“And you like artists. Jonathan was a writer, and Dad was a musician,” I suggest.
“Exactly, both were creative, both Normals, with one notable difference. When I had asked Jonathan if I could bite him, to become one, he agreed with no hesitation—he led with his heart. When I asked your dad if I could bite him, he thought about it for a very long time. We were married five years before he agreed to it. Your dad led with his head—he weighed all the advantages and disadvantages of transforming. He wanted his children to be able to choose if they wanted to become Vampires.”
“If Dad had chosen to remain a Normal, you would’ve still loved him, right?” I ask.
“Of course. I was prepared for that possibility. I knew if I too lived on the Reds, I could live a somewhat Normal life.”
“But it took him so long to commit to being bitten that it put stress on your marriage? Is that why you two broke up?” I ask.
“It wasn’t his indecision that broke us up; it was his transformation. Once your father became a Vampire, he was a very different person. When we were first married he was monogamous. Once he transformed into a Vampire, he couldn’t control his urges.”
“Jack said Dad had bloodlust,” I say.
“Yes, Normals have a much harder time transforming. The initial lust drives some of them to madness. And that’s what happened to your father. He chased after other women, to bite them, and if you bite enough people, you’re likely to contract a disease.”
Before she finishes the sentence, I’ve already figured out what happened to my parents’ marriage. “You contracted HIV2 from Dad?”
Mom continues driving, never looking at me. “I hold no anger toward him. He was a Normal who was faithful, but as a Vampire, he was a different person. Neither he nor I could’ve predicted what would happen.”
“And V2 eventually killed Dad?”
She nods again, but she can’t hold back a tear that slides down her cheek onto her lap.
All of this is heavy news for me. This is the family history that I have craved for so long. Now I’m realizing why my mom has guarded it from Kira and me. It’s too heavy a burden for us to carry and fully understand. I admire my mom for keeping it a secret all these years.
“Tell me about this girl, Shelby,” she says.
“She’s a Goth who switched to my school, and she’s in the process of transforming.”
“Jack says she’s attracted to you.”
“Maybe, I dunno,” I say. “It’s too early to really—”
“Is she pretty?”
“Yeah, she’s not ugly.”
“You’re attracted to her and she might be attracted to you,” Mom says.
“I guess so...” is all I can think of to say.
“How do you feel about Jack’s idea to transform now?”
“If I’m bullied because I’m a Goth, then I might as well transform and stand up for myself,” I say. “I plan to transform anyway. Why wait?”
“A lot of Normals are bullied and defend themselves without becoming Vampires.”
“That’s true,” I admit. “But—”
“But I don’t know many people, including Normals, who could resist the bite of a teenage Vampire girl,” Mom says. “I agree with Jack. You’re more vulnerable to Shelby than to the bully.”
“Shelby and I aren’t even dating. You have nothing to worry—”
“If she wants to date, she might want to bite.”
“Let’s say I go out with her and she bites me,” I suggest. “If I’m not in love with her, I won’t transform into a Vampire. And if I’m in love with her and transform, then I would’ve become a Vampire anyway. What’s to worry about?”
Mom slows the car and pulls into an old warehouse parking lot. She sets the car into park and looks directly at me. “At your age, how would you know what love is? If you’re bitten and in love with her, she’s imprinted onto you, Darius. Has Jack explained that to you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“The first bite a person receives is the most powerful. If you love the Biter, you’re forever devoted to that person. If you bite somebody who has never been bitten, and if that person loves you, then that person is forever devoted to you,” she explains.
“Jonathan loved you. Is he devoted to you?”
“If he were a Vampire, yes, he would be devoted to me.”
“He’s on the Reds so he’s not devoted to you?” I ask.
“I assume so. All I know is Jonathan eventually married and has two children. If he wasn’t on the Reds, he’d be searching for me.”
“Why would he search for you? You broke up with him.”
“He would want to mate with me. A First Bitten always wants to mate with his or her biter,” Mom says. “For Vampires it’s the natural law of attraction.”
