Wicked Hungry
By Teddy Jacobs
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Teddy Jacobs, pseudonym
Smashwords
Edition, License Notes
This
ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may
not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to
share this book with another person, please purchase an additional
copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not
purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please
return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.
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; 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?”
“I lost my phone. 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 porchlight, her red hair spills out from under a dark black hoodie. Karen is taller than me by several inches, maybe 5’9”? Her hair is a hot red, but her full lips are dark purple, and she’s covered by 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 the full moon.”
“Mom, I told you, it’s just waxing gibbous,” I say.
“Don’t get technical with me, Stanley.”
“The 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. Please.”
“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. I want her to smile. But she doesn’t smile.
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 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. God her eyes are big and green.
“You’re really pretty when you’re angry,” I say. “And by the way? I was kidding.”
“Sorry,” she says, finally. “Sorry. 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, in the dusk.
“So what’s this about the full moon?” Karen asks.
“Weird stuff happens to me on the nights of 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. We are also Unitarians, like Karen and Zach.
“I’m sorry about that, anyhow,” 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 are 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 on track either, unless this shoulder gets better. But about you? Don’t you and Jonathan still hang out?”
“You didn’t hear?”
She shakes her head.
“Jonathan’s in 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 5th 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 warlocks, 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 teethe 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.
We keep walking. We are approaching Burger King, and the smell of charred meat is stronger. Ugh. But I’m so hungry I get a cramp, and bend over right there in the street.
Karen stops. “You okay?”
I nod through clenched teeth. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m just really hungry.”
“You always bend over in the street when you’re hungry?”
“No,” I say, through clenched teeth. “This is kind of new.”
“Maybe you need to eat some meat.”
“Ha, ha,” I say, straightening up, still clutching my stomach.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s not just the cramps. I’ve been having these cravings.”
“Cravings? For what?”
“You won’t tell anyone?”
“Who am I going to tell, Stanley?”
“I don’t know? My parents? Or Zach, maybe?”
Karen faces clouds over. “I told you. Zach and I are completely over.”
“You said that last time.”
“Yeah, well this time it’s for real. And I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“You promise.”
“I, Karen Maloney, do solemnly swear not to tell anyone about Stanley Hoff’s cravings. Whatever the hell they are. Satisfied, or do you want to pinkie promise?”
I hold out my hand. “Yeah,” I say. “This is definitely pinkie promise worthy.”
We intertwine pinkies. It feels good, except why is her pinkie so cold?
“So?” she asks.
“I’m craving Burger King.”
She laughs, and I just glare at her.
“Sorry,” she says, “But that is kind of normal, isn’t it? I mean, how many other fast food places have anything you can even eat?”
“No. I mean, I have this nightmare… about eating something I can’t eat. About eating a Whopper.”
She snorts through her nose. “Stanley?” she says. “What are you afraid of? My coupon? I mean, what terrible things will happen if you eat a Whopper? You going to turn into some kind of meat-eating monster?”
“Laugh all you walk, but I wake up in a cold sweat.”
She snorts.
“Thanks,” I say.
“You said, ‘Laugh all you want.’”
“Yeah, but I was hoping you wouldn’t laugh.”
“Sorry,” she says. “Anyhow, I’m one to talk.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have these dreams – kind of like nightmares, too – no, it’s too weird,” she says, biting her lip. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I say. “I mean, I already told you about my Whopper night sweats. It’s your turn.”
“Fine,” she says. “In my dreams, I touch people.”
“You touch people? What’s the matter with that?”
“It’s that when I touch them – bad things happen.”
“So, what? Now you’re afraid to touch people? Because of a dream?”
“Not just one dream, Stanley. It’s like every night, and it’s not just the dreams. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I am trying. Does this have something to do with breaking up with Zach?”
She shakes her head, violently. “No,” she says. “This has been going on all summer.”
“But you touched him over the summer, right?”
“What are you, twelve?” she asks. “Yeah, I touched him.”
“Sorry,” I say.
“You think this is silly, don’t you? That I’m playing around? I swear I’m not, Stanley. Though I don’t know why anyone would believe me.”
“I just don’t understand – what’s the problem? If you want to touch other people, why can’t you just—”
“What? Reach out and touch someone?”
“Yeah,” I say, soft again. “I mean, we just pinky promised, after all.”
“You’re different. At least I hope you are.”
“But you and Zach—”
“We had this big fight. I got real angry, and – he called me a bunch of names, polluter, carnivore, unclean, and I got so angry. I called him some names myself, then, like fascist, extremist, and good old asshole, and he pushed me. I kind of grabbed his arm, twisted it. It was like, if I hadn’t held back, I could have broken it? Though I didn’t, did I? But now he seems to think I’m some kind of psycho--”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Maybe you should be.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Zach was an asshole, you had a fight, and now you’re dangerous?”
