The Blood Between Us

by Zac Brewer

  “You look at all of those living, viable stars. But you refuse to see them. You choose not to. Just think about that.” She sat up and hopped off of Maggie’s hood. As she opened the passenger’s side door, she said, “I’m tired. Take me home.”

  CHAPTER 13

  PRESSURE:

  A measure of how much push something has exerted against it

  The next morning, I took my time getting out of bed.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t kissed anyone before. And it wasn’t like the kiss between Caroline and me had really meant anything, other than that we’d both been curious enough to experiment. But it felt weird seeing her the next day. Maybe it always felt weird seeing people the day after a kiss.

  Of course, it felt weirder if you hadn’t seen them for a couple of days after a kiss. Weirder still if they were your best friend. Y’know. Like Josh.

  The first time I’d ever kissed anyone, they kissed me. It was my next-door neighbor, Kylie, when we were in the fourth grade. At the time, I thought it was pretty weird. I’d still thought it was weird two years later, when I kissed her older brother, Greg. Another boy named Greg kissed me at a sleepover that same year, which really made me question what it was about boys with that name. The next year, a girl named Sherry French kissed me after the seventh-grade winter dance. The irony of her last name and the fact that she’d put her tongue in my mouth didn’t escape me. I could see the appeal of that kiss, despite the hygienic question of it all, and she was nice and everything. I guess I just never got bit by the dating bug enough to think that kissing was all that big of a deal. Boys, girls. It didn’t seem like anything to go crazy over.

  That is, if I’m being honest, until this weekend . . . when Josh had kissed me.

  And really, kissing Caroline had been nice, too. Nice enough to warrant maybe kissing her again. If she was into that sort of thing. Maybe it would help me forget about how Josh’s skin had felt against mine, or how I’d lain awake at night imagining what might have happened if I hadn’t rushed out of the room the way that I did.

  I should have stayed with him. And I was embarrassed that I hadn’t. Maybe he was embarrassed, too. I didn’t know. We hadn’t spoken since.

  I got another anonymous text message while I was brushing my teeth, and it felt like a reminder that I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about kissing at all. I was supposed to be thinking about what I’d found in Grace’s lab.

  I remembered how Julian had been on his phone when I’d gotten the texts on Saturday night. I couldn’t let myself wonder if it had been Julian texting me this entire time, couldn’t allow my imagination to slide down that rabbit hole. Julian had been a good friend and mentor to me, and a lot more than that to Viktor. The idea that he would somehow involve himself in some twisted game sickened me. And for what purpose? There was already a deep wedge between Grace and me. What purpose would it serve to add suspicion to the mix? What would Julian have to gain from such a thing? Nothing. At least . . . nothing that I was aware of.

  After taking a colder-than-usual shower and dressing quickly, I made my way to the dining hall. Normally, I’d see Julian there getting a cup of coffee, but today he was conspicuously absent. Grace, however, was right on time and in her usual spot at the head table, surrounded by her friends and ignoring my existence. Seeing Carter, Taylor, and Ben with her sparked a feeling of dread, but mercifully, they seemed to be ignoring me, too. My stomach rumbled, but I was loath to eat anything heavy, so I finally settled on an apple and took a seat across from Quinn. He smiled as I sat. “You look like you hardly slept. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” I scanned the room again, but there was still no sign of Julian. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit distracted today is all. Have you seen Julian around this morning?”

  Quinn shrugged and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “Not yet. But I heard a couple of the teachers are having some big meeting with the headmaster today. Several classes are going to be open study because of it. Why?”

  “I just need to ask him something.”

  “Hey.” Caroline walked by, as if nothing at all had happened last night.

  All I could think to say was, “Hey.”

  Quinn watched her as she walked away. “She’s . . . something.”

  I threw a surprised glance in his direction. “You like Caroline now?”

  He shrugged, his cheeks blushing slightly. “Well, yeah. Kinda.”

