CHAPTER 8

PANCAKE PUT A LITTLE SWAGGER into his walk. He swung his shoulders just a little more. Puffed out his chest. Lengthened his stride. Slowed his pace. He’d just made a new friend —who’d stood up to the pack. Pancake sauntered into his seventh-period English class and took his regular seat.

Mitch Zattora walked through the doorway, smiling and acting all cool, just as the bell rang. Like Hudson hadn’t totally shut him down in the cafeteria. Or had he ambushed Hudson? Pancake strained to see Zattora’s knuckles.

Zattora dragged a finger across his own throat and then pointed at Pancake.

Pancake made a mock face of horror and checked his pulse.

“Mr. Zattora,” Miss Ferguson said. “Take your seat.”

Zattora glared at Pancake and shuffled to the back of the class.

Pancake was shaking, but it wasn’t from fear. At least, not completely. Was it excitement? He’d just stood up to Zattora! He wished Hudson had seen that.

Was Hudson okay? He was a total rookie when it came to guys like Wolfe and Zattora. Hudson didn’t know how the pack operated.

Hudson needed someone to watch his back. Pancake squared his shoulders. That’s where you come in, big guy. Which meant one thing. Pancake needed to stay close.