“It’s not just the fight… it’s what I can do… I think --”
“What you can do?”
“You really want me to tell you?”
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I say. “It’s alright with me, if you don’t want to touch people.”
We walk some more. The air is cold, my knee aches with every step, and now Karen is mad at me. I would do anything to see her smile, right now.
“You need a hug?” I blurt.
Immediately, I can’t believe I’ve said it. What’s the matter with me? She almost breaks Zach’s arm, she’s afraid to touch people, and now I offer her a hug? On the other hand, she did offer me a friendship bracelet, and don’t friends give each other hugs?
She bites her lip. “I don’t know.”
We stand on the sidewalk for a moment, neither one of us moving.
“So you don’t want a hug, then?” I ask her. “No strings attached.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, what, then?”
“I’m still kind of mad. But you’re really not afraid of me?”
I shake my head.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t be silly, Karen. A hug never hurt anyone.”
“But I hurt people,” she says. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
Still she moves toward me, and then she’s in my arms. She smells sweet, like roses. Red roses. I hold her, and she holds me tight. After a moment I feel the tension drain from her.
“You smell good,” I say.
“It’s called taking a shower, Stanley. You should try it.”
Taking a shower makes you smell like roses? I can almost taste them. But I let her go, and she backs up. There’s a tear in one eye, and I want to reach up and touch it with my finger.
But she reaches out first and touches my neck.
For a moment I forget the moon up above me. There is nothing but Karen’s cold fingers on my neck, and her lips there in front of me.
Are we going to kiss?
“Shit,” Karen says. “Here comes Zach.”
“Where?” I ask.
But then she’s kissing me.
And there’s nothing else. Just her lips. On mine.
I pull away. Her lips were cold, but my face is hot.
“You are not using me to make Zach jealous.”
She smirks. “No, I was just using you.”
“What do you mean, using me?”
“You’re a comfort,” she says. “Like comfort food, you know?”
“What am I, a hamburger and fries?”
“I was thinking more, a Whopper and a Coke? What’s the matter, you didn’t like it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “As long as I’m not rebound boy.”
“Not at all,” she says. “Anyway, he was too far away to see… I think.”
“You think?”
“You can never be sure with Zach. He always comes along when you least expect it. I bet he has those stupid vitamin supplements with him, too.”
“Vitamins?”
“You’ll see,” she sighs.
How did she see him so far away? But I can see him now, too, walking up to us. His golden blond hair and toothy leer are unmistakable.
“Stanley.”
“Uh, hi, Zach. How’s it going?”
“It’s been a while.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I have. The cross country team misses you, you know that?”
“Don’t start, Zach,” Karen says.
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “I mean, I miss the team too, I guess. I just have some issues to take care of.”
“That’s just what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What could he know about it?” Karen says. “Don’t listen to him.”
“I’ve got some stuff I need to tell you, Stanley.” He glances at Karen. “But keep the meat eater away from me, okay?”
“I wouldn’t touch you again, Zach,” Karen says. “Even if you begged me.”
Zach looks at me. “You should stay away from her, too.”
“Why?” I ask him. “What’s it to you, anyway?”
“Something’s the matter with her, and she won’t let anyone help.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to go?” Karen says.
“She’s in denial,” he continues.
“Zach,” I say. “Enough already.”
“No, seriously, she needs help.”
“Look, Zach, we were going to get something to eat,” I say.
“You can’t just give me a minute? I wanted to tell you about the supplements.”
“The vitamins?” I say.
“Supplements, not vitamins,” he says. “You have to take them several times a day, but man, they are great.”
“I still don’t get it,” Karen says. “Are they even FDA approved?”
“You know what, Karen? Screw the FDA. You think the FDA will protect you? They’ll just fill you full of chemicals.”
“Then how do we know they’re safe?” Karen asks.
Zach ignores her this time -- he’s already holding out a bottle for me to see. ETERNAL CLEANSE, it says.
“It’s good for everything,” he says. “For your health. For your hunger. And it will help in school. Help you concentrate. Even help with the moon.” He winks at me.
“What are you implying?”
“Stanley, we both know you’ve been having trouble with the moon since like forever.”
My teeth ache and I taste blood. My palms itch. Is my body agreeing with him? Calling out for these pills? I fight the urge to look up, because I can feel it: the clouds are gone. And even if it was true, what I told my mom, that the moon wasn’t full, it’s still big. Huge. Awesome.
