CHAPTER 3

HUDSON HAD TO STEP IN. Pancake looked directly at him. Say something, Hudson. Anything! Even Maggie looked close to pouncing. Or puking.

“T-a-c-o.” Zattora tapped the name into his phone. “Number.” He looked at Pancake.

Hudson took a breath. “This sounds kinda weird to me, Zattora.”

Zattora’s jaw muscles flexed, but he backed out of Pancake’s space. “Excuse me, Freak?”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Hudson pointed. “Pancake’s the one you’re stalking.”

Skirt looked at Wolfe, watching from the other table. The pack leader leaned in like he was trying to hear, but he stayed in his seat.

Hudson had entered enemy territory. It was all or nothing. Guns blazing. Going in half-cocked would be a suicide mission.

Zattora’s eyes narrowed. “Your name is Jerko, right?” He tapped his phone. “How do you spell that?”

Hudson shrugged. “Check your student ID.”

Maggie tried to hold back a laugh, but it burst out anyway.

Zattora glanced back toward Wolfe.

To anyone watching, Hudson and Zattora were doing nothing more than sitting and talking at the same table. But inside, they were on their feet, circling each other. Fists raised. Neither of them had thrown a real punch yet. With a table full of friends behind him, Zattora wasn’t likely to back down unless he got knocked down. Hudson had to take control.

“Time to go back to your own table, Zattora,” Hudson said.

Zattora didn’t budge, a look of disbelief in his eyes.

Be confident —or crazy and unpredictable. Either route could work. Wasn’t that what Dad told him last night?

“What’s your number, homeschool freak?”

“Why? Do you want to go out with me too? Not interested.” Snickers. Gasps. Laughter from tables on either side. How loud had he just said that?

Zattora got in Hudson’s space. “You just made a big mistake.”

Hudson’s stomach swirled. “No, giving my number would be the mistake. Next thing you know you’ll be sending me selfies. So not cool, Zattora.”

Zattora leaned closer. “You’re this close to getting your face bashed in.” He held up his thumb and forefinger. There wasn’t enough space between to slide a gum wrapper.

Never let a bully get the last word. Isn’t that pretty much what Dad told him? He forced himself to smile. “And that’s just about how scared I am.”

Hudson didn’t know where it came from, only that it surprised him as much as Zattora.

Zattora sneered and leaned back. “I hope you know the way to the nurse’s office. You’re going to need it.”

“Teacher,” Maggie whispered. “Incoming.”

Mrs. Fugelheimer, the principal’s assistant, patrolled several rows over. But Mr. Cutter, Hudson’s last-period teacher, was heading their way —and picking up speed. A little late.

Wolfe must have seen him too. He stood, wearing an angelic smile to go with his halo of blond hair.

Now what?

Wolfe walked behind Zattora. “Leave,” he said quietly. “I got this.”

Zattora glared once at Hudson, but stood and casually went back to their table —Skirt drafting right behind him.

Wolfe smiled and waved at Mr. Cutter. A big friendly grin with lots of whitened teeth. “We’re good. No problems.”

Mr. Cutter slowed to a stop. He put his hands on his hips and angled his head slightly. Kind face, but he didn’t look convinced. A teacher getting involved now would be a bad idea, even if it was Mr. Cutter. Hudson needed to finish things with Wolfe now. If Mr. Cutter interrupted, Hudson would only have to face Wolfe again.

Hudson smiled, nodded, and gave Mr. Cutter a thumbs-up.

Mr. Cutter still seemed undecided, until someone fell by the trash cans. Got tripped more likely. Cutter changed direction.

Wolfe smiled. And the creepy thing was, his smile looked legit. Even his eyes. He was the picture of innocence. He leaned in close. “We’re not done, Freak Show.”