Wicked Hungry Read online

  Wicked Hungry

  Teddy Jacobs

  Published by Wicked Evil Press, 2014.

  2nd edition

  Copyright 2012 Teddy Jacobs, pseudonym

  All Rights Reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1: THE WRONG BEGINNING

  Chapter 2: THE RIGHT BEGINNING

  Chapter 3: MOWING THE LAWN

  Chapter 4: THE ACCIDENT

  Chapter 5: KAREN’S BLOODY HANGNAIL

  Chapter 6: A SURPRISE ON MY DOORSTEP

  Chapter 7: KAREN WON’T COME OUT

  Chapter 8: PHYSICAL THERAPY

  Chapter 9: BANNED FROM 7-11

  Chapter 10: ETHICAL EATING

  Chapter 11: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STANLEY

  Chapter 12: TALKING WITH MR. PIPER

  Chapter 13: I’M FAMOUS

  Chapter 14: MY BIRTHDAY POTLUCK

  Chapter 15: BACK ON TRACK

  Chapter 16: THE FUNKY MUMMY AND THE HOT POTATO

  Chapter 17: A LATE NIGHT SNACK

  Chapter 18: BACK TO THE PARTY

  Chapter 19: JONATHAN TURNS JAPANESE

  Chapter 20: GARY FRUMBERG AND HIS NEW PET PITBULL

  Chapter 21: NATURAL MAGIC

  Chapter 22: MORGAINE AND BLAINE

  Chapter 23: BACK TO REALITY

  Chapter 24: A SLEEPOVER AND A ‘RESEARCH PROJECT’

  Chapter 25: A MESSAGE FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE

  Chapter 26: PREPARATIONS

  Chapter 27: CHANGES

  Chapter 28: A HIDDEN ARSENAL

  Chapter 29: HOT BEEF TAMALES

  Chapter 30: RUNNING IN THE WOODS

  Chapter 31: A SACRIFICE FOR REWSIN

  Chapter 32: FIGHTING OVER FRUMBERG

  Chapter 33: PAY THE PIPER

  Chapter 34: THE UNSEELIE AND THE HOUSE OF WHELAN

  Chapter 35: OUT INTO THE DARKNESS

  Chapter 36: THE EMERGENCY STAIRWAY TO EVERYWHERE

  Chapter 37: NISWER, NISWER, NISWER

  Chapter 38: DEALING WITH ZACH

  Chapter 39: SLEEPING BEAUTIES

  Chapter 40: SAYING GOODBYE

  Chapter 41: THE CALLING OF THE COVEN

  Chapter 42: MOURNING IN THE MORNING

  Chapter 43: AN UNEXPECTED OFFER

  Chapter 44: THE WRONG ENDING

  Chapter 1: THE WRONG BEGINNING

  She said she’d always be there for me, but she’s gone, and it’s all my fault. Is she watching over me now? Or resting easy in her grave?

  But that’s not the beginning. Not the right beginning, anyway. I need to start at the very beginning, right?

  Sometimes I get confused. I’m not a normal boy. The only thing normal about me is my growing appetite, and a thirst to match.

  And at night, I like to stare up at the moon.

  Chapter 2: THE RIGHT BEGINNING

  The air blows in cold and clean, but New England wet, through my open window. I pull up the screen and stick my head out. Up above me the moon is huge and bright. It gets bigger every night, and now, with it just a few days from full, I want nothing more than to jump out the window and run. Run down the empty streets.

  But I can’t. Can’t jump out the window, obviously, but can’t run, either.

  From down the street comes the even sound of feet gliding smoothly through the night.

  Enrique. It’s got to be Enrique. These days he does nothing but train. We used to be best friends. Back when I was a middle school cross-country star and he had just arrived from Tampico, Tamaulipas. Maybe we still are best friends, but we’re moving apart fast. Well he’s moving fast, and I’m just standing still. Or limping along.

  Enrique’s going to make the team. Varsity, maybe, as a high school freshman.

  Good for him.

  Me, I’ve got enough problems getting down the stairs.

