A Sucker Born Every Minute

by Lia Kane

  “Ewww,” said a few of the students again.

  “Why don’t we get back to our quiz? Here’s your next one: You can get the VAM virus from sexual contact, sharing needles when using street drugs, and a blood transfusion from an infected donor. It can also be passed from an infected mother to an unborn baby – true or false?”

  “True,” everyone said in unison.

  “Good,” I complimented them.

  “About the sexual contact,” piped in one of the jock boys, “won’t rubbers protect you from it, like they do for other diseases?”

  “Condoms may offer protection, but there’s no guarantee that they’ll work 100% of the time. VAM is vastly different from sexually transmitted diseases, which can be cured, treated or managed so that people can still have the same quality of life. But if you get VAM, everything changes. You’ll be anemic, malnourished and you can only drink blood for the rest of your life. It’s not worth the risk, so no sexual contact is advised between VAM-Positive and VAM-Negative people.”

  Jock boy looked concerned.

  The true-false quizzing seemed to be keeping their interest, so I continued. “Next, think hard, because this one isn’t as easy. You can get VAM from kissing an infected person – true or false?”

  “False,” they all said.

  I didn’t immediately respond.

  “True.” A mousy female voice rose from the back of the classroom. I zeroed in her, a petite, shy-looking blonde girl I hadn’t noticed her before. “True,” she said again as our eyes met.

  “Honestly,” I resumed, “no one knows for sure. The VAM virus can be transmitted through blood, semen and vaginal fluids, but it’s unclear if the virus can be transmitted through saliva. A few isolated cases of VAM have been reported by people who say that kissing was the only contact they had with a VAM-Positive person.”

  Several of the kids paled and cast frightened glances at each other.

  “You’re just trying to scare us,” Goth girl said. “If it was that easy to get VAM, then we’d all have it.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” I corrected her. “The first case of VAM was diagnosed in the United States just eight years ago in California. It spread from the west coast to the east so quickly that North Carolina saw its first cases of VAM less than a year later. Right now, there are approximately 8,000 confirmed cases of VAM in our state, and nearly 100,000 across the nation. Those numbers are nothing to laugh at.”

  “My parents said that it was mostly in the big cities,” said bowl-cut boy. “Like Atlanta, New York, Chicago, Washington D.C., but not so much in small towns like ours.”

  “Oh, but it is,” I told him. “There are several children in our orphanage right now that were given up by mothers who had VAM. Those mothers had to get it from somewhere. Don’t be fooled; there are people living with VAM right here in Blue Sky – maybe not in the numbers you’d see in a big city, but they are here nonetheless. You don’t have to be afraid of them, though. Remember, they’re not vampires, they’re not out to get you –”

  “But you’re saying we might get it just by kissing?” A preppy girl asked.

  “Just be careful who you kiss,” I said.

  “How are we supposed to do that?” She asked. “We’re teenagers – that’s what we do!”

  “Yeah,” a few of the other students started to mumble. They exchanged disgruntled looks.

  “A quick test is to see if that person can eat or drink normally. When a person acquires VAM, the virus quickly attacks the body and damages the digestive system. Within a matter of hours, the infected person won’t be able to eat or drink anything.”

  “So in other words,” asked a smug-looking boy decked out in hip-hop attire in the back of the room, “before I lock lips with a hottie, I need to make sure she can down a sandwich, right?” The class laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded with satisfaction.

  “Actually, yes,” I said.

  “Or you could show some self-restraint,” said a serious-looking boy who was joining the conversation for the first time. “As it says in the first book of Thessalonians, control your body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust.”

  “Shut up, Zeb,” one student ordered.

  “Don’t talk to him like that,” the mousy blonde girl defended him.

  “Jesus freaks,” spat another student.

  “Hey!” Whitney piped in. “No personal attacks.”

  I turned toward the boy, surprised by the scowl on his face. Anger flared in his dark eyes. “Self-restraint is good,” I said with a nod in his direction. “But it’s not realistic to cut off all affection. The risk of acquiring VAM through kissing is probably very low, but do be careful.”

  “Kissing leads to other things,” warned Zeb. “Things that teenagers – or any unwed couples, for that matter – have no business doing. Premarital sex is displeasing to God.” The class erupted in laughter. I watched as the mousy blonde girl, apparently Zeb’s only friend in the class, hid her face behind her hands.

  “Enough!” Whitney yelled, then turned her attention to me. “Miss Rand, since this is career day, why don’t we try to steer your talk back toward your job as a social worker? Why don’t you tell us more about what it’s like to run an orphanage?”

  “Good idea,” I said, and waited for the giggles to silence.

  “Actually, no, it’s not.” We all turned to see an angry-looking man hovering in the doorway.

  “Principal Masters,” Whitney said, her voice tightened to a nervous squeak. “What can I do for you?”

  “Miss MacLynn, we need to adjourn your class right now,” he said. “Students, you may go quietly outside to wait for next period.”

  Excited shouts and cheers erupted among the classroom as the students rose from their seats, slung their book bags over their shoulders and filed outside. When they had emptied the room, Principal Masters stepped inside.

