Page 71 of Wicked Hungry

“Hi, Meredith,” I say.

Wow, I’m some great conversationalist. My eyes move to the glowing jaguar on the floor, then to Andres shutting the door.

“Are you ignoring me?” she asks then.

“Huh?”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“I’m listening,” I say.

“Good,” she says. “How come you ignored me on the school bus?”

“I ignored you on the school bus?”

“You barely even glanced at me. Thank God Carolina was talking to me—I was so embarrassed. It was like you didn’t want to be seen with me or something.”

“You’ve got it backwards,” I say. “You weren’t looking at me.”

“I was looking at you the whole time, you idiot. But it’s hard to get the attention of the back of someone’s head.”

This doesn’t seem to match what I remember, but I try to let it drop.

“I’m at Carolina’s right now,” she says.

“Oh,” I say. “How did you get my cell number?”

“I called your mom,” Meredith says. “She was just delighted to give it to me.”

“Look,” I say, “I can’t really talk right now. I’m over at a friend’s house.”

“Oh,” she says. “Let me guess. The same Mohawk-wearing friend you were sitting with on the bus when you were ignoring me?”

“Actually, yes,” I say. “But I told you already: I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Jonathan is trying to hold in his laughter. Enrique is rolling his eyes. But the figurine in the middle of the Ouija board glows, its eyes green now.

“Well, fine,” she says. “I wanted to talk to you. I actually wanted to see you, but when we went by your house, your mother said you had already left.”

“I just went next door,” I say.

“I know. Your mom told me. But I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends,” she says.

“You don’t embarrass me.”

“Look, I’m not going to keep you. But if you really care about me, you’d better come by and say hi to me tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

“If you like me, you’ll figure out a way. You’re a smart boy.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? I’m not sure Blaine and Morgaine would approve.”

“Carolina says you can bring your friends, too. We’ll leave the window unlocked.”

“Maybe,” I say.

“Maybe you care about me... Maybe you don’t.”