Read Online Wicked Hunger by DelSheree Gladden - Free Book Online

fine. Weird.” He looks back up. “It must not have been as bad as it looked.”
    “Yeah,” I finally mutter.
    “You’re okay, though?” he asks again.
    The genuine concern in his eyes is just plain weird, but hard to ignore. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
    Noah smiles, looking slightly embarrassed. “Can I ask you something?”
    “Uh, sure,” I say, surprising myself. I’m positive it’s going to be about the injuries, or what I was doing trying to kill three grown men. I can’t answer any of those questions, but for some reason I don’t want Noah to walk away just yet.
    “Why didn’t you stay and talk to the police? I mean, I don’t know what made them attack you—you don’t have to explain that, or anything—but what if they come after you again? Didn’t you want to press charges?”
    My brain has a complete meltdown at that point. I almost start laughing. He thinks those guys were attacking me? He was trying to save me from them ? I am at a total loss for words at the idea that someone else, someone who doesn’t owe me anything, who barely even knows me, was actually trying to rescue me. He has no idea that he was actually saving me from myself, from killing those men, but that’s hardly the point. I am so shocked and amazed I can barely even form words to answer him.
    “It’s, um, complicated. Reprisal, you know? They might come after my family if I tried to press charges.” It sounds like a really stupid explanation, but I can’t think of anything better.
    “Sure, I guess,” Noah says.
    I’m relieved when he doesn’t ask any other questions, but when he turns to the project, I’m still wary of this whole situation.
    “So, can you explain this project? I have no idea what he was talking about.”
    Knowing that Noah’s concern can only last so long before his logic catches back up, I decided to put an end to this for both our sakes. “Look, he’s probably got a handout or something. I’ve got to get to algebra.”
    “One or two?”
    “Two,” I say as I head for the door.
    “With Ms. Collins?”
    “Yeah. Why?”
    “That’s who I’ve got next, too. Mind if I walk with you? I’m not sure where it’s at,” Noah says, “and you can tell me about the project on the way.”
    Great. “Come on.”
    I don’t really make much of an effort to wait for him, though. Unfortunately, Ms. Collins’ class is clear on the other end of the building, so Noah has plenty of time to catch up with me. His long legs do most of the work. I swear he takes one step for every two of mine.
    “So, what project are we supposed to do together?” Noah asks.
    “Write an original scene five to ten minutes long and perform it for the class before Christmas break,” I say. “I was supposed to do a monologue, but now I guess we have to do some kind of battle scene.”
    “Battle. I can do that. There isn’t much speaking in battles, but that’s fine with me. I don’t like talking in front of a crowd.”
    I look over at him and slow down. I can’t help it. “But you don’t mind fighting in front of a crowd?”
    “Do it all the time,” Noah says.
    “Huh?”
    “Jeet Kune Do. I compete. You ever tried martial arts?”
    I have to lick my lips to keep a handle on the way my mouth suddenly starts watering. My grandma encourages us to find outlets for our hunger, but any kind of combat training is strictly off the table. It’s a little too good of an outlet. People get hurt. Zander had to fight her to let him play football, thanks to the violent nature of the sport.
    It took him forever to convince her that he could absorb the other players’ pain without putting himself at risk. He claimed the continuous small burst of pain actually helped him keep control. Eventually, he won her over, but she’d kill me if she ever found out about my boxing forays because she knows I don’t have the same level of control that Zander does. I know it, too. The idea of actual combat-based exercise sends a chill right