Wicked Hunger

Wicked Hunger Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The Three G’s

                                               

When Noah pulls up in front of my house, I jump up and fly out of the front door with barely even a goodbye to Grandma. I have to get away. Zander has been a moody mess since Friday night. Grandma isn’t any better, but they are the easiest thing I’ve had to deal with today. Spending the morning with Ketchup was torture. Not only was it awkward and weird between us, the only thing we saw Ivy do all morning was go into the converted garage in her backyard and come back out hours later.

What was the garage converted into? Now that we couldn’t figure out without getting caught. Too many eyes to attempt a look in broad daylight. When we finally had to give up so I could make it back in time to meet Noah, the tension between us got even worse. I was about to choke on it by the time we got back to my house.

Climbing into Noah’s car, I buckle myself in with a nervous smile.

“Hey, so how was the party after the game Friday night?” he asks.

My insides twist into a million shapes they shouldn’t. “Uh, fine.”

“Did you stay very long?”

“Not really. I was pretty tired. It was a long day.” It’s been a long couple of weeks, actually.

“Well, are you ready to do some writing?” he asks.

“I guess, though I’m not sure how much writing we’re actually going to need to do. I don’t think there’s a lot of talking in a battle scene. Not unless you count yelling.”

Noah laughs. “True. I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

As we drive over to his house, I will myself to relax. At one point, the idea of Noah actually developing feelings for me was exciting. I let myself wonder what it would be like to have a normal relationship with someone. Ordinary sounded so wonderful at the time. Now, every moment I spend with Noah just inspires more guilt.

Thankfully, Noah lives on the opposite end of the school district, so I have plenty of time to try and collect myself. I push everything but our project out of my mind. Surprisingly, Zander and Ivy are the easiest to ditch. Ketchup is the hardest. He lasts until we reach Noah’s house.

When we park in Noah’s driveway, I stare up at the split level home in awe. Not because it’s huge or lavish. It’s pretty average sized, actually. The lawn is well cared for, but not perfect, and the mailbox looks like it’s been backed into several times. I smile, wondering if that was due to Noah learning to drive. What I really love about his house is the tricycle left on the grass, the giant-sized scribble drawing done in chalk on the driveway, and the blaring sounds of pop music spilling out of an upstairs window. His house is happy and alive.

The impression doubles when we walk through the door. His little sister Amelia is running through the house with a fairy wand in her hand and a cape tied around her neck. A slightly taller, equally energetic boy chases after her with a Nerf dart gun spraying foam bullets in every direction. In the kitchen his mom and older sister are cooking dinner together and arguing about how the recipe should be prepared. Noah’s mom is waving a spatula covered in something yellow and creamy at her daughter when she notices us.

“Noah,” she says, smiling and dropping the spatula back into the bowl. She wipes her hands on a towel and holds one out to me. “And you must be Van. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Elsa, and this is Kennedy, Noah’s older sister.”