Page 13 of Wicked Hungry

“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 flame broiled beef patty, not forbidden fruit. Come on, man up and try it.”

Joke all you want, but 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.”