“Careful,” I warn her as I stand taller, resisting her.
“Oh, come on,” she says. “I’m transforming anyway. Haven’t you thought about biting me?”
She’s tempting, for sure. She’s a Goth on the verge of becoming a Vampire Princess. Smelling her neckline, my lips feel the thumping of her blood, and I could so easily sink my teeth in and taste her. No longer would I need Soda or a stranger’s cold blood, but I’d have the blood of my First Bitten. We kiss, and I taste the mint flavor of gum on her wet tongue.
“Let’s go!” Kira shouts from the top of the basement stairs. “My friends are waiting for me at the game.”
I open my eyes, and Shelby’s are still closed. Her dark eye shadow shields her thoughts. She’s frustrated, imagining what true love must taste like. And I’m frustrated, too.
The St. Cloud Apollo Eagles host the game in their stadium, under bright lights swarmed by moths and insects, with the odor of burnt popcorn hanging in the air. I let Kira rush off with her friends, and I hold Shelby’s hand as we walk along the bleachers, searching for students from Stearns High. Our mascot, The Cobber, is a big ear of corn taunting the Eagle mascot. While parents cheer “Cobbers! Cobbers!” The student section shouts, “Clobber! Clobber!” and sexual innuendos I won’t repeat here.
Angel is sitting next to Weezer and he’s dressed like a Normal tonight, with an Abercrombie hoodie and baseball cap smothering his mop of hair. Angel waves to us and we climb the stairs, with Shelby walking ahead of me. This climb is a bit odd because it’s that uncomfortable moment like when you enter the lunchroom and everyone stares at you, judging you from a safe distance.
Somebody shouts, “Gladiator!”
And the student section chants, “Glad…i…ator! “Glad…i…ator! “Glad…i…ator!”
Not really sure if this is mock praise or not. I raise my arms, as if I’m showing off my biceps. Somebody tosses a bag of popcorn that explodes when it hits my chest.
Thanks, fuggar!
They clap. Then I give them the finger with both fists and they roar with approval! They’re mine.
Shelby pauses and looks back at me. “Mr. Popular!”
We squeeze our way down the row. Shelby sits next to Angel, and I sit further down on the outside of our foursome next to Weezer. He’s texting again, and totally somewhere else.
“What’s up?” I say.
“’Sup?” he responds, still texting.
“Nice apparel tonight,” I say.
“Dude, don’t even start.”
“I’m kidding.” He looks so Normal, I have to call him on it.
“She’s kind of pissed at me,” Weezer says.
“Angel? Why?”
“She says, ‘Be yourself’ and when I try she says I’m faking it,” Weezer says into my ear.
“You like wearing Normal clothing,” I say. “Right?”
“Yeah, but she thinks I’m doing it for her. I’m not.”
“She thinks you’re more authentic when you’re Goth. You feel more authentic when you’re a Normal?” I suggest.
“And it pisses her off,” Weezer says. “How can I be myself when she won’t let me? Women are warped, man. God, maybe it would be easier if I were gay.”
“Are you gay?” I ask.
“What? No,” he says. “This is a Vampire vs. Normal thing, not a gay vs. straight thing. Don’t make this any more complicated than it already is.”
The crowd cheers, and there’s a wall of students standing in front of us so I can’t see any of the action on the field. The four of us join everyone by standing. The play is over and the quarterback for Apollo is on his back, barely moving his legs, while the other players from our school and Apollo stand around watching him.
“Another sack,” Angel says. “Third time Bao has taken down their quarterback.”
“Is the quarterback hurt?” Shelby asks.
Watching closely, I see Bao pacing the field anxiously, as if he wants to pounce on the quarterback again. I’ve been where that quarterback is, and I know how painful Bao’s tackles are.
“Yeah, he’s hurting,” I say to Shelby. “He got the wind knocked out of him.”
The referee and two medics run from the sidelines with a stretcher, and all the athletes on the field kneel or sit, which is the official protocol in situations like this. Except Bao remains standing, bouncing up and down. He’s hungry. He wants more. The referee finally motions to Bao to sit on the field and he obeys, but he never removes his helmet.