“Look, Zach,” Karen says. “Stanley just told you we were going to get something to eat.”
His eyes narrow. “You aren’t going to Burger King, are you?”
“Just for a veggie burger,” I say. “Some fries, maybe, and a Coke.”
He shakes his head. “Dude, you need to clean out your system. Even a veggie burger will just add to your toxin load. These supplements, though? Maximum detox. And maybe, I think the chances are good…” He looks at me, his eyes shining.
“Don’t listen to him, Stanley,” Karen says. “He’s just getting started.”
“Maybe what?” I ask him, gritting my teeth, tasting my own blood.
He moves closer to me, and his voice drops down to a whisper. “I’m not making this up. This shit works. Not only could it help you with the moon -- it could heal your knee. You could run again. How does that sound, Stanley?”
I push him away, back up. “Don’t even go there, Zach. My knee’s as healed as it will ever be. It’s not getting any better.”
He shakes his head. “That’s chemical healing you’re talking about. This is different. It’s natural. It’s almost…” His voice drops so low I can’t hear it.
“Almost what?” I snap. “Stop talking in riddles.”
“Magic,” he whispers again.
I shake my head. “How do I know it’s not drugs? It’s not addictive?”
He stares at me like I’ve gone crazy. “Hello, Stanley? You think I would put chemicals in my body?”
“Lots of drugs are natural,” says Karen. “Like marijuana, or opium. Alcohol. Tobacco.”
“Shut up, Karen,” Zach says. “Let me talk.”
“That’s all this is, isn’t it, Zach?” I say. “Just a lot of talk.”
Zach shakes his head. “Those toxins in you? They’re controlling you.”
“Nothing is controlling me.”
“Oh, yeah? Then how come you keep gritting your teeth, making fists and staring up at the moon?”
“What’s your point?”
“You can feel it, can’t you? It’s pulling at you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Stanley, does your mother know that you’re craving Burger King?”
Could he have heard us? Or is he just guessing?
“Enough, Zach,” Karen says. “Leave him alone.”
“You of all people should be telling him how good it is, Karen.” He turns back to me. “Stanley, all I’m saying is, just try. We do have a free trial.”
“I’ll think about,” I say.
“It doesn’t work,” Karen says.
“It works. It just takes time to see the results. But in the meantime, Karen, if you try to convince anyone else not to try them, I’ll tell your parents about your little nighttime excursions. How’s that sound?”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
Zach shakes his head. “Just protecting my interests. Stanley, you sure you don’t want some supplements?”
“Anything to shut you up,” I say.
But Karen shakes her head. “Don’t take them.”
“Stanley, we’ll talk again when the carnivore is not around.”
He starts to walk away, then turns back. “You know, the whole city, the whole forest needs cleansing. We need cleansing. But what am I saying? You’re wearing leather shoes. You’re on the way to Burger King. I thought you were like me – but you couldn’t possibly understand.”
“I don’t know about Stanley, but I understand one thing,” Karen says. “You’re a fricking psycho. What I don’t understand, is why I went out with you.”
Zach snorts. “You’re one to talk. Just keep taking the supplements. And don’t touch me again. Ever.” He walks off, breaks into a jog. Then he’s gone. I used to be able to run like that. He makes it look so effortless. Just blending into the night.
I turn back to Karen. “What was all that about?” I ask. “Should we just go home?”
She shakes her head. “You need to eat, Stanley. And I need to calm down.”
We order, and I hobble over to the bathroom. Zach was right about one thing. About one big bright and shiny thing. The moon. I can feel its pull even now, in the restaurant.
Back at our seats, Karen doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. We sit there waiting for our food.
I try to meet her eyes, but she looks away.
“What’s the matter?” I ask her. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“Forget it,” she says, looking over at the registers.
“Is it Zach? Those vitamins? They sound too good to be true. Or I bet they cost a fortune.”
“You don’t even want to know how much they cost,” she says. “Really, the less you know, the better.”
“But what… what if they work?”
“They don’t work,” she says.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Can’t you drop it?”
Something troubles me in the way she doesn’t meet my eyes. “Zach said would help me stay calm. Be focused. Help me deal with my fear of touching. But they don’t work.”
“How do you know?”
She shakes her head. “They won’t help you. Even if they did, you wouldn’t like what they do to you. Once you start…”
“Once you start?” I ask.
“Let’s just say they have side effects, okay?” she says. She turns away. “Look, our food is almost ready.”
Later I wish I’d asked her more, but she obviously is in no mood to talk about it. “Can I call you?” I ask her instead, looking at the table.
“This isn’t about the kiss, is it?”
“No, what,” I say, blushing. “What do you mean?”
