“Nah. You don’t get sick.” He sipped his coffee, looking at me over the rim of his cup. His eyes smiled.
My shoulders sagged. “I can’t go.”
“You can’t cut every time you get the shakes. What do you think girls do? Do you think they take off just because they have a little visitor?”
That stumped me. What was he talking about?
He sat at the table with his coffee and newspaper, bare-chested. His movements made the cuts on his neck ooze. The coppery scent of blood filled the kitchen.
My stomach roiled. “I can’t.”
“You’re going,” he said from behind his paper. “Even if you’re late.”
I scowled, unable to think of a retort. “What happened to your neck?”
“Cat fight. You know how it goes.” He grinned and gave me a wink. A chill ran through me. I backed away and got ready for school.
We drove through town without speaking. I kept my eyes closed most of the way. Colors were too bright, and the jouncing of the truck made everything blur.
As we pulled to the front of the school, Uncle Bob said, “I’ll pick you up right here at the regular time.”
I got out and slammed the door. My life sucked. Shoulders hunched, hands in my pockets, I walked through the courtyard. The school buses were already there, and people hung out in groups. I noticed a crowd near the parking lot.
Then, with my hyper-hearing, I heard Brittany say, “Knock it off, Ephraim. Leave me alone.”
My stomach plummeted. I rushed toward the growing crowd.
“Where you going, goth girl?” Eff said. “How about a little kiss?”
“Stop it!”
I pushed through the bystanders and burst through to the front. Brittany hugged an armful of books, struggling to get away from Eff’s half-embrace. He stood behind her making smooching sounds in her ear. She twisted, and he let go. I couldn’t tell if he shoved her or if she overbalanced, but she fell, books scattering.
I was so mad I heard sirens go off in my head. I stepped between them, glaring at Eff. “That’s enough.”
A gasp encircled the crowd as the onlookers took a collective step back.
Eff’s face lit. “Oooh. New kid. I’m so scared.”
The football brigade stood behind him, their ears perked, sensing an easy mark. But I wasn’t easy. Not this time. I would never be the easy one again. “Walk away, Eff.”
“What are you going to do, huh?” He sneered. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
Eff glanced to the side, and his buddies stepped back as if to give him room. His eyes narrowed. He swung a fist at me. It was like in slow motion. I raised my hand and caught it—not deflected it. Stopped it cold. His eyes widened in a moment of surprise. Then I struck out with the heel of my other hand, hitting him flat in the face.
He flew backward ten or twelve feet. Might’ve gone farther, but he slammed into his friends. I stomped forward, and they dropped him like he was hot. He sprawled on the pavement, looking dazed. Blood gushed from his nose. I stood over him and growled.
Actually growled.
That snapped me out of it. Silence stood around me. I glanced about at surrounding faces, all of them looking shocked and amazed. I turned toward Brittany. She still sat on the ground, her books about her.
If this were a romance novel, I would offer my hand to the beautiful damsel in distress. But this was a horror flick. I didn’t want to turn into a wolf in front of her. I stalked away without a backward glance. I figured that if the jocks were going to jump me, they would have done it by now. The crowd retreated, murmuring and staring.
I clenched my jaw. The wolf inside me seethed, but it was tempered by the knowledge of where I was and what I’d done. I pushed through the front doors of the school and went to my first class.
The morning was miserable. Everywhere I went, people stared at me, whispering, “There he is.” “Did you hear what he did?”
The between-class crush no longer existed. It was like a magical aisle formed before me wherever I walked.
When I went to World History, I kept my head down and avoided Brittany’s eyes. It was ironic. All this time, I was hoping she would notice me. Now that she had, it was for the wrong reasons.
At the end of class, I went to the boys’ locker room to dress out for PE. Eff wasn’t around. I wasn’t surprised. I busted his nose pretty good. I wove through rows of benches, making my way to my locker, trying to ignore the stares that followed, when Coach Murgott latched onto my arm.
In a quiet voice, he said, “Vice Principal Overhill wants to see you in his office right away.”
