The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 12 - Efrem Higgins

The next morning when my uncle dropped me in front of the school, two guys approached. They had buzz cuts and button-down shirts.

The taller of the two wore glasses. “Hey,” he said. “I’m Maxwell.”

“Lonnie,” said the other.

They seemed nervous. Their eyes shifted like they were goading each other to talk to me.

I looked at them. “I’m Cody.”

“Yeah,” Maxwell said as if agreeing with me. “New, eh?”

The kid had a knack for the obvious. Before I could ask where this was leading, the other kid spoke.

“Is it true you outran Efrem Higgins on the track yesterday?”

I screwed up my face. “Who?”

“Two things,” Maxwell said. “Eff is kind of a good ole boy, born and raised in Florida. Him and his family still think the South will rise again. They hate New Yorkers.”

“I’m from Massachusetts.”

“Same difference, man,” said Lonnie.

“Point number two,” Maxwell counted on his fingers. “Eff don’t like to be shown up. I mean, he’s the freaking star of the football team. Twenty-seven receptions. He rules the school. Everybody loves him.”

I got it. Efrem Higgins. One of the gorillas I met yesterday. “And I drew attention to myself.”

“You’re on his list.” Maxwell nodded. “At first he blew it off, saying he had a stomach cramp or something.”

“Yeah, but now he says he’s going to break both your legs.” Lonnie bounced on the balls of his feet like the circus was coming to town.

A sour taste filled my mouth. I gazed across the courtyard, expecting to see my doom. “Maybe I better stay out of his way.”

“Maybe,” said Maxwell. “Or maybe you don’t care, with your reputation and all. Maybe old Eff finally met his match.”

Me? I managed a smile. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem,” Maxwell said. “Seeya.”

“Seeya,” Lonnie echoed.

As they walked away, I wondered what their stake was in all this. I guessed they were the kind of people that liked to look at car wrecks.

I spent the rest of the week playing keep away from Efrem Higgins. It wasn’t easy, especially in PE. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to want to start anything in front of the coach, and the coach was always nearby, trying to talk me into playing football. I didn’t tell him that if I made the team it would be an instant death sentence. I was polite and non-committal and made sure I didn’t run faster than anyone else.

Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I ran so fast that first day. I was thinking about Brittany, and my feet just took off. I guess I could always run like that, but never had reason to. Why would I? I was expecting to become a doctor like my parents, and my classes were geared toward those ends.

All week long, Brittany ignored me in World History. It was fast becoming my most hated class. But Friday, just before lunch, she said hi as we passed in the hall. I was so amazed that I nearly walked right into Eff.

Fortunately, something warned me in time. In spite of the between-period commotion, I could hear him as if he stood next to me. I pulled up against the wall.

“What, are you chicken now?” he asked an unknown accomplice. “All I need you to do is distract him.”

“I don’t know, Eff. You’re forgetting the lunch patrol. Can’t we do this off school grounds?”