“Ladies and gentlemen…Two True!” he says into the microphone, before he steps down from the stage and grabs a drink from a nearby table.
Angel taps her hi-hat and I lay down a bass line. Unfortunately, Weezer has trouble with his guitar. He’s got piercing feedback from his amp.
I cover for him and speak into my microphone. “We’re raising money to build a grade school in Ecuador. Any donation is appreciated,” I say, pointing at the Vampire Club’s table near the DJ.
Nobody responds except for a couple of random “boos.” Awkward! Cynical teens, mostly Normals from Stearns and Apollo High, stare up at us onstage. They’re bored, and soon this will be an angry mob. I’ve seen it at concerts before. If the audience doesn’t get what it expects, they riot.
“Hello? Is this on?” I tap my microphone and look over at our roadies, Alex and Marcus.
“Shit!” Weezer says loudly into his microphone.
The kids on the lawn laugh and holler. “Shit yeah!” somebody shouts from the back of the audience.
Weezer puts his mouth right up to the microphone. “I don’t care who you are or where the fug you’re from, you morons better know this first song!”
He steps on a wah-wah pedal for his amp, and his guitar roars to life like a waking lion. He begins playing “The Star Spangled Banner,” Jimi Hendrix-style, with loads of reverb and wah. That choice of song instantly resonates with the crowd.
Kids are waving their lighted phones, cheering; parents standing with their hands over their hearts. Toward the front, a group of Jocks start body slamming each other, and they lift one scrawny kid and bodysurf him across the crowd. I see the members of the Vampire Club standing at their table near the DJ, and they’re frightened like lambs.
Once Weezer finishes his solo, we launch into our thirty minutes of Goth Rock and Punk. By the time we’re done, the sweaty mob likes us, or at least hates us less. When I take off my bass and step offstage, Jack is waiting for me, and he’s standing next to a man I recognize.
“Darius, this is Jonathan.”
I wipe my hand on my jeans and shake Jonathan’s big hand. He’s not as tall as I expected. His face is tan, and he has thinning hair and crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. He obviously spends time out in the sun—certainly not a Vampire.
“Nice to meet you, Darius,” he says, then steps back to introduce the woman next to him. “This is Helen.”
Helen reminds me of my mom. She’s attractive in a humble kind of way. When she smiles, she squints. She doesn’t wear much makeup but she’s a Normal, and more conservative in her clothing.
“Hello, Darius,” she says, and we shake hands. No rings on her fingers.
“I’ve explained to Jonathan and Helen that this is a combined Transformation Party and a surprise party for your mom,” Jack says to me
“Congratulations on your transformation, Darius,” Jonathan says. “You remind me a lot of your father.”
“You knew my dad?” I ask, surprised.
“We met on a couple of occasions. You have his musical talent.”
I desperately want to talk with Jonathan and share with him how hard my mom has had it these last few years. And of course I want to hear what he remembers about my dad. Looking around, there’s really no quiet place for us to talk. Then I notice my mom sitting with Kira at one of the tables on the lawn. It’s dark, but candles on the table light their faces in a warm glow.
Now is as good a time as any, I guess. “Would you like to say hello to my mom?” I ask Jonathan and Helen.
“Yes, that would be wonderful,” he says. “Do you mind?” he asks Helen.
“Not at all,” she says.
“Helen, I’m on my way to the deck for a drink,” Jack says. “Would you like to join me?”
She knows Jonathan and my mom need some time alone. She accompanies Jack up to the deck while I lead Jonathan across the yard to my mom’s table. The look on her face when she sees Jonathan is a mixture of confusion and pure joy. She stands, and they embrace.
The Biter and the Bitten reunited!
Kira stands and steps back. “Who’s he?”
“And old friend,” I reply.
My mom looks up at Jonathan, and I know she’s confused as to why he’s here. He points back toward me, and my mom looks over his shoulder in my direction. She shakes her head, smiling at me.
“You arranged this?”
“Yeah, I hope it’s okay—-”
“Of course it is,” Jonathan says.