I closed my eyes. It figured there would be repercussions. Probably I’d be expelled. I wondered where my parents would send me after Uncle Bob kicked me out.
Coach patted my shoulder. “I’ve already put in a good word for you.”
I stared at him. “But he’s your star player.”
“You could be, too. Besides, I’ve seen how Eff taunts you. We all know he can be a bit of a jerk.” He smiled and gave me a gentle shove.
I walked out wondering if Coach was tricking me. Like he’d fill me with false hope, and then I’d get to the office to find a firing squad.
The woman with the glasses greeted me with a worried expression. She nodded toward the vice principal’s door. “Go on in.”
I licked my lips, but my mouth was so dry, it didn’t do any good. I walked into Overhill’s office.
Eff sat in a chair. He looked paler than usual. Bright white tape covered his nose. A man stood behind him. Probably his father. He glared at me as I entered. Behind the two of them, looking as stern as ever, stood Sheriff Brad.
Great. Not only was I being expelled, I was being arrested, too.
“Have a seat, Cody,” Overhill said.
There were three chairs before his desk. I chose the one farthest from Eff.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Overhill said.
My stomach quivered, but beneath my apprehension came a twinge of anger. I met his eyes. “A lot of people saw what happened.”
“Yes. We’ve gotten a variety of stories. I want to hear yours.”
I shrugged. “Eff was harassing a girl. He shoved her. She fell. I stepped between them.”
“You hit a girl?” Eff’s father bellowed.
“No.” Eff mumbled around the wad of gauze up his nose. “Dad, he’s eyeing. I was dust hawking do her.”
Overhill cocked his head at me. “That’s when you punched Ephraim.”
“I told him to walk away. He took a swing at me. I pushed him.”
“You didn’t punch him?”
“No, sir.”
“Hold out your hands.” Sheriff Brad stomped over to me. He examined my knuckles. “They’re clean. No marks.”
“Thee? Ike I toad you,” Eff said. “I fell. He couldn’t ache my nodes. Ook at him. Inny ’ittle ’it head.”
“That’s enough of that kind of language,” Overhill said.
From the doorway, a girl said, “You wanted to see me?”
I smelled Brittany—from her fruity hair gel to the mud on her shoes. My face went hot, and I wanted to melt through the floor, but I turned to look at her. I couldn’t stop myself.
“Yes,” Overhill told her. “Sit down.”
Her eyes flashed. In a measured tone, she said, “I will not sit next to that moron.”
Overhill blinked. “Which one?”
Sheriff Brad said, “Miss Meyer, we are trying to get to the bottom of an altercation that occurred on school grounds this morning.”
“Simple,” she said. “Mister Football, here, was shoving me around, and Cody stopped him.”
Relief eased my frown. She knows my name.
“I see,” said the sheriff. “Did you at any time feel you were in danger?”
She waved her arm at Eff. “What do you think?”
“Brittany,” Overhill said in a cajoling voice, the kind of voice my mother used when she was pointing o
ut the ridiculous. “It has been suggested that Ephraim pushed you down.”
“He did.”
“Did hot,” Eff said.
“You lie.” She glared at him, and then pointed at me. “If Cody hadn’t shown up, you might have hurt me even more.”
Overhill perked. “You’re hurt?”
“Yeah.” She focused her glare on the vice principal. Then she lifted the side of her skirt. Way up. Her thigh looked scraped and bruised, and a dark red abrasion showed near her hip.
I gasped, first at the beauty. Her leg was hot. Then at the harm. Eff had hurt her.
He hurt her.
I shot to my feet, a growl in my throat, my hands poised to strangle.
Eff’s father got to him first. “That does it.” He dragged his son by the collar. “Mister Overhill, thank you for your time. We’re going.”
I clenched my fists, breathing hard, glaring as they left the office. Overhill walked to the open door. “Carol, please have someone escort Brittany to the infirmary.”
Brittany sputtered. “I don’t need—”
He held up his hand, curtailing her. “You’re injured. You should at least put some ice on it.”