“Just don’t get any ideas, Stanley. It was a sweet hug. A truly epic kiss. But I’m too messed up right now to—“
“To talk on the phone?”
But she’s turned away. This old retired lady brings us our tray, sets it down.
“Stanley, you’re like the only friend I’ve got right now, the only person I can trust. But I don’t want you telling anyone about what I told you.”
“I won’t,” I say. “I won’t even tell anyone how nice you smell.”
“Joke all you want. But I’m in enough trouble as it is.”
“I promise I won’t tell,” I say.
“Good,” she says. “At least that’s something. And thanks for letting me use you.”
She winks at me.
“You’re welcome,” I say, feeling my face grow hot. “Anytime, I guess.”
I unwrap my veggie burger and bite in. There’s nothing like a BK veggie burger. Is it the way they microwave it? Or the fact that it’s sold in a place that makes real hamburgers? I don’t know. But it’s always been satisfying. Comfort food. What I need right now. I think.
Because I keep glancing at Karen. Well, at Karen, yeah, but also at the two whoppers she got for the price of one.
“Two whole whoppers,” I say. “You must be wicked hungry.”
She just smiles at me, and takes another little bite.
I try to look away. Is it the way she’s eating, or is it her food?
I look around at the people around me. There’s not a lot of kids. Just one I recognize from Track and Cross Country. Henry? Or Harry? God, I can’t even remember his name. He catches my gaze for a moment, nods before I can turn away. I think I’m safe; I don’t think he’ll come over and talk to me. He’s with his parents, after all. Not a lot of us walk to Burger King, and no one my age can drive.
All around I can smell real meat, and I’m still hungry. My veggie burger is in my stomach, but it’s still rumbling. If I had money, I’d go buy another one. I’m almost desperate enough to ask Karen for money. But I know she only had one ten, and she’s spent it already. Partly on me.
So I chew slowly on a French fry.
I look back at Karen, and she’s checking me out.
“What?” I say.
“You’re still hungry,” she says. “I can see it. I can almost feel it.”
“What do you mean?” I say.
“You keep looking at my burger. I think it’s time for you to face your worst nightmare. Come on, try a bite.”
I shake my head. But my stomach rumbles.
“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to at least try it.”
I shake my head. “It’s just wrong.” But I’m not even looking at her.
“Just one bite,” she says. “Where’s the harm?”
“You leading me into temptation?”
“That is so not right. You are not going Biblical on me, here. I mean, what, are all women temptresses, or something? You going to say God made me from your rib, next? Cause, uh, Earth to Stanley? We’re in Burger King, not the Garden of Eden. This is a flamebroiled beef patty, not forbidden fruit. Come on, man up and try it.”
Joke all you want, but she’s led me willingly into temptation. I can’t even look at what she’s eating. “No way,” I say. “I mean, how can anyone eat that?”
“Eat this?” She holds the burger out to me. “It’s easy.”
It. Smells. So. Good.
“Take a bite,” she says. “Or you’re just as bad as Zach.”
I lean forward. Bite down. Chew. Swallow. My stomach settles. My taste buds tingle. I feel warm. Hot. What is wrong with me?
Am I dreaming? Living my worst nightmare? If so, why do I feel so… right?
“Was that so bad?” she asks.
“Not for me, maybe. But for the cow?”
“Oh, lighten up, Stanley. Live a little.”
“If you tell my Mom…”
“I’m not telling anyone,” she says. “It looks like we both have secrets.”
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
“You’re repeating yourself, Stan. You want the other one? No way am I going to be able to finish two.”
“You can take one home,” I say.
Karen shakes her head. “My mom doesn’t allow fast food in the house. I’ll have to throw it out. You don’t want me to waste this food, do you?”
She holds up the second Whopper. It’s still wrapped. Warm. My hands move before I can say anything, and snatch it from her open hand.
Do I need to tell you that biting into my very own Whopper is like coming home to a home I’ve never had, but where I really belong? My stomach settles, but my senses are in overdrive, and my mind is a mess.
If meat is murder, then why does it taste so good?
But that’s not all that’s running through my head. As much as I try to concentrate on the forbidden meat that’s entering my body, my mind keeps coming back to Zach and his supplements. Or, really, to the important question:
Could they help my knee?
Chapter 3: MOWING THE LAWN
You ever wake up and find coarse dark hair all over your chest?
And not just on my chest. In all kinds of embarrassing places. Ugh.
That was a new one for me, this morning. Is the moon playing more tricks on me, or am I growing up? Or just growing … hairy?
My teeth ache and feel loose in my mouth. Like I’m going to lose them, and get my permanent teeth.
