Sanguine Mountain

by Jennifer Foxcroft

  I meet his gaze. “Thank you.” I’m not even sure if he’s aware, but his sincerity has the ability to stop a healthy heart from beating. Rocks winks and I grin back. The spell broken. “Come on, let’s go scare those two half to death.”

  Kelly is in love. The flowers were a massive hit, but it’s the fact that Rocks is on his third helping of dinner that has truly won her loyalty. I’m safe. If Mom approves, Dad won’t stand a chance.

  For the first time in weeks, the two adults sitting at our formal dining table are my parents again. They’re playing the perfect hosts and doing what all good, caring parents do when teenage girls bring boys home. I can’t help but forget my anger and hurt and grant them a ‘get out of jail’ card for the evening.

  I try to imagine Parker in Rocks’ place. I’m sure he would know the exact things to say to concerned parents, but I can’t imagine him making me smile the way Rocks is. Parker can sometimes be a dick, something I’d never say about Rocks.

  Rocks is answering all their questions in his usual honest and sincere manner. And thanks to Chad and Kelly, I’m learning even more about this dark, bewildering boy.

  Rocks is short for Rockland, an old family name. He was homeschooled—so that’s how he describes it—in rural Georgia, graduated early and became a silversmith. He works in the family business at the historic town of Helen in the southern Appalachian Mountains and is one of eight children.

  “Eight kids?” I screech, my mouth hanging open in shock. Kelly gives me her ‘guest manners please’ look so I close my mouth. A faint hint of pink creeps across Rockland’s cheeks. At least he knows he’s been keeping me in the dark. Sneaky bat.

  Eight kids in one family, and he thinks he doesn’t belong anywhere? We’re going to have a serious discussion next time I get him alone. Rocks continues answering and says he has an extra soft spot for babies, and since his youngest sibling is now five, he wants to adopt Mini. Kelly gushes. Chad is a slow thaw.

  At the mention of adoption—I could kiss Rocks for that one—Chad’s eyes flit to his wife and then to me. He looks away, but I continue to hunt for signs. He meets my eyes a second time before straightening his already neat cutlery across his empty plate.

  “How old did you say you were, son?” Chad fidgets under my stare.

  “Turned nineteen on July first, sir.”

  “No way. I’m the twenty-sixth,” I say. Dad visibly relaxes now that he’s confirmed Rocks isn’t an older man. And I bite my tongue to prevent my elated squeal from escaping.

  The topic moves to him working ‘security’ at Bun Lovin’ while Mom puts the finishing touches on dessert. I help clear the table but have one ear glued to the dining room.

  “He’s adorable, Connie. What a lovely young man.”

  I nod and smile. I can’t help myself. He’s bewitched us all—well, all the females. I wonder for a moment if it’s Camazotz magic he’s seducing us with.

  Entering the dining room with the course that I know will blow his mind, they’re still talking about my work. The spring in Kelly’s step is starting to grate on my nerves. I guess there was a time limit on their reprieve after all.

  “I worry about Connie at night, sir. So if I have your permission, I’ll escort her home each evening to make sure she gets here safe and sound.” Chad gives a curt nod. Kelly sighs.

  Dessert is the highlight. Mini flatly refused to go to sleep and is currently bouncing on Rocks’ knee while Kelly basks in the glow of Rocks sampling new treats. She has thoroughly earned it—mini cheesecakes, raspberry chocolate mousse cups, and tiny lemon meringue pies. He might never leave.

  At the end of the evening, Rocks has consumed a ludicrous amount of food and has a takeout container in a paper bag under his arm. Kelly is borderline giddy and insists that the door is always open and that pot roast is every Sunday. Chad shakes his hand and gives him a brief shoulder slap.

  The night was a success because at least there’s one area of my life that I won’t have to lie about, but I feel torn. Rocks is not supposed to be Team Kelly and Chad. He’s my support crew, and I don’t need Kelly giving me those looks. The ones where, if I told her we were in love, she’d scream like a fan girl. It’s bad enough that Tiff is marrying me off so young.

