While loading it all into his car, Keith noticed Eric Polidari and his little buddy Marc step out of an apartment across the parking lot. Turning, he took two more cases from Spence. While Spence and Scotty went in for more, Keith wedged the beer into his backseat and covered it with a blanket.
In the corner of his eye, Eric and Marc seemed to be walking straight toward him, but neither of them meant a damn to him. They were probably going to try to get invited to his party. Keith laughed to himself. Not a chance.
“Hey there, Keith,” Marc said in a mocking voice. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Needles scraped Keith’s spine. He remembered that Angie had called Marc’s sister a mutt last winter. Straightening up, he looked at them. They were both scrawny, but ready to fight. If anything, Marc looked angrier than he had the day it happened.
Keith’s mind started racing. He, Spence, and Scotty could take Marc and Eric, no problem. Keith would still lose, though, if his friends learned what Angie had said or how he’d lied for her afterward. They wouldn’t want to come to his party. They’d spread the word around school. Nobody would want to come.
“Call Misty a mutt now, fucker.” Marc faked an open-handed slap to Keith’s head. “Call her a mutt now.”
Keith flinched, but didn’t swing back. “Look. I—I don’t have anything against you.”
“Fuck you, you don’t have anything against me!”
He didn’t. Angie didn’t either. She’d just been mad; she wasn’t really a racist. But that split hair didn’t matter to Marc.
It wouldn’t matter to Spence or Scotty, either. Keith glanced over his shoulder at Charlie Say What’s door. This could not happen. Not today. Keith was so close, and now these two little nothings were about to ruin him.
“What’s up, Keith?” Spence and Scotty stepped out carrying the last two cases of beer, trying to figure out what was happening. Eyeing them eyeing him, Marc shrugged. “So? Think I’m scared? Think I’m going to let you or Angie or anybody call my sis—”
Keith did what he had to, slamming Marc into the car before he could say another word. The kid barely weighed anything. The back of his head bounced against the metal, silencing him.
Eric punched Keith in the shoulder hard enough to send numb shocks into his chest. He was stronger than he looked. Cases of beer crashed to the sidewalk. Spence tackled Eric, heaved the geek up, and flung him down. While he and Scotty kicked Eric’s wailing, fetal body, Keith dragged Marc to the asphalt. Marc grabbed his arm, scratched and kicked, but Keith had twenty pounds on him and a reason to fight. Pinning Marc with a knee in his back, he ground the side of his face against the curb.
It didn’t matter who’d called who what. Marc had almost stolen everything from him. For that, Keith hated him. For that, he enjoyed the way Marc flailed, trying to scream. Leaning down so only Marc could hear, Keith hissed, “Fucking, filthy little mutt.”
“Hey!” Charlie Say What emerged wielding a baseball bat.
“Let’s go! Go!” Keith gave Marc one last kick, then he and his friends scrambled to the car. Charlie hit the roof with his bat, the jarring crack making all three of them scream. Keith peeled out, leaving Marc and Eric crumpled on the ground. Blood shone on asphalt in the bright May afternoon.
“Oh, shit. Are they moving?”
Spence squinted through the rear windshield. “Yeah.”
They fell stone silent, listening for a police siren to come tearing through the quiet. Instead, people pumped gas at the Texaco across from the apartments. Kids skipped home with cartoon character backpacks. It was an ordinary day.
Somehow, Scotty had retrieved one of the dropped cases of beer before escaping Charlie. Pulling a can out, he popped it open and took a sip. “Fucker doesn’t have any ears. How’d he hear us fighting?”
Keith and Spence cracked up. Reaching around, Spence took the beer. “Damn. What was that about, anyway?”
Keith shook his head. “Freaks just came up, started calling Angie a slut and stuff.”
“Somebody starts talking about your girlfriend, man’s gotta right to shut them up. Here, you’ve earned this.” Spence handed him the beer.
Scotty grabbed another can. “They’re the ones Daniel’s been running with lately, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, plus they’re the ones who tried to burn down the school, even though the police can’t prove it.”
“Fucking vermin, man. Somebody needs to beat them harder than we did.”
