The Wolf Gang

By Chris Lynch

Nothing breaks the heart of a He-Man Women Hater like one of their own joining ranks with the girls!When Wolf forms his own club in a beauty shop with the Girl Scouts as members, the He-Man Women Haters take it as a declaration of war. Then Jerome strays from the group after visiting the beauty shop, and Steven knows he must take action, letting a girl into his club. But soon the He-Men realize they are in over their heads! The final book in the He-Man Women Haters Club series is filled with betrayal, defections, and double agents as Wolf and Steven face off. It’s an all-out war, and only the best club will survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Media
• Release date: Mar 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781480404656

Chris Lynch

Chris Lynch is the award–winning author of several highly acclaimed young adult novels, including Printz Honor Book Freewill, Iceman, Gypsy Davey, and Shadow Boxer—all ALA Best Books for Young Adults—as well as Killing Time in Crystal City, Little Blue Lies, Pieces, Kill Switch, Angry Young Man, and Inexcusable, which was a National Book Award finalist and the recipient of six starred reviews. Chris is the author of middle grade novel Walkin’ the Dog. He holds an MA from the writing program at Emerson College. He teaches in the creative writing MFA program at Lesley University. He lives in Boston and in Scotland.

Book preview

The Wolf Gang

The He-Man Women Haters Club

Chris Lynch

Contents

1 The Continuing Legend of J. Chesthair

2 Her Satanic Majesty

3 Gangin’ Up

4 The Aquamarine Door

5 Guerrilla Girlfriend

6 Bring ’em Back Alive … or Not

7 Get with the Program

8 Cecil’s Dream

9 Steven’s Dream

10 The Sweet Smell of Victory

11 Our Nuke-u-lar Family

A Biography of Chris Lynch

1

The Continuing Legend of J. Chesthair

JOHNNY’S BACK.

How many disasters did it take before everyone realized there could be only one true leader of the He-Man Women Haters Club, and that leader was old Johnny Chesthair himself?

Can I say it again?

Johnny Chesthair, back on top.

So maybe I’m gloating a little. But I’m sitting in the big chair, and the big chair feels good.

I never should have left it. Here’s how it happened.

I started with a big car and a big dream, to gather up all the right-thinking, two-fisted, red-blooded, big-muscley …

No, scratch that. I started with Jerome. And it wasn’t even my idea. It was Jerome’s. He put into my head that it might be kind of awesome to get together a lot of macho guys like me, who would hang with me, and act like me, and talk like me, and listen to me …

Sounds like paradise, no? Right, it sounded that way to me, too. But then Jerome—whose whole problem is that he doesn’t look or act or do anything much like me and doesn’t have so much as a single hair on his chest—came with his own little set of quirks. Like, he quits the club every fifteen minutes because some small thing or other is brushing his fur the wrong way. And girls harass him—like, pelt him with snowballs, or kiss him against his will, or stalk him—pretty much around the clock. Jerome is our high-maintenance He-Man. And on top of that, he went on his own and advertised for new members. He put out his little bulletin on—ready?—on the Internet.

I know, I know. But he did it before I could stop him.

The result was Ling-Ling.

Ling weighs in at a cool seven thousand pounds (with a hat on, because he would be naked without some lunatic headgear at all times). He towers over even me, and cries like a faucet if you give him half a reason. Like if you wear red on a Wednesday, that might set him off … or eat your fries before your burger, and watch him flood. He’s a very sensitive He-Man. But then, he’s watched the movie Pattern six million times, reads those crazy commando gun magazines as if they’re the FAO Schwarz catalog, and is so far deep into superhero comics that he even became one for a while. Bolt Upright. How’s that sound? Pretty heroic, don’t you think? Pretty sane? Not a whole lot, no.

Ling should wear one of those signs that say, "Caution, do not touch. Third rail is live!"

Then we got a hick from Alabama named Cecil. Cecil is very nice.

What? What? I didn’t say anything else. Cecil is very nice.

All right, so he’s also roughly as smart as your average soup bone. But don’t knock it. There is not a better recruit in the world than a loyal, strong, simpleminded goofball who also happens to look just like Abraham Lincoln without a beard, and is handy with a hammer and nail.

Anyway, cunning and intelligence aren’t everything. In fact, sometimes they can become a problem.

A serious problem.

Which brings us to the other guy.

Those I’ve mentioned already, those are the good ones. Good guys. Good people. Good He-Men.

Then there’s the other one.

His name is Wolfgang. His mother knew what she was doing when she named him (if he ever even had a mother, which I think is unlikely). Because while he isn’t a wolf, and he isn’t a gang, he makes as much trouble as any pack of wild dogs ever could.

He’s in a wheelchair. But don’t be fooled.

It’s an unfortunate story, since Wolf was one of the original four members of the He-Man Women Haters Club. He was even president for a while, and turned us into a very successful rock-and-roll band. You probably read about us. And despite the fact that he was always picking fights with me for no reason (and of course I had to let him win sometimes, because of the legs thing), he made a pretty tough and useful He-Man.

But then they got him.

Women.

The dark side of the force.

Now he is no longer a He-Man—he is the enemy. We had a trial and ran him out. He thinks he quit, but he is mistaken. We showed mercy. We did not impose the death penalty.

That was our fatal mistake. Our kindness was our weakness.

2

Her Satanic Majesty

CAN I JUST INTERRUPT for one minute, please? There have been, by my estimation, about twelve thousand lies perpetuated about me by now by Johnny Chipmunk, and I’d like to address this.

Oh, I’m the devil. I’m so scary. I’m so mean. Boo-hoo.

Couldn’t you just slap him sometimes?

Hello, I’m Monica, in case you couldn’t tell, and like, what have I ever done to him that was so bad? Sure, I kissed him one time. Did he not kiss me back? Oh yes, he did indeed, the little fish lip. Not only did he do it and like it,