Page 86 of Wicked Hungry

Oh my God, how could it have slipped my mind? Meredith is an environmentalist.

I feel a cold chill down my spine.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“What are you, Stanley, my mother?”

“I just think—”

“Stanley, I gotta go. Zach is going to meet us.”

There’s a beep, and I’m disconnected.

There are times when everything seems to go right, like months ago, when I made a basket in gym class. Or when Meredith and I kissed for the first time. And there are times when everything seems to fall apart all at once.

I turn to Enrique and Jonathan. Together we look at the zombies across the street. It seems one or two of them have had the bright idea to try to walk around the chalked sigil. This means trouble. I look at my friends again. For a moment Jonathan looks like he’s going to say something funny. But maybe

he sees the look on my face, because all he says is: “Dude, are you all right?”

“They’re going for a walk.”

“Who, the zombies?”

I shake my head. “Meredith and Carolina are going for a walk in the cemetery. And in the woods.”

“Tell them to stay home,” Enrique says.

“They’re already out,” I say. “Going to the site of the new mall.”

“But,” says Jonathan, “what about the gateway?”

“They’re going to meet Zach... to see some pollution in the woods.”

“Stanley,” Jonathan says. “This is bad.”

“Call them back,” Enrique says. “Right now.”

“She won’t listen,” I say. “She’s with Carolina.”

From far away come more wolf-calls. Something’s wrong. They’re angry. Their calls pull at my blood; my hackles rise; my hands tighten into fists, trying to fight the change. We have to do something, but I have no idea what.

“Call Carolina,” Jonathan says. “Promise her anything. Just get them back.”

“Right,” I say.

She’s in my contact list now, so I thumb down to “Carolina” and push the button. But it doesn’t ring. It goes immediately to voicemail.

“What do I do?” I ask my friends. “Leave her a message? Text her?”

They shake their heads.

“Hang up,” Enrique says.

I hang up.

Jonathan just stares at me.

“What?” I ask him.