Mom introduces him to her other friends as Kira and I stand watching. Kira asks me again who he is, and I hold off on any real details. I can’t get her hopes up or distract her from tonight’s celebration. “Jonathan is a college friend of mom’s. She mentioned him recently, so I invited him.”
“Really? Why?” Kira asks.
“Some friendships should last forever,” I say.
The DJ pumps up the volume behind us, and I watch as Jonathan and my mom laugh and celebrate their reunion. Seeing her in high spirits and relaxing with him and her friends makes all of this worth the effort. I spot Shelby walking through the crowd, and she reaches out her hand to me.
“Let’s dance!” Shelby says.
I’m not much of a dancer but, of course, neither is anyone else in this mob, so we jump around to the DJ’s techno beats. The music is so loud it’s impossible to make any meaningful conversation. Shelby shouts into my ear anyway.
“Having fun?”
“Yeah, Jonathan arrived,” I say, pointing toward my mom’s table.
“Ohmygod, you have to introduce me,” Shelby says, craning her neck to see Jonathan and my mom.
“Later!” I shout back.
She grabs me around the waist. “You’re such a romantic.” And we kiss, with bodies knocking into us.
“Am I? I’m actually hoping he can save my mom’s life. That’s more pragmatic than romantic.”
“You’re reuniting your mom with her First Bitten. That’s romantic,” Shelby says. “Come on, I want you to meet some of my other friends.”
We walk hand in hand through the crowd of students, and stop at a semi-circle of guys and girls. Six of them are females, and four of them are guys. They’re all Normals, not a single Emo or Goth in the bunch. I’m not discriminating against them. Heck, I’m a mixed-blood myself. All I’m wondering is where are Shelby’s other not-so-Normal friends?
“Everyone, this is Darius,” she says, leading me into the circle as if I’m her show pony.
Lots of head nods in my direction and “Hey there…what’s up?” comments as she introduces each one of them. Their names pass in one ear and out the other, except the one name I recognize: Cameron.
He’s the only one to reach out and shake my hand. His hand is big, and it’s connected to a big arm and wide shoulders. His torso is adorned with a cinder block of a head, with a square jaw. He’s the same “strapping young man” I remember from her Facebook photos.
“Congrats on your transformation and all that,” Cameron says to me in his baritone, cool voice.
“Thanks, and you too,” I say.
“Huh?” Cameron replies, as the others snicker at my comment.
“We’ll catch up with you all later?” Shelby says to her friends, her voice forced and more Californian. “We’re just making the rounds.”
She takes me by the hand and leads me away and I glance back at Cameron, who’s still watching us. He likes her, and she likes him. I can smell the attraction emanating from their bodies. Pheromones never lie.
“I love this song,” Shelby says, dragging me back to dance in the crowd.
It swarms us and Shelby rests her head on my shoulder, her lips dangerously close to my neck. I look over her shoulder and yes, Cameron is still watching, stalking us with his eyes. It’s as if she’s teasing me, right in front of him! I begin wondering if this isn’t all an act. Why am I so perfect, yet she hangs out with no other Goths or Emos? What’s her relationship status with Cameron? I p
ut her to my own test.
“Bite me,” I whisper.
She giggles nervously. “Don’t be silly.”
“Go ahead, sink your teeth in. Make me your First Bitten.”
“No, you should bite me,” she says.
“Why, because you know you don’t love me?” I ask. “And you’re confident that if I’m the Biter, you won’t be imprinted on me?”
“Fine, I can bite you then,” she says.
“What if I love you? Are you prepared to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“Furreal? You love me?” Shelby says, slowing our dancing to a halt.
“I dunno. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“We just started going out.”
“I feel like you’re using me,” I say to her.
“Why would you say that?” she says.
“Who’s Cameron?”
“He’s a friend,” she says, all nonchalant.
“Friend or boyfriend…or is it ‘complicated’?” I ask.
“He’s sort of an on-again, off-again boyfriend.”
I throw her one of her own lines. “Furreal?!”