  “Your guest speaker may leave too,” he said, pointing me to the hallway.

  Whitney and I locked eyes. I excused myself and stepped outside. The principal slammed the door and I listened as he tore into her about not getting her guest speaker approved in advance for career day, and that talking about VAM in public schools was still controversial, permission slips should have been sent home, yadda yadda yadda. Evidently, my presentation had started an outbreak of viral texting throughout the school. A few students in Whitney’s class had captured pictures of me and were circulating them to their friends around school with messages like ‘how freakin cool is this, we got the VAMPIRE speaker!’ and ‘I wanna be a vampire orphanage worker when I grow up too, LOL!!!’

  I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against one of the metal lockers lining the hall.

  Great.

  Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. When I turned around, I was face to face with the little blonde girl who had come to Zeb’s defense in Whitney’s class. She had tears in her eyes.

  “Miss Rand?”

  “Yes?”

  “I wanted to tell you that you can get VAM from kissing. I know for sure. It’s true.”

  My heart sank. It was only then that I noticed how thin and pale she was. I looked up and down the hallway to make sure there was no one else within earshot. “Is that how you got it?”

  She blinked and tears spilled from her big blue eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “I sneaked out to go to a party with my friends Debbie and Monica, and I met this guy. We made out for a while and I gave him my number. He said he was going to call me, but he never did. The next day, I got really sick, and every time I tried to eat, I puked up blood.” She paused to wipe her eyes.

  “Are you sure you didn’t just have a stomach bug? How long ago did this happen?”

  “Almost a month ago,” she said. “I never got better, I just kept throwing up everything I ate, and I was getting sicker and sicker. One day I was coughing up blood and I realized that if I swallowed it back down, it stayed down, and I felt better. That’s how I knew.” An exp
ression of horror and self-loathing fell over her face. “I have it. I’ve got VAM.” She broke into sobs.

  I reached out and took her into my arms. “Shhh, sweetie, it’s okay,” I tried to soothe her.

  After she calmed down and regained her composure, she pulled away from me and looked down at the floor.

  “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “It’s not your fault that it happened. What’s your name?”

  “Nazareth,” she explained. “I go by Naz for short.”

  “That’s a very pretty name.”

  “I guess,” she said with a shrug. “My parents gave all of us names from the Bible. That was my brother, Zebedee, in the class who was shooting off at the mouth. My dad is Bill Jeffries, the minister of Blue Sky Believers Fellowship. I bet you’ve heard of him.”

  The hair on my neck stood up. “Yes, I have.”

  “Everything that you heard Zeb say came straight from my dad’s mouth. There’s no way I could ever tell my family I have VAM. They would kick me out. My dad would disown me.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She died when I was a little kid. It’s just my brothers, my dad and me now. And my dad is super strict, Miss Rand. He would kill me if he found out that I kissed a guy. Then he’d resurrect me and kill me again if he found out that I had VAM.” Her eyes shimmered as new tears formed and spilled down her cheeks.

  “How are you feeding?” I asked.

  “My friends Debbie and Monica are my donors.”

  “Do you have any adults helping out with the blood draws?”

  Naz shook her head. “We’re doing it ourselves. Debbie’s dad is a paramedic and she’s been taking needles from his jump kit. She and Monica have been sneaking out of class to meet me in the bathroom and draw blood for me, but I don’t think they can keep it up for much longer. They haven’t said anything, but I can tell that they’re getting tired of the whole routine. They both hate sticking themselves. Their parents are starting to notice the needle marks and they’re getting worried. Plus, we’re all getting into trouble for skipping class. Everyone knows that something is up, and I can’t keep hiding it. I’m losing a lot of weight. My Dad thinks I’m anorexic because I won’t eat at home anymore, and he made an appointment for me to see a counselor. Even my teachers have been asking me if I’m okay.”

  “Do you have any adults in your life that could help you?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t. That’s why I came to you, Miss Rand. I’m in trouble and I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell my dad. And I can’t tell my teachers, because they would tell my dad. I don’t have anyone else I can talk to, and I need help.”

  I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be fine. I wanted to tell her that she should confide in her father, because he loved her unconditionally, and that no matter how upset the news might make him at first, he would be able to accept it. But I couldn’t. She and I both knew that it wasn’t the case. I reached into my purse for a notepad and pen. I wrote down my cell phone number and handed it to her.

  “Give me a couple of days to do some thinking,” I said. “Call me… let’s say Saturday.”

  “I don’t know if I can wait until then,” she said with genuine concern.

  “Just try, Naz. Hang in there and give me a few days to think.”

  Her eyes welled with tears.

  “Do you know where the Hope House orphanage is?”

  “I think so. Isn’t it that little house on Oak Street, way out on Highway 25?”

  “Yes it is.”

  She frowned. “I know where it is because I was in the car with my dad once when he drove past it. He pointed to the house and started saying that God was angry because of what was happening there, and all of the children were going to burn in the lake of fire.”

  “Those children are innocent,” I said. “Anyone who thinks they deserve to die because they have a disease is a –” I stopped midsentence, reminding myself that in spite of what a hateful person Bill Jeffries surely was, he was still her father.