They toasted one another. The beer was warm and thin, but tasted great. As his pulse returned to normal, an animal calm settled over Keith.
He’d clawed to the mountaintop. It was his destiny, where he’d always belonged, even when no one could see that except him. Tomorrow, he’d finally reach the peak. Nobody could stand in his way.
Val’s phone rang. “I’m on break, Ilie,” she said, flipping it open.
“Can I go on break too?” Misty asked.
Ilie shook his head. “Restock the display cooler before the rush.”
Misty sighed but went into the walk-in cooler, loading a shopping buggy with armloads of premade salads and slices of pie. She didn’t hate the deli as much as school. At least Ilie was more honest than her teachers. Misty worked, and he handed her a check every other Friday. He never expected any more respect than he could pay for.
As she pushed the buggy up to the front, Val crashed into her. “Eric and Marc got beat up.”
“What? By who?”
“Keith Morning and some of his friends. Eric and Marc are at your apartment now.”
Abandoning the buggy, she followed Val, still on her phone, around the counter.
Ilie yelled, “Where are you going? Hey!”
Neither of them looked back. Pushing open the door, they crossed the parking lot in a dead run. The deli was okay, but the pack was all either of them had.
Misty drove. She heard Eric’s tiny voice snarl and spit over the phone as Val coaxed more details from him. He and Marc had been watching TV and spotted Keith, Scotty, and Spence across the way at Charlie Say What’s place. They went over, got into a fight, and Charlie ran Keith and his friends off.
Marc was hurt bad. Charlie had helped Eric get him back home and made it clear he didn’t want the cops involved.
Opening her apartment door, Misty heard a crash from inside. Eric stalked the living room, clutching his side. He’d kicked over an end table, sending a lamp and remote controls to the floor. A nasty cut curved above his cheekbone, but he seemed more humiliated than anything. Val tried to hug him, but he pushed her away.
“They don’t know who they messed with, but they’re going to learn.” Snatching the small fan that stood in the corner, he threw it across the room. “They’re going to learn.”
“Quit wrecking my apartment!” Misty heard water running in the bathroom. She went to look, saying over her shoulder. “Just calm down, okay? Just—oh, Jesus.”
Marc’s face looked chewed. One whole side was black with drying blood. Blood poured from his mouth. It quivered from his lips in gluey tendrils. It dripped between his fingers and splattered white porcelain red. He tried wetting a washcloth, but his hands were scraped and shaking.
Taking the washcloth from him, Misty held it under the warm water. “What did they do?”
“Fucking Keith.” His voice was thick with blood and sobs. Two of his teeth were broken. “Kei—” Marc motioned to his face. “Keith—”
“He was sticking up for you,” Eric said, watching from the doorway with Val.
“How were you …? Damnit, Marc, I told you to leave that shit alone!”
Marc didn’t yell back. He didn’t answer at all. He just stood cradling his raw hands against his belly.
Misty sat him on the edge of the tub and pulled his shirt off. Berry-colored bruises splotched his back. One across his kidney had left the crescent imprint of a sneaker. Misty washed her twin’s cuts. His blood, diluted with tap water, ran down her forearms.
&nb
sp; “Going to look worse than fucking Charlie now.” Marc braved a weak smile, and they tried to laugh for him.
“We’re going to get them, Marc,” Eric said. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get them.”
Val still stood in the doorway. “You said they’re going to a party?”
“Yeah. That’s what Charlie said.”
Val nodded. She weighed every word carefully. “Angie’s been talking about it for weeks in health class. It’s tomorrow. At Café Five Nine.”
That stoked Eric’s rage. “No more games,” he chuckled. “No more hiding, no more scaring them just for fun. It’s time to hunt!”
“Quit! Just calm down! Just everybody calm down!” Misty’s voice shook. She’d been scratched and pricked countless times but still found herself clutching hope by its thorns. “We aren’t … We can’t …”
“We can’t what? Kill them? Because it’s evil?” Eric leaned close. Beneath the drying blood, his face was a meld of pity and disgust. “Look at Marc and tell me this world cares what’s good or evil.”
“Quit!”
“They’re going to joke about this, Misty. They’re going to go to their fucking party and brag.”
