Hunger (Gone, #2)

by Michael Grant

Sure enough, the first words out of the kids’ mouths were, “I’m hungry.” “Well, there’s your lunch,” Edilio said, sweeping his hand toward the field and feeling great personal satisfaction at being able to rub their noses in it. “Those round things?” “They’re called cantaloupes,” Edilio said. “And they’re very tasty, actually.” “What about zekes?” one of the girls asked. Edilio sighed. “That’s the cabbage field, not here. That’s, like, a mile from here.” But no one moved. They all lined up obediently but kept close to the bus and far from the edge of the field. Edilio sighed. “Okay. Let the wetback show you how.” He sauntered out into the field, bent over, gave a twist to one of the melons, and held it up high so they could see. It was luck that saved him. The fact that he dropped the melon. He looked down at the cantaloupe and saw the dirt move. Edilio leaped, a wild reaction that almost tripped him, but he caught his footing and ran. He ran faster than he had ever run before, boots slamming down on the seething worms and faster, faster, faster until he sprawled, facedown, in the dust. The dust beyond the field. He yanked his feet toward him and frantically examined his boots. There were chew marks on the sides, on the heels. But no holes. The worms had not penetrated. Edilio looked at the shocked faces of the kids around him. He had been seconds away from impatiently ordering them into the field. Most wearing sneakers. None with experience seeing what the zekes looked li...