Wicked Hunger

Wicked Hunger Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Satisfying

Something is going on with Van. I watch Ketchup drive away from our house with a frown. That’s three Sundays in a row now that he’s picked her up before breakfast and not dropped her off until right before Noah shows up either to take her back to his house to work on their project or go workout. The only thing that keeps me from thinking Van is two timing both guys is that she’s my sister and I know her too well. Not only would she not get involved with Ketchup in that way without telling me, she wouldn’t betray a friend for any reason.

I don’t really know how to classify Noah and Van’s relationship. She seems happy when she’s around Noah, but guilty, too. I can certainly understand the appeal of Noah’s life. It’s everything Van has ever wanted, especially since our parents died. I worry that she is setting herself up for more hurt than she expects.

What also bothers me is that she still hasn’t let me meet him. At first, I understood. She didn’t know how it would even go with Noah. Now, with all the time she’s spending with him, I need to know.

When my grandma isn’t around, Van can’t stop talking about how much training with Noah is helping her, about how nice he is, and how he seems to accept her even though he’s heard all the stories. The problem with that last one is that Noah obviously doesn’t believe what he’s heard. If he did, things would be different. Not that I would ever say this out loud, but I have a suspicion that the praise for Noah isn’t about how great this guy is. I saw everything that happened the night of the first football game.

She was so close to giving in to Ketchup. The brazen desire in her eyes was almost enough to convince me she should. To me, it seems like Noah is a distraction, and her talking about him so much is pure desperation. Whether I’m right or not, she seems determined to keep hanging out with Noah.

This has gone on for long enough.

In reality, I don’t think she feels anything more for Noah than curiosity, but if I let this go on much longer it may turn into another Ketchup situation. If I burn Van twice, she’ll never forgive me. So, I rush to change into something more comfortable and hurry downstairs. I make it down before Van even finishes fixing her hair into a ponytail. Noah isn’t due to show up for another half hour, giving me enough time to slip into the kitchen where my grandma is working. Two rectangles of puff pastry are thawing on the counter. I look from the pastry to my grandma. She notices my staring and grimaces.

“Premade puff pastry? Is the world coming to an end?”

She shoos me away from the counter. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to make puff pastry from scratch? Too long. I have to be at Martha’s house in two hours. I don’t have time to layer dough and butter and run it through rollers a couple dozen times. These won’t be nearly as good as mine, but they’ll have to do.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great,” I say, patting her shoulder. She looks over at me, with a curious expression.

“You’re in a good mood.”

Not that I blame her for noticing, but I’d rather avoid the topic of Ivy with her. I’ve seen Ivy the last couple of weekends, and she’s kept her questions to less personal topics since the first game, but everyone was walking on eggshells around me for about a week after Ivy asked me about my parents and what else I was hiding. Having to talk about the day they died brought up too many unpleasant memories. For days, all I could see when I closed my eyes was the image of Oscar sitting on the couch staring at the blood on his hands, rocking back and forth and mumbling.

It took a week of Ivy asking me the most trivial string of questions every time we saw each other to finally relax. Well, about the memories, anyway. My hunger is still continuing to get worse. I don’t understand why. I keep trying to figure it out with no luck. The increasing hunger and the knowledge that harder questions are going to come back up with Ivy at some point have kept me from enjoying the reprieve too much.