  I imagine what it would feel like to open the door for a movie date and see Rocks in his suit. I bite the inside of my cheek. Those palpitations are back and doing the rumba. STOP! He’s a Camazotz. It’s too complicated. It can never happen. He’s probably never even been to the movies. I sigh. My heart has relocated to somewhere in my lower intestines.

  As I walk him to the porch, my mood darkens.

  “Here’s a tip. Let’s call this Modern Girl Code 101. If the parents hate the guy, the girl is far more likely to keep the guy.”

  “What?” His eyes are the size of dinner plates. “You want your parents to hate me?” His confusion could be measured on the Richter scale. “You’re not keeping me?”

  “Ugh, no. Ugh!” I roll my eyes. I shouldn’t have said a word. Kelly and Chad are my battle. It isn’t fair to take this out on Rocks.

  “No, you’re not keeping me? Or no the parent part?”

  I’ve scared him. Fudge my life! He just doesn’t get it. He really is from 1865, and I am the only monster in this equation.

  “What did I do to make you mad?” he asks.

  “I’m not mad at you but at them. They acted like such perfect hosts tonight it makes me almost believe the lies, but they are lies.” I walk to the railing and look up at the sky. “I’m going crazy trying to determine when to trust them and when not to. You know? I need to meet Josie.”

  Rocks nods and rubs my arm, but he doesn’t looked very relaxed.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you. Of course, I want them to like you.” He gives me his shy smile. “And, yes, I’m keeping you, but my mom is totally crushing on you, so cut it out.” I punch his arm.

  His shoulders ease and then his eyes light up. “Your mom really likes me?” His chest puffs out and he hooks his fingers into the pockets of his waistcoat. Rocks’ moods are infectious. We end up facing each other and smiling like fools.

  “Another aeronaught in your corner, huh?”

  His grin widens. “Yes, ma’am.” He flicks his hair back and places that killer hat on his head.

  “Were you really homeschooled?” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the folks are still cleaning up. He laughs.

  “It’s the response the Sire insists we tell any curious aeronaughts.” He pokes my rib making me jump. That grin is going to be the death of me. “But it’s near enough to the truth. Our mothers teach us to read, write, and basic math, but that’s it from the human world apart from our trade for the market. The rest is Camazotz history, but now I know we’re only told one side of it.”

  I wish we could take a seat and chat some more, but if I’m too long Chad will be spying through the window. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” I turn him around and push him toward the porch steps before closing the door. Peaking out the curtains, I watch him stride across the yard, he’s grinning.

  Never in a million years did I think my senior year would involve dinner parties with a vampire bat boy as the guest of honor and my parents fully approving.

  7.

  Beans

  Tiff was never so right than when she proclaimed senior was going to be our year. The year we take control. Rocks and I have a routine, and I love it. I know when my supernatural best friend is going to visit and it calms my heart. Monday and Wednesday afternoons, Rocks and I hang in my room. He takes over Mini duty if Kelly is working, and when she is here, she keeps Rocks in a permanent food-induced coma.

  Friday and Saturday nights, he’s always leaning against the back of the van when my shift finishes. Most nights, his hair is damp and his cheeks are flushed from feeling the beat across the street.

  Our new arrangement leaves me plenty of mall time with my girls. Less lies are spewing from my lips, and that’s definitely a goo
d thing. My chest feels lighter, and I can honestly say I’ve never been happier. The last three weeks have been heavenly.

  Parker Reed is still making comments in passing, and I must admit my curiosity is growing. At least now, I usually manage a response.

  It’s Wednesday. Rocks is in the wingback studying the Driver’s Manual. He wants me to teach him how to drive. The colony surviving without a car just seems insane. Rocks explains that only one member is allowed to drive—another control mechanism—and the current member is Judge—a leader of sorts. Judge drives to Helen for the supplies the colony can’t produce themselves, and the expression on Rocks’ face tells me he wants that job—desperately.

  “Can I see your tattoos?” I’ve only seen them that one night when Rocks wasn’t expecting to see me. Since then, he’s always in long sleeves.

