Page 26 of Wicked Hungry

He points to his foot. I wipe my mouth, taste and see blood.

Where are the coaches? Probably watching television in their office.

I walk towards Gary, dripping blood all over the gym floor. He is going to be very sorry.

I am sure of this.

Which makes no sense whatsoever, since I’ve never even been in a fight before, and he outweighs me by more than sixty pounds.

But something inside me is ready to do more than fight.

For the first time I can remember, I feel dangerous.

Our eyes meet. Do I scare him?

Probably not.

But at least he shuts up for a minute. I walk into the locker room and go to look at myself in a mirror. My lip is split and swelling. Blood from my lip is smeared across my face.

Happy Birthday, Stanley.

But my self-pity is interrupted by someone behind me. It’s Gary. He’s smiling at me. I guess my eyes didn’t scare him. Not enough, anyway. He shouldn’t be here now. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I feel ready to rip him apart.

“You okay, Stanley? It was just a joke, right?”

My fists clench and my eyes close. But I can’t avoid smelling him there behind me. My senses seem in overdrive. I can almost smell the burgers they’re grilling in the cafeteria. But Frumberg’s sweaty stink overpowers everything, and it fills me with rage.

I don’t know what’s happening to me, but one thing is clear.

Gary should have stayed in the gym.

“Just an accident, right, Stanley?”

How can he use the word “just” together with “an accident?” The pills gave me a second chance to run. Would I get a third one?

That’s when it happens. My teeth, loose already, fall out of my gums, filling my mouth. I spit them out onto the floor with a gasp, my mouth full of blood.

But that’s not all. Great pain rips through my shoulders, my legs. My skin itches all over like I’m covered with sores that are about to burst. I feel this terrible pain in my feet, like my shoes are suddenly way too small. There’s a ripping sound and I flex my toes.

“What the—” Gary gasps.

I turn around, ready to punch Frumberg, all one hundred and eighty pounds of him.

But he is nowhere to be seen. He’s flown the coop. The room is empty.

What the hell is going on? I turn and look at the mirror on the wall.

My face is covered with hair. My mouth is full of sharp teeth. My whole body is covered with dark, coarse hair. Dark, coarse fur.

This can’t be happening.

But somehow it is. And the pain just makes me want to tear the room apart.

My gym shorts are ripping, my shirt is tearing, and I want to do nothing else to drop to all fours and run out and find Gary. Rip his fricking head off.

Something tells me that’s not a good idea.

I let my fists relax and look down. There are torn gym shoes next to my...feet?