Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance (20 page)

“Dude, what’s with you?” Weezer says.

“The transformation is hitting me pretty hard today.”

“Darius, look at me,” Angel says, reaching across the table for my hands. “Oh, you’re sweaty.”

Breathing deeply, I wait for the food to settle in my stomach. I’m having a hot flash and shivering at the same time. I look directly into her eyes as she holds my hands. It’s the only way I can steady myself, and I’m reminded that once again, Angel has always been my rock.

“Maybe you should go to the nurse’s office,” Weezer says.

“Give me a minute and it might pass.” There’s no way I can go to the nurse every day after drinking Soda. I must tough it out.

I breathe deeper, still holding Angel’s hands, and I’m beginning to feel better. My head starts clearing and the room’s spinning slows down considerably. A few more deep breaths and I’m normal again—more mellow.

“He’s back,” Weezer says. “That’s my man, Mr. Self-loathing.”

A smile emerges onto my face and I laugh for no real reason other than Weezer has a weird look on his face. He laughs and wheezes at me while Angel pulls her hands away.

“You two are strange,” Angel says, turning to her friends, who have been ignoring us the entire time.

This second dose of daily Soda makes me feel giddy, and I get an idea. I grab a paper napkin and soak it in my glass of milk. Weezer knows what I’m up to and he does the same. We’ve both been in many food fights, most of which we’ve started.

“On the count of three,” I say to Weezer. “One, two…”

Weezer, always the anxious one, throws his milk-soaked napkin over his shoulder and it sails before splashing into the middle a table of soccer player guys. We look away nonchalantly, super chill, and I toss my wet napkin towards a table of football players. After that, we experience World War III, with food sailing across the lunchroom in every direction. Girls are screaming and running for hallways and boys are hunkered down below their tables, still launching food. Weezer and I climb under the table, laughing so uncontrollably that I nearly cough up my Soda.

“Dude, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately!” Weezer shouts above the noise. “I hope you’re writing this stuff down!”

I take my phone out of my pocket. We only have five minutes before our afternoon classes. I type how I feel, how the Soda is changing me, and my thumbs click double-time as I describe this very strange moment. Obviously three doses a day will be a challenge, but the way I’m feeling right now? I’m up for it.

At my locker at the end of seventh hour, I sense Shelby nearby. Hallways are always packed with students rushing off to their cars, buses or after-school activities, so I can’t see where in the crowd she is. She’s there, looking for me, and I use my new leaping ability and jump up briefly over the crowd, as if I’m taking a jump shot in basketball. I see her, grab my backpack and push through the herd to catch up.

“Got plans?” she asks.

“Not really, what’s up?”

“Want to go to my house?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

She transferred from the neighboring school district, so I know her house isn’t within walking distance, but I have no idea where she lives.

“I thought we could plan where to set up your band when you play at my party,” she says.

“Maybe we should invite Weezer and Angel,” I suggest.

“No, you and I can do it,” she says abruptly. “Besides, I want you to meet my parents.”

Hmm…not sure I’m ready to meet her parents yet. Adults and their small talk always make me feel so awkward. I accept anyway, and we walk together through the halls, occasionally hearing somebody shout “Gladiator!!”

While she drives, Shelby gives a minute-to-minute recounting of her day at school. It’s amazing at how much detail she remembers. My sister does the same thing.

“How was your day?” she finally asks me.

My mind is a blank. I can’t remember anything other than my weird reaction to Soda and the food fight.

“Same old boring routine,” I say. “Although Weezer and I started working on a new song.”

“Cool, sing it to me.”

“I don’t have a melody yet, still working on the lyrics.”

“Then read it to me,” Shelby says.

I pull out my phone and check my notes. I typed a few lines during math class.

“It’s not really organized,” I say. “It’s just an idea—”

“I know, I won’t be too harsh.”

I read her the opening lines of the song that Weezer and I started on our walk to school. There’s no music yet, so I read it in verse, more like a rap song.

“Darius, that’s cool! I really like it,” she says with a beaming smile.