  He marks his page. When our eyes meet, Rocks smiles. So often when he’s learning or studying technology that I take for granted, he seems to almost shine. I love the way he makes me look at my world now, and I appreciate how technology opens up so many possibilities with just a few clicks of a mouse.

  “They don’t offend you?”

  Silly Camazotz.

  “Nope. Tattoos are cool.” Hot, sexy and yours look dark and dangerous, but I’d never admit that out loud. Rocks is thinking. He looks at the sleeves covering his arms. “I want you to be yourself.”

  He focuses on me. “I’ve never been more myself than with you.” His voice is so earnest. The air that fills my lungs isn’t enough. “Do you mind if I wait till I’ve got a short-sleeved shirt on?”

  I can’t decipher the look on his face. Surely, he isn’t shy about his body. I try to imagine how many milliseconds it would take Parker to remove his shirt if I showed a smidge of interest. Rocks is like no other teenage boy I know. I smile and return to my nail art. Little hot pink bear faces are taking shape on the corners of my white nails. I hunt for the right dotting tool to make eyes.

  “Well …”

  Looking up, I notice the frown pulling his eyebrows together. Sensing he’s about to tell me something important, I wait.

  “I get very cold … um … well, when I don’t feed.” His eyes dart away when he says the word feed, and the meaning becomes crystal clear. He’s definitely not talking about eating Kelly’s baked goods. I’m glad he isn’t watching me because I’m sure my eyes are wider than normal, and I can’t afford to make him feel bad. “If I just eat aeronaught food, I get cold. I didn’t know this would happen. That shaman used some pretty powerful magic. And from a biological point of view, it doesn’t make sense.” Now, he does make eye contact, and the vulnerability I can see in his dark blue eyes almost wounds me. Rocks really is discovering who he is—just like I’m trying to discover who I am. We share so much in an unexpected way.

  “But why don’t you” —I swallow— “feed, um, more?” I force my face into a neutral position and pray he can’t see the gooseflesh forming on my arms.

  “I want to see if I can belong in your world. Just be human like I’ve always dreamed about.” He smiles. “And I really couldn’t do it without Kelly.” He rubs his belly and I know he’s remembering the pulled pork sandwich he just demolished.

  “Just make sure you don’t, you know, hurt yourself. Promise me?”

  He nods and I know I’ve said the right thing because he relaxes. “I have to learn about myself though. The colony is on the cusp of …” His eyes move to my open window.

  I wait, but he doesn’t speak. “Of what?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just this feeling.” He rubs his chest. “Some of the members—the ones that don’t like aeronaughts—I don’t trust them. Our numbers are declining rapidly, and if I can’t find a way for us to integrate successfully, I don’t know what’s going to happen. If I knew more about how we were changed, I’d be better prepared.”

  “Do you want me to Google witchcraft or voodoo?” Oh boy, I can just imagine what the search results will look like.

  Rocks shrugs. “Maybe all the real witches were burned alive? It seems like an impossible dream.”

  I can relate to impossible dreams. “I thought finding Josie was impossible at first, but I’ve got to believe it will happen. We can do this. I know we can get you the answers you need.”

  “Thanks, Beans.”

  “Beans?” I get the grin, and his eyes show he’s highly amused. “As in green beans?”

  “Baked. Your mom’s actually.” His grin spreads as he watches my face. Rocks loves to make me react. It might be his new hobby. And little does he know that, when he looks at me that way, my whole body reacts on the inside.

  “You’re nicknaming me after my mother’s baked beans?” I exaggerate my enunciation of the last two words.

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” I learned that the yes/no game can go on forever with Rocks. It’s the only thing about him that reminds me he’s my age. If it takes all day, Rocks will keep saying “yes” until I eventually cave. I suspect he’s discovered my weakness.

  “Because of the delicious sounds you make when you eat them.”

  I’m pretty sure I resemble one of Mini’s cartoon characters when their eyes boing in and out of their head.

  “I do NOT make any kind of sounds when I eat them,” I snap.

  “Do too.”