“He’s psycho,” Weezer says. “He’s totally jacked.”
“Believe me, I know,” I say. My stomach is in knots.
“No, he’s seriously on something,” Weezer says. “He’s either on ‘roids or crank, because he’s slaughtering players out there.”
“He’s on the Juice,” Angel says. “He drinks Soda before games.”
“How do you know he’s juicing?” I question Angel.
“He and his friends crashed a party a couple of weeks ago. They were lit up and crazy. Chao bragged that they were blood-suckers.”
We all sit with the rest of the crowd, and a new quarterback from Apollo jogs out onto the field as both teams huddle. Bao leaves the field to sit on the sidelines and talk to our team’s coach.
How much Soda has Bao been drinking? And what would it do to his fighting?
Angel reaches across Weezer and sets her hand on my knee. “You still think you’re ready for him?”
I’m starting to freak out now, and I feel panicky. I can’t even think of how to answer Angel, because I’m having my own doubts.
“He’s been training,” Shelby brags. “Darius is pretty amazing.”
Angel forces a smile. “Good, because I’d hate to see you get hurt, Darius.”
After the game, Kira catches a ride with her friend’s mom, and the four of us cruise to the McDonald’s in Shelby’s MINI to get a late dinner. The car smells of saturated fats from the French fries we all share, and the aroma is ten times stronger for Shelby and me. Weezer and Angel are sitting in the back seat sharing a vanilla shake as Shelby drives slowly along the streets of St. Cloud. We see a row of fast food restaurants on both sides of the boulevard and teenagers hanging out of their vehicles, waving and yelling to each other. This is where the winning team and its fans take a victory lap, and tonight belongs to Stearns County High, thanks in part to Bao Wang’s bone-crushing defense.
Lowering my window for fresh air, I feel the cold wind blowing across my face. Finally I can breathe again, and my nervousness about Bao subsides briefly. I’ve already had my third dose of Soda today so I know my body isn’t craving for blood, but I sense maybe Soda is the only thing right now that will bring back my courage. A shake and fries isn’t going to cut it tonight.
“You okay?” Shelby asks. “You seem quiet.”
“Yeah, I’m tired. That’s all.”
“Would you rather we call it a night?” Angel asks.
“If you don’t mind, I could use the rest,” I say.
“I’ll drop off Weezer and Angel, and then you and I will hang out at your house,” Shelby suggests.
“Honestly, I’m so tired you might as well drop me off first. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Shelby seems disappointed, and we drive in silence for most of the way home. My mind strays back to Bao and his aggression. If my uncle had a hard time finding Soda, how does Bao have access to it? It occurs to me that I should confront him directly. Or I could report him to Officer Denny and have Bao thrown off the football team; but then I’d be the school nark and nobody would trust me. I could at least talk to Bao, though, and warn him that I’m juicing, too. I decide to sleep on it and see what Jack thinks.
By 1:00 a.m. I’m in bed surfing Facebook and finishing another Soda. I feel mellow and I have my confidence back, even if it means I’ll be wide awake for at least another hour. There’s plenty of video from tonight’s game, most of it Bao Wang body slamming quarterbacks. He set a school record for seven sacks, and recovered
two fumbles.
Hooray for the Juicer! What must his buddies back in China think of him now?
I call Jack because I know he’s only a few hours into his day. When he answers, I hear heavy breathing into the phone, and music in the background.
“Jack here!”
“Hey, it’s me. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Why aren’t you in bed? You need to run in the morning!” he shouts.
“Where are you?”
“At a club.”
“Dancing?”
There’s a pause, with more breathing. “Yeah, you could call it that,” he says.
“Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“What’s this about?”
“Bao Wang is juicing,” I say. There’s a long pause and I say it again. “Can you hear me? Bao is juicing. He’s on Soda.”
“I heard you. I know what you mean,” Jack says. “Keep training, man. You’re a Vampire, and he’s a Normal. You should win. Stop by tomorrow. We need to talk about your strategy.”