  It was just a kiss, I told myself. It was likely nothing in the grand scheme of things. “You should ask her out.”

  Quinn looked quizzically at me. “I thought you two were seeing each other.”

  I blinked. What? Did everyone think that? Why? All we’d done was blow up a trash can and eat bad pizza. “No. We’re just . . . friends.”

  “Give us a minute, would you, Quinn?” Josh seemed to come out of nowhere. He sat on the edge of the table, dark rings under his eyes suggesting that he’d hardly slept. Every muscle in my body stiffened, then relaxed. It was just Josh. He was nothing to be afraid of.

  Quinn raised his eyebrows at me but left without saying a word. After sucking in a deep breath, Josh said, “Look, Adrien. About Saturday . . .”

  “What about it?” I forced myself to look him in the eye. How had I not noticed before what a beautiful shade of green his eyes were?

  “I just want to apologize. I completely overstepped my bounds. I should have asked you.” His voice sounded scratchy, like he’d been crying recently. A lot. I wondered if he’d also lain awake that night, thinking about me and what might have (would have) happened if I hadn’t hurried out of the room. “I should have told you . . . about me.”

  I shrugged and smiled a small smile at him. “Well, you kinda did. In a really straightforward way.”

  His cheeks flushed, and he dropped his gaze to the table. He looked so full of shame, but didn’t need to. “I mean . . . before.”

  Before. Before we’d kissed. Before his skin had touched my skin. Before our hearts had raced in sync with nothing but thin cotton between them. I swallowed, searching for the right words. Any words, really. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I saw it coming. I didn’t. . . . I mean, I had no idea.”

  He locked eyes with me then, and a memory from kindergarten suddenly filled my thoughts. A pinprick on each of our fingertips. Pressing the blood together. Friends forever. No matter what. When he spoke again, it snapped me back out of the memory. “I’m so sorry. The last thing I want to do is wreck our friendship.”

  I shook my head. “Josh. Stop apologizing. It was . . . nice.”

  Now it was his turn to be surprised. His green eyes widened. In confusion, with a touch of hope. “Oh . . .”

  “Yeah . . .” My cheeks felt warm. I didn’t know exactly what I meant, except that I meant what I’d said. The fact was that the kiss had been nice. Nicer than kissing Caroline. Nicer than kissing anyone I’d ever kissed before. Hot nice. More-please nice. Don’t-stop nice. When-can-we-do-that-again nice.

  But I couldn’t say those things aloud. Not yet, anyway. “I am still a little confused about why Grace was kissing you.”

  He sighed, the tension in his shoulders releasing some. “I took her to the booth for privacy. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t into girls. I thought that maybe knowing that would somehow make our breakup easier on her, y’know? But when I said it, she said she didn’t believe me. Then she kissed me. It was . . . confusing.”

  A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Grace never was much good at taking no for an answer. You okay?”

  He forced a smile. “As long as you’re not mad at me, I’m fine.”

  “Why would I be mad?” I gave his shoulder a light slug. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. I couldn’t help but think about how soft his lips had felt on mine.

  Behind him, I spotted Julian and scrambled to my feet. “Oh shit. I’ve gotta go. Can we pick this up later?”

  “Of course.” He stopped me momentarily, putting his hand on my arm, keeping h
is voice low. His eyes seemed brighter than they ever had. “But Adrien . . . when you said it was nice . . . what did you mean, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. But . . . maybe we’ll find that out together.” Our smiles bloomed at the same time.

  Julian had his arms full of books, and already he was walking in the direction of the exit. I called out to him, “Hey, Julian. Can I talk to you about something?”

  He looked at me with the air of a very tired man, and he didn’t stop walking. “Can it wait? I’m on my way to a meeting with—”

  “No. It can’t wait. It has to be now.” It couldn’t wait. I was done asking myself questions. I needed answers.