  I strap on my brace, grit my teeth. What’s up tonight? Is it the humidity? The moon? Or just that this is when I used to run?

  Some questions just lead you down dead-end streets.

  I’m distracted by paws padding across the wood floor.

  Max. Maximilian. Josh’s kitten.

  “Get out, Max!” I tell him.

  Max just purrs and rubs against my leg. Why do cats always want to be friendly just when you want to be left alone? I look down and meet his eyes.

  My stomach rumbles. High above me the moon pulls, waxing full. It grows incredibly slowly, but it’s still too much for me. My eyes narrow; my nostrils flare; my hands bunch into fists.

  Max freezes, arches his back, and bolts into the corner.

  “Max?” I ask him, shaking my head to clear it. “What’s the matter?”

  He crouches in the corner, hissing.

  “Josh, come in here and get Max!”

  “Coming!” my brother calls. “Max? Max!”

  Josh runs in to find Max still in the corner, staring at me, his back arched. He scoops him up. “What did you do to him?”

  “Excuse me?” I say. “He just looked at me and started hissing.”

  Josh shakes his head and heads out the door. “Mom!” he calls. “Stanley did something to Max!”

  The house phone is ringing, but it’s never for me. I make it down the stairs, and I’m at the screen door when my mother calls me.

  “Stanley!”

  “Mom?”

  “It’s for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Some girl from school, I think. I told her you were resting, but she insisted on talking to you herself.”

  I come into the kitchen. My mother’s eyes are big and bright, her face is flushed, and her long fingers grip the phone tight.

  “It’s late, Stanley. Tell her you can talk to her later.”

  “Cut it out, Mom. You make it seem like I’m some kind of invalid.”

  She shakes her head, shrugs.

  I have to pry the phone out of her fingers. “Hello?”

  “Stanley?”

  What a relief. It’s not some unknown “girl from school,” it’s just Karen. She used to be one of my best friends. But that was before she started going out with Zach. Now she texts me every time she’s got a problem, but we hardly ever see each other. I guess now I’m her text-a-friend.

  “Karen? Why didn’t you text me on my cell?”

  “My phone got messed up and I lost all my contacts. And your cell number. I found your house number online. Is your mother mad?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “What’s wrong? Is it Zach again?”

  Zach can be kind of intense. Let’s just say as far as being a vegetarian, or an environmentalist, he makes my parents and me look like posers. When we were ten, Karen, Zach and I used to hang together. We’d sit on our skateboards in front of the food coop, sipping carrot juice fresh from the juice bar, watching the hippies walk in and out of the store.

  Good times.

  But that was before Zach and Karen hooked up.

  Before I messed up my knee.

  “I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. Can I come over?”

  “Come over? To my house?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Actually, I was going out for a walk.”

  My mother shakes her head, reaching out a hand to touch my shoulder. “The moon,” she says once, quietly. “Stanley, it’s cold outside, and it’s a full moon.”

  I hold my hand over the phone. “It’s not full yet, Mom—it’s just waxing gibbous. Like almost a week from full.”

  She shakes her head.

  “I don’t know,” I say into the phone, turning away.

  “Is it too late?” Karen asks. “Anyway, hey, I’m on your front porch.”

  “You’re on...?”

  Lit up by our porch light, her red hai
r spills out from under a dark black hoodie. Karen is taller than me by several inches, maybe five foot nine? Her hair is a hot red, but her full lips are dark purple, and she’s covered in cold colors: black hoodie, dark blue shirt, dark black sweatpants and sneakers.

  “You going to invite me in?” she asks, flashing straight white teeth.

  “You want to come in?”

  “Is that an invitation? Or a question?” she asks me.

  “I don’t know. An invitation, I think.”

  “You think?”

  “I’m actually trying to get out of here.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” says my mom, from behind me, reaching out to grab my sleeve.

  “Oh, Stanley,” Karen says. “Are you grounded?”

  “It’s just...” It’s just I can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound crazy.

  “He’s not grounded, Karen,” my mother says, letting me go, and smiling maniacally at my friend. “But it’s a full moon.”

  “Mom, I told you, it’s just waxing gibbous,” I say.