Strategy? What strategy? So far it’s been about punching and leaping, so if Jack has a strategy, then he needs to reveal it soon.
“Okay, I’ll be there after eight thirty.”
He hangs up and I take a sip of Soda and lie back in bed, staring up at the floor joists in the ceiling. I’m regretting my wise-ass attitude and bravado toward Bao. If I’d kept my mouth shut after he bullied me, I wouldn’t be in this position at all. But I talked my way into a fight, so maybe I can talk my way out of it too.
Kira rushes downstairs to the basement and peeks her head around the corner.
“You awake?” she asks.
“Yeah, why?”
“There’s a girl here to see you.”
“Who, Shelby?”
“Nope!” Kira laughs and runs upstairs.
I sit up as Angel comes down the stairs. She’s dressed differently than earlier in the evening. Now she’s wearing a loose gray sweatshirt and sweat pants.
“You couldn’t sleep, either?” she asks, stopping at the foot of the stairs.
“Usually I’m up until two or three anyway. Come on in,” I say, straightening my covers as I move and sit on the end of my bed.
She sits next to me. She’s nervous. Her pheromones are elevated.
“I snuck out. I can’t stay long,” she says.
“Cool, not a problem.”
“I keep thinking about you and Bao. On the ride home, Shelby told me the Vampire Club will be at the fight—”
“Only there as a show of force,” I say. “Besides, I’m going to confront Bao ahead of time about his juicing.”
“What good would that do?” Angel asks. “He wouldn’t care if you knew.”
“He might care if he knows that I’m on Soda too,” I say.
Angel’s eyes amplify her shock. I suddenly realize I slipped and spilled my secret. This is the reaction I’ve been avoiding. I can’t avoid it any longer.
“What?! You’re juicing, too?”
“Only to speed up my transformation.”
“But still, Darius—”
“Angel, I’m a Vampire. Soda is meant for Vampires.”
“I know, I know, but I thought you were only off the Reds and that you’d transform gradually,” she says. “I guess I was hoping for more time.”
I hadn’t even considered how my transformation might affect Angel. I’ve been so self-absorbed, and now I’m noticing how upset she is.
“You wanted more time for what?” I ask.
“To get used to the idea that our friendship is changing,” Angel says, looking away.
“Our friendship won’t change.” I rest my hand on her knee. “We’ll always be friends.”
“Weezer will transform too, eventually,” she says. “I wish he’d do it now so I wouldn’t have to live through this twice.”
“He’s not ready, Angel. And he might stay on the Reds and live a Normal life.”
“He’ll change. Once he sees you as a Vampire, he’ll want that life, too,” she says, with tears welling up in her eyes. “All of our lives will be different once you’re both Vampires.”
I give Angel a hug and feel the warmth of her body against mine. She holds me, too, just like when we dated. I feel guilty about it, as if I’m crossing a line and betraying Weezer...and Shelby. She isn’t pulling away, but instead she leans on me for support.
“Remember when we were dating, and swimming at the rock quarry, and you dove off that cliff?” Angel asks.
“My naked dive? Yeah,” I say, as I loosen my hug and remain seated next to her. “What about it?”
“It’s like you’re taking another big leap, and all I can do is hold my breath and watch.”
My swan dive on that hot summer evening was dangerous. Back then I did so many stupid things to make Angel laugh. And I thought every time she laughed she fell deeper in love with me.
“I miss those days,” Angel says.
“Me too,” I reply.
There’s silence between us, and I hear the furnace exhaling heat into the upper level of the house. It’s been a long time since Angel and I have sat alone in my room, but why is she really here?
“You and Weezer having trouble?”
“We’re really not dating. I mean, I like Weezer, but not in that kind of way.”
“He seems kind of confused about your relationship—”
“Truth? I went out with Weezer so I could spend more time with you, Darius,” she says, setting her hand on mine.
“What?”
Angel hesitates, biting her lower lip before she comes out with it. “Shelby isn’t right for you. I wasn’t sure how to tell you, so I hung out with Weezer. I thought double-dating would give me a chance to see what Shelby is really like.”