  “Of course.” He gestured to an empty classroom and we stepped inside. I closed the door behind us, and he set the stack of books he’d been holding on a desk before turning back to face me. “What’s on your mind?”

  So much. Too much. “How long have we known each other?”

  He folded his arms in front of him and leaned against the desk, looking up slightly, like he was calculating in his head. “Oh, I’d say about thirteen years now. What’s this about?”

  “And in those thirteen years, I feel like we’ve gotten to know a lot about each other. I mean, you never talk much about your family or your past, but I always figured that was because you didn’t get along with them or something. So we became your family. My parents, Grace, myself, Viktor. Am I wrong?”

  “You couldn’t be more right.” Concern filled Julian’s eyes, but it was very clear that he wasn’t certain what he had to be concerned about. Not yet, anyway.

  I took a step closer and glanced over my shoulder at the door to be sure that we were really alone. “I need to ask you a question, Julian, and I need for you to be completely honest with me.”

  He looked at the door, too, probably wondering who I thought might be lurking outside and why it troubled me so. “Always. You should know that by now. Now, what is it?”

  “Do you trust Grace?” I was whispering now, but heatedly, the words burning my throat as I released them into the air. “Do you have any reason to suspect that she may have been involved in the lab accident that killed our parents? Truthfully now.”

  “Adrien.” It wasn’t a patronizing tone, but it was a parental one—one that made me question whether or not I had made up all of these possibilities in my anxious mind. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and leaned in close, his tone sincere. “Whatever it is that I may think or not think, all evidence points to the fact that what killed your parents was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. Bottles were mislabeled, and because of that, certain chemical compounds were misshelved. There is simply no evidence to support Grace’s involvement. Now, perhaps even more important, what would drive you to think such things about your sister, and to ask me about what seems to be the daydreaming of an overly anxious boy?”

  “I’ve been receiving text messages from someone who seems to suspect Grace of wrongdoing.” I took a deep breath, holding it in my lungs until my chest ached. When I spoke, it came out as a whisper . . . and a hope that I was wrong. “And I thought that someone might be you.”

  It pained me to see the hurt in his eyes. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because when they texted me Saturday night, I saw you on your phone.” Now that I was saying it out loud, accusing him right to his face, it sounded ridiculous. Julian was nothing if not loyal.

  “It has to be a coincidence, Adrien. Nothing more.” He furrowed his brow, shaking his head. When he spoke, he didn’t sound angry, just troubled. Whether more for me or himself, I had no idea. “How could you think I would hide information from the police if I had it? I adored your parents, just as I adore you and your sister. If one of you did anything to harm them, I would report it to the authorities for your own good.”

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and typed in Hello?

  Julian said, “What are you doing?”

  “Texting whoever’s been sending me these messages.” I hit send and waited.

  Julian withdrew his phone from his pocket and held it up for me to see. No text. Which meant that it hadn’t been Julian who’d been texting me after all.

  He met my eyes, his moistening out of concern. Maybe he thought I was going crazy. “I think that maybe you should talk to someone. Someone more qualified than me. A counselor, maybe. You’ve been different since your return to Wills. I think you might benefit from some professional help, Adrien.”

  I shook my head, but the argument that left my lips fell flat. “I’m not going to see a counselor.”

  “I’m just saying. All these years later, it seems like you haven’t really taken time to mourn the deaths of your parents. Maybe it’s time to face that, before it comes out in other ways.”

  “No offense, Julian. But I think this is a bit more than a communication teacher can handle.”

  Julian scoffed. “Maybe Mr. Wilson, the forensics teacher, would be better at answering your questions.”

  I snapped my fingers in revelation, and I turned to leave before he’d even finished speaking.

  Julian’s voice followed me out the door as I fled. “Where are you going? Adrien, I was joking!”

  By the time I reached the forensics lab, I was out of breath. “Excuse me. Mr. Wilson?”

