by Kym Brunner
“Gross,” Haley said, scrunching her face.
I had no idea how Charlie had kept a straight face while saying all that stuff. I worried that his act would frighten Miss Lucy away, but she shrugged. “Sorry. I have plans.”
“Same,” Jeanette said, but not as convincingly. She looked more amused than horrified.
Lucy stared directly into my eyes. “Since you’re an official HALT member now, Mercer, do you want to walk around with us and get more signatures?”
The choking feeling I’d felt a few minutes earlier returned—but this time there was no potato chip to blame. I definitely wanted the girl but most definitely did not want to walk around asking guys to give up meat. Could be dangerous come gym time.
Reed nodded at my untouched second dog. “Are you going to eat this, Mercer?”
Lucy gripped the clipboard tightly to her chest. “Is that a beef hot dog?”
I swallowed hard. “Uh, I’m not sure.”
Lucy looked disappointed. “Well, it is, but since you didn’t know, I can forgive you this time. But the good news is that if we collect enough signatures, we can get some vegetarian dogs here instead. You want that too, right, Mercer?
Reed shook his head but Charlie burst out laughing. “Yeah. Right, Mercer?”
I knew this was my chance to back out—to say that though I thought she was awesome, I loved hot dogs and hamburgers. But one look at Lucy’s luscious, meat-free lips, and I knew kissing her would be worth a million meatless lunches. “Definitely.”
ELEVEN
THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL WAS THE BEST YET. In the hall between periods, Lucy waved to me and called out, “See you at lunch, Mercer!” A swarm of guys nearby shot me dirty looks.
At lunch, I bought a salad and a bag of Cheese Puffs in case Lucy asked me to sit with her—and was rewarded for my brilliance. As I sauntered toward my regular table, she waved me over. Did I want to join the HALT team for lunch? Hmm . . . sit with the girl who had a padlock on my heart, or sit with Reed and Charlie?
I was seated next to Lucy so fast you’d think I had superpowers.
Then Reed and Charlie carried their overflowing lunch trays over to us. Charlie slid his tray next to mine. “Move over. The men have arrived.”
Lucy and I started to scooch over when Haley waved her half-eaten banana in the air. “Sorry, but you’re only welcome to join us if you have meat-free lunches.”
One look at their trays had them slinking back to our old table. Whenever I glanced over there, Charlie flaunted today’s special at me—a barbecue pork chop sandwich on a steamed sesame seed bun. My stomach growled and my mouth watered, but sitting next to Lucy and listening to her excited chitchat made it all worthwhile—even if there was more drool than balsamic vinaigrette on my chef’s salad. Whether the drool was over her or over the pork chop sandwich was anybody’s guess.
When the topic of the meatless cafeteria petition came up again, I quickly pointed out that they’d gotten only four signatures, hoping to persuade them to discontinue that drive. The thought of walking around the cafeteria asking other teens not to eat meat was not only pointless but also risky. If I got too close to someone’s meatloaf, my resistance could crumble and I might scarf down the person’s lunch.
Lucy nodded. “I think you’re right. What else could we do to help local animals?”
“We can leave Cheese Puffs on the floor for all the mice to munch on during the night,” I suggested, tossing one over my shoulder. Lucy obliged me with a hearty laugh.
“Are you sure you want to be part of the club, Mercer?” Haley narrowed her eyes at me, immediately stifling Lucy’s giggle. Haley was obviously the heavy in this organization, which was ironic, since she was thinner and shorter than my fifth-grade sister. Maybe I’d joined this club too hastily. Could I have won Lucy’s heart without all of this deception?
“He already said he did, Haley,” Lucy argued on my behalf, surprising me. “He has a funny sense of humor, that’s all. You’re glad you signed up, right, Mercer?” Lucy licked her lips, her sage green eyes wide and hopeful, making a blast of heat race through my body.
As much as I wanted to back out, I wasn’t positive Lucy would stick with me if I did. “I didn’t eat meat, did I?” I lifted my empty Cheese Puffs bag and salad container as proof, one soggy radish slice swimming in balsamic vinegar dressing. “I’m still starving, though.”