“Why isn’t Shelby right for me?” I ask. “We have tons of things in common.”
“On the surface she seems cool. Don’t you wonder how she latched onto you so quickly?”
“She’s a Goth.”
“Yeah, she’s a Goth in a hurry, for sure,” she says. “She dated a lot of Normals at Apollo before she transferred to our school. Now to please her parents, Shelby wants to find a ‘perfect Vampire’,” Angel says, making air quotes.
The word perfect rings in my ears like a flat bass note. Shelby whispered that word to her parents. My meet and greet suddenly takes on new meaning. “Thanks for the heads-up,” I say. “But it’s too early to worry—”
“Don’t get bit,” Angel pleads.
“I won’t.”
“Don’t bite her, either. Please…”
“I won’t,” I say again. I give her one more hug before pulling my arm away. I feel flush from the Soda, or maybe because we’re so close. Is the furnace running hot, or is it me?
Angel looks up at me through her tears. “What does Soda taste like?”
I reach over for the almost-empty bottle on the milk crate next to my bed and show it to her. “It’s like grapefruit, tonic water and blood.”
“Does it make you stronger?”
“Yeah, and it keeps you awake, alert, and confident.”
She takes the bottle from my hands and holds it up for inspection. “Makes you feel confident?”
“Yeah, sort of; it’s hard to explain. Like a shot of adrenaline.”
“Shelby’s transforming too,” Angel says. “Is she on Soda?”
“No, she’s transforming naturally.”
“What does she think about you juicing?”
“I haven’t told her. I haven’t even told Weezer yet.”
“Why are you keeping this a secret?”
I lie back on my bed, staring up at the rafters. “I dunno. I guess I knew I’d eventually tell you guys. I wasn’t sure how Shelby would react. We just started going out, and I didn’t want to ruin a good thing.”
“But Weezer is like your wing man. Why not tell him?” she asks.
“He’s been questioning his own transformation. I didn’t want to confuse him more by telling
him I was speeding up the process with Soda. Once I had made progress, I was going to tell all of you.”
“Everyone sees your progress, Darius. You’re bigger. People talk,” she says. “You should at least tell Shelby and Weezer.”
“I will, but I need to meet with Uncle Jack first,” I explain. “Then I’ll tell Shelby and Weezer.”
Sitting again, I have a head rush and a buzz from the Soda. I look at Angel, still holding the bottle in her hands. It’s tempting to reach into my mini-fridge and hand her one to find out, but Jack warned me not to give any away.
“It tastes like grapefruit juice and tonic water?” she asks.
“Pretty much, yeah.”
She holds the bottle up higher for closer inspection, and to my shock and horror she swallows the last of the Soda and hands me the empty bottle. Her eyes are closed tightly and her throat flexes as she swallows, slightly gagging. She opens her eyes, looks at me, and smiles as she licks her lips.
“Bittersweet. It’s got a bite,” she says.
“I can’t believe you just did that!”
Watching her reminds me of my first sip, too, how intoxicating that first taste was. Her face is flushed, and her eyes watery.
“I feel warm,” she says, smiling. “Light, too.”
“The first sips come with a buzz,” I explain. “You’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
“Feels good.”
“You’re crazy, girl! Why did you drink it?”
“I needed the courage to do this,” Angel says. She leans into me and we kiss, and I taste a familiar vanilla and honey from her lip gloss. I have the same downpour of emotions that I felt when we were dating; excited, thrilled, euphoric and also the sadness when she started her freshman year of high school and I was left behind in middle school. I open my eyes and she pulls away.
She looks embarrassed and guilty. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Angel says, licking her lips.
Numb, I give her reassurance anyway. “Don’t worry about it. Soda does funny things to people—”
“Sorry, I have to go,” she says, stepping off my bed.
“Angel, wait!”
She pauses at the foot of the stairs, her face flush from Soda. “I wasn’t going to say anything. But screw it! Ask Shelby about her old boyfriend Cameron.”
Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance Page 18