious seconds. I shake it off and jump out after her. She’s already opened her door when I catch up.
“Ivy, wait,” I say, grabbing her arm out of need to stop her. Even as tired as I am, my hunger flares to life and I yank my hand away as fast as I can. Ivy’s eyes stare at my hand, turning glassy and bright in the moonlight. The hurt radiating off of her is painful. I want more than anything to wrap her in my arms and apologize for every stupid thing I’ve done to her, but I can’t. I’ll hurt her if I touch her.
“I need to get home, Zander. Thanks for dinner,” she says quietly. Then she turns to get into her car. I panic and say the only thing I can think of to make her stay.
“You never asked me your question.”
Ivy pauses. Her body turns slowly, but her eyes don’t meet mine. My heart rate inches up every second she doesn’t say anything. It feels like it’s about to explode by the time she finally speaks. “I changed my mind about the rules. I get to ask one question and you have to answer it.”
My shoulders sag in defeat. I fall against my truck and rub my hand over my face. I can’t answer most of her questions. I can’t let her go, either. It only takes me a moment to decide between Ivy and my secrets. “Okay, what’s your question?”
Ivy’s eyes come up and pierce mine. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you toying with me, Zander? You pretend to be nice to me, but you clearly can’t stand me. Why not leave me alone and stop all of this?”
The fact that her question isn’t about the bruises or the fighting surprises me, but what really shocks me is what she said about me. I stare at her in disbelief and say, “You think I don’t like you?”
Ivy looks at me like I’m crazy. “Uh, yeah. You act like you hate me practically every time you see me. The only time you were actually nice to me was when I offered to help you with your calculus. I never really expected you to call, and when you did, you made it pretty clear it was only so I could help you study. But then you’re so nice to me out of nowhere, only to go right back to acting like I have some contagious disease. I don’t know why you’re doing this to either of us. Just leave me alone, okay?”
I can’t seem to work out a response to her. My brain is still trying to catch up. Yes, I’ve been horrible to her, but that can’t be all she sees when I look at her. My silence deepens Ivy’s frown and she turns away from me. It only takes me half a step to reach her side. I hook my fingers on her shoulder and turn her gently so she is forced to look at me. My hand trembles from the brief contact.
“Ivy, I don’t hate you. The reason I reacted to you like I did the first time we met…and the other times, was because I liked you too much and it scared me. It w
asn’t because I didn’t want to be with you.”
Ivy glares at me. “What? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I know,” I say. “It doesn’t make sense, because you don’t know me like everyone else around here knows me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t get close to people, ever. You've already heard rumors about how I don’t date, and I’m basically a loner. Well, there are reasons for that, very good ones, and until I met you I had every intention of living up to my reputation,” I say. “The second I saw you, I wanted you, and it scared me to death.”
Ivy’s expression goes from angry, to confused, to surprised and a little bit happy in a matter of seconds. “You…I thought…you really like me?”
“Yes,” I say, sighing deeply.
“Then why do you pull away every time I get near you or touch you,” she asks.
“Because I know that’s what I should do,” I say. Ivy frowns again, clearly not understanding. But who would? I do my best to make some kind of sense. “Ivy, I know I should stay away from you, because pulling you into my life will only get you hurt. I’ve lost too many people close to me to believe that won’t happen. It’s practically ingrained in me to push people away. Every time I touch you, I get scared that you’ll be hurt, and I pull away.”
Scrounging up every last spec of will power I have left, I lift my fingers and trail them down the curve of Ivy’s face. My fingers quiver with the desire to do more. The hunger racing through me is unbearable. I pull my hand away before my willpower evaporates completely. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to touch you,” I say honestly.
She thinks I mean that purely because of my past, and that’s fine with me, but I know every second I’m in contact with Ivy brings her closer to her death. I take a big step back. Relief attempts to wash through me, but it vanishes when Ivy’s hand presses lightly against my chest. I fall back against my truck, agony spreading out from her hand like wildfire.
“You’re shaking,” she says in surprise. She looks up at me with the shimmer of tears in her eyes as her hand drops away. “You really mean it, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You like me?”
There’s so much more I feel for her than like, but I can’t and won’t admit to any more than that. “I like you very much, Ivy.”
Suddenly, the only emotion left on Ivy’s face is happiness. “I like you too, Zander.”
I can’t help it. I smile like every other stupid teenage boy in the world would. For a while, we just stand there smiling at each other like idiots and not caring in the least. Without meaning to, I’m the one to break it up when I yawn. My exhausting morning allowed me to spend time with Ivy, but it’s starting to catch up with me now.
“I guess I should let you get home,” Ivy says.
“I guess.”
“Will I see you again?” Ivy asks.
I smile. “Definitely.”
“When?” She grins shamelessly when I laugh at her directness.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “I can’t go out much during the week because of football…” And because as much as I want to be glued to her side, I know that would be suicide. “And I’ve got a game this Friday, and Saturdays are usually pretty busy with sports or chores.”
“I’m not really allowed to go out on Sundays,” Ivy says. “Family time, and all that.”
“So, that pretty much leaves us with Friday night after the game?” Once a week, I can handle that. “We can always call each other, too. Plus, I really do need help with my math. If we can’t get together, maybe you can as least walk me through it over the phone.”
“Okay,” Ivy says. “I’ll plan on Friday night, and you could always meet me in my homeroom class if you need help, too.”
“That’s right, I’d almost forgotten about that. I’m sure I’ll see you in there next week,” I say, “but for now, I should get going before I fall asleep.”
