Wicked Hungry - Page 10
Zach looks at me. “You should stay away from her, too.”
“Why?” I ask him. “What’s it to you, anyway?”
“Something’s the matter with her, and she won’t let anyone help.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to go?” Karen says.
“Obviously you can see she’s in denial.”
“Zach,” I say. “Enough already.”
“No, seriously, she needs help.”
“Look, Zach, we were going to get something to eat,” I say.
“You can’t just give me a minute? I wanted to tell you about the supplements.”
“The vitamins?” I say.
“Supplements, not vitamins,” he says. “You have to take them several times a day, but man, they are great.”
“I still don’t get it,” Karen says. “Are they even FDA approved?”
“You know what, Karen? Screw the FDA. You think the FDA will protect you? They’ll just fill you full of chemicals.”
“Then how do we know they’re safe?” Karen asks.
Zach ignores her this time: he’s already holding out a bottle for me to see. “ETERNAL CLEANSE,” it says.
“It’s good for everything,” he says. “For your health. For your hunger. And it will help in school. Help you concentrate. Even help with the moon.” He winks at me.
“What are you implying?”
“Stanley, we both know you’ve been having trouble with the moon since, like, forever.”
My teeth ache and I taste blood. My palms itch. Is my body agreeing with him? Calling out for these pills? I fight the urge to look up, because I can feel it: the clouds are gone. And even though it was true, what I told my mom, that the moon wasn’t full, it’s still big. Huge. Awesome.
“Look, Zach,” Karen says. “Stanley just told you we were going to get something to eat.”
His eyes narrow. “You aren’t going to Burger King, are you?”
“Just for a veggie burger,” I say. “Some fries, maybe, and a Coke.”
He shakes his head. “Dude, you need to clean out your system. Even a veggie burger will just add to your toxin load. These supplements, though? Maximum detox. And maybe, I think the chances are good...” He looks at me, his eyes shining.
“Don’t listen to him, Stanley,” Karen says. “He’s just getting started.”
“Maybe what?” I ask him, gritting my teeth, tasting my own blood.
He moves closer to me, and his voice drops down to a whisper. “I’m not making this up. This shit works. Not only could it help you with the moon: it could heal your knee. You could run again. How does that sound, Stanley?”
I push him away, back up. “Don’t even go there, Zach. My knee’s as healed as it will ever be. It’s not getting any better.”
He shakes his head. “That’s chemical healing you’re talking about. This is different. It’s natural. It’s almost...” His voice drops so low I can’t hear it.
“Almost what?” I snap. “Stop talking in riddles.”
“Magic,” he whispers again.
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