“Yeah, it’ll have dark, gothic undertones,” I say.

“Play it at my party. That song should have its debut on Halloween.”

When she says that, I get a nervous twitch in my stomach. Halloween night is when Bao and I have our showdown. There isn’t much time for me to prepare, and time seems to be slipping away. When we turn into Shelby’s neighborhood, we’re surrounded by humongous homes along a winding, tree-lined street. Each house is set back on a large lawn, and the trees are ablaze in autumn red and gold. My neighborhood has trees too, but I live on the proverbial “other side of the tracks.” Our trees aren’t pruned; they’re either overgrown or wrapped year-round in Christmas lights.

Shelby pulls up to a gated driveway, presses a button on the car’s visor, and the metal doors open inward. We move down a winding driveway. Her house is gigantic, with a high, peaked roofline and multiple chimneys. How many people need three fireplaces? One for each level of the home, I guess. The yard slopes down a hill, and I realize where we are now. We’re only two miles from my house, but it feels as if we’re a million miles and a million dollars away.

“Is this Deer Lake?” I ask.

She sets the MINI into park. “Have you been on this lake before?”

“Yeah, the public beach several times,” I say. “Weezer and I used to ride our bikes here when we were younger. We’d swim in the evening when the sun wasn’t so strong.”

“My parents bought this home a year ago after we left California,” Shelby says. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

We step out of the car and cross the wet driveway to the side of the house. There’s an aroma of freshly cut grass, and I hear a leaf blower somewhere in a neighboring yard. Shelby grabs me by the hand and we run down the hill, kicking leaves up into the air as we descend from the front yard.

“Don’t you love autumn?” she asks, as we slow to a level section of the lawn.

“I like all the seasons, but yeah, autumn is awesome, I guess.”

“All the colors and the cool, dry air. Autumn is my favorite season of all. You could set your band up over there.”

A huge white party tent is already staked into the ground, and underneath there are racks with folding chairs. Across the lawn is a small platform stage near the edge of her yard by the trees.

“Is all of that for your party?”

“Yup, it’s sort of my belated sweet sixteen and my T-Party,” she says. “My parents wanted to celebrate my birthday in July when I turned sixteen. I begged them to wait until Halloween. Come on, I’ll show you.”

We walk over to the stage, hand in hand, and there’s more than ample room to hold our band’s gear.

“Well?” Shelby asks.

“This is great. We’ll have to do a sound check to make sure we set the volume right. But this set-up is perfect.”

“We’ll have a DJ, too. He can help with the sound. He’ll be next to the stage.”

Looking beyond Shelby toward her private sandy beach along the lake, I see water sparkling like diamonds on the surface as it laps the sand. I catch a whiff of someone grilling, and I remember that my sense of smell is so sharp now that the source of that steak could be across the lake.

“You want to meet my mom?” Shelby asks.

Not sure how many guys enjoy meeting their girlfriend’s parents for the first time. I remember when I met Angel’s. They were pretty easygoing Normals who didn’t ask a lot of questions. Meeting Vampire parents has me more nervous, though.

“Yeah, I’d be happy to meet her,” I bluff.

What else can I say?

“My dad gets home later. We’ll say hi to my mom. She’s kind of nosy, but she doesn’t bite.”

We walk up the lawn and climb a staircase to the deck along the back of the house. From up here there’s a more spectacular view of the trees and lake below. I spot her mom through the sliding-glass door in the kitchen, talking on a phone.

Her mom turns, opens the door, and is surprised to see us. “When did you get home?” She cradles the phone on her shoulder.

Shelby kisses her on the cheek. “Hi, Dad!” she says into the phone.

“How did you know it was your father?” her mom asks.

“It’s four o’clock and you’re sipping wine while on the phone.” Shelby rolls her eyes. “Of course you’re talking to Dad.”

Her mom smirks at her and reaches her hand out to me. “Hi, I’m Mrs. Rork,” she says, with the same smile and dark eyes as her daughter. It’s like I’m looking at Shelby in the future, what she’ll be like as a Vampire. I feel a lump in my throat and choke it down.