  “Don’t get technical with me, Stanley.”

  “A full moon?” Karen asks. “Waxing gibbous?”

  “Waxing gibbous means the moon is still growing bigger,” I say.

  “You know Stanley has problems with the full moon,” my mom says.

  “No, Mom, she doesn’t know,” I say, feeling my face go red. “And you’re exaggerating. When was the last time I had a problem?”

  “Hold on—what kind of ‘problems’ are we talking about?” Karen asks.

  “Karen, really, it’s nothing.”

  My mother shakes her head. “No. You know that’s not true, Stanley. There’s a pattern, ever since you were little. We don’t know what—”

  “Mom,” I cut her off. “It’s not the full moon. Yet. For six days. That’s almost a week. Can I just take a little walk?”

  “I’ll fix you guys something here in the kitchen,” she says. “Just stay here, Stanley.”

  Karen looks away. There’s an awkward silence. I want to get out that door and run, run away from all this. But I wouldn’t get half a block before they’d catch me. Probably on the ground, moaning in agony.

  “Look,” I say, finally. “I’ll be careful. I’ve got my brace. You know I’m supposed to exercise the leg. And I’m not going out alone, either.”

  My mom doesn’t look too convinced.

  “You know I was the trainer for the track team at Walters, right?” Karen says. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Mrs. Hoff.”

  “Is she going to catch you if you fall over?” my mom asks.

  “Jesus, Mom, that was one time.”

  “No,” she says. “It wasn’t just ‘one time.’ And I have a really bad feeling—”

  “You know,” Karen says, “I throw the shot put. I’m pretty strong, Mrs. Hoff. And I’ve got a cell phone.”

  “Yeah, Mom. We’ll be fine. Not a full moon. I’m not alone. Not a problem.”

  She shakes her head. “Just promise you’ll be back before it gets colder. I don’t want your knee to lock up.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’ll make sure he makes it back in one piece,” Karen says.

  “You do that,” my mother says. But then she pauses and stares at Karen, squinting.

  “Mom,” I groan. “Not now, Mom.”

  “What,” Karen asks. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I say. “She’s just looking at your aura.”

  “My aura?”

  “Yes,” my mother asks, still squinting at Karen. “It’s worth looking at, let me tell you.”

  “Can we go now,” I ask. “Please?”

  My mom quits it, finally. “Just be careful,” she says. “Both of you.” She’s calmer now, and I want her to smile. But she doesn’t. She just looks at me, until I look away.

  We walk outside and quietly to the corner.

  “Wow,” Karen says. “That was kind of awkwardly intense.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “She gets in her moods. Everything is magic, or the phases of the moon, or something. Sometimes I need to get out of there.”

  We walk along slowly, down the street. Unfortunately, my mother was right: the cold air takes a special interest in my knee, and the full moon above me? Let’s just say I wish there was a little more cloud cover.

  “You hungry?” Karen asks me, finally.

  I nod. “Starving.” But I stick my hand in my pocket. “Shit,” I say. “I don’t have a dime. I’ll just go back in, and ask—”

  “Are you serious?” she says. “Your mom will never let you out again.”

  “But I’m hungry,” I say.

  “Where do you want to go? Burger King? I have a coupon for buy one Whopper, get one free.”

  “You know I don’t eat meat,” I say.

  “God, I’m so sick of extremism,” she says. “And no, I didn’t know. I figured Zach was the last of the Lansfeld vegans.”

  “Is that why you came by? Zach?”

  “He won’t let it rest,” she says. “About how ‘polluted’ my body is. He even blames the pain in my shoulder on my meat eating. For him, it all adds up, and everybody’s got to be like him.”

  “Well Zach is Zach. But I still don’t want to eat meat.”

  “Fine, whatever,” she says. “I’ll buy you a veggie burger. With a side order of wussy vegan fries. Just don’t give me any shit about my Whopper, okay?”

  “I just don’t understand how you can eat that stuff.”

  She glowers at me, her eyes big, green and deadly.

  “You’re really pretty when you’re angry,” I say. “And by the way? I was kidding.”

