Wicked Hungry by Teddy Jacobs Read Free Book Online

don’t believe you,” she says. “What is it with teenagers and the truth?”
    “They’re like oil and water?” I ask.
    “Ha,” she says. “My son is a comedian. But you’ve got to come with us. They’re talking about Ethical Eating.”
    I just stare at her. What does she expect me to do, jump up and down in excitement because I get to spend an hour listening to her talk about how we are what we eat and the how it affects the planet? Why can’t a meat snack ever be just a meat snack? Why does it have to represent all that’s bad in the world—all the industrial farming and animal cruelty and destruction of the natural environment?
    “Your friend Zach is going to talk, too!”
    “My friend Zach?” I ask. If she only knew.
    “Your nice vegan friend.”
    “Mom, you know I don’t hang out with the vegan anarchists anymore.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t call them that,” she says. “It’s really disrespectful.”
    “They call themselves that, Mom. It was never an insult—more like an inside joke. But Zach is really going to talk?”
    “He’s going to make a little presentation,” she says. “And I’m talking, too. I’m going to talk about vegetarianism and our family. About Diana, the moon goddess. Talk about why and how ethical eating is important for us. Stanley, I need you to be there.”
    “Okay,” I say.
    “Okay?” she asks me.
    “Yeah, fine,” I say. “If you’ll let me have coffee.”
    “Coffee?” she asks me, confused. “Why wouldn’t we let you have coffee?”
    “The last time I went, you wouldn’t let me have any coffee,” I say.
    “Stanley, that was a long time ago—you were in middle school,” she says, as if that explains everything. “And anyway, the coffee is fair trade.”
    She lets me get dressed.
    In the car Josh keeps talking to me about how he’s never going to eat meat, ever. He asks me how I would feel if someone wanted to eat my pet, for example.
    “I don’t have a pet,” I say.
    “Same difference,” Josh says.
    It’s hard to argue with a six year old. I mean, you can do it, but you can’t win.
    “Yeah,” I say. “You’re right.”
    “I mean, I would never eat Max,” he says.
    “Me, neither,” I say.
    “You promise?” he asks me.
    “Come on, Josh, seriously?”
    “Promise me you wouldn’t eat him,” he asks me. “Or let anyone else hurt him. No wait, pinky promise me.”
    “Pinky promise?” I ask. “That’s kind of serious, don’t you think?”
    He looks at me, his eyes wide. I want to laugh; he’s so cute with his missing front tooth. But I know if I do that right now he’ll take it the wrong way. So I hold out my pinky instead.
    We pinky promise as my mother parks our Prius in the church parking lot.
    I look around for Karen, but she’s nowhere to be found. Which I guess is no big surprise, considering the sun is coming down strong. Plus, I figure she’s not keen on running into Zach right now, either.
    Inside, my mother is the first to speak.
    She starts out strong and clear, talking about health, the environment. Ethics. Factory farms. Baby cows that never see the light of day, chickens that can’t move in their pens. But then she gets personal.
    She starts talking about my family. Stuff I’ve never heard, let alone talked to people about. About my grandfather, and how he ate beef five days a week and had heart disease. And my grandmother and her omelets. And how after my mother joined the church and the coven she made a pact with Diana, with the goddess of the moon, the goddess of the hunt, that she would take none of her animals, and she would protect them, if Diana would protect her family. How her children would never eat meat, honoring this sacred pact.
    Oh dear Goddess, not only am I letting down my brother and my mother, I’ve also defiled some pagan pact she’s made with the moon deity.
    It all sounds ridiculous, but what if she’s right?
    What if I’ve made all the wrong decisions and she doesn’t know?
    My