Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance

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Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance Page 15

by Larranaga, James Michael


  “Dude, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately!” Weezer shouts above the noise. “I hope you’re writing this stuff down!”

  I take my phone out of my pocket. We only have five minutes before our afternoon classes. I type how I feel, how the Soda is changing me, and my thumbs click double-time as I describe this very strange moment. Obviously three doses a day will be a challenge, but the way I’m feeling right now? I’m up for it.

  At my locker at the end of seventh hour, I sense Shelby nearby. Hallways are always packed with students rushing off to their cars, buses or after-school activities, so I can’t see where in the crowd she is. She’s there, looking for me, and I use my new leaping ability and jump up briefly over the crowd, as if I’m taking a jump shot in basketball. I see her, grab my backpack and push through the herd to catch up.

  “Got plans?” she asks.

  “Not really, what’s up?”

  “Want to go to my house?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  She transferred from the neighboring school district, so I know her house isn’t within walking distance, but I have no idea where she lives.

  “I thought we could plan where to set up your band when you play at my party,” she says.

  “Maybe we should invite Weezer and Angel,” I suggest.

  “No, you and I can do it,” she says abruptly. “Besides, I want you to meet my parents.”

  Hmm…not sure I’m ready to meet her parents yet. Adults and their small talk always make me feel so awkward. I accept anyway, and we walk together through the halls, occasionally hearing somebody shout “Gladiator!!”

  While she drives, Shelby gives a minute-to-minute recounting of her day at school. It’s amazing at how much detail she remembers. My sister does the same thing.

  “How was your day?” she finally asks me.

  My mind is a blank. I can’t remember anything other than my weird reaction to Soda and the food fight.

  “Same old boring routine,” I say. “Although Weezer and I started working on a new song.”

  “Cool, sing it to me.”

  “I don’t have a melody yet, still working on the lyrics.”

  “Then read it to me,” Shelby says.

  I pull out my phone and check my notes. I typed a few lines during math class.

  “It’s not really organized,” I say. “It’s just an idea—”

  “I know, I won’t be too harsh.”

  I read her the opening lines of the song that Weezer and I started on our walk to school. There’s no music yet, so I read it in verse, more like a rap song.

  “Darius, that’s cool! I really like it,” she says with a beaming smile.

  “Yeah, it’ll have dark, gothic undertones,” I say.

  “Play it at my party. That song should have its debut on Halloween.”

  When she says that, I get a nervous twitch in my stomach. Halloween night is when Bao and I have our showdown. There isn’t much time for me to prepare, and time seems to be slipping away. When we turn into Shelby’s neighborhood, we’re surrounded by humongous homes along a winding, tree-lined street. Each house is set back on a large lawn, and the trees are ablaze in autumn red and gold. My neighborhood has trees too, but I live on the proverbial “other side of the tracks.” Our trees aren’t pruned; they’re either overgrown or wrapped year-round in Christmas lights.

  Shelby pulls up to a gated driveway, presses a button on the car’s visor, and the metal doors open inward. We move down a winding driveway. Her house is gigantic, with a high, peaked roofline and multiple chimneys. How many people need three fireplaces? One for each level of the home, I guess. The yard slopes down a hill, and I realize where we are now. We’re only two miles from my house, but it feels as if we’re a million miles and a million dollars away.

  “Is this Deer Lake?” I ask.

  She sets the MINI into park. “Have you been on this lake before?”

  “Yeah, the public beach several times,” I say. “Weezer and I used to ride our bikes here when we were younger. We’d swim in the evening when the sun wasn’t so strong.”

  “My parents bought this home a year ago after we left California,” Shelby says. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  We step out of the car and cross the wet driveway to the side of the house. There’s an aroma of freshly cut grass, and I hear a leaf blower somewhere in a neighboring yard. Shelby grabs me by the hand and we run down the hill, kicking leaves up into the air as we descend from the front yard.

  “Don’t you love autumn?” she asks, as we slow to a level section of the lawn.

  “I like all the seasons, but yeah, autumn is awesome, I guess.”