  Mr. Wilson was a short, round fellow, with a pleasant face. He was wearing one of those tweed jackets with suede patches on the elbows, holding an open book in his hands titled The Intricacies of the Human Brain. When I whisked into his room, he looked up, snapping the book closed. “Yes?”

  “My name is Adrien Dane. My parents were Allen and Claudia? They taught here a few years ago. Chemistry and botany.”

  “Dane . . . Dane.” He looked up at the ceiling, as if the answers were written there. His eyes widened as his memory connected the dots. “Ahh, yes. Horrible fire. Lab accident, I believe.”

  “Yes.” I swallowed hard, pushing the make-believe image of my mother’s hand poking up from the ashes out of my mind. “I was wondering if you could answer a question about what was found at the scene of the accident.”

  “Well . . .” At first he hesitated, and I wondered if he thought it was a good idea to discuss such morbid details with the surviving child of two victims. Settling whatever he had to settle in his conscience, he said, “I’m not sure how much help I can be, but I’m willing to try.”

  “When I visited the house shortly after arriving, it looked like their lab had exploded and burned. Quickly, though. Because most of the house was untouched. Is there any way the explosion could have been caused by anything not chemical?”

  “Well, there’s always room for speculation. It sounds like an unusual scene, simply because of the amount of chemicals present. The fire could have started after the initial explosion, caused by an unfortunate combination of chemicals. I’m afraid it could easily have been a case of sloppy lab organization.”

  My jaw tightened and I shook my head. “My father was a brilliant chemist.”

  He leaned forward, locking eyes with me as his voice lowered, as if his next words were for me and me alone. “Even geniuses make mistakes.”

  It couldn’t be. It just . . . couldn’t. When I spoke again, it was more to myself than to Mr. Wilson. “That doesn’t make sense. My parents were meticulous about how they stored chemicals.”

  “Mislabeling happens all the time. Even in the most organized labs. I’m afraid the explosion was most likely simply an accident.” He frowned and set his book on the counter. Before I walked back out the door, he said, “I’m sorry for your loss, and even more sorry that I can’t put your mind at ease.”

  CHAPTER 14

  ALLOTROPES:

  The different forms of an element that may sometimes exist in the same state

  I found myself at the radio station, watching as Josh buzzed around the room doing DJ things. I merely sat on the couch, wringing my hands together, hanging my head. What was wrong with me? Was I right about Grace? Wrong?
Was Julian correct and all these things were unfortunate coincidences? Was I losing my mind?

  At one point, Josh pushed a button and removed his headphones before joining me on the couch. We sat like that through two songs—him sipping his weird mint tea with whipped cream, me just sitting and fretting in silence. Finally, he said, “Come on, man. What’s wrong?”

  When I spoke, my voice cracked. I felt like I was coming apart. “It’s just . . . I thought I had the answers to a pretty important question. But I think I might be wrong. I think maybe it’s all been in my head and I’m looking for answers where there aren’t any.”

  Josh remained calm. He took another sip of tea and then set the mug on the coffee table. A hint of worry crossed his eyes. I was betting he thought I was regretting all the things I’d said to him regarding our kiss. “Can I know what the question is?”

  There was a distinct division inside of me. On the one hand, I wanted to tell him everything. On the other hand, I didn’t know who I could trust, or if I could trust anyone. Even myself.

  But that was exactly why I had to say something to someone—and I could think of no one better than Josh.

  “It’s not about you and me, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just . . . It sounds crazy, but these past few days, being back here, I started to think maybe someone was directly responsible for my parents’ deaths, like maybe they caused it on purpose. Y’know?” I swallowed the lump in my throat and added, “I thought maybe Grace had something to do with it.”

  “Grace? Come on, man. Your sister may be a lot of things, but a murderer?”

  He met my eyes and nodded when he saw the seriousness in my expression. He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Listen. If you really believed that, you wouldn’t have waited four years to say anything to anyone about your suspicions.”