Blood Type (10 page)

“You don’t have any brothers or sisters?” I asked, not sure what the proper protocol was for talking about
heavy
stuff like this.

“There’s Ian.”

“Who’s that?
Does he go to our school?
” I
f
elt mildly ashamed for having written off John all these years, especially since he was proving to be a pretty nice guy.

John looked at the strawberry still grasped in his fingers, seeming
to see it
for the first time. He put it in his mouth and chewed in silence before answering. “I guess you could say he’s everything to me.”

I had finished half the sandwich by then and
wrapped
up the other half to save for later. Something had changed in John, and I was pretty sure it had to do with
the mention of
Ian.

“Well, I’m ready whenever you are,” I said
as I wiped
