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"Rafe!" She looked around wildly, hoping no neighbors were in sight. "What the hell are you up to?"
The Five were helpless with laughter.
Vivian grabbed the newspaper from Rafe's hand and scooped up the mess.
"Give you my heart ..." he gasped, and bent over laughing again.
Where could she put this? Where was the body?
She started to rewrap the disgusting trophy. Then, "Rafe, you jerk," she cried. "This is a sheep's heart."
More howls of laughter exploded from the Five.
She didn't know whether to be angry or relieved. "You were over at Uncle Rudy's store, weren't you?" Rudy was a meat cutter at Safeway. When no one answered her, she growled and flung the whole package in Rafe's face. That set the others off even worse. Ulf had tears in his eyes.
She turned and left them, but they followed at a distance anyway, and she heard their bursts of laughter all the way to school.
Mom thinks the Five have learned their lesson, Vivian thought. "Hah!" she said out loud.
When Axel had come home from jail, her father had passed judgment swiftly. The punishment for endangering the pack was death.
Vivian couldn't save Axel, but she pleaded with her father for the Five. They were just kids like her. They had only killed to prove the witness wrong and protect the secret of the pack. They wouldn't do it again. So Ivan Gandillon made them beg forgiveness of the Moon and run the Trial of the Fang down a narrow path lined with the pack in their fur, and all could take their bites. Some said that he let the Five off too lightly, although they licked their wounds for weeks. Maybe those people were right. Vivian hadn't quite trusted the Five ever since.
It wasn't until almost lunchtime that Vivian remembered that she wanted to track down Aiden Teague.
Yeah, why don't I have a look at this poet, she told herself. See if I like him writing about things he shouldn't know about. That was better than sitting around being miserable. Where should she look? She decided to ask her art teacher. He was one of the advisers to The Trumpet.
"Oh, yeah. He's a junior," Mr. Antony said, shaking some brushes out over the art-room sink.
"How would I find him?" Vivian asked.
"Well, if you hang around for another half an hour until second lunch, all you'll have to do is look out that window. He hangs out with his friends in the quadrangle, under those arches over there." He pointed with the brushes to a section of the covered walkway that ran around the perimeter of the square courtyard.
"What does he look like?"
"Oh, I dunno. He's tall, bohemian."
Whatever that means, she thought.
Mr. Antony must have noticed her blank look. "You know, a throwback to the sixties, jeans and beads, an MTV hippie."
The way he said that made her suspect that he thought he'd been the real thing at one time.
"Oh, I know," the teacher added. "He was wearing this flowery shirt this morning - lots of yellow and blue. It made me smile. Listen, I've got to grab a sandwich. Close the door when you leave."
"Sure."
Luckily she'd brought her lunch with her. She relaxed on the warm windowsill and chewed on a piece of steak while she waited. Groups of kids were scattered across the quad, eating, talking, and sunbathing. Some of the boys had their shirts off, their flesh golden and slick as if they'd swallowed the sun. They were sweet to look upon. Her eyes lingered on them tenderly as she bit into her meat.
At the next bell, the shift changed. Kids reluctantly scooped up T-shirts, soda cans, and books, and hurried to class, while others hardly distinguishable from them took their places.
I'll be late to French, Vivian thought. It didn't matter, the teacher loved her. She had a perfect accent. Vivian sat upright, and her hands kneaded her empty lunch bag. She kept her eye on the arches.
Two young men walked into view. One had dark, shoulder-length hair and wore a flowered shirt. That must be him. Another boy joined them, then a girl. They stood laughing under the canopy, the shadows hiding their faces.
So that'd you, Poet Boy, Vivian thought, but she couldn't see him clearly. She wanted a closer look.
Why am I bothering? she asked herself as she went through the side door. Because I'm a pirate of the night and I want to see who's trespassing in my territory, she answered. But maybe he was one of her kind from some other pack. Or maybe he just knows too much, she thought. She laughed aloud at her melodramatic thoughts as she crossed the grass, and a spotty tenth-grader eyed her curiously. The sun was hot, so she peeled off her shirt to reveal the tank top underneath.