  “All the colors and the cool, dry air. Autumn is my favorite season of all. You could set your band up over there.”

  A huge white party tent is already staked into the ground, and underneath there are racks with folding chairs. Across the lawn is a small platform stage near the edge of her yard by the trees.

  “Is all of that for your party?”

  “Yup, it’s sort of my belated sweet sixteen and my T-Party,” she says. “My parents wanted to celebrate my birthday in July when I turned sixteen. I begged them to wait until Halloween. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  We walk over to the stage, hand in hand, and there’s more than ample room to hold our band’s gear.

  “Well?” Shelby asks.

  “This is great. We’ll have to do a sound check to make sure we set the volume right. But this set-up is perfect.”

  “We’ll have a DJ, too. He can help with the sound. He’ll be next to the stage.”

  Looking beyond Shelby toward her private sandy beach along the lake, I see water sparkling like diamonds on the surface as it laps the sand. I catch a whiff of someone grilling, and I remember that my sense of smell is so sharp now that the source of that steak could be across the lake.

  “You want to meet my mom?” Shelby asks.

  Not sure how many guys enjoy meeting their girlfriend’s parents for the first time. I remember when I met Angel’s. They were pretty easygoing Normals who didn’t ask a lot of questions. Meeting Vampire parents has me more nervous, though.

  “Yeah, I’d be happy to meet her,” I bluff.

  What else can I say?

  “My dad gets home later. We’ll say hi to my mom. She’s kind of nosy, but she doesn’t bite.”

  We walk up the lawn and climb a staircase to the deck along the back of the house. From up here there’s a more spectacular view of the trees and lake below. I spot her mom through the sliding-glass door in the kitchen, talking on a phone.

  Her mom turns, opens the door, and is surprised to see us. “When did you get home?” She cradles the phone on her shoulder.

  Shelby kisses her on the cheek. “Hi, Dad!” she says into the phone.

  “How did you know it was your father?” her mom asks.

  “It’s four o’clock and you’re sipping wine while on the phone.” Shelby rolls her eyes. “Of course you’re talking to Dad.”

  Her mom smirks at her and reaches her hand out to me. “Hi, I’m Mrs. Rork,” she says, with the same smile and dark eyes as her daughter. It’s like I’m looking at Shelby in the future, what she’ll be like as a Vampire. I feel a lump in my throat and choke it down.

  “Darius,” I reply, shaking her cold hand, noticing her dark nail polish. Mrs. Rork is far more Vampire than my own mother. Her black hair is teased high, with streaks of gold dye that match her gold eye shadow. She wears more blush on her cheeks, too, which makes her face look younger. My mom is pretty, but Mrs. Rork is a beautiful Vampire goddess.

  “He’s the one I’ve been telling you about,” Shelby says, leaning against the granite center island.

  “Oh, of course, Darius. Congratulations on your decision to become a Vampire. I’m sure your parents are very proud—”

  “Mom, I told you that his dad…” Shelby stops, embarrassed.

  “My dad passed away a few years ago,”
I say. “But yeah, my mom and sister are very happy about my transformation.”

  “Well, I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth, haven’t I? I’m sorry to hear about your father,” Mrs. Rork says.

  “He contracted V2. My mom has it, too,” I confess to Mrs. Rork, because I know she’ll understand.

  “You poor dear,” Mrs. Rork says. “Honey, I’ll call you back,” she says to her husband, hanging up her phone, setting it on the center island.

  “My mom is doing well right now,” I say. “She’s still working nights, and she recently received a blood transfusion.”

  Shelby and her mom are now both leaning against the center island, hanging onto my every word. There’s compassion in their eyes.

  “If you ever need anything, Darius, let me know, okay?” Mrs. Rork says. “A place to stay or a warm meal. You let me know.”

  As awkward as my timing is on this news, this type of conversation is familiar to most Vampires. Everyone knows somebody who has lost a friend, lover, or relative to V2. Orphan Vampires are common, and most Normals won’t adopt them. I can’t imagine moving in with Shelby’s family. The house is certainly big enough for Kira and me, but my attraction to Shelby is too strong. It would be way weird to live under the same roof as my girlfriend.

