After the chapulines had been such a hit, Simon had gone on a bug-eater shopping spree with his dad’s credit card. This time his dad did call to “chew” him out, a phrase Simon used repeatedly in telling the story.

Canned tarantula, chocolate-covered scorpion, dung beetles, giant centipede . . . and earthworm jerky. All edible. Supposedly.

Last night when Will had been stumped about how to get back at Darryl, Simon revealed what he had bought as Christmas gifts for Will, though they both knew he never could have held out that long. Canned tarantula and dung beetles? Will was only surprised Simon hadn’t given him the “gifts” the day they arrived. Though it would be awesome to see Darryl eat a scorpion or dung beetle, they both agreed that the earthworm was probably the only thing they could get away with.

“You know Will,” Simon told Darryl. “Always trying to put on weight. I found snake jerky and had to get some. ’Cause we’re the Triton Cobras, get it?”

The jerky did look a lot like snake skin, except for the part with the raised band that encircled the earthworm’s body. He couldn’t remember the name of that part but did remember it was where eggs were deposited. Most of the pieces looked like ordinary jerky, but that one looked like the flattened head of an earthworm that it was. Will was glad he hadn’t grabbed it, and not only because it would have given them away to Darryl.

The jerky Will bit into was fighting back.

His teeth practically came out of his head when he tried to tear off a chunk. He had to saw at it, grinding his teeth back and forth.

“There’s a reason they make boots out of snakeskin,” Simon said extra cheerily. “You should try some,” he said to Darryl. “How cool to say we ate snake.” Then he took a strip of earthworm from the bag, though he hesitated before eating it himself, watching Will’s contortions.

When the piece finally ripped free, it slid partway under Will’s tongue. Saliva gathered around it, taking a crack at softening it. Will had to swallow the growing pool of spit and tasted spicy spices, like cayenne and chili powder, and plenty of salt like in regular jerky.

Slightly reassured, he gave it a chew.

And chewed. And chewed. Earthworm was tough.

And sandy.

The grit in his teeth was like fingernails on a chalkboard. It made his spine vibrate. Then things got worse.

Because Will had chewed away the spices and the salt. All that was left was earthworm.

Earthworm tasted like old, rotted fish skin.

Will’s gag reflex kicked in. He suppressed it, but there was no way he’d be able to swallow the vile thing in his mouth. No. Way. He wanted it out now.

He gagged again, jaw contracting in that classic—and visible—pre-puke motion. If he didn’t get it out now, he was going to throw up, again, but Darryl was standing there watching, and though Will didn’t care anymore about his stupid plan to get Darryl to eat a bug, he also didn’t want Darryl to figure out it was a trick.

If he could just swallow, it would be over with, but he couldn’t. More saliva pooled in his mouth, a lake of rancid, fishy spit.

“That’s not snake, is it?” Darryl said. He grabbed the Ziploc bag and pulled out the largest piece, the one with the raised band around the body, the one that looked like what it was—a giant earthworm.

“We’re eating it, aren’t we?” Simon said, though he hadn’t put his piece of jerky anywhere near his mouth.

It was supportive of Simon to try to keep the ploy alive or at least secret, but Will was relieved to be caught. He spit the wad of worm into his hand and desperately scanned the hall, pre-puke panic clouding his brain about where the nearest fountain was so he could wash the nauseating taste from his mouth.

But before he could bolt for water and deliverance from the putrid flavors, Darryl crowded him into the lockers. “You two teamed up against me for another bug thing? Is that all you care about now?” His voice cracked.

The wash of guilt Will felt wasn’t fair.

“You put ants in our pants,” he said. Last night, that was all the reason he’d needed. Now, after time to cool down, with Darryl’s angry hurt in Will’s face, he didn’t feel like he’d balanced the scales of justice. He felt like a jerk.

Darryl had gone way over the top with those ants, just like he had when Eloy called him crazy in the library, when it had been crazy to almost smash all those stinkbugs. Darryl never had a sense of scale.

But Will did.

He knew better. An eye for an eye only leveled the field if you wanted a dust bowl.

But Darryl had put ants in Will’s pants. Video had gone around the entire school. Hollie had been teased and had drawn blood because of it. It wasn’t fair for Will to feel bad now, for Darryl. Darryl hadn’t even eaten the stupid worm! Will was the one suffering. Again.

He shoved Darryl, clearing room to get his back off the lockers. No wrestling technique, just raw anger.

“You want me to eat a bug?” Darryl said. “Fine.” He tossed the entire chunk of earthworm jerky into his mouth, then opened wide, showing it off to Will, Simon—and Eloy.

Will’s stomach turned over. Sharp and too bright, the memory came to him of the conversation he’d had with Eloy before barely any of this had begun, when Will had needed Mr. Herrera’s help with the chapulines. Eloy had been nervous. He’d said there was a difference between being funny and a joke and asked straight up if it was all a joke.

Darryl doing “see food” with the earthworm made it one.

He spit it onto the floor. “We’re even,” he said, and Will got that he meant a bug for a bug, though Darryl still hadn’t technically eaten one. It didn’t matter. He didn’t have to. He shouldered past Will and walked away.

Simon fiddled with the Ziploc bag of earthworm jerky, lining up the red and blue strips as if the fate of the color purple depended on it. “That was,” he said slowly, “not what I expected.”

“Who the heck does he think he is?” Will kicked a locker. He would not feel bad about Darryl. Not after everything that had happened. Not after what Darryl had started that day in the library. They weren’t even. Not even close. Because Darryl kept starting crap—and kept getting away with it.

Will tried doing one thing—one thing that didn’t even work—and somehow he was the jerk? No one had said it, but Will felt it in the eyes that looked at him. And especially the eyes that didn’t: Simon’s.

“I think, uh,” Simon said, “we might have hurt his feelings.”

Will wasn’t sure he cared about Darryl’s feelings, but he did care about Simon’s. “I’m sorry I got you involved.” Simon had always been in the middle, but he wouldn’t be anymore. Will had messed up Simon and Darryl’s friendship almost as bad as Will and Darryl’s. But Will was afraid it was worse than that and kicked a locker again. Because Will hadn’t only pulled Simon to his side, he’d essentially created a gang: He’d pitted both of Darryl’s best friends against him.

Will looked at the gob of chewed, spit-slimy earthworm still in his hand and worried that the only real worm there was him.