This is the most open and honest conversation I have ever had with my mom. I’ve learned more about her in the past hour than I have in the past fifteen years of my life. I think about Shelby, how I want to get to know her and maybe even go out with her; but all this talk of biting freaks me out.
“If I were to stop the Reds and drink the Blood Orange Soda, then I could protect myself from bullies and also Vampire girls like Shelby. The Soda helps me transform without the urge to bite, right?”
Mom knows my logic is sound, I can see it in her eyes. She drums the steering wheel with her thumbs. “I agree with Jack. It’s not the bullies that put you at the most risk, Darius. It’s the female Goths. If you want to date girls who are transforming into Vampires, then you need to transform as well, and the Blood Orange Soda is the fastest way to get you to become a Vampire.”
She puts the car in gear and we ride along, feeling the rhythm of the road as traffic speeds by in a blur of red and white streaks of light. It’s as if time is flying in front of me. My life is in fast-forward, and all I need to do is jump onto that Vampire track. “Okay, how do I begin?”
Mom hesitates. She’s having second thoughts. “Let’s just sleep on it. Once you start transforming, there’s no turning back.”
Sunday, October 12
Sundays are church days for the Hunter family. That sounds odd to most Normals, who look at us Vampires in stereotypical ways; however, many Vampire families are quite religious. I’m sitting in a wooden pew of St. Mary’s Church, with Kira to my left and Mom to my right, and Mom prays harder than usual. She’s got her rosary beads wrapped around her right hand as she silently recites her prayers. She’s praying about our decision to let me transform, I’m sure of it. There must be a part of her that wants me to grow up as a Normal, and yet another part of her that wants me to live as a Vampire.
At some point after my dad left us, Mom began taking the Reds to ease her own cravings for blood. But anybody who looks closely at her would know she’s a Vampire. She’s got alabaster skin and dark pools for pupils that draw you in, and of course, she has sharp teeth that she hides with Botox injections that puff up her lips. Her lips whisper her prayers to the heavens while Kira’s phone vibrates in the pew.
A woman next to her sighs, and Mom grabs Kira’s phone before my sister can see who’s texting her at church. This is pretty much our Sunday worship—me daydreaming between my mom and sister. Sometimes I pray here, knowing my requests are nothing more than a selfish wish list of desires. I ask God to give me a passing grade on my math test or to make me cool enough to meet a girl. Does God answer prayers like those?
If it weren’t for my dad, we probably wouldn’t be Catholic. This is his family’s religion. Mom found solace in Catholicism after they married, and as I look around the church, it kind of makes sense to me why she gravitated to this faith. The cross on the altar isn’t just a cross. It’s a crucifix with a Jesus hanging from it. And the climax of the service is when the priest turns wine into the blood of Christ. What Vampire wouldn’t want a free sip of blood each week? I know most Normals consider the cup of Christ a symbolic gesture, but my Vampire mother knows it’s the blood of Christ, and s
he drinks it with respect and devotion. To me it tastes like stale grape juice.
Meanwhile, I fidget and think about random things, like song lyrics for our band, or what I’ll bring for lunch tomorrow, or what my life will be like as a Vampire. Then comes the part of the service that always makes me uneasy; when we stand and give the sign of peace to people around us. And I don’t mean the hippie peace sign with two fingers; you actually have to shake a stranger’s sweaty, sometimes germ-ridden hand as if you’re long-lost friends who’ve run into each other at church.
Mom’s great at it, and I even notice some of the men who are in church with their wives checking my mom out. Kira always shakes the hands of only three people before turning back around. My routine is to turn and look back at the pew behind me first and shake only their hands, so that by the time I turn around, the people in the pew ahead of me are already looking forward. When I turn today, I see Bao Wang standing two rows back with his parents!
“Damn it all,” I say under my breath, and quickly turn forward. I feel Mom’s glare and I fake piety, closing my eyes.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Darius!