  “All right, that’s enough. You’re making me depressed,” Shelby says to her mom, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “We’ll be downstairs in my room.”

  “I should call your father back,” Mrs. Rork says to Shelby, picking up her phone and sitting at the center island.

  Shelby’s basement is nothing like mine. She has a walkout sliding door to the patio, and a home theater system with a flat-screen TV, a bar, and a mini-fridge specifically for wine. It even has a walk-in wine cellar filled floor to ceiling with bottles from all over the world. Shelby leads me to the far end through French doors and into her room that smells of perfume, and the same hairspray my sister uses.

  “Well? What do you think?” Shelby asks, twirling around.

  For a Goth, she has some pretty bright colors in here. It’s a blend of reds and pinks, but not blood-red, more of a dusty rose. My sister’s room has posters all over her walls, but Shelby has framed prints, real art of famous cities like Paris, New York and Prague.

  “You’ve got great taste. This puts my room to shame,” I admit.

  “I’d take your room any day of the week. My mom decorated this for me. I liked it at first, but now, yuck…” She smirks and turns on her iPod that sits on the vanity.

  Industrial Techno music fills her room from surround sound speakers in the ceiling. Shelby reaches for a light switch and dims the lights. At this point, my heart picks up its pace. What is she planning for us to do here? I can’t even believe her mom let me into her daughter’s bedroom. At my house, whenever Angel visits, my mom finds an excuse to fetch laundry once in a while to remind me she’s still home.

  Shelby leads me to a large beanbag chair on the floor. “Let’s chill,” she says.

  She pulls me into the chair, big enough to seat two people, and we sink into the velvety fabric.

  “What about your mom?” I ask.

  “Oh, she’s blabbing with my dad,” Shelby says.

  “Well, what about your dad? If he comes home and finds us like this—”

  “He’s at the office. You’re nervous?” she says, with a coy smile.

  Oh, what the heck. I snuggle closer to Shelby, with my head sinking into the fluffy chair. The sweet and feminine aromas in this room are intoxicating. I stare up at her ceiling, and notice the glow in the decals of stars and planets. Some Vampires are into astrology, and believe that the alignment of the planets affects their moods.

  “Where’s Taurus?” I ask.

  “Right there,” she says, pointing straight up. “And that’s Cancer. Ohmygod, I’m sorry. Does that make you think of your mom’s illness?”

  “It’s all right.” I shrug off her comment.

  She points in a different direction, closer to the French doors. “That’s Mercury, then Venus, Earth, and Mars. You know Venus is the goddess of love?”

  She pulls me closer to her, not quite on top of her but almost, and we kiss. We’re lost for a brief moment as my mind’s eye watches her from behind. This is too good to be true. The lights are dim, the music pounding, we’re under fake planets and stars.

  What if her mom walks in?

  Or even worse, what if her dad is on the phone while driving home? What if he comes in here and finds me cuddling with his daughter?

  I sit up, looking around her room and at the French doors.

  “What?” she says.

  “Thought I heard somebody.”

  “My mom is cool.”

  The French doors fly open and Mrs. Rork enters, carrying a tray with ice waters and chips. Well, apparently her mom isn’t as cool as Shelby thinks she is. Her eyes are closed, as if she doesn’t want to see anything that we could be doing behind closed doors.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt. Darius might be hungry, honey,” she says, setting the tray on the chair next to the vanity.

  “Mom! Jeeez,” Shelby says, annoyed and laughing at the same time. “Open your eyes.”

  “Something to drink, Darius?” Mrs. Rork asks. “Coke or water?”

  “Water, thanks, Mrs. Rork.” I take the glass and drink a long sip.

  I move away from Shelby so there’s distance between us on the beanbag chair. I’m hungry, too, and my body craves those chips. The past week of running and working out with Jack has left me famished. I should’ve run this morning, and I feel guilty for sleeping in.

  “Water for you, Shelby,” her mom says. “And I’ll leave the chips here.”