“My dad wants me to date boys with Vampire blood, instead of Normals,” Shelby says. “He’s very traditional.”
“And you chose me because I’m a mix of both, or what?”
“Yeah, I guess, I dunno.”
“It’s not cool to date me and Cameron at the same time to fool your dad,” I say.
“Cameron is okay with it,” Shelby says.
“Are you kidding? I’m not okay with it!” I shout at Shelby through the loud music.
“Sorry! I was going to tell you.”
“So it’s all an act, your interest in me?” I ask.
“No, I like you a lot, Darius.”
“And you like Cameron.”
Shelby looks over at him and back at me. “I know this looks bad.”
It looks really bad to me. My family was torn apart when my dad got bloodlust, when he stopped being faithful to my mom. Now he’s dead, and my mom is struggling to stay alive. Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal to me.
“I have to get ready for our next set; this DJ’s music sucks.” I walk away, leaving her alone in the middle of the crowd, to join the Vampire Club’s table, where all the Emos and Goths are congregating, and mostly hiding from the other students. Tandi is in charge of the black-and-white-draped fundraising table. She stands in front of it as if she’s guarding the entire Vampire Club.
“How much money so far?” I ask her, as I try to cool down.
She holds up a jar of dollar bills. “Around $800! Thanks for promoting us.”
“It’s the least I could do,” I say.
“We’re shutting down early to avoid obnoxious party crashers,” Tandi says.
“What party crashers?”
She stares at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot. “Bao and his gangers, duh!”
Of course Bao would crash this party. And it would be so easy because it’s outdoors and there are so many people from two different schools here already. How could Shelby’s parents prevent it?
“When he and his goons show up, good luck holding onto your crew,” Tandi says.
Looking at them standing behind the table, they aren’t exactly intimidating. “Did Alex or Marcus give you a cardboard box?”
She looks behind the table and lifts the drape. “This one?” She sets the box on the table. “What’s in it?”
“That’s the last of my Blood Orange Soda. It’s courage water. Somebody suggested I bring it to the party,” I say to her with a wink.
“I don’t know who told you that, but she’s brilliant,” Tandi says sarcastically.
“Can you shut down this fundraising table in five minutes and have the Vampire Club meet me back in the woods over there? Invite Weezer, too.”
Grabbing the box, I carry it to the woods. The music is still loud, and I hear laughter and shouting. When I’m far enough away that nobody will see me handing out bottles, I tear off the duct tape and open the box. All the bottles are intact.
I hear footsteps, close the box, and stand up to see Tandi stepping over a log with only Alex, Marcus, Weezer, and Angel. I’m expecting more Goths and Emos, not Angel.
“Where is everybody?”
Tandi says, “I told you they’d bail.”
“Dude, what’s up?” Weezer says. “We got another set to play.”
I try an inspiring speech about standing up for each other, but my thoughts come out all jumbled and meaningless, so I cut to the chase. “I brought Blood Orange Soda. Before Bao gets here and before we get to the train bridge, I want you to drink it…for courage and stamina.”
“Seriously?” Angel asks.
“Not you, Angel. I meant the Vampire Club.”
“Why can’t I, Darius? I’m nervous!”
“Normals and Soda aren’t a good combo, sorry,” I say, and notice the hurt on Angel’s face. I’ve offended her.
Marcus and Alex reach for the box without hesitating. They hand a bottle to Weezer, Tandi and me. They each take one for themselves.
“It’s party time,” Alex says, twisting the cap. He and Marcus toast by clinking their bottles, and it’s bottoms-up.
Marcus watches Alex as if they’re racing to see who can finish first. Weezer seems indecisive, as if he’s contemplating whether this means he’s crossing over to the world of Vampires.
“One bottle won’t transform you,” I say to him. “Especially if you’re on the Reds.”
He opens his and clinks it against mine. “Cheers, B-Boy,” he says and tips his head back, drinking the Soda.
“Oh, what the hell,” Tandi says, twisting the cap off a bottle before sipping it.
