Page 37 of Wicked Hungry

“Can you see anything with those shades?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I guess I don’t need them now,” she says. “But better safe than sorry.”

“Are you going to just stand there outside in the cold?” says Jonathan.

“No one’s invited me in.”

She stares at me expectantly.

“Come on in,” I say.

When Karen moves, she’s a blur. It’s amazing, and the transition is too fast to see. It’s as if suddenly she’s no longer on the step but inside, past us, without us even seeing her move. She’s gotten past me somehow without even touching me.

She hands me the cookies and takes off the hoodie, revealing her long red hair. She pockets the shades. Did she always look this pale? There’s this burn on one cheek, and she must have caught me staring.

“It’s nothing,” she says. “I got a little too much sun sitting in math class the other day.”

“We haven’t seen you in school much,” says Jonathan.

“They’re trying to fix my schedule so I have no classes with natural light. A whole schedule of classes without windows. Can you believe that?”

We’re all quiet for a moment.

But she breaks into a smile then, flashing white teeth. Her incisors look sharper and pointier than I remember. “Hey, this is a birthday party. Happy Birthday, Stanley.”

And she bends down a little and kisses me.

Her lips are cold; my face burns and tingles.

I stand there like an idiot until Jonathan clears his throat. “Dude, we are going to eat, right? My sushi is getting cold.”

I turn to look at him. “Right,” I say.

“Hello? Earth to Stanley?” he says. “That’s a joke. Sushi is already cold.”

“Yeah,” I say.

I shut the door.

“Karen! You brought cookies,” my mother says.

“Don’t worry, Mom, they’re vegetarian,” I say.

My mom gives me the look. It’s a good thing it’s my birthday.

“Are you all ready to eat?” my mother says, breaking the silence, and I remember to exhale.

“I’ve made my chili,” she adds.

“Great,” says Jonathan. “I love chili.”

Enrique nods. “Nice and spicy.”

“It really hits the spot,” Karen says, “especially on a cold night.”

Now my mom is beaming. Sure they’re laying it on a bit thick, but why can’t I make my mom feel like this?

All I can do is carry the sheet of Karen’s cookies into the kitchen. At least it’s my birthday. And even if Karen is mad about the vitamins, she still brought a gift. And she kissed me. On the cheek, but still. She touched me.