Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance

by Larranaga, James Michael

  “Is she gonna make it, Darius?” Weezer asks.

  “Get the car, Weezer!” I shout at him before he runs off.

  There’s so much blood seeping across her T-shirt and soaking into her jacket. Putting pressure on the wound should help, right? But I’m wrong; Angel’s breathing fades into even shallower breaths, and her head turns to the side. I’m so angry I turn to accuse Chao of murder, but everyone from AF is gone. They’ve run off into the night. There’s only a silent audience at the entrance of the tunnel and up on the tracks, holding vigil. And I feel Shelby again—her invisible presence, watching, stalking from the shadows.

  “Angel, stay with me,” I say to her.

  She coughs. “I know I said I wouldn’t protect you—”

  “It’s my fault. I shoved him,” I say to her in a whisper, as a salty tear stings my own scarred-over cheek wound.

  “Sometimes things happen for a reason,” Angel whispers between breaths. “Right?”

  That’s what Jonathan said earlier: Everything happens for a reason. Why does this have to happen? This isn’t happening! I won’t let this happen!

  I distract Angel from her pain while I wait for Weezer to fetch the car. “Angel, remember when we were together, how we’d grab those big straws from Starbucks so we could make smoothies at your house?” She nods. “Or when we would sit on my roof at night watching fireflies, and we’d count the falling stars?”

  “Yeah,” she smiles through the pain, and I pull her hair away from her face.

  Her eyes search mine. “Darius, I love—”

  “Shhhh, no you don’t,” I say. “It’s the Soda.”

  “I love you, Darius,” she says.

  God! How could I have missed this? Our summer romance ended with her entering high school and me left behind, stuck with another year of middle school. I had broken up with her because I thought it wouldn’t be fair for her to date a younger guy. You can’t bring an eighth-grader to your homecoming dance or your winter formal, right? I realize in this moment that Angel wasn’t just protecting a boy from a bully; she was protecting the boy she loved. And now she is slipping away, right before my eyes.

  I have this idea that maybe the Soda and my transformation did happen for a reason. If my body can heal my wounds, could my body heal Angel’s wounds too? What if I mixed our blood? Sliding my lips across her cheek and down to her neck, I smell her sweet perfume and feel the slow beating of her pulse with my lips. She turns her head away, giving me easier access to her artery. She knows what’s about to happen, and she approves.

  In the background I feel Shelby watching me. I look up and see her apparition on the road with us. She’s wearing a black dress with a veil over her face, as if she’s attending a funeral. I look around and realize Tandi and the others can’t see or hear Shelby.

  “She’s dying, Darius,” Shelby says, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  “Get away, leave us alone!” I yell to her.

  She approaches, each step feeling like impending doom. “Why waste your first bite on her?” she says. “Bite me, and I’m yours forever.”

  She’s a deceiver, an angry and selfish kind of evil. Angel spoke truth when she said Shelby isn’t right for me, and I see now that Shelby’s attraction comes from a desire for power and status. Shelby wants to have it all. And if she can’t have me, she doesn’t want Angel to have me, either. I’d rather waste my first bite trying to save Angel than waste a bite on this unholy creature.

  “No matter what happens, know that I love you, too,” I say to Angel, as I lean in and kiss her lips. She touches my face with her hand, our kiss lingering.

  “No, Darius!” Shelby screams.

  I move down to Angel’s soft neck again and sink my teeth in deep, savoring the exquisite warmth of her blood. Angel inhales as if she’s receiving the breath of life. I feel a surge of fury through my heart, and my memories of this girl flicker in front me like a movie—our evenings swimming at the rock quarry, how we watched fireworks from the branch of an oak tree, and kissing in the back row of the movie theater.

  Opening my eyes, I notice Angel is silent, and Shelby is gone. All I hear is Tandi weeping, holding Angel’s head in her lap. I’m blinded by headlights as Weezer steps out of the car.

  “How is she?”

  I look up at him, and then over at Tandi weeping, and then down at Angel’s lifeless body. How is she? I don’t know.

  “Darius, how is she?!” Weezer screams, demanding an answer.