“Darius,” I reply, shaking her cold hand, noticing her dark nail polish. Mrs. Rork is far more Vampire than my own mother. Her black hair is teased high, with streaks of gold dye that match her gold eye shadow. She wears more blush on her cheeks, too, which makes her face look younger. My mom is pretty, but Mrs. Rork is a beautiful Vampire goddess.

“He’s the one I’ve been telling you about,” Shelby says, leaning against the granite center island.

“Oh, of course, Darius. Congratulations on your decision to become a Vampire. I’m sure your parents are very proud—”

“Mom, I told you that his dad…” Shelby stops, embarrassed.

“My dad passed away a few years ago,” I say. “But yeah, my mom and sister are very happy about my transformation.”

“Well, I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth, haven’t I? I’m sorry to hear about your father,” Mrs. Rork says.

“He contracted V2. My mom has it, too,” I confess to Mrs. Rork, because I know she’ll understand.

“You poor dear,” Mrs. Rork says. “Honey, I’ll call you back,” she says to her husband, hanging up her phone, setting it on the center island.

“My mom is doing well right now,” I say. “She’s still working nights, and she recently received a blood transfusion.”

Shelby and her mom are now both leaning against the center island, hanging onto my every word. There’s compassion in their eyes.

“If you ever need anything, Darius, let me know, okay?” Mrs. Rork says. “A place to stay or a warm meal. You let me know.”

As awkward as my timing is on this news, this type of conversation is familiar to most Vampires. Everyone knows somebody who has lost a friend, lover, or relative to V2. Orphan Vampires are common, and most Normals won’t adopt them. I can’t imagine moving in with Shelby’s family. The house is certainly big enough for Kira and me, but my attraction to Shelby is too strong. It would be way weird to live under the same roof as my girlfriend.

“All right, that’s enough. You’re making me depressed,” Shelby says to her mom, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “We’ll be downstairs in my room.”

“I should call your father back,” Mrs. Rork says to Shelby, picking up her phone and sitting at the center island.

Shelby’s basement is nothing like mine. She has a walkout sliding door to the patio, and a home theater system with a flat-screen TV, a bar, and a mini-fridge specifically for wine. It even has a walk-in wine cellar filled floor to ceiling with bottles from all over the world. Shelby leads me to the far end through French doors and into her room that smells of perfume, and the same hairspray my sister uses.

“Well? What do you think?” Shelby asks, twirling around.

For a Goth, she has some pretty bright colors in here. It’s a blend of reds and pinks, but not blood-red, more of a dusty rose. My sister’s room has posters all over her walls, but Shelby has framed prints, real art of famous cities like Paris, New York and Prague.

“You’ve got great taste. This puts my room to shame,” I admit.

“I’d take your room any day of the week. My mom decorated this for me. I liked it at first, but now, yuck…” She smirks and turns on her iPod that sits on the vanity.

Industrial Techno music fills her room from surround sound speakers in the ceiling. Shelby reaches for a light switch and dims the lights. At this point, my heart picks up its pace. What is she planning for us to do here? I can’t even believe her mom let me into her daughter’s bedroom. At my house, whenever Angel visits, my mom finds an excuse to fetch laundry once in a while to remind me she’s still home.

Shelby leads me to a large beanbag chair on the floor. “Let’s chill,” she says.

She pulls me into the chair, big enough to seat two people, and we sink into the velvety fabric.

“What about your mom?” I ask.

“Oh, she’s blabbing with my dad,” Shelby says.

“Well, what about your dad? If he comes home and finds us like this—”

“He’s at the office. You’re nervous?” she says, with a coy smile.

Oh, what the heck. I snuggle closer to Shelby, with my head sinking into the fluffy chair. The sweet and feminine aromas in this room are intoxicating. I stare up at her ceiling, and notice the glow in the decals of stars and planets. Some Vampires are into astrology, and believe that the alignment of the planets affects their moods.