Red Rider's Hood

Cedric's eyes turned from the TV and looked at me, meaner than I thought they could get. 'You're a pledge. That means you gotta do whatever we tell you until you're a full-fledged Wolf.' Then he grinned a nasty grin. 'Or would you rather run crying to your grandma?'

'He knows our hangout,' said another voice in the dark­ness. 'If he tells her . . .'

'He won't,' said Cedric. 'See, we keep a watch on that old witch. If she starts sniffing around here, we'll know Red told her, and that will be the end of Red's story.'

I tried not to think about what end Cedric had in mind.

'Do you want to see what I brought you, or not?' I said impatiently.

Finally he got up and stalked toward me. He glanced down at the bag in my hands. 'For me? And it ain't even Christmas.' A few of the other guys laughed. Not because it was funny, but because Cedric thought it was. Cedric was the kind of guy who had to have his own private laugh track cackling behind his jokes.

'So, what is it?' he asked. 'And it better be more than just chips.'

I held the bag up to him. 'See for yourself.'

He took the bag, threw me a suspicious glance, then tried to look inside, but it was too dark. So he reached in, felt around a bit, and his hand came out holding a human skull. He yelped in surprise and dropped it to the musty ground.

'You think that's funny?' Cedric barked.

'Nothing funny about it,' I told him. 'Take a good look at it. Tell me if it looks familiar, because it should.'

By now all the rest of the Wolves had crowded around. Cedric picked up the skull.

'Is it someone I should know?'

'It's your grandpa.'

I watched as a whole busload of emotions drove by on Cedric's face. By the time the bus had passed, I could tell he believed me.

'Where did you get this?' he asked through gritted teeth.

Well, I couldn't tell him the truth?but I had a better story anyway, and I knew I could sell it, because lately I'd become a real good liar.

'Where do you think I got it?' I said. 'I stole it from my grandma. She had it hanging on the wall like a trophy, in that secret room where she keeps all her werewolf-hunting stuff.'

The Wolves all murmured, cursing in awe and anger. Cedric screwed his lips into a scowl. 'That old woman is going down! I won't even wait until the full moon.'

'Bad idea,' I said. 'If you do that, you'll never get all the others.'

Cedric looked at me with suspicion written all over his face. 'What others?'

'You know . . . The C.W.H.'

He gave me a blank look.

'The Confederacy of Werewolf Hunters,' I explained. 'They're coming into town during the next full moon. They mean to get rid of all of you.' And then I corrected myself. 'All of us, I mean.'

The Wolves all looked at one another, whispering worry. Cedric snapped his fingers to shut them up.

'It ain't gonna happen,' Cedric said. 'Because Red here is going to feed us information and let us know their every move, so we can attack first. Isn't that right, Red?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'I thought you wanted me to be a footstool.'

'You do this right,' Cedric said, 'and I'll make A/C into your footstool.'

'Hey!' said A/C.

'Shut up!' said Cedric.

I paused for effect. 'Okay, I'll do it,' I told him. 'On one condition.'

'What's the condition?'

'That my grandma doesn't end up in a werewolf's belly.'

Cedric looked at me, then broke out laughing. At first I wasn't sure what his laughter meant. The rest of the Wolves didn't know, either, but they laughed along with him anyway.

'We got ourselves a master negotiator here!' he said.

'Yeah?maybe we oughta send him to negotiate with the Crypts,' snorted Loogie. That brought another round of laugh­ter. The Crypts were the all-girl gang whose turf was way across town. Scary bunch, from what I'd heard.

'So,' said Cedric, 'Little Red's willing to sell out his grandma's life's work in exchange for her life.'

'She's a crazy old woman,' I told him, 'but she's still my grandma, and I want her to live. If you get rid of all her werewolf-hunting friends, you won't have to get rid of her, because she'll be powerless.'

Cedric began to pace the big space of the Troll Bridge Hol­low, weaving in and out of his pack of Wolves. 'Sure,' he said. 'I'll make her watch all her friends get eaten, and then make her watch as you turn into a werewolf right before her eyes. You're right, Red?letting her live will be a much better revenge. It'll be sweet.'

He grinned at A/C, and although A/C grinned back, he looked a little worried?like maybe he really would end up being my footstool.

Cedric pointed at me. 'You go back to your grandma, but keep your eyes and ears open. Then report back to me.'

'I'll be your man on the inside.' I turned to go, but Cedric called to me.

'Hey, Red!'

When I turned back to him, something was flying through the air toward me. I snapped my hand up to catch it, and the second it hit my hand, jingling slightly, I knew what it was. My car keys.

'It's parked near the corner of Moat Street and Troll,' said Cedric.

I clasped the keys in my hand and felt my heart speed to near breaking. I had my Mustang back! I could have just walked right out of there, gone to my car, and driven off into the sun­set, but instead, I threw the keys back to Cedric. 'If Grandma sees me with the Mustang, she'll be suspicious. She'll wonder how I got it back. Best if you keep it, and we play enemies for a while.'

Cedric smiled. 'Red,' he said, 'I think you might just be too smart for your own good!' 

10 'The way of the wild is our way, too'

I got to know all of the Wolves by name?or at least by the nicknames Cedric had given them. There was Warhead, who was always ready for a fight. There was the kid with a head shaped kind of like an alien's, called Roswell. There was El Toro, Moxie, and the kid named Sherman, who everyone called 'the Tank'?twenty-two in all. By the end of my first week, I knew where most of them lived, and they knew where I spent my time, too, because there was always someone tailing me. Cedric wasn't about to trust me entirely?not considering my family tree?so lessons with Grandma on the craft of wolf hunting had to be in short sessions so as to not arouse suspicion.

'Twenty-two Wolves are gonna be hard to put down for a boy, a girl, and an old woman,' Grandma said one afternoon. 'Especially if we got no master plan.'

Grandma was big on 'master plans.' Me, my plans kind of came to me in spurts. I liked it that way. It kept me on my feet, able to move with the flow of things. But lately that flow was taking some strange new directions.

'It's a dangerous game you're playing, Red,' she was always telling me. But at the same time I could see a glimmer of admi­ration in her eyes. Like tricking Cedric made me worthy of being her grandson.

By the end of the second week, I was the Wolves' official errand boy. They laughed and called me 'the Wolverine,' like I was a werewolf Cub Scout. I guess they didn't know that a wolverine could be fiercer than a wolf.

All that time I was learning things I couldn't have learned any other way. Like which famous citizens from history had been werewolves (like Frank Sinatra), and how that crazy old woman with the golf-ball eyes managed