Wicked Hungry

“Dude, I wish I had recorded that on camera: ‘That was really...nice of you.’”

“Are you mocking me, Jonathan?”

“No, man, that was awesome. You were like, wicked suave wolfman on the prowl.” He brings his face up, and makes this little howl.

“All right,” I say, “You can shut up now. I feel better.”

“You feel better?” Jonathan asks. “Because with this rain, my friend, you sure don’t smell any better.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Enrique says. “Jonathan is right. You smell like wet dog.”

We run home, fox, wolf, and jaguar, three friends, together.

Chapter 24: A SLEEPOVER AND A ‘RESEARCH PROJECT’

The plan is to meet in Enrique’s room after dinner. Jonathan lives like three blocks away, but we figure his mother will let him come over. She likes Enrique and me, or it sure seems that way, the way she fusses over us. Let me tell you, a couple of hours of watching anime and playing games at Jonathan’s house, fueled by his mother’s cookies and chocolate milk, can turn any teenager into a dangerous monster.

But tonight we’re meeting at Enrique’s. His mom is just as bad – she gives us Mexican sweet bread, pan dulce, and these Mexican Coca-Colas that are sweeter and more syrupy than the American ones. And they come in these cool retro glass bottles. Playing Guitar Hero in Enrique’s room with a stomach full of Mexican Coke and sweet bread is also a lethal combination.

But tonight Guitar Hero is not in the plan. I can’t wait to look at the grimoire with my friends, and I know Enrique wants to consult the Ouija board. And I want to run. It’s Jonathan who comes up with the brilliant plan.

Sleepover.

My parents are not thrilled at this last-minute idea. They’ve heard a lot about the importance of not being enabling parents, which, of course, contradicts everything they used to believe as hippies. So they feel bad saying yes, and they feel bad saying no.

Unfortunately, though, they’ve discovered the m-word. The dreaded maybe. So tonight, when I tell them about a sleepover at Enrique’s house, they tell me maybe that’s not the best idea.

It’s time to get creative with the truth. Not tell a lie, exactly, but phrase things in ways that will please my post-hippie parental units.

It’s time to be persuasive.

“Mom,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes.

“Dad,” I say, making excellent eye contact.

By now, they are both shocked and listening fully.

“Yes, son?” my parents ask me together.

“It’s Halloween,” I say.

They nod.

“It only happens once a year. And I know in the past I’ve always trick-or-treated with Josh and you, Mom, or helped you, Dad, pass out the candy. But I’m in high school, now.”

“You don’t want to spend Halloween with us anymore?” my brother asks.

I shake my head. “It’s not that. It’s just that Enrique and Jonathan are my best friends. They’re kind of like the only friends I have.”

“What about Karen, or those girls from last night—Meredith and Carolina?” my father asks.

“Male friends, Dad. Not girlfriends.”

“Are Karen and Meredith and Carolina your girlfriends?” my mom asks, a big smile on her face.

“Stanley has a girlfriend?” my brother asks.

You see the type of thing I have to put up with? But it’s worth it if I get to look at the grimoire and see Enrique use that Ouija board.