“I don’t care!”
Eric ignored her. “Because there’s no such thing as good or evil. There’s only predators and prey.”
Misty shrank away from him and lashed out at her brother. “This is your fault! I told you to leave that shit alone! I told you months ago. You stupid dumbass, why’d you have to pick a fight with three guys, every one of them bigger than you!”
“Because you’re my sister!” Fine red drops sprayed from Marc’s lips. “It doesn’t matter how many there are, how big they are. I can’t let anybody talk to you like that.” Marc shook his head. He had to choke out the words. “You’re my sister, Misty.”
Through Misty’s life, Marc had been the one certain thing. He’d made her laugh while their parents screamed. He’d been there every night when Mom had to work. Even when she insulted him and was too big a bitch just to drive him to their dad’s house, he stood by her. Even when it meant stepping into an unfair fight—letting Keith pound him as ugly on the outside as Angie had made Misty feel on the inside—Marc had never let her suffer alone.
The rest of them had needed Amanita muscaria to teach them the loyalty of wolves; Marc had been born with it. He was the best brother ever.
The hand-lickers, though, would never see anything in him except a mutt, a dirty stray somebody should put to sleep.
“There’s only predators and prey,” Eric said again, quieter this time. “You’re either one or the other.”
Months ago Eric had told Misty she couldn’t trust Daniel, that Daniel wasn’t like them. He’d been right. Later he said that if somebody wearing boots got into a fight with somebody in a letterman jacket, the other hand-lickers wouldn’t care what the fight was about. They’d defend their own, no questions asked. Eric had been right then, too. He’d been right over and over, and Misty couldn’t make herself believe in fairy tales anymore.
Misty finally let go of the thorns, and there was no more pain. She felt calm, a little light-headed.
Marc was still sniffling. Reaching out, Misty held him as close as they’d been in the womb. “Don’t cry. We’re done crying.” Marc’s blood smeared her face like war paint. “They aren’t, but we are.”
Both of the boys could have used a few stitches, but didn’t need them. They cleaned up a little more, and Misty found some antibiotic ointment in the drawer. They were smearing it on their cuts on when the front door opened.
“Oh, dear Jesus,” Misty’s mom said, seeing the living room trashed. “Marc? Misty?” When she saw them, Marc and Eric battered, Misty and Val still in their Florence Deli vests, she halted. “What happened? Marc? Are you all right?”
Marc nodded but didn’t know what to say. Misty handed him his blood-streaked jersey, telling him to put it back on.
“Misty?” Her mom had done the best she could, but childhood was over.
“Don’t worry,” Misty sniffed. “We’re going to be okay, okay? And I love you. And you’re a great mom, and none of this is your fault. Just please don’t think that, okay? And … just … I love you. I love you.” It wasn’t enough, but Misty didn’t know how words ever could be.
“I know you love me, baby. I love you, too,” her mom said. “Just tell me what’s the matter.”
Misty slid past her. She grabbed Misty’s arm, but Misty yanked her mom’s hand away and, unable to look at her, led the pack out into the dying red sunlight.
CHAPTER 21
The last week of regular class, excitement swelled through the school until groups of students seemed moments from busting into choreographed dance routines like a Broadway chorus line.
Daniel kept to himself, though. Ignored by teachers, no friends left, he’d become almost invisible. The only thing he looked forward to was slipping into the library every lunch period. He read a little of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and remembered what he could have had.
If we shadows have offended, think hut this and all is mended….
Friday morning, Zach Lee jumped onto Jason Arrington’s car as he pulled into the parking lot. Zach whooped in jubilation while bouncing on Jason’s bumper. Everywhere, people laughed loudly and hugged a lot. The pack was gone. A clutch of posing freshman girls had taken over their picnic table. Maybe a third of the student body had decided to sleep in, though, so Daniel didn’t think much about it.
In the lobby, Keith and the others gathered near the trophy cases. As Daniel passed by, Spence called out, “Hey, tell your boys they owe us a case of beer.” They all laughed, but Daniel didn’t get it. He kept walking, pretending he had somewhere important to be.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Recognizing Misty’s home number, Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. He ducked into a restroom where a teacher wouldn’t confiscate his phone and thumbed the receive button.