  I block the bright headlights with my hand, desperately wanting to give him good news, but all I can say is, “I think I killed her.”

  Monday, November 10

  When a fight goes viral, there’s no stopping it. There’s no way to prevent people from seeing and sharing the video. Imagine dozens from the same event, and you know how fast news can spread. The fight video between Bao and me spread quickly in the USA and also China. At first it was just among high school kids, Goths and Emos. But within a couple of days, everyone was talking about “The Gladiators Video.” Most of the footage that surfaced from the fight is dark and grainy. You can’t see faces, only figures fighting. Most of it ends right as Angel falls, and Bao and Chao run from the scene. A few clips show me kneeling next to Angel, but Marcus and Alex stand guard, blocking any good angle on the bite.

  The punishment for fighting in our school district is severe, but the administrative staff waited ten days before disciplining Bao and me. Everyone thought it was best to get the funeral behind us. They knew I was an emotional wreck, more depressed than usual, and in no mood to explain the fight.

  We were told to bring at least one parent or guardian to the sentencing meeting, and on a cold Monday morning in November, we’re sitting at a long conference room table in our school’s administrative office. Uncle Jack is to my left. Bao’s dad sits at my right, and Bao sits one seat beyond that. Across from us sits Officer Denny and Principal Campton, a no-nonsense drill sergeant with a crew cut.

  My mind is still numb. And even though my stab wounds healed instantly, I’m still very sore from the fight. Bao has cuts on his face, and a black eye with stitches. Principle Campton lectures us about violence with a voice so monotone he sounds like he’s singing a song with no melody. We listen, and Jack rests his hand on my bouncing knee under the table. He’s both upset and supportive, and I know he feels responsible for the fight.

  “Violence is not tolerated in this school district,” Principal Campton says. “You both know that,” he says, looking at Bao, and then at me.

  We nod.

  Officer Denny turns a page on his notepad. “I’ll need names of the other students.”

  “All of them?” I ask.

  “The ones who helped arrange the fight,” Officer Denny says.

  Boa and I remain silent. There’s no way he’ll cough up names of his gang homeboys. That would be a death sentence. And I’m not interested in speaking either, out of fear of possible “revenging.”

  “I think they understand what they did is wrong,” Jack says. “How about—”

  “We need names, or it’s an automatic two-week suspension,” Principal Campton says. “I’m sorry, that’s the school district’s policy.”

  Jack pounds his fist on the table. “What’s the district’s punishment for bullying? Bao has been beating up my nephew for weeks! A kid has to defend himself.”

  “Darius never reported any bullying,” Officer Denny says. “Right, Darius? I see you every morning, and you never mentioned you were harassed by anyone.”

  Embarrassed, I swallow hard, uneasy about being the focus of their debate. All I want to do is go home and crawl into bed and sleep for two weeks. I want to wake up from this nightmare and have it be the first day of school again, before any of this happened.

  “Doesn’t matter anymore,” I say to all of them. “What’s done is done.”

  “Darius will accept the two-week suspension,” Jack says, to my surprise. “Hell, he needs the time off to grieve any
way.”

  Bao’s dad leans forward and reaches his hand out to me. “On behalf of my family, I apologize for my son’s cruelty toward you, Darius. Bao, what do you have to say?”

  “Sorry, Darius,” Bao says, and he stands and walks right up to my chair. I stand too, and we shake hands.

  Bao gives me a slight bow and says, “Namaste.”

  I return the gesture, “Namaste,” before we both sit back in our seats.

  “My son will accept the suspension as well,” Bao’s dad says with his head held high.

  “What happened after the fight? We’ve heard rumors that you bit Angel Martin. Is that true?” Principal Campton asks.

  “What does it matter?” Jack asks.

  My knees bounce under the table and I fidget with my chipped black fingernail polish. They’re staring down at me and I glance over to my right; Bao and his dad are staring, too. This is a part of the story even Bao wasn’t present to see.

  “You don’t have to answer them,” Jack says to me.