I gazed longingly toward the kitchen, wondering whether my parents would care if I bought two lunches in one day on their dollar. Not even two blinks later, food appeared in front of me as if I had rubbed a genie’s lamp. Jeanette gave me half of one of her cream cheese and jelly sandwiches, and Lucy gave me a cupcake.
Yep, Lucy was right. All of this attention being showered on me as the only male member of the group was a huge downer. Too bad everything in my life couldn’t be this terrible.
Haley bit her apple, munching loudly. “By the way, there’s a big HALT rally on Saturday morning at Wool-Mart on Main. Can you guys go?”
Jeanette frowned. “I can’t. It’s my grandma’s seventieth birthday party.”
“Too bad.” Lucy shrugged. “I’m going. How about you, Mercer?”
Hang out in front of a store protesting wool wearers? How could shearing sheep be considered cruel to animals? It’s not as if it killed them. I was about to ask for a clarification when the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Everyone shot out of their seats and headed toward the door, but Lucy was still looking at me, waiting for my answer.
I ignored the warning in my head. “Count me in.” When she clapped her approval, I knew I’d made the right decision. My parents, however, might not be so happy. But, hey, they didn’t tell me everything that was going on in their lives, so why should I tell them everything in mine?
Besides, maybe there was something I didn’t know about the wool industry—something painful to the sheep. Though HALT protesters could be over the top, I knew that some people really were cruel to animals and needed to be stopped. I’d heard of farm animals starving to death, circus animals being beaten into submission, and horses becoming lame because they hadn’t been shod properly.
As I tossed my tray onto the stack by the cafeteria door, I figured out a plan. I’d have Lincoln drop me off at the mall on his way to his job. This could work. A few minutes later, Reed and Charlie caught up with me at my locker.
Charlie elbowed me. “So tell us . . . how was your salad, Mercer? Feeling bloated from all those croutons?”
Reed added, “Stuffed to the gills with carrots and sprouts?”
“Keep laughing, boys, because any day now, Lucy and I will be sharing some French dressing while you’ll be alone, licking your forks.”
Reed made a face. “Ha, in your dreams.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Man, that’s it. Tomorrow I’m buying a salad and getting me a Veggie Girl too. That Jeanette is mighty tasty looking.” He rubbed his hands together.
“I’ll believe it when I see it, Chubs.” I had never seen Charlie eat a salad in the entire time I’d known him. Hell, I wasn’t sure how long I could continue this no-meat charade myself. Starting tomorrow, I’d load up at breakfast—maybe some steak and eggs with a side of roast beef and chicken.
The next day, Charlie stayed true to his word. He brought his two grilled cheese sandwiches to the HALT table, and then asked Jeanette if this was the spot where all the models sat. She giggled and he sat next to her, and the two started chatting up a storm. Haley didn’t seem too pleased, especially after Reed joined our table when he was done eating—a deep-fried chicken patty still in his gut. She told him that he’d have to stop eating meat altogether if he wanted to sit at her table. I heard him tell her, “That’ll never happen. Deal with it.”
Haley looked annoyed but didn’t say anything more, making me cringe at how much of a wimp I truly was.
The rest of the week flew by. My classes were okay, but lunch was amazing. Reed inhaled his carnivorous delights
with some other guys before joining us, but Charlie and I maintained our meatless lunch bid and ate with the girls. It worried me that Reed kept sitting right next to Lucy on her other side when he joined us, even though he knew I liked her. It kind of pissed me off even more because, every time he spoke, Lucy had to turn her head toward him, which left me out of the conversation. I know I was being irrational, but when it came to Lucy, I couldn’t think straight.
Haley cleared her throat. “So are you guys coming to the protest on Saturday or what?”
“Can’t,” Reed stated. “The three of us always go off-roading Saturday mornings.”
“’Tis a long-standing tradition, lass,” Charlie said, using an Irish brogue.
“But Mercer’s coming with us.” Lucy’s head spun toward me. “Aren’t you, Mercer?”
All eyes were on me. I swallowed hard. “Yep. Sorry guys. I can’t go with you Saturday.”
Reed looked disgusted, maybe even angry, but Charlie winked at me. “We’ll manage without you . . . this time.”
