Charlaine Harris - Wolfsbane and Mistletoe

As plans went, it wasn’t as idiotic as it seemed. There were teachers already moving toward us. They’d pull him off me before he got me too bad. And then out he’d go. Maybe it’d only be outside the school itself but that was something.

He shook with black anger, but as crazy as he was, he wasn’t as stupid as I thought. I might not get expelled if there was a fight, but he knew he would. And I had a feeling his daddy would be a whole lot more disappointed than mine. I had a feeling Jed was a chip off the old block.

He stood and hissed, “Dead. You’re dead.”

He left the cafeteria and I sighed. Another plan shot to hell. Glumly I sat back down and waited for a teacher to come drag me off to Principal Johnson for a few weeks of detention.

It was actually two months.

After a lot of clutching at his comb-over of black hair and warnings on how he couldn’t cover up things like this—he simply couldn’t—he did. Like I knew he would. I was going to have to call Mom to go fetch Tessa from the bus stop and she wasn’t going to be happy at the reason why. Understanding maybe, but not happy.

The same day, after two hours of detention, as I slid through the woods, I heard Jed behind me. This time was the first time I actually heard him howling with fury as he chased me. I might’ve been chunky and short, but I was quick. I had hit that gym door running. Jed hadn’t been as fast.

“You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch! Where are you?” All that was followed by screams of rage. Incoherent animal sounds. Isaac was right. Jed did sound like a monster . . . a movie monster anyway. I slid under a thick overhang of dead blackberry vines and thought how I definitely hadn’t made things any better. Not to say whacking him with a tray hadn’t felt good, but it hadn’t gotten me out of the trouble I thought it would.

Although, it really, really had felt good.

Finally I climbed a tree, my brown jacket blending in with the bark, and held still as he passed like a rabid Doberman beneath me. Swear to God, there was foam flying from his mouth as he screamed for me.

You skip a few Ritalin and things just go to hell.

Right. Like you could blame that kind of nuts on a little ADHD. I hugged the tree, rested my head against it, and stayed there for an hour. It was cold, but I didn’t mind the cold. And it got dark, but I didn’t mind that either. As far as monsters went, Jed’s night vision must not have been too hot. He didn’t hang around. I heard his last howl nearly a half mile away and then nothing again.

I finally climbed down and went home to face two things a lot worse than Jed: Mom and Dad. Dad ripped me a new one over detention. It didn’t matter why I got it. Skorazys didn’t make waves, didn’t get noticed. Our grandparents and their grandparents had learned that over in Russia. Keep your head down or lose it altogether.

After the yelling was over, the worst came. Mom wanted me to help her and Tessa make Christmas cookies for Santa. When I wandered into the kitchen, Tess turned out to be making her “Merry Christmas, Santa” note in her room, all tongue and crooked crayon writing, as Mom roped me in. “You’ll have a good time, Nicky,” she said, smiling. She was a great mom, a pretty one, too, even with flour streaked across one cheek. Dark blond hair worn in a braid just past her shoulders, violet eyes, and a scar that bisected one eyebrow that only made her look curious all the time. I loved my mom. I know I was thirteen and not supposed to think things like that, but I did.

But she wanted me to make cookies for Santa? “You know there’s no Santa, Mom,” I grumped. “This whole Christmas thing”—I opened a bag of chocolate chips—“it’s a waste of time.”

A spoon smacked my hand. “The holiday spirit is in your heart. It’s not about presents and shiny paper. Christmas is in you.” She poked a finger in my chest. “And Santa is everywhere you look. If only you would look.” She shook her head, smiled again, and dabbed my nose with cookie batter. I rolled my eyes and wiped it off with a finger, which I licked clean. “Now,” she said firmly, “make your sister happy and help with the cookies. She’ll be out here any minute.”

And it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t believe in any of it anymore, but Mom and Tess laughed. Dad came in and we ended up having a cookie batter fight. It might’ve not been the real thing, but it was as close as you could get.

Right then, that was good enough.

The next day was the day before Christmas Eve, our last day of school before break. And my last day, I had a feeling, to figure things out with Jed. But first Mary Francesca tried to figure out things with me.

I’d seen her around, Mary Francesca . . . never just Mary or Fran . . . Mary Francesca. She was in some of my classes. She seemed nice, funny. She had red hair that fell in a mass of curls past her shoulders, bright red freckles, even brighter blue eyes, and she was smart. Definitely smarter than I was. No Cs in math for her.

She cornered me outside English, smiling. Her teeth were so bright I swore I could see my reflection. “Hey, Nick.”

Nick. Not Nicky. I liked that.

“Hey,” I said back. That was about it for me, conversation-wise. I mean, a pretty girl. What do you say?

She didn’t have any problem. “I was wondering . . .” She leaned a little closer and I could smell strawberries and cream shampoo. “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go to the Christmas dance with me?” I felt crushing disappointment and utter relief all at the same time. On the one hand, I wouldn’t have to worry about clothes and flowers and talking and dancing. I’d seen what they did on MTV. No way I could do that and not get a boner right on the floor.

On the other hand, I liked Mary Francesca.

Not that it mattered how funny or smart she was or that she smelled like strawberries. There was no way my parents would go for it. It went back to the bad old days when persecution was everywhere. You couldn’t trust strangers, secret police were around every corner, and you never knew who might turn you in. It was a lesson no one in the family had forgotten. We were Orthodox all the way and we didn’t date outsiders. Which was going to make finding a prom date pretty damn hard. There were lots of us in Russia, not too many here. But those were the rules.

I added that to Christmas and bullies in the whole sucking category.

“Sorry.” I shifted my backpack from one side to another, and I really was sorry. “I have detention for two months. My parents won’t let me go anywhere. I’m grounded, damn, forever.”

She frowned in disappointment—real disappointment, which made me again think how rules sucked. “Well, okay, I get that.” Sighing, she unhooked a pin from her sweater and pinned it on mine. “Maybe by Spring Fling then.” She looked around quickly, then leaned in to give me the quickest of kisses.

I was wrong. It wasn’t her hair that smelled like strawberries; it was her lip gloss. I was still tasting it as she disappeared down the hall and around the corner. Then I looked down at the pin. Santa grinned up at me, mittened hand waving automatically.

Ho frigging ho.

Every class dragged minute by minute. No one stared at me like I was going to die, so no one knew this was the day Jed was coming after me. It didn’t matter. I knew. I passed him once in the hall and his eyes had never been paler. He didn’t grin, he didn’t smirk. He just stared, flecks of spit at the corner of his mouth. That was it. Jed had gone off the edge and there was no coming back for him. Did a teacher notice? No. Did big men in white coats come drag him off to a big looming building with the baby eaters and mailman killers? No. No one wanted to know.