  Taking a deep breath, I start confessing to everyone in the room. Talking about that night makes me feel better, and I explain why I bit Angel, and how I hoped my blood would mix with hers to coagulate and stop the bleeding. Officer Denny scratches notes and turns pages, barely keeping up with me. Principal Campton hangs on my every word, occasionally covering his mouth in surprise, and I haven’t even told them the good part yet.

  I describe it like this…

  Weezer helps me carry Angel to the back seat of her Chevy, and Tandi agrees to drive because he sucks at driving, and I’m too worried about Angel. Tandi spins the car in a tight turn as we all buckle our seatbelts, except for Angel, who has her head in my lap. As we follow the twisting turns of the road, I lower my window for fresh air, and we bump and skid along the gravel. Angel is barely breathing, and I watch her chest rise and fall ever so slightly. I count the seconds between breaths. Each breath is farther and farther apart.

  “How fast are we going?” I ask Tandi.

  “Sixty!”

  “Faster!” I shout. “The hospital is ten miles from here!”

  “Oh, fuggars! Not now!” Weezer shouts from the front seat, staring out his side window.

  Looking out my window, the cold wind in my face, I see the headlights of a train approaching to our right. This is one of those long freight trains that travel from St. Cloud to somewhere in Canada, pulling at least thirty cars behind it. And the night trains are notorious for stopping for no apparent reason.

  “Faster, Tandi! Beat the train!” I shout.

  She accelerates, watching the oncoming train. “Can we make it?!”

  “Trust me, you can beat the train!”

  Or we’ll die trying.

  I take my eyes off the front seat and focus on Angel. We’re bouncing so much, I’m not sure if Angel’s still breathing. Her head sways side to side in my lap. I reach into my pocket and pull out my rosary beads and wrap them around my hand while I hold Angel. Her head is sweaty; not a cold sweaty, but a warm fever kind of sweat. That might be a good sign.

  “Ohmygod, here we go!” Weezer shouts.

  This part of the road makes a dip before rising up to the tracks, like a ski jump. I feel the car accelerate upward and we catch big air. And I mean like snowboarding half-pipe kind of big air! No more tires crunching and spitting gravel, we are soaring, with nothing but screams and the roar of a train horn. Moments like this seem to last forever, as if your brain has recorded it at a faster speed so you can watch it later in slow motion. I remember every detail, the bright light of the train, Tandi’s cry, Weezer’s cursing, and most of all Angel opening her eyes and looking up at me! Her eyes are fixed on mine. There’s no pain her expression, only love and gratitude.

  Bam!

  We land on flat road, which means we sailed over the tracks and over the ramp on the other side, and the car slams the gravel so hard we crush the muffler. The car is louder now, billowing smoke as we drag the muffler behind us.

  “We made it! God, that was close!” Tandi shouts, as she and Weezer high five each other.

  He’s laughing and wheezing so much he can barely speak other than to say, “That happened. That shit just happened!”

  “What just happened?” Angel says, looking up at me, alert, as if she’s waking from a nap.

  She sits up, looking out the back window, as the train thunders by in the distance. Tandi and Weezer are gawking at her from the front seat.

  “We witnessed a miracle. That’s what happened,” I say to Angel, unwrapping the rosary from my hand where the beads left red impressions, and I shove it in my pocket. “How is your wound?”

  “My collarbone is sore. Bleeding stopped I think…” she says, holding her T-shirt down for me.

  “Slow down, Tandi,” I say. “Turn on a light so I can see.”

  “Huh?”

  The overhead light illuminates the car. Angel’s wound is nothing more than a bad scrape and a bit of bruising under the skin. I turn her head and inspect her neck, and there’s no visible bite mark, either. Her wounds have healed.

  “Angel is fine. Slow down,” I repeat.

  Tandi is so curious, she pulls the car to the side of the road and jams it in park. She and Weezer turn and watch from the front seat. They’re staring at Angel as if she’s risen from the dead.

  “What? Seriously?!” Angel says to them.

  “We thought you were dying!” Weezer says.

  “I was dying. Darius saved me.” She squeezes my hand tightly.

  “How?” Weezer asks in total confusion.