With a huff, she spun on her heel and went into the lobby. I watched her go. I wanted to be with her, needed to protect her. Her bruises raged in my mind. I relaxed my shoulders and tried to look nonchalant. “Are we done?”
“Well…” Sheriff Brad consulted a notebook. “Under the circumstances, I don’t believe Mister Higgins will be pressing charges. However.” He fixed me with a steely eye. “That’s quite a temper you have, boy. We’ll be watching you.” He flipped the notebook shut and left the room, jingling as he walked. Maybe he had keys or loose change in his pockets.
Overhill sat on the edge of the desk. “I told you we don’t like troublemakers here.”
“I didn’t cause this.”
“No. But this vigilante stuff. The proper thing would be to get a teacher.”
“And leave a girl to the mercy of a thug?”
“At least he’d be held accountable, not you.” He looked at me. “Is this the sort of thing that got you in trouble at your last school? Are there sealed legal records I should be aware of?”
I pursed my lips, biting back a tirade. I’d never been in trouble. Not once. But Overhill wouldn’t believe that. He already had me pegged as a problem.
“The sheriff is right,” Overhill said. “You have anger management issues. If you don’t learn to control yourself, things like this will follow you all your life.”
“Things like helping people?”
“You’re a superhero now? Is that how you see yourself?”
The bell rang. There was an immediate uproar from the hallways beyond the office.
Overhill looked at me. “You may go.”
I rushed out, welcoming the noise, the crush of bodies, the obscurity. That is, until an aisle opened as those around me backed away and stared. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
At lunchtime, I went through the line and carried my crappy meal to the back of the room as usual. I slouched in my seat, wondering how I could get away with cutting the rest of my classes, when someone dropped their tray on the table before me.
“Do you mind?” Brittany asked. “Nobody wants to sit with me, either.”
I blinked, my mouth dropping open. “Ah.”
She sat across from me at the empty table, the florescent lights turning her hair almost blue. Her lips were glossy purple. She smiled. “That was really cool, what you did.”
Wow. She thought I was cool. Pleasure and embarrassment warmed my cheeks. “I don’t usually get in fights like that. It’s not me.”
“I know.” She nodded. “But that is your rep.”
“I have a reputation?”
“They say lots of things about you.” She looked at her tray. It held an orange, two apples, and a yogurt. She took a bite of apple. “Some say you hit your teacher with a car. Others say you picked up the car and threw it at your teacher. But most say you locked your teacher in the trunk of the car and pushed it over a cliff.”
“I what?”
“You have cliffs where you came from, right? In Maine?”
“Massachusetts,” I said, “and yes, we have cliffs.”
“Florida must be quite a change for you. We don’t have much of anything around here.”
“I can get used to the weather.”
“Wait until summer.” She took another bite of apple, leaving bright purple kisses on the skin.
I cleared my throat, looking away. “So, what’s with you and Eff? You two got some sort of a thing?”
She scoffed. “He asked me to go to Jana’s birthday party.”
A rock landed in the pit of my stomach. I tried to cover my dismay. “Someone’s having a party?”
“Jana. It’s a big deal. Most everyone in the tenth grade will be there.”
“Eff asked you in front of all those people?”
“No.” She drawled the word. “He asked me a couple days ago. In private. The party’s in February. I guess he figured if he asked me early he’d catch me off guard. I said I wouldn’t go with him, of course. He’s still mad about it.”
“So, you two aren’t dating?”
“He’s been trying to get me to go out with him since we were in eighth grade. You’d think he’d get the message.”
Smiling, I picked up my sandwich. She nearly choked. “Don’t eat that.”
“It’s just cheese.” I opened it up. “Cheddar, see?”
“That part’s all right, but don’t eat the bread. It’s processed.”
She scrunched her nose as she said it. I stared, wishing she would do it again.
“Hold on.” She opened her packet of silverware. With a plastic knife, she sawed two thick slices from her remaining apple, and then sandwiched the cheese between them. “Eat it like this. The perfect lunch.”
