Dirty Blood

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Dirty Blood Page 35

by Heather Hildenbrand


  It was a tensely silent car ride to school on Monday. My mom insisted on driving me, part of the whole “protecting me herself” initiative. I’d spent all of Sunday either arguing with her about the new schedule she seemed determined to implement or sneaking off to try calling Wes again. He hadn’t picked up, though, and on the last try, the recorded voice had informed me his mailbox was full.

  I didn’t want to believe that he meant what he’d said to me on our last phone call, but after two days without any contact from him, I knew it was for real. We were over and there was nothing I could do about it because my mother had basically put me under house arrest until further notice.

  She’d informed me that I would be driven to school and picked up, by her, and I’d be spending my afternoons with her at the flower shop, doing school-assigned homework or learning about Hunter history. There would be no further contact with anyone associated with The Cause, and until she felt she could trust me, I was grounded from even going out with my human friends.

  Arguing did no good; neither did threats. She’d even called a security company to have the alarm system upgraded so that it would alert her remotely if I tried to leave without permission. They were scheduled to come tomorrow. In the meantime, I would’ve gladly snuck away for a few hours but there was only one person I wanted to sneak away with—and he wasn’t speaking to me.

  So, with no other choice, I let her drive me to school and tried to pretend everything didn’t completely suck. I stared out the window, feeling more alone than I ever had.

  “How’s Angela doing? I haven’t seen her or Sam lately.” My mom tried to keep her voice casual, and I suspected she was just desperate for a way to ease the tension between us. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

  I remained silent and shifted in my seat, letting her know with my body language that I had no intention of responding. She took the hint and didn’t speak again.

  My mom let me out at the curb and I hustled away before anyone could notice I was getting dropped off by my mother. Besides that, I welcomed school if it got me away from her for a few hours. But that thought was followed by a big, fat “never mind.” As soon as I was in the doors, George rushed toward me. I suppressed a groan and tried to keep going, but he was too quick.

  “Tay, I’m so glad I caught you. I texted you all weekend.” He ran a hand through his sandy hair, looking nervous. The first glimpse I’d seen of the old George in a long while. “Look, I’m really sorry, Tay. Cindy said she wanted to talk to me, and that she knew something about you. I shouldn’t have believed her, but you sounded upset on the phone, and I miss you, and I just wanted to believe her, I guess ...” He trailed off, waiting for me to say something, let him off the hook. I didn’t. “I know you hate Cindy,” he went on. “And I don’t even really like her, either. I just, I don’t know. She kissed me and I didn’t see it coming. I was already pushing her away when you saw us. I’m sorry.”

  I shrugged, only mildly affected by the pleading look he wore. “I appreciate the apology, George, but it’s not a big deal. We aren’t together anymore, and you’re free to see whomever you want.”

  “But I don’t want to be free, I want to be with you,” he argued.

  I fought an urge to smile at the way his words had come out. His expression lightened, though, so I must’ve given something away.

  “I know I messed up. A lot. But I’m going to fix it, and I don’t care how long it takes. So just get used to it because I’m going to win you back, eventually.”

  “George—”

  “Don’t say anything. Not right now. Just think about it.” He sounded determined.

  I sighed, unwilling to argue with one more person today. “Okay. But I gotta go.”

  As if on cue, the first bell rang.

  “I’ll see you around, Tay,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

  I didn’t answer, and he disappeared into the rush of kids scrambling to get to class. I had to run the last leg, but I managed to get to class just as the tardy bell rang. I dropped my books onto the desk and flopped into my seat.

  A high-pitched giggle floated by, and I felt something inside me straining against the leash of my temper. I glanced over and found Cindy beaming at me through an overly thick layer of mascara.

  “Tara, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to ask you, does George always talk in his sleep, or just sometimes? I was curious, you know, from one girlfriend to another. Oh, I mean, ex-girlfriend to girlfriend.”

  Missy, the short brunette in front of her snickered and that was the last thing I heard. Without even realizing I was doing it, my arm swung out and my fist made contact with Cindy’s face. Her head snapped to the side from the impact and the rest of the room went completely still. When Cindy finally swung back to look at me, I saw that a red, swollen lump was already forming on her cheek.

  “You little bitch,” she spat, struggling to get to her feet in the aisle between us.

  Apparently, I’d hit her just hard enough to royally piss her off. I jumped up, too, and planted my feet firmly on the linoleum. I vaguely heard voices chanting mine and Cindy’s names but it didn’t really register. All I wanted was to lay Cindy flat on the floor and shut her up. A part of me knew this was all a product of everything going on in my own head, with my own problems, but I couldn’t stop. The dam had broken.

  I took the time to cock my arm back, putting momentum behind the punch. This time, when I hit her, her whole body was driven sideways by the blow. She stumbled back, half sitting and half lying in her desk seat. Her hair covered her face, but through the light strands, I could see red liquid seeping from her nose. Blood dripped onto her cashmere sweater.

  A hand grabbed my arm, and I whirled, jerking myself free. I had to stop myself from swinging out against my attacker and was glad I did. Mr. Knowles stared back at me, wary but determined to hold his ground.

  “Miss Godfrey, there is absolutely no fighting in my classroom. Principal’s office. Now.” He spoke with authority, but he made no move to grab me again.

  Without a word, I grabbed my bag and slid past him on my way out the door.

  It wasn’t until I was halfway down the deserted hallway that reality set in and I realized what I’d done. I stopped and leaned back against the wall, already dreading how this was going to end. The principal would call my mother, of course. And she’d have to pick me up early. Which meant, I’d spend even more time at the flower shop, with her. And what if they suspended me? I’d never been in trouble for fighting before, but I knew that was school procedure. That meant spending days at a time, with no break, with my mother.

  I pushed off from the wall and changed directions, heading back the way I came. I ducked underneath the window of Mr. Knowles classroom so he wouldn’t notice my detour, and hurried on. The double doors at the end of the hall led to a small courtyard where the seniors were allowed to eat lunch. Hopefully, no one would be out there this early. Ditching was something else I’d never done before. Might as well break the rules all at once.

  I pushed open the doors and stepped into the low-walled courtyard, weaving around the plastic tables and chairs. Luckily, no one was out here yet, so I hurried to the concrete wall that edged the area and hopped up. It was only four feet or so, and on the other side was a small grassy area that led to woods. If I could make it there without being spotted from a window, I was home free. I looped my bag over my shoulder to secure it and set off for the trees.

  I made it to the edge of the woods without being stopped and ducked around an old oak to catch my breath; I had no idea truancy was so nerve-wracking. I spotted a couple of sad-looking plastic lawn chairs, probably dragged here by a senior couple wanting to be alone, and I sank into one of them while I considered my options.

  That was when I felt the tingles.

 

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