  “I bit Angel,” I confess to Weezer. He’s silent, and I fill in the details. “You went for the car. Angel was bleeding badly, and I figured maybe I could stop the bleeding by biting and mixing our blood.”

  After a long pause, Weezer nods with a weak smile. “Yeah, I get it. I would’ve done the same.” He holds his fist out and I pound it with mine.

  Even though he and Angel only dated briefly, I know he liked her. I know he wants a girlfriend, and it’s hard to see your friend with a girl you like.

  “Angel, how do you feel?” Tandi asks.

  “Honestly, I’m starving,” she says. “Can we get some food on the way home?”

  Weezer and I pull the loose muffler off and stow it in the trunk. He talks to me the whole time about how brave I am, and what a cool thing it is to be a Vampire. Maybe he’s bluffing, but I get the feeling he’s not angry or jealous about me biting Angel. We find the highway and head south to St. Cloud, driving the fast food strip, and the only drive-thru window open is Arby’s. We order sandwiches, curly fries and shakes. Tandi crawls up and down the strip, and we hardly say a word to each other. Instead, we watch clips of the fight on YouTube and Facebook from our phones. We’re all tired and probably still in shock, and I hold Angel close to me, my arm over her shoulder, until we arrive at our neighborhood.

  By 2:30 a.m., Tandi parks the car in my driveway, and Weezer offers to walk her home while Angel and I stop in to talk with my mom. She’ll certainly be awake, and we agree to tell her about the bite. Then we’ll tell Angel’s parents later in the morning. Angel and I approach the kitchen door and notice the lights are on. She buttons her jacket to cover the bloodstains on her T-shirt. I’m not exactly sure what we’ll say to my mom. I open the door while still holding Angel’s hand. I notice Jack and Kira seated at the table. Kira’s eyes are red, as if she’s been crying, and Jack has a worried expression on his face.

  “You saw the fight online?” I ask them.

  “Yes,” Jack says.

  “Took a few hard blows, but I survived,” I say, full of energy, reliving the fight in my mind. “Despite what you might’ve heard, Angel survived, too!” I spare Jack the details about the bite until I can first talk to my mom.

  He stands and smiles. He still has pain on his face, though. “Well done,” he says, shaking my hand.

  “Why are you so upset? Where’s Mom?” I say, looking around the kitchen.

&
nbsp; As soon as I ask, I see more pain on Kira’s face, and Jack reaches out to me. He embraces me in a hug and whispers in my ear, “Your mom passed away tonight, Darius.”

  This is a moment when again, everything slows down. I remember clearly feeling like a part of me had just died when Jack said those words.

  “She what?!” I try to pull away while he only holds me tighter.

  “She died,” Jack says, and Kira starts balling, her hands covering her face.

  “How? What happened?” Angel asks.

  “We came home after the T-Party and she was very tired,” Jack says.

  “No, don’t tell me it was the party.” I say. “I should’ve known she wasn’t up for—”

  He looks me straight in the eyes. “Don’t blame yourself. Your mother had a wonderful time tonight. Remember, when we gave her the last blood transfusion, I said it wouldn’t last.”

  “It was all for nothing. Jonathan talked about medical research. We were so close!”

  “What would doctors do, give her another six months?” Jack says. “Maybe the best thing that happened tonight is that you reunited your mom with her First Bitten before she died.”

  Kira is sobbing and Angel is standing next to me, wiping tears from her face. This has been the greatest night and the worst night of my life, all wrapped into one. I saved a life and lost a life all in one night.

  “Was she happy when she spoke with Jonathan?” I ask Jack.

  “Yes, she was so glad to know he wasn’t angry about the bite. She left the party satisfied that he’s living a Normal life. You did a wonderful thing for your mom, Darius.”

  I pat Jack on the back to let him know I’m okay, and walk over to Kira. She stands and we hold each other, crying together. I was always afraid this day would come, when Kira would lean on me the way she leaned on my mom. I’m stronger now, and I promise myself to be a better older brother. I look over her shoulder at the refrigerator and I see the photo I took of us three, now taped to the door. I never would’ve guessed that would be our last family photo.

  “Can I see Mom?” I ask Jack.