Except these are my permanent teeth. Is it worth going to the dentist? What will he say? That he can’t figure out what’s wrong with me? Or will he see right through me, and know I’m a little lunatic, going through puberty?
My mom sees me pushing my cereal around the bowl at breakfast, instead of eating it. Really, organic Weetabix is not what I’m craving this morning. But how can I begin to explain that to her?
“Stanley? Are you okay?”
I nod. “Just not hungry, I guess.”
For what’s in my bowl, that is.
“I found… some disturbing signs.”
She looks at me, but she doesn’t even look me in the eye. I see her biting her lip. Is she afraid of me? Or afraid for me?
“What, Mom?” I ask her. “What did you find?”
“Hair. A lot of it, in the shower.”
“Mom, gross,” I say, “And I mean, privacy?”
“And your toothbrush--”
“I need a new one, I know,” I say.
She shakes her head. “No, Stanley. It was all bloody.”
“I think I’m cutting a tooth,” I say.
“At fourteen?”
“Maybe I’m a late bloomer? Or maybe wisdom teeth?”
“We need to take you to see someone,” she says. “I’ve been trying to hold this off, but I can’t ignore this any longer.”
“Mom, no dentist is going to understand this.”
“I’m not talking about a dentist, Stanley. Give me some credit.”
“No -- not Uncle Eli?”
“He’s an option, yes, although I don’t know if I want to schlep all the way down to Brooklyn. Your uncle has some friends in Providence, though, who might be able to help.”
“Let me guess, some friends on the East Side? Who speak Yiddish and won’t drive a car on Saturday?”
“It’s about mysticism, spirituality, the Kaballah. But most of all it’s about keeping my boy safe. That’s why you need to see someone.”
“Maybe I should see a shrink?”
“Maybe we could all use a psychologist,” my mother says. “That’s definitely an option. But no, for right now I was thinking you should see someone from the coven. You may be young, but it’s time for you to be initiated. All of us in the coven draw our power from the moon. It’s the way of Wicca. Maybe if you could control the power in you, channel it –“
“Mom, there’s no power in me.”
“You can’t deny –”
“Mom, I’m fine.”
“Great. You’re fine. We’ll talk later. But I’ll see if I can set something up.”
“There’s no need, Mom,” I say.
I don’t want to see anyone from the coven. A bunch of scantly-clothed middle-aged ladies jumping over me and slapping me with basil to purify my essence is not my idea of fun. But spending twelve hours praying non-stop with the Hasidim isn’t any better. I’ve got to figure this out, on my own. My mother has enough to worry about. I don’t like how this is affecting her. How this is affecting me.
“Stanley? Why are you arguing with me?”
“Because I told you, I’m fine?”
She doesn’t say anything for a while. She just fingers the chain around her neck. It’s from her coven. I know that. It’s supposed to store energy. I figure she could use that energy now. Teenagers are exhausting enough, without all my special problems.
She just stands there, looking at me, fingering the pendant. “Then get mowing,” she says, finally. “Our grass is way too high. It’s a forest out there. A tick paradise. All we need is someone catching Lyme disease.”
I groan, and my mom smiles a thin smile. Have I told you, in addition to her mysticism and her obsessive worrying, my mom has a sadistic side?
We have this push-mower, and sometimes I think push-mowers were put on the world by some green god to torture people, especially teens like me. Every little stick gets stuck in the blades and I have to shake the mower by the handle until it falls out.
Enrique jogs up, his hair one stiff spike. His face is covered with sweat.
“You keep it up like that,” I say. “And you’ll make varsity.”
He shrugs. “I’ll be happy just to make the team.”
I start pushing the mower again. Hit a stick. Stop, wince.
“How is the physical therapy?” asks Enrique.
“Worthless,” I say. “But pretty painful.”
“Well, it could be worse,” he says. “At least –“
“At least what?”
“At least you can mow the lawn?”
“Thanks, Enrique. I appreciate the sympathy.”
But he’s got me smiling, which is good, actually. I could use a little lightening up. Last night with Karen on the rebound, and Zach with his vitamins was weird enough. But this morning with the hair on my chest? And the bleeding gums? And then just leaving out the evidence for my mother to find, knowing how she worries?
It’s got to be the moon. You may think I’m crazy, but this type of crap only happens to me when it’s waxing. I wouldn’t even be surprised if I lose the hair from my chest in a couple of weeks, when the moon fades away to a sliver.
Although I guess it does make me more manly for the moment.