This is the first time I’ve seen Bao here. Of all the world religions and all the churches in St. Cloud, why does Bao have to worship here? Isn’t he Buddhist or a good old Communist who believes in nothing? This is the first time he’s seen my black eye since the fight. He’s probably proud of his handiwork.
Peace. What a fuggar.
We sit and wait for our turn to take the bread and blood, and I’m already planning my escape route. After I take communion, I’ll exit out the side door rather than return to the pew. Mom always stays for the last song, and sometimes we’re one of the last families to leave the church as she flirts with the priest. Today I’ve got to get the hell out of here.
When it’s our pew’s turn, we all stand and make our way toward the center aisle. I can’t resist looking to my right one more time. I try to talk myself out of it, let it go; but my bully is too irresistible, and I gawk at him.
Bao’s almond-shaped eyes follow me as I move through the pew and he mouths the words, “You’re dead!”
Damn, I should’ve slept in this morning!
Forget the house wine; how long will it take Jack to get me that Blood Orange Soda?
Monday, October 13
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down—the song plays from my dad’s iPod as I get ready for school. My morning routine today begins with hesitation. Do I really need a Red if I’m planning on transforming soon?
I splash water on my face and inspect my injured eye, which is not as puffy but still very black and blue. As for the Reds, I drop the pill into the sink and it dissolves into a frothy cherry broth before it disappears. Today is the first day of the rest of my new Vampire life.
Today I arrive at school early, partly to avoid Bao Wang, and also so I can get help from Mr. Striefland, my math teacher and counselor. Not sure why freshmen need career counselors when we have so much high school ahead of us. Congress passed a dozen resolutions to get Americans Working Again, so this must be part of the grand plan. They want to inspire young people to think about careers and entrepreneurial ideas to get America out of its indebtedness. I can barely decide what color jeans to wear each morning. Career plans are not even on my Goth radar.
There’s a line of students ahead of me waiting for Officer Denny to probe them as they shove their book bags through the scanner. It’s hard to believe this many students make it here this early on a Monday. There’s all kinds of activities that happen here that I know nothing about. We have a Chess Club and a Speech Team who meet before school and then GBLTs and V-Goths sometimes meet to bitch and moan while they sip their chai lattes and Red Bulls.
Occasionally, somebody in line calls out my new nickname—“Gladiator!”
“Morning, everyone!” Officer Denny shouts with an old guy wink, like a creepy Santa Claus. “Remove all metal objects and set them in the trays.”
Pulling off my rings, bracelets, and the chains around my neck, I toss them into a rubber bowl. I remove more jewelry than most of the girls in line, but they have me beat on the tattoos. The only tattoo worthy of my time is one that I can’t afford, like a bass guitar on my back. Piercings are so much less expensive, and if you’re willing to do it yourself, they cost nothing but the brief pain and the occasional skin infection.
Many of the senior girls in my school who’ve turned eighteen are inked, usually on the back of the neck, shoulders, or with a “tramp stamp” on their lower back above the belt. Goth girls usually have a signature “Vamp stamp,” which is a tattoo heart on the back of their neck and across their shoulders.
Truth is, Vampire Goths are conservative with their tattoos. We like our alabaster skin, and we like looking cleaner than Normals. It’s strange how Normals have tattoos of skulls, dragons, and demons, but Vampire tattoos are of butterflies, hearts and angels. What can I say? We’re non-conformists.
“What’s up, Denny?” I say.
“Darius Hunter, you look exquisite for such a rainy Monday,” he says. “Nice black eye.”
“Rain and lack of sun is so good for my skin!”
He nods with another awkward wink, as if he totally gets me. He doesn’t, though.
“Another bank robbery over the weekend,” Officer Denny says. “Saturday night.”
“What kind of robbery?” I ask, ignorant of current events because I’ve been so wrapped up in my own melodrama. “Blood or money?”
“Blood bank,” Officer Denny says, handing me my chains and jewelry. “Two in one week. Looks like it was three hoodlums this time. If you hear of anything—”
“I know. I’ll give old Denny a call.”