  “Fine, go, please!” Shelby says. “You’re ruining the mood.”

  Her mom ignores me and looks directly at Shelby. “Remember, you have your sweet sixteen T-Party next weekend. No biting between you too.”

  Nodding, I look at Shelby, and she’s completely embarrassed. So am I.

  “I knooooow,” she says. “We were only kissing.”

  “Shelby, sit on the chair,” her mom says. “And the doors stay open.”

  Shelby stands in a huff and sits on the chair by her desk as Mrs. Rork leaves us and walks out to the patio.

  “Your mom is still way cooler,” I say, to make Shelby feel better. “My mom would have us in opposite rooms.”

  “She and my dad are so conservative,” Shelby says, standing up from the chair and returning to the beanbag. She picks a strand of my black, matted hair out of my eyes. “You look tired.”

  “It’s all the training, the early morning hours,” I say, looking at her alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s almost 5:00 p.m. When I’m almost due for another dose of Blood Orange Soda my blood sugar drops and my body enters a torpid state.

  “You can rest here for a few minutes. We can listen to music,” she says.

  “I should probably go soon, but let’s rest here for a bit.” I look up at the dim glow of the planets and stars on her ceiling.

  “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

  “I could run home. It’s only a couple of miles. I skipped my morning workout today,” I admit, my eyes starting to close.

  “Why does Jack want you to run?” she asks. “He’s training you for a fight.”

  “I dunno,” I say, because I don’t want to mention the Soda.

  “You look sleepy, Darius. Am I asking too many questions?”

  My mind drifts between the dream world and the waking world. “No, I just need to rest for five minutes. We can sit here and talk.”

  “Ask me some questions,” Shelby says. “Ask me anything.”

  “Of all the guys in our school, how did you find me?” I open my eyes and turn to see her staring up at the ceiling.

  “Before I transferred schools, I searched Facebook to see who’s who at Stearns County High. I already knew a few Normals, so I creeped on their pages to see who else I could find. I found your page and saw photos o
f you, Angel, and Weezer.”

  “And from that little information, you knew you wanted to meet me?”

  “You could’ve been a dweeb, I suppose. I had to meet you to find out for myself,” she says. “Later, when I saw you’d updated your profile photo—that picture of you giving the finger? Ohmygod, I knew you had a sense of humor!”

  “That was right after one of my run-ins with Bao,” I say, laughing with her.

  “Everyone was talking about it, and that’s why I wanted to meet you at the football game. And then you had another fight after the game and I thought, ‘There’s something special about this Goth Boy.’”

  We hold hands, laughing at how absurd it was, our first night together in urgent care, my eye swollen and Weezer sick to his stomach at the sight of my stitches.

  “You get your rest,” Shelby says as we hold hands.

  My sore, stiff body feels heavy on her soft beanbag chair and I feel myself sinking into sleep. Giving in, I drift off somewhere between the music and the warmth of Shelby’s hand.

  When I awaken, the room is dark. Where is Shelby? I feel both sides of my neck to make sure she didn’t bite me while I napped, then I look at her clock and it’s 5:45 p.m. I check my phone and there are two text messages from Kira asking when I’ll be home.

  I send Kira a reply text: Home @ 30 mins.

  Stepping over to Shelby’s nightstand, I flick on the lamp to inspect my neck in the mirror one more time. All is good. I notice a corkboard on the wall where Shelby has pinned photos of her friends. They’re all Normals. Nobody in these photos is a Goth or Emo. No wonder she felt she had to transfer to Stearns High. I look closer at the photos and most of them are at campfires or on a beach. She obviously partied a lot at her other schools. A guy in one of the photos holds a bottle that looks a lot like Blood Orange Soda, but I might be wrong. My mouth waters.

  When I leave her room I notice the red-orange sunset, not on the horizon, but reflecting off the surface of the lake. The lake water reminds me of Blood Orange Soda, and I’m hungry and thirsty again. I could slip out the back sliding-glass door. Instead I climb the stairs to say goodbye to Shelby. She’s not in the kitchen, and I hear her call out to me.

 

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