“You do look tired. I hope that isn’t from being around me all night.”
Actually…. “No, of course not. I went mountain biking this morning. That’s all.”
Ivy nods and says, “Oh, okay. Get some rest. Goodnight, Zander.” She moves slowly, after what I said earlier, her hand reaching up to touch my cheek lightly. She gave me enough time to prepare myself, so I don’t flinch away despite the torture she is causing me. She smiles up at me. “See you soon?”
“Very soon,” I assure her.
I hold the door open as she gets into her car. Before I can close it, Ivy says, “You know, that wasn’t the question I was planning on asking you.”
“Next time,” I say, refusing to let fear creep into my voice.
“Next time,” she repeats. The firm edge to her voice assures me she won’t forget.
Next time, I’m going to have to answer Ivy’s most burning questions. I’ve lied to people my entire life. I should be able to lie to her too. I want to lie to her, but I know that once I’m faced with her curious, beautiful eyes, I won’t be able to do anything but tell her the absolute truth about whatever she wants to know.
I stomp away from Grandma’s car, frustrated that Zander has managed to avoid me again. I stayed up as long as I could to wait for him Saturday night. When I nodded off around three in the morning, he still hadn’t come home. I doubt he was with Ivy that late since her parents seem pretty strict. I have no idea where he went, though.
Sunday morning he disappeared again. When he came back, not only did he stick close to Grandma for the rest of the day, making it impossible for me to talk to him about Ivy without freaking Grandma out, but that taste was back. When I tried to confront him before school, I found his room empty, but that wasn’t the scariest part. Hanging out of his laundry basket was the shirt he had on the day before.
I don’t know what made me go over to look at it. I couldn’t have seen the drops of blood on the sleeve from the doorway, but I certainly saw them when I picked up the shirt. Then this morning, Grandma announces that Zander had to be at school early so she would drive me. He won’t be picking me up from school, either. I am just about ready to kill my brother.
Ketchup rushing over to me is a welcome relief to my horrible morning.
“You look pissed,” he says. “What happened?”
The whole stream of insanity bouncing around inside of me almost spills out. Almost. I stop myself in time.
Ketchup looks at me expectantly. “Did something happen the other day? You never called, but…”
“No,” I say quickly, not wanting to talk about Noah. “It’s Zander, again. I need to figure out what he has in common with Vega.”
“Did that weird taste thing happen again?”
I nod, my stomach churning as I remember the sickening taste. “There’s got to be a reason for it.”
“Have you tried asking Zander again, or your Grandma?”
The shake of my head makes Ketchup frown. “Why not?”
Reasons spiral through my mind. There are so many, but the one that is the most honest is what slips past my lips. “Because I’m afraid to.”
Ketchup stops walking. Unwilling to be without him quite yet, I stop as well. My eyes stay down, but I don’t need to look up to feel Ketchup move closer to me. His hand touches my cheek briefly, hesitates, then falls away.
“Van, I wish you would just talk to me. Tell me what this is really about.” He sighs, knowing I can’t tell him without me having to explain. He continues in my silence. “I don’t know what they have in common. Vega is a gang member, something I seriously doubt straight-laced Zander would ever consider. There have been rumors about Vega and drugs, but again, Zander’s not the type. Unless Zander is running around killing people, I can’t imagine what they would have in common.”
My entire body goes ice cold. I look up at Ketchup, my body trembling. “What did you just say?” I whisper.
“What? About the drugs?” Ketchup searches my expression as worry clouds his features. “Y
ou think Zander might be doping?”
“No, not that.” My hands are shaking so badly and I can barely control them. “No, the last thing.”
“You mean Zander killing people?” Ketchup says slowly. His arms wrap around me and pull me to his chest. I can feel his heart pounding. He sighs with so much regret it nearly suffocates me. “Van, I’m so sorry. I never should have said that. I didn’t think.”
I’m too scared to respond. Where has Zander been at night? What is he doing in those hours when the rest of the city is at home in their beds? Why was there blood on his shirt this morning? He’s always been the one with the most control. I shake my head, unwilling to let myself believe that Zander could be doing something so terrible.
“Hey, hey,” Ketchup says, his voice begging. He pushes my face up to meet his gaze. The agony in his eyes is nothing compared to what is racing through my veins right now.
“Van, please. I’m sorry.”
I don’t want to think about the possibility that Ketchup is right, but in the darkest corners of my mind I know I can’t brush this aside. If it’s true, I have to know.
“Ketchup,” I say haltingly, “I need to find more people that have killed someone.”
For a moment, Ketchup just stares at me. It takes him a while to realize I’m not joking. When he does, his whole body tightens. “You really think…?” He rubs a hand across his face. “Okay, um, short of wandering around Westside and tasting people, how do we find people like that?”
“Prisons?” I offer.
Ketchup scowls at me. “I am not taking you to a prison.” He’s quiet for a moment before saying, “What about a senior center?”
“What?”
“Well, think about it. The center in my neighborhood where my grandpa used to hang out has a strong Veteran population. If they went to war, there’s a good possibility that they were involved in the fighting. I mean, it’s not the same as what Vega does, obviously, but maybe it could work.” Ketchup shrugs. “And it’s safer than a prison.”
I don’t know if it will work. What if the weird taste is only attached to violent crimes? I have no way of knowing. That may not even be what it means. It’s a place to start, though. I don’t know what else to try.
Wicked Hunger (Someone Wicked This Way Comes) Page 14