  Naz looked sad. “Do you believe in God, Miss Rand?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered.”

  “Listen,” I said, ready to change the subject, “You know where Hope House is. If there’s any kind of emergency before Saturday, just come. If I’m not there, tell whoever answers the door that I sent you. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

  Naz thanked me with a hug and disappeared down the hall just before the door to Whitney’s classroom opened. My best friend stood in the doorway, her eyes bloodshot from crying. Principal Masters stood behind her, scowling.

  “I’ve called for a security officer to escort you to your car,” he said, shaking his walkie-talkie angrily at her.

  “No need,” she said with surprising calm. “Tell you what, Principal Masters. You can take my job, your rent-a-cop, your whole VAM-hating school and shove it up your ass.” Whitney took me by the elbow and stomped toward the exit.

  “You got fired?” I asked.

  “No. I quit. I don’t want to work for a bunch of bigots who think that we shouldn’t talk about VAM in the classroom because it’s controversial.”

  “Whitney!” I literally stumbled. “It is controversial. You can’t just quit because of me –”

  “Yes I can,” she said. “I don’t need a job so badly that I’m willing to stand there and let anyone talk about you – or anyone else with VAM for that matter – like you’re some kind of subclass of humans. It’s not right, and I won’t stand for it. I can find a job somewhere else.”

  She stormed out of the building, still clutching my arm with a death grip.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling guilty, even though I knew I wasn’t to blame.

  “Don’t be, Jer. Let’s get out of here. Follow me back to my place, will you?”

  I glanced at my watch. “But I’m supposed to be working today.”

  “So you’re still doing the community liaison thing, if anyone asks.”

  As usual, I couldn’t say no to her. “Alright. See you at your place in a few.”

  Chapter Eight

  “YOU TRAMP! YOU went out on a date with the mayor?” Whitney cried out. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

  “Not a date,” I said. “Just dinner.” I sat down on the sofa and kicked off my heels to give my feet a rest.

  “Yeah, how did that work, since you can’t eat? Let me guess… dinner is just a euphemism for some kind of sordid sexual thing, right?” She clapped her hands together and bounced up and down on her bed like an excited toddler. “Oh, I love it. This just reeks of scandal. The gorgeous older mayor with the sexy young orphanage director. This is the stuff that soap operas are made of.”

  “I hate to disappoint you, but there’s nothing scandalous about it. He just wanted to tell me about some new anti-VAM church in town that’s making a lot of noise. He said they’re the ones who put up those billboards on the highway.”

  Whitney looked mortified. “In terms of sucky dinner conversation, that pretty much tops the charts.” She flopped back on her pillow. “Seriously, you had über-hot Victor Drake all to yourself for an evening and that’s the best you could do?”

  “Well, that’s not all we talked about.”

  “So what else then?”

  “Just get-to-know-you chat. He talked about how much he loves being mayor of Blue Sky, and how hard the town has been hit by the shutdown of Wainright. Then he told me all of this stuff he knew about me already. He had seen my resume, so he knew that I went to college at Tarheel State. And he knew all about you, too.”

  Her eyes widened. “What did he know about me? And why?”

  “He saw your resume too. The school board sent it to him for review after you applied for the teaching job.”

  “Bet he’s going to be sorry he gave me his thumbs up now,” she sighed.

  “Whit, what were you thinking? I can’t believe you quit on your first day.”

  “
Yeah, well, let’s not dwell on it. Tell me more about going out to dinner with Mayor Hottie, will ya?”

  “Dinner,” I said, shaking my head, “was awkward. He ordered food. I told him I wasn’t hungry and pretended to sip water the whole time.”

  “Why don’t you just tell him you have VAM? It sounds like he’s on your side, right?”

  “I’m just not ready to tell everyone.”

  “I didn’t say everyone. Just the mayor, who’s obviously being supportive and trying to help you.”

  “I just met him. I don’t know if I can trust him or not.”

  “And you won’t know unless you take a risk and tell him.”

  “I don’t want to take a risk.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I just don’t, okay? I’m not ready.”

  “Well when are you ever going to be ready? It’s been seven years now –”

  “I said I’m not ready!” I barked at her.

  “Don’t get an attitude with me,” she snapped back. “Jeez, Jerrika, I just quit my job over you. You have no right to bite my head off!”

  “I’m not biting your head off,” I said, posturing defensively. “And I never told you to quit your job. Don’t blame that on me. You know what? I shouldn’t even be here right now.” Irate, I slid my feet back into my shoes and rose from my seat. I headed for the door.

  “What hell is your problem?” Whitney shouted to my back.

  “I’ve got to go to work.” I turned around again to face her, but kept my hand on the doorknob. “Unlike you, I do have a job. I only came over here because you insisted on it, and I thought you might need a shoulder to cry on. I can see now that I was wrong. This is all just a big joke to you, isn’t it? Grow up, Whitney. We’re adults now. You can’t just throw a temper tantrum and pout when you don’t get your way. And you can’t force people to do things they don’t want to do.”