  “Sorry,” she says finally. “But that wasn’t funny, you know? I mean, Zach is like a broken record.”

  We walk with a purpose now, heading towards Burger King. It’s maybe a five-minute walk for a normal person, but it may well take me fifteen.

  I imagine I can smell the meat charring on the grill.

  The streetlights are coming on now.

  “So what’s this about the full moon?” Karen asks.

  “Weird stuff happens to me on the nights with the full moon. My mother doesn’t believe in coincidences. She believes in magic. In the power of the moon.”

  “But you don’t believe in all that, do you? In witchcraft?”

  I shrug. “Sometimes I don’t know what I believe.”

  “Me, neither, I guess.”

  “That’s normal, though, right? For Unitarians?”

  She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, look at you. Your Mom. Zach. Me.”

  Why does religion have to be so complicated in my church? I mean, Enrique and his family are Catholics. They go to church and they know what to believe. Jonathan and his family are Episcopalians. At least they know they believe in God. My parents though are into Earth-based Judaism and all forms of mysticism and tree hugging. And though that sometimes seems too much to handle, it’s not all. My mother is also a witch, and has regular meetings with other like-minded Wiccans at our church. Because we are also Unitarians, like Karen and Zach.

  “I’m sorry about Mom being creepy,” I say. “She likes to squint at people. I think she’s looking to recruit people for her coven.”

  “It’s okay, I guess,” she says. “But does she do that to all your friends?”

  “All my friends?” I ask. “What, you mean you and Enrique?”

  “I thought I was the loner.”

  “That’s just because you hang out with Zach. All the time.”

  “Yeah, well, Zach and me called it quits.”

  “Yeah, right,” I say. “I’ve heard that before.”

  She shakes her head. “No, this time it’s really over. As far as the relationship goes. And I won’t be seeing him at track practice either, unless this shoulder gets better. But what about you? Don’t you and Jonathan still hang out?”

  “You didn’t hear?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Jonathan’s
at camp. Learning how to draw manga and speak Japanese.”

  “Where? In Boston? New York City?”

  I shake my head. “Japan. For all summer. He’s even going to miss the first week of school.”

  “No way,” Karen says. “How did he convince his parents to let him go?”

  “You know that’s all he’s been interested in since fifth grade. Japanese movies, Japanese graphic novels.”

  “Yeah, but still. That must cost a fortune.”

  “His parents have the money. Have you seen their house? I just wish he had more time to write. He seems to be spending all his time drawing and speaking Japanese.”

  “Maybe he’ll be the first black man to write a graphic novel in Japanese.”

  “Maybe he will,” I say.

  With Jonathan, you never know. The boy is full of surprises.

  “But you know,” she says. “You didn’t answer my question. Does your mother squint at Enrique like that? Or Jonathan?”

  “They’re not Unitarians,” I say. “And they’re boys. No boys in a coven.”

  She grins. “You could be wizards, couldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, we just need cauldrons and magic wands. And then we’re off to Hogwarts. Anyway, I haven’t had anyone over lately.”

  “If I’d known you were this lonely I would have called you sooner.”

  Am I imagining it, or is there something wicked in her smile? Is she flirting with me?

  “What did you want to talk about, then? Zach?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m so sick of him, I don’t even want to complain about him.”

  “What then?”

  “Later, we’ll talk about it. Right now, there’s something else I wanted to show you,” she says. “Something I made.”

  She stops and pulls it out.

  I squint. It’s hard to see in the near dark.

  “It’s a friendship bracelet. Made out of hemp.”

  “Sweet,” I say.

  “I’m glad you like it,” she says. “Because it’s for you.”

  “I haven’t seen you for months,” I say, “and now you make me a bracelet? I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then just put it on, you idiot. It’s not like I’m asking you out or something.”

  She waits as I tie it around my wrist. The hemp feels good and scratchy, somehow, like it grounds me. I could use some grounding, what with the moon glowing up above me. My teeth ache. Sometimes, on nights of the full moon, my gums bleed. Right now, though, there’s just an ache in my teeth and an itch in my palms. I concentrate on the hemp rubbing my wrist and try to forget the rest.