  “Not!”

  “Too.”

  He just grins and sits back in his chair—like he completely owns it. I’m trying to figure out how to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face.

  “Those moans and groans. It’s almost R-rated stuff.”

  “I wouldn’t know how to be R-rated if I tried,” I say, completely aghast.

  I watch as one of his eyebrows disappears under the jet-black hair that hangs too low over his face.

  Wanting to dislodge the numbness in my toes and the weird flutter my heart, I continue, “The first thing I think of when someone says ‘beans’ is, well …” My brain has been disconnected and is not helping. Maybe if I reconnect it, I could win this argument, but looking at him sprawled all over my chair being ridiculously alluring isn’t helping me focus.

  “Yes … is?”

  “Bad gas.” The tips of my ears start to heat.

  The laughter that erupts from Rocks makes me jump. I’ll never tire of watching Rocks lose control and laugh. But maybe less so when it’s at my expense. When did he get so bold? I’m starting to prefer polite, proper Rocks. I look out the window and then check the cuticles on each finger until the laughter subsides into shorter bursts.

  “Farting is the last thing,” he says, before letting out another half snort, “that I think of when I think of you, Beans.” His eyes are full of mischief, and it’s increasingly difficult not to give in.

  “So what do you think of?” My throat is tight.

  Rocks stills and holds my gaze until I look down at my hands again.

  “Hunger,” he says in a soft even voice. “A hunger that makes me want to devour—my Beans.”

  Flames are shooting out of the tips of my ears. I know it. I need Tiff. I don’t know how to process that or what it’s doing to me. Is he joking? I can’t look at him.

  FUDGE ME!

  “Weirdo,” I mutter.

  “CONNIE?” Kelly’s voice echoes up through the house. Saved. “Can you please come get Mini?”

  The Driving Manual is discarded, and Rocks is down the stairs before I can even put the lid on my polish. When his favorite little human needs looking after, nothing will keep him away. When I get to the kitchen, Mini is in his arms, sharing his marshmallow brownie. Where does he put it all?

  “Would you say beans are Connie’s favorite?” he asks.

  You did not bring her into this, bud! Even though I’m trying to ignore him, his eyes are glued to me as I make my way around the kitchen island.

  “Without a doubt. She begs me to make them.”

  “Mrs. Phillips, I feel a hug coming on.”<
br />
  I’m going to be sick. That woman is a traitor, and he is joining her side. I have a new enemy.

  “Speaking of names, Mom. Why did you and Dad decide to call me Contessa? It’s not like Contessa and Jasmine really match.” I watch her for any sudden movement the same way a hungry hawk scans the forest for prey. I pick at the crumbs crumbling off Rocks’ next brownie.

  Calm as always, my mother concentrates on arranging the left over gooey chocolate squares in a container—no doubt for Mr. Hollow Legs Traitor Boy to devour later. “Oh, well, I thought it suited you.”

  The fact there are no baby photos of me until I’m at least six months old has been playing on my mind. I want to ask so badly what age I was when they adopted me, but I can’t—yet.

  Back in my room, Rocks enters with Mini and her Duplo blocks barrel and settles on my bed.

  “Connie.” He’s watching me.

  “What?”

  “They love you. We’ll find Josie. Why are you taunting them? They are your family.”

  How dare he. “Excuse me?”

  “Beans, calm down.” I hate that he’s so levelheaded sometimes.

  “No, let’s talk families, shall we?” I swivel my chair to face the bed and rest my feet on the edge near his leg. “Let’s talk about the fact that you feel like you don’t belong, and yet you have SEVEN siblings. I’ve seen you with Mini. She adores you. Are you saying all your siblings can’t stand you?”

  He hangs his head down and pulls two red blocks apart, handing them to Mini.

  “Why don’t you explain your family situation to me for once?” I get so focused on finding my parents and teaching him about gadgets that I get sidetracked from probing him for more Camazotz information. The last thing I want to do is make him uncomfortable because I can’t control my face. Having him think I find his ability weird is worse than not knowing the answers to my questions.