By Friday, things were starting to go really well between Lucy and me. When I leaned my leg against hers, she didn’t move away. She even offered me a bite of her bean sprout and spicy tofu sandwich, which I foolishly accepted. I lasted only two seconds before spitting it into my napkin. “That stuff tastes like crap!”
“Oh, really? You eat crap regularly?” Lucy raised her eyebrows.
“Only on Wednesdays, but enough to know good crap from bad.” Then an amazing thing happened. She bit the same part of the bread that my mouth had just touched. That had to be a sign that she was secretly craving my germs. At least that’s what I told myself.
At home, things weren’t as great. Cleaning the entire mews every day was time-consuming and tiring. And even though I worked with Flip for at least an hour, solid, every night after cleaning, it wasn’t as much fun as I had hoped. Not because I’d lost interest, but because Flip hated me. Hard as it was to believe, he was lazier than I was. Never wanted to fly to me, just sat on his perch and looked the other way.
Too bad Monocle couldn’t hunt with her one eye, or she’d be the best hunting partner ever.
That night, Lincoln went out with Lauren, and I went out with Flip. Yep, Friday night with my hawk. As I brought Flip to the training area, scores of birds flew out of the stand of pines along our property line, alerting every mouse, squirrel, and chipmunk that a hawk was in the house. Flip tried to take off after them, and would have too if I hadn’t been holding on to the jesses attached to his legs.
“Are you hungry, Flip?” I asked him. “I’ve got just the thing.”
Flip stepped onto the perch, and I pulled out a small piece of rabbit meat, thinking he’d bowl me over trying to get to it, but he didn’t. He groomed himself, as if he had already eaten that day and was now “fed up,” a falconer’s term that meant your bird was too full and wasn’t interested in hunting anymore. Watching Flip ignore me made me fed up—with him. I thought about sending him back to the woods and forgetting about becoming a falconer altogether, since I clearly sucked at this.
I knew I was being stupid. Even though Dad’s falcon, Troy, responded to his hand signals as if Dad were the Pied Piper, and Lincoln’s goshawk, Bella, was already within a few ounces of her hunting weight, I’d had Flip for only a week. I sighed, hating the whole idea about having patience and wishing I could hurry things up and have him fully trained by tomorrow.
“Hey, Skinny. Where’s your dad?” Weasel asked, making me jump. That was one thing about falconers—we learned to cross a field soundlessly, careful not to step on sticks or shuffle our feet. If we did, we’d scare the quarry into hiding before our birds were close enough to nab the prey. Guess I would’ve been eaten if Weasel had been a hawk and I a rabbit because I hadn’t heard a thing.
I explained that Dad had gone to train some volunteers who were interested in working in the bird sanctuary out in Sleepy Hollow. He nodded, asking how things were going with Flip. “He’s living up to his name,” I joked, even though when Dad had said it I hadn’t thought it was very funny. “He keeps flipping his middle talon at me and ignoring me.”
“Nonsense.” Weasel scratched his chin. At least I assumed there was chin under that thick beard, although I’d never actually seen it. “How’s he doing on the creance line?”
I shrugged. “We haven’t started that yet. Dad said we’d try this weekend.” Dad probably had sensed I would suck at that as well and was trying to delay my inevitable failure.
“I see. Well, I’ve got a hunch your friend Flip is bored with flying only five feet and wants more of a challenge.” He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t suppose your father would mind if I stepped in for a session, since he’s busy and all. Want to give it a shot?”
I had my doubts that Flip could do anything besides eat and mute, but I said, “Sure! That’d be cool.”
Weasel retrieved a self-winding 270-foot creance line from the rehab center. After he attached the swivel clip to Flip’s jesses on his ankle, he walked with me and had me stand what seemed like miles away from Flip.
“Just so you’re not disappointed, Flip’s probably too dumb to catch on to this,” I warned him.
“No such thing as a dumb hawk, Mercer. Only dumb falconers—remember that.”
“Hey!”
“You’ll see what I mean in a second.” Weasel stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder. He pointed to the piece of raw rabbit meat I had in my fingers. “Put that dry turd you’re holding back into your pouch and pull me out a piece of meat that’s got some spit on it.”