“Misty? Hey.”
“No. This is her mom. Is this Daniel?”
After a few bright seconds of hope, Daniel’s mood darkened again. “Oh, hey. Yeah, this is Daniel.”
“Are Misty and Marc at school?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Could they be there somewhere and you just haven’t seen them?”
“I guess. I’ll keep an eye out, but I think they’re skipping. Uh, do you know Misty and me broke up?”
She did, but she was desperate. She told Daniel what had happened the day before. Somebody had beaten up Marc and Eric. Misty had talked strangely, and then they’d left. “Neither of them will answer their phones. I’ve called their grandparents, their dad, the police.”
“Well, if I see either of them, I’ll tell them to call you, okay?” The bell rang. Chatter in the lobby outside began falling to a few voices.
“Thank you. Are you sure you don’t know what’s going on?”
“No, ma’am. I really don’t, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know who’d want to hurt Marc like that.” She kept talking, reluctant to hang up on her last remaining hope.
Misty’s mom was scared, but she had no clue how bad this really was. While he mumbled vague assurances, Daniel imagined a faceless somebody joking about beating up two losers, laughing so hard he never noticed the werewolves stealing up behind him.
“Oh, God.” Daniel remembered Spence’s senseless joke. He ran out of the restroom. “Keep calling Misty and Marc, okay? I need to go.”
The lobby was empty, but Daniel knew Spence had Mrs. Crow for homeroom. Taking the steps two at a time, he skidded to a stop in front of the English class. Mrs. Crow was giving some pointers about the final. Through the window in the door, Daniel spotted Spence. Thin scratches covered his arms, there were scabs on his knuckles, and Daniel’s somebody wasn’t faceless anymore.
“What did you do to Marc?” As he jerked open the door, the whole class turned and Mrs. Crow froze. Daniel ignored them. “Spence, w
hat did you do to Marc and Eric?”
Spence jumped out of his seat. “They stepped out of line, so we helped them back in. Got a problem? Come on.”
He thought Daniel wanted to fight. “Spence, Listen to me. They’re dangerous, and they’re pissed off. The pack is ready to kill you.”
“The pack? Is that what those retards call themselves? Bunch of shit packers. That’s what kind of pack they are.”
Muffled laughter broke the silence around them. Daniel glanced at the students’ expressions. A few were amused, most were just baffled. Mrs. Crow had quietly left the room.
“Damnit, this thing’s not over.” He grabbed for Spence’s beefy arm, but Spence jerked away. Werewolves were stalking him, but Daniel couldn’t warn him. Spence had been his friend once. All Daniel would have needed to say was that he was in trouble and Spence would have believed him. That was a long time past, though.
“Mr. Morning, back off. You too, Mr. Cross.” Mr. Fine strode into the room, followed by Mrs. Crow. The vice-principal pulled Daniel away from Spence. Leading him out of the room, Mr. Fine rambled about how he wasn’t going to put up with this anymore. Worse than an outcast, Daniel had become a mute. He could shout as loud as he wanted, but nobody would hear him.
Twisting out of Mr. Fine’s grip, Daniel ran. Flying downstairs and out the front entrance, he made it to the sidewalk. Then fear seized him. Beneath one of the now-empty picnic tables sat a fairy ring of delicate Amanita muscaria.
“No, no,” he groaned, trying not to believe what he saw.
The door swung open. Mr. Fine was chasing him, running too hard to yell. Daniel crushed a few mushrooms under his foot and bolted to the parking lot. With the vice-principal still coming, he jumped in his car and headed for the furnace.
Last winter, Misty had left school too. First, she told Daniel she’d done it because government class was boring. Later, he saw how little regard wolves had for any authority above the pack. That still wasn’t the whole truth, through.
Maybe the wolf had made her reckless enough to stand up, but she’d been driven by compassion, love, and everything that lit humanity from within. At least, everything that could, since Daniel and the rest of the class had sat as dumb and dulleyed as animals. Misty had the strength it took to be gentle. No fangs or claws, no rot-eater god, could give anyone that.
Unleashed Page 20
