Red Rider's Hood by Neal Shusterman Page B

jump me, I had the distinct feeling that one of my Wolf brothers would be right there to help me fight them off.
    Wolf brothers.
    It kind of tweaked my spine to think of them as brothers…but then, being a brother didn’t always mean that you meantone another well. My mom, who was an all-occasion Bible quoter, often told of poor Abel, who was killed by his brother Cain in a field. So if the Wolves were my brothers now, did that make me Cain or Abel? I knew I shouldn’t think too much on it, but lately I couldn’t help it.
    With so much on my mind, I wasn’t as observant as I should have been. I was ambushed halfway down the alley. My attacker fell on me, big and broad, cutting across my vision like the moon eclipsing the sun. He smashed into me, and I bounced against a big green Dumpster, my head making the metal ring like I was a bell clapper. I turned and swung, but I was so disoriented, I caught nothing but air. The momentum of my own punch spun me around, I slipped in a puddle of alley scum, and hit the ground. When I looked up, I saw that it was none other than Marvin Flowers.
    My brain was still too scrambled to speak, but that was just fine with Marvin.
    â€œThere’s something you had better get straight,” he growled. “You wanna be a Wolf, I got no problem with that. But you stay away from my sister.” There was a fury in his eyes, and it was nothing like the fury of a wolf. It was human through and through, but that didn’t make it any less dangerous.
    I could have fought with him, but it wouldn’t have been too wise. I was a head shorter, he was still beefed up from his years of football, and his fury gave him even more of an advantage. No, it was unlikely that I’d win this fight with muscle, but maybe I could put a dent in him with words, before he dented the Dumpster with me.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Marvin? Wolves aren’t good enough foryour sister? Maybe I should tell Cedric, and see what he thinks?” That gave him pause for thought. With my back against the Dumpster, I pushed myself back to my feet. “How long have you been waiting to get made, Marvin?” I asked. “How many months? Cedric must not be too happy with you if he’s waited this long.”
    The anger didn’t leave Marvin’s face, but his eyebrows knotted with something between confusion and disgust. “What are your lips flapping about?”
    â€œYou might act like a werewolf, but you’re not one! I saw you touch that silver candleholder. If you were a real werewolf, just touching it would make you swell up like one of those balloons in the Thanksgiving Day parade. You’re just a pledge like me, and you’re mad because you think I’ll get ‘made’ before you do.”
    â€œYou don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbled, but I could tell I had my thumb on a nerve now. “You think you know things,” Marvin said, “but you know absolutely nothing.”
    â€œYou forget that my grandma’s a werewolf hunter, and taught me all there is to know about it. So you could say I knew exactly what I was getting into when I decided to join the Wolves. Probably more than anyone else who’s ever joined.”
    Marvin was quiet. I knew I was getting to him. “So tell me, how come Marvelous Marvin Flowers hasn’t gotten the bite yet?”
    Then Marvin’s blank expression stretched into a smile, which was never a good thing. “Maybe Cedric wants it that way,” he said. “Maybe Cedric needs a human lookout on the nights they go wolfing.”
    Well, it made sense, but there was something beneath Marvin’s gold-toothed grin that was as slimy as a morning snail trail. It made everything he said suspect.
    â€œSo, are you gonna stay away from my sister, or not?”
    â€œYou were the one who sent me in her direction when you went to steal my grandma’s