I dug into my waist pouch and pulled out a wet chunk of meat. “Much better. But turn your hand like this.” He twisted my hand so that the last of the sunlight glinted off the wet piece of meat. “Now hold still and wait.” I did as instructed, but Flip remained on the perch, motionless.
“See?” I said sourly. “You’ve met your first stupid hawk.”
Weasel whispered, “Shhh. Don’t move. See how he’s turning his head a bit? He sees it. Just give him a few more seconds and—” Before he had finished his sentence, Flip flew across the field and landed on my fist.
“Boo-ya!” I grinned at the hawk tearing at the meat I held between my thumb and forefinger, and then back at Weasel. “That was great.”
“It’s all about finesse.” Weasel gave me a few more tips that Dad had never shared, and then had Flip fly back and forth several times. Weasel said that Flip would be ready to fly without the creance soon enough, but timing was everything. Waiting too long might make a bird lose interest, but moving too fast might confuse him and he would fly off into the woods.
“Does the same thing apply to girls?” I joked.
Weasel laughed. “You know it. And to prove my point, I’ve got to get my butt home before Jenny kills me. I’ve been gone just long enough for her to miss me, but not long enough to tick her off. It’s all about the timing.” He messed my hair before turning to leave. Why did people always do that to me?
I unhooked Flip and headed into the mews to put him away and say good night to Monocle. If timing was everything, then things needed to change. I had to stop acting so sheepish and officially ask Lucy out tomorrow at the rally.
TWELVE
I GOT UP EARLY SATURDAY MORNING TO TAKE CARE of my falconer chores, much to Dad’s delight, but I had my own private agenda. It was a crisp fall morning, the kind that makes you shiver and wonder when the parentals would put the heat on in the house. I cleaned the mews in record time. Even Monocle was happy when I spent a few minutes telling her how pretty she was. She looked a bit alarmed when I told her that if everything went well today, I might have a new woman in my life. She herked at me as I walked away, but, hey, that was the price she paid for loving a blazing-hot GQ model–slash–hit man.
I ran to the house to clean up before heading off to meet Lucy. I shaved, ever so carefully, put on my cleanest jeans, and tossed on my PEOPLE TELL ME I’M TALL LIKE I’M UNAW
ARE T-shirt.
I hurried out to the rehab center to tell Dad I was leaving.
“You’re going shopping?” he asked disbelievingly. He tore his eyes from Rusty, a small kestrel with a permanently disabled wing. “You need new shoes or something?”
“Nah. There’s this band playing in the parking lot that I want to see.” I had come up with that alibi last night and thought it sounded decent.
“A band? This early?” He checked his watch.
I shrugged. “Some promotional thing, I think.” I wanted this conversation to be over with before he dug any deeper for details.
“How are you getting there?” Dad rubbed his cheek with the back of his wrist to avoid getting his skin oils on his fingertips, which wasn’t good for birds’ wings.
“Lincoln said he’d drop me off, and then I’ll just walk home afterward.” As if on cue, a loud honk blasted from the front of the house. “Later!” I jogged off to catch my ride.
“Call me if you need me to pick you up!” Dad yelled.
“Okay!” I shouted back, knowing there was no way I ever would. I didn’t want either of my parents to see me within a mile of the protest. Not only because they might find out what I was up to, but also because everyone knew that having your parents pick you up or take you anywhere once you got past eighth grade was social suicide.
A three-mile walk was nothing compared to that humiliation.
As I got closer to Lincoln’s old silver Caddy, he barked, “Hurry up!”
I sprinted to the car and got in, but he pulled away before I had even slammed the rusty door. His car guzzled gas the way my dad downs coffee, but it had smooth gray leather seats and an awesome music system. Lincoln wasn’t a gearhead like Reed, but he did okay. Kept it pretty clean in there too. Knowing my brother, that probably had something to do with having the back seat ready for action at a moment’s notice, just like the minutemen.
He sped down Pine Road toward town. “Why are you going to the mall, anyway? You hate shopping.” He eyed me suspiciously.