You can see how I need Enrique to distract me. He’s entering Lansfeld High School this year with me, and has lived next door for the last year. From the beginning, he didn’t fit in too well at Walters, but things changed for the better when he got raging acne and started wearing a Mohawk. When I say things changed for the better that’s kind of sarcastic. He went from not fitting in to totally standing out. These days when he’s not running, he’s burning me weird punk rock CDs, and I think he could care less what other people think about him.
How can I put it? He’s the yin to my yang. If I didn’t have Enrique, have Jonathan and Karen, I don’t know what I’d do.
Enrique goes back inside as I start pushing the mower across the lawn. A minute later he brings out his stereo and some lawn chairs, and starts blasting some rock en español. Soon his brother Andres is out too and life is bearable.
They sit there watching me, and they cheer me on every time I clear the push mower of another stuck stick. At least I’m amusing someone, and the music makes the mowing go faster.
Maybe they feel bad about laughing at me, because Enrique brings me a Mexican Coke. Mexican Coke could be considered a controlled substance; in the United States, it is too powerful to be sold over the counter.
It’s cold and syrupy and full of caffeine. It calms my teeth and my nerves, although I won’t be surprised if I have trouble sleeping.
Chapter 4: THE ACCIDENT
It would be nice to say it all happened during some big competition. That I went down pulling in a gold, a silver, or even a bronze. But it didn’t happen that way, and I replay it now, lying in my bed. We rented a house on the Cape. It’s the summer before 8th grade, and the night is dark and cool. The moon is big. Enormous. Not a new moon, not a waxing gibbous, but full. Gloriously, achingly full. It pulls me out of bed, and I’m dressed in the dark before I know what I’m doing.
Outside I feel loose, I feel strong, I feel ready to take on the whole world, but all there is in front of me is empty beach.
That’s normal.
It’s only two in the morning, and everyone else is asleep. The air is cold, as my bare feet slap the wet sand, and the moon pulls far above me. But you don’t want to hear about the moon. You want to hear about what happened to my knee.
I’m running, just thinking about how good the sand feels under my feet. But the moon is huge. I want to bring my head up, to stop, to stare. I feel my hair rise up on my arms, on the back of my neck. My teeth are so loose I wonder they don’t fall out. It’s too much for me – I should be at home, should be in bed. I need to go back to the house, but instead I close my eyes and keep running, trying to blot out the light from up above that somehow keeps pulling at me through my closed lids.
I close my eyes, for just one short moment, and run on, blind.
I am stronger than the pull up above me. The moon will not control me.
But the pull of the moon gives way to a shock first on my foot, and I try to twist around it but it’s too late; or maybe too early? Because I twist and fall at the same time, blinded by the moon, alone on a deserted beach, where no one can hear me scream.
A beautiful piece of driftwood. If you look at it from one angle you see the face of an old man. From another angle you see two people, intertwined. We take it home and keep it. It is on my wall for awhile, before I take it down and throw it across the room in a fit of rage. Now it’s in the corner of my closet. I’m sick of looking at it, even if it is a beautiful piece of driftwood.
A beautiful piece of driftwood that ruined my life.
You know, at the time I tell myself it’s just my pride that’s injured. But even before my knee explodes in a world of pain on my third step, I know that’s just a lie.
Lauren, my physical therapist, is pretty sure I’ll never run again. And if the blink of an eye on a night of the full moon can take running away, what else am I in danger of losing?
Chapter 5: KAREN’S BLOODY HANGNAIL
It’s dark already, cool and stormy, when the door rings.
“I’ve got it!” I yell, as I walk carefully to the door. I know who I want it to be, although what are the chances?
I look through the peephole. It’s Karen, alone.
I open the door. “Oh,” I say. “Hey.”
She just stares at me. I smile at her, waiting for her to smile back, but she just keeps looking at me with the same blank stare. “What?” I say. “What’s up?”
She shakes her head. “We need to talk.”
“Well come on in, then.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Outside.”
I walk outside with her, into the cold, pulling on a sweater. It’s cloudy and cool and for once I don’t feel the pull of the moon. I’m almost wishing for more overcast weather.
“You going to tell me what’s the matter?” I ask her. “Or you want another hug?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not what I want that matters, not anymore, Stanley. Zach was right. Something’s wrong. Really wrong, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Can you stop talking in riddles? It’s cold out here. Tell me what’s going on.”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been getting these migraines, whenever I go out in the sun. I mean, I never had one before. I go outside now, in the sun, I even let the sun in through my window, and boom – my head is splitting, all I want to do is scream – it’s like my head is exploding. Like the sun is killing me.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“Sure. Mom took me to Dr. Cooper. He just smiled, and told me to wear sunglasses, but I can tell they think I’m crazy. But I’m not. I just wanted you to know that.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy, Karen,” I say. “But you should get help.”