He holds his fist out, waiting for me to pound it with mine. I leave him hanging there.
“Sorry, I’m fighting a cold.”
Why let anyone think I’m buddies with law enforcement?
Walking into the school commons, I search for a familiar face. Weezer is still in bed and I don’t see Angel anywhere, either. I’d better head right to Mr. Striefland’s classroom to get math help, so I rush down the hall to his room, when I hear somebody calling me.
“Darius, hey!”
Shelby waves to me. My heart skips two beats and butterflies flitter in my stomach. Maybe I should’ve taken a Red after all; I feel a bit different this morning. She waves again, standing by her locker. She’s wearing black boots, black jeans, and a ripped white T-shirt covered by a navy jacket—sort of a preppy ensemble. There’s no mistaking she’s Goth, though, with bright-green eye shadow, dark eyes, and that teased black hair that she wears like a headdress. God, I’m so twitchy as I approach her.
“How’s your eye? Oh my, you really took a shot,” she says. “You aren’t upset with me?”
“Why would I be?” I ask.
“I sent you a text over the weekend and a Facebook message. You didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure if you were—”
“No, I’ve just been laying low, that’s all,” I assure her.
“You’re a hero around here,” she says, grabbing my sleeve. “The chatter online is about the videos of your fight.”
“Yeah, I saw Bao at church yesterday. He wasn’t in a ‘turn the other cheek’ sort of mood. He’s gonna kill me when he gets the chance.”
“He’ll get over it,” Shelby says.
In the background, another kid shouts, “Gladiator!!”
Nodding to him I have to admit, it feels good to get recognition. For the past six weeks since school started, I was like a ghostly apparition floating through the hallways as people passed right through me. Now I have a name, and it’s even a cool name!
“I’m meeting the Vampire Club. Want to come with me?” Shelby asks.
“V-Club? Ah, I’m not much of a joiner.”
“Furreal? Oh, come on,” Shelby begs, grabbing my hand.
“Seriously, any Vampire Club that would take me as a member isn’t worth joining. Besides, I�
�m here early for math tutoring.”
“Well, at least walk with me. It’s just down the hall.”
We walk through the nearly empty hallways, only a few students mingling around, and others hurrying to their clubs and other before-school activities. It’s mostly Geeks drinking tall cups of coffee or breakfast fruit smoothies. All the cool kids sleep later and have their activities after school—it’s as if a school administrator has figured out a scheduling method to separate the Geeks from the Populars.
In a way, Vampires and Normals have always lived separate lives. Vampire are nocturnal, and Normals are diurnal. One rules the night, while the other rules the day. We’re seemingly opposite forces that are really interdependent with each other. We’re both Homo sapiens but we’re really the Yin and the Yang of each other—two sides of the same coin. If Bao would think of me that way, would he stop his bullying?
We get to the classroom where the Vampire Club meets and I drop Shelby off at the door.
“You’re sure you won’t join us?” she asks.
Again, she has that California up-talk lilt to her voice, so I’m not sure if she’s making a statement or asking me a question. It’s a tempting offer only because I like Shelby, but I’m not a fan of this kind of club because it lacks diversity. There are no Jocks, Theater Geeks or any of the other cliques that must have kids on the Reds.
The room is really a mixed bag of Goths and Emos, and despite the fact that both groups wear a lot of black, there’s a big difference between the two. Emos are the “emotionally hardcore” kids. They wear concert T-shirts, super-taper jeans and usually funky-colored high-tops. They wear their hair hanging low over one side of the face, as if they’re hiding and lurking from you. Emos are more depressed than Goths.
Look at it this way: In a fight, a Goth might cut you with a knife, but an Emo would cut himself and expect you to feel sorry for him!
Goths like me are more Vampire in appearance, with pale skin, eyeliner or guyliner, more layered clothing, boots, and metal-like necklaces, bracelets, and gauges in their ears. Goths are more into music than poetry. The one thing we all have in common is the ability to transform into Vampires, and we’re all on the Reds.
Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance Page 6