I’m standing there with mine, craving Soda now, and I see Angel standing alone. She looks so out of place here among the remaining members of Vampire Club. A wave of guilt washes over me, and I start to think I should let her have just one of her own. I know what it’s like to be an outsider. It sucks, and this is the first time I’ve seen Angel on the outside of any group.
I hand her my bottle. “Drink slowly.”
She takes it and twists the cap open, then sips cautiously. She gags like she did when she tasted Soda at my house, and swallows. She takes another sip, and another one after that.
“Slowly, Angel,” I remind her.
I reach into the box, grab another bottle, and open it for a much-needed refuel. “Bao and his gang will crash this party any minute. No fighting here at Shelby’s house. We’ll meet them at the train bridge.”
Alex leans against a tree and Marcus stumbles over a log, laughing as if he’s drunk. They drank their Sodas way too fast.
“Looks as if Marcus is three shits to the wind,” Tandi says with a dazed smile.
“Three shits? Ohmygod!” Marcus howls.
Weezer gulps his bottle. He looks wild-eyed, yet in control of his senses. Angel, however, seems unusually quiet.
“You okay, Angel?” I ask. “How are you feeling?”
“Relaxed…chill,” she says with a contented smile.
I hear somebody rushing through the brush and I see the silhouette of an Emo from the Vampire Club against the bright DJ lights. “Bao’s here!”
“Damn, I need one more,” Marcus says, wild-eyed, stumbling to the box. He hands another bottle to Alex.
“Drink slowly,” I caution them.
“Angel, Weezer, can you think clearly enough to play another set?” I ask.
They both nod, with dazed grins. He finishes his bottle and she does, too, before they follow me out of the woods, back to the party. We walk over to the stage. Angel and Weezer are both buzzing with Soda.
Hoping we can play music, I take the stage and have a clear view of the yard, over the heads of all the students and parents. Bao, Chao, and three other gang members are standing in the back. They’re dressed in baggy jeans and hooded starter jackets. They’re searching the crowd for somebody, probably me.
> I step up to the microphone and look out at the eclectic mix of students from both high schools—Cheerleaders, Jocks, Stoners, Theater Freaks, Gamer Geeks—you name it. And I see Shelby standing next to Cameron, watching me. I’m frustrated and pissed at her, so I change our set list.
“This song is by Nirvana,” I say. “It’s called ‘Love Buzz’.”
I begin playing the driving bass line opening of the song, and Weezer joins in with raw guitar. He’s so hopped up on Soda he starts spitting into the crowd, like a total anarchist Punk Rocker! He’s wildly carefree, and so am I.
This ignites shoving and body slamming in the crowd while Weezer and Angel play their parts flawlessly, as if the Soda has unleashed buried talents. They seem less inhibited in their playing.
Bao and Chao spot me onstage. They wade through the crowd with their gang buddies following them and we play on, from the safety of the stage. By the time we start our third song of the set, Bao and his gang are standing close to the front; but now Alex, Marcus, and Tandi are positioned on the grass right in front of the stage as if they’re our bodyguards. While they’re not physically big, the Soda has given them enough confidence that they push kids away from the stage whenever necessary.
As we play, I look beyond the crowd and notice Jack, Helen, and Jonathan seated at a table with my mom. I’m curious how it’s going over there, while I’m keeping an eye on Bao. The night is slipping away so we cut the set short, and I run over to my mom’s table.
Jonathan stands and shakes my hand. “Great music, Darius.”
“Thanks; you want more food?” I ask, to get him away from here so we can talk privately.
We walk over to where the caterer is serving the roast beef and shrimp. I pile food onto my plate while Jonathan only adds a handful of chips to his. I’m not sure how to dive into the topic, so I take a roundabout approach.
“Was my mom surprised?”
“Definitely, and we’ve enjoyed talking about the old days.”
“What does Helen think of you flying all the way here to see an old girlfriend?”
“Oh, she’s fine,” he says.
“She knows you’re my mom’s First Bitten?”
Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance Page 23