“That’s what Zach said,” she says. “But he just made things worse. Those pills of his didn’t solve anything...”
“You sure you don’t want that hug?”
She bites into her fingernail, refuses to look me in the eye. “I don’t think I could handle a hug right now. I’m not even sure I deserve one right now.”
“Look,” I say. “It’s like, nine? 9:30? Maybe you should get some sleep.”
She snorts. “Sleep? I wish I could.” She chews at her fingernail. “And that’s not all. I mean, what is the matter with me? I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, but I don’t know what I’m craving. Everything I eat disgusts me. I’m throwing up all the time, and my mom thinks I’m bulimic.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She tears savagely into her nail.
“Ouch,” she says. “Now look what you made me do.”
She’s torn it, and her finger is bleeding.
How do I know she’s bleeding, there in the twilight?
Because I can smell it. Smell the coppery tangy sweetness. Forget Karen, what’s the matter with me?
“You okay?” I ask her.
“It’s fine. Just forget it.”
She sticks her finger in her mouth.
Then she gasps. “No,” I hear her whimper. “No, this is so not happening.”
“What?” I say. Is her finger bleeding worse than I thought?
“Blood?” she asks herself, in wonder. “No, really, blood?”
“Do you want me to get a bandaid?” I ask her. “We can put some Neosporin on it.”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “No, Stanley, I’m going home. Right now.”
“I’ll get you a bandaid, and then I’ll walk you back.”
Like I could keep up with her.
“No,” she says. “I don’t need a bandaid. I need to be alone. Now.”
And she’s gone. Just like that. A red blur in the night.
Chapter 6: A SURPRISE ON MY DOORSTEP
My mother knocks at my door. Somehow I couldn’t sleep last night. The moon was so big, so obscenely full, and as I tossed and turned I kept thinking of running. But who am I kidding? My joints ache, my teeth feel ready to fall out. Then there is that coarse black hair sprouting all over my chest, over my back.
Maybe I have Lyme disease, after all? I mean, it’s pretty endemic up here in New England. And I love the woods. But if I have Lyme disease, what’s the matter with Karen? I can’t get her out of my head. That look that came over her face when she sucked her bleeding finger. What is wrong with us?
Whatever else is wrong with me, I know I’m a lunatic. Following the moon’s commands.
Because tonight the moon will rise. Full. The biggest moon in months.
And I don’t think I’m ready for it.
“Stanley?” my mother calls.
“Yeah, Mom?” I groan.
“We’re going to Trader Joe’s. You want anything?”
I’m hungry. But not for anything that my mother will buy me. In my church they say shame is a useless emotion. But I’m still filled with it. Filled with shame, and longing. I want to go to Burger King. Now.
I can’t keep this hunger under control. Maybe Enrique has something that would satisfy? I’ve got to do something. School will start soon, and I can barely walk on the best of days. But when the moon is waxing? When it’s full? What am I going to do at school if my teeth start to bleed, if my joints hurt so bad I can’t walk, can barely stand? What am I going to tell the nurse? What will my mom think?
There’s only one person who might be able to help. Not my Uncle Eli. Not anyone in Providence, either. Someone a lot closer to home.
But I’m afraid to call him. I mean, once we were great friends. Now I’m not so sure what he’s up to. Karen doesn’t trust him, but I don’t think anyone else has any answers.
My window’s open, and I hear someone outside. My God, is it him? Or is it her? Someone fast, anyhow. Lately my senses seem on overdrive. Not just feeling the moon, but movement, out in the streets. Out in the woods. Smelling things too, from blocks away.
The doorbell rings. I hobble down the steps, open the front door, but there’s no one there. He was here, though; I know it was him. But now he’s gone. He’s so fast.
What did he want?
It’s warm outside, and the sun feels good on my skin.
I turn to go back inside, when I notice something. There’s a little brown paper bag. On my doorstep.
I look next door, and there’s another one on Enrique’s front porch. Another little brown paper bag, twisted shut at the top.
I reach down, and bring mine inside.
The paper is warm from the sun. Inside there is a bottle. Made of black glass, which is kind of strange, but I guess that’s normal for Zach – he hates plastic. The label though, is paper, covered with strange symbols that shimmer in the light, but words too: “ETERNAL CLEANSE. All-natural, Organic, Biodynamic, Holistic Vitamin and Cleansing Supplement. Helps with Focus, Pain, Healing, and Other Assorted Ailments. Take three times a day with or without meals until bottle is empty. Contains 90 pills.”
A month’s supply, then.