“You’re joking.” I nibbled a corner. It wasn’t bad. I shrugged and took a larger bite.
Brittany seemed pleased. “So, you live with the Fix-It Guy?”
“Yeah. He’s my uncle.”
“How come you don’t live with your parents?”
I looked at her, wanting to tell her the truth, wanting to tell her a lie. I pictured myself giving a witty reply—well, after I set my teacher on fire… But I wasn’t witty. I was a monster. With a shrug, I said, “I guess they just don’t want me around anymore.”
Brittany nodded, looking a little sad, and opened her yogurt.
For the rest of the day, I went through the motions of listening in class, but my mind was on Brittany. I replayed our lunch together in minute detail.
Kids continued to stare and hop out of my way. It didn’t bother me. I even smiled once or twice. But when I got into Shop, Maxwell and Lonnie treated me like some kind of conquering hero. I had to put a stop to it.
“Look, it wasn’t a big deal,” I told them. “He threw a punch, I threw a punch, and it was over.”
“Over is right.” Maxwell chortled. “I heard his dad came to get him. I’d like to hear Eff explain what happened.”
“Seriously,” Lonnie said.
“Good thing you don’t have to explain to your parents,” Maxwell said.
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes. I would have to tell my uncle. The thought soured my mood.
By the end of the day, the wolf in me raged. I rushed to escape the confines of the building.
A group of girls gave me a wide berth.
I yelled at them. “Yeah, that’s right. Get out of my way.”
They scampered like rabbits, giggling and flicking glances at me over their shoulders.
I looked for my uncle, but Howard was there instead. He leaned against the side of a truck the color of rust. He wore overalls without a shirt, and his hair blew about his bare shoulders.
I walked over to him. “Is Uncle Bob okay?”
“He bumped into an old friend. Taking her to dinner. He said t
o tell you he’d see you in the morning.”
“Oh.” I winced and glanced over the emptying courtyard. “Great.”
“Not a problem, is it?”
“No. I mean, it’s his life and all. It’s just that…” I lowered my voice. “I got in a fight today. Busted a guy’s nose. I just figured it’d be better if he heard it from me first.”
“I see.”
“I know I shouldn’t have, but I got so angry. I wanted to…” I made a wringing motion like I was throttling Eff’s neck.
“We are all one child spinning through Mother Sky.” Howard opened the passenger door, and slapped me on the shoulder. “Hop in, young Mai-Coh. I have what you need.”
I climbed in, wondering what Mai-Coh meant. Probably Native American for padawan.
The interior of the truck was as rusty as the outside. The floor was bare of carpeting, and the plastic coating had worn off the dashboard. There was a gun rack behind my head. It held a polished staff with feathers tied to one end.
“This truck is ancient,” I blurted as Howard climbed behind the wheel.
“But she purrs like a kitten.” He started her up. The engine roared, deep and throaty. Its power rumbled in my chest. I gained new respect for Howard’s junk.
He didn’t speak much as he drove. That was all right. I didn’t feel like talking anyway. When we got to his street with all the pink houses, I realized his place stood out like an eyesore with its tables and overgrown grass. I wondered if he caught any flak for that.
Howard parked in the driveway. “Come on in.”
I followed him to the front door. I had never been in Howard’s house, although I spent a lot of time in his front yard, it being my uncle’s favorite place to shop. The first thing I noticed was that Howard locked his doors. Inside, I caught an odd yet pleasant odor. It smelled organic, like herbs and rich soil.
Furniture filled the living room. Animal figurines covered every flat surface. Brednie, my mother called it. We passed through to the kitchen. A wooden drop-leaf table stood in the center with a pestle and mortar on top. On the wall, a clock shaped like a chicken clucked with each second.
“We’ll go out back,” Howard said. “It’s stuffy in here. Just let me get a few things.”
He opened a cupboard lined with crocks and mason jars. With his arms filled, he hip-checked the back door.
The Amazing Wolf Boy Page 6