Forget it. This is madness. I’m going to play with some vitamins, when I don’t even know what’s wrong with me? And if Karen’s right, and they change me?
Change could be good, right now.
But if things got worse?
No, forget it. Things can’t get worse. Karen is crazy. I mean, I already have dark black hair all over my chest and back, have loose teeth and aching joints. What now, are my teeth going to fall out? Am I going to grow fur?
One little pill is not going to kill me.
I’ll take one and see how it affects me. It’s got to be more natural than what the doctor prescribed me, right? It probably won’t hurt me, and what if… what if it helps me? Zach may be a pain, but he’s wicked smart. The boy can grow anything practically just by looking at it, all without chemicals -- he hates them so much he wouldn’t take an aspirin if he was dying.
Most of all I don’t see why he’d lie to me about my knee. I might as well trust him. What do I have to lose? But I’ll walk inside to get something to eat first. I don’t want to upset my stomach.
Chapter 7: KAREN WON’T COME OUT
A few days later I can’t say I feel a dramatic change – just more of an absence. It takes me awhile to figure it out.
My knee hasn’t ached all day.
And I’m smiling.
My parents can’t understand why. I’m not going to tell them, either.
I take a walk instead, and leave the brace at home. The sun is hot, but the wind is cool, cold almost. Can I catch just a hint of Fall color in some of the leaves? Is it really already September? Fall comes so early here in New England.
I walk by Jonathan’s house and think about walking up and knocking. But he’s probably still gone at drawing camp. The boy is going to write some serious graphic novel some day.
Me, I can’t wait until summer is over. I barely see Enrique except when he’s running by; the rest of the time he’s over at the garage, helping his Dad and his big brother work on car engines.
Maybe I should walk by Karen’s? Why not? At this hour, her parents are at work. If she can’t come out, maybe she’ll let me in?
I walk up to my house, ring the doorbell, but the house is silent. There is no movement. No light from inside.
No. I want to talk to her. I’m not just walking away. I can feel her in there, somewhere. Smell her floral scent. She’s there, somewhere. Waiting. Watching.
I bang on the door again.
Suddenly she’s there. I can feel her, right on the other side of the door.
“Stanley?” she whispers. “Stanley, what do you want?”
“Can you open the door?” I ask her. “This is kind of awkward.”
She opens it, just a crack. But there’s a chain.
“I don’t want to see anyone right now. I’m still trying to figure things out. Someone is going to help me—“
“Who?” I ask her. “Who’s going to help you? With what?”
“I can’t tell you until later, maybe, after I’ve met her. I really think she can help me.”
“Just open the door. I wanted to tell you something.”
“Tell me, then,” she says, keeping the door shut.
“Nothing, just my knee… it’s feeling better.”
“Wow,” she says. “That’s unexpected. I’m happy for you.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s amazing. I mean, all that stuff Zach was saying—”
“Wait,” she rasps. “What? You didn’t?”
“Didn’t what?”
“You didn’t take the supplements, did you Stanley? I told you not to take them… I told you if you did, you …”
“I what?”
“You wouldn’t be able to stop.”
“What’s the problem?” I ask her. “My knee feels great. Like it’s healing.”
“Yeah. Your knee feels great. But you solved one problem by creating another.”
“What do you mean, by creating another?”
“How do you think I got those headaches?”
“I thought they were migraines?”
“Then how come I can’t go outside in the sun? And how come my skin’s so sensitive that it burns in sunlight?”
She slams the door shut then, and turns the bolt.
She’s crazy. She gets headaches, she gets sunburns because of vitamins? Now I’ve heard everything. Why doesn’t she just stop taking them?
But I don’t have time to stand there thinking it over. I walk home quickly, almost breaking into a run, my knee nothing more than a dull ache. I want to get home as quick as possible. Get off these streets. Get away from Karen.
It’s not that she’s upset me, or anything.
It’s just time for my pill.
Chapter 8: PHYSICAL THERAPY
A week passes. High school is just around the corner, but I’m obsessed with other changes. I’m hungrier than usual, and the moon is still a week from full. My chest is hairier, and I smell… musky. Worst of all, three times a day my hands start to shake a little and I just feel this terrible … lack.
Until I swallow one little bitter pill.
So Saturday my dad drives me to my monthly physical therapy. My knee starts itching as we drive towards the town center. That’s where Lauren works, in the chiropractor’s office right across from Town Hall.
“What’s the point of going to physical therapy?” I ask him. “I’m never going to run track again.”
He takes a moment before answering. “You know I went through that, too. Maybe a little later than you. In college. But there is more to life than running, I promise. It may take some more time, but eventually you’ll find something else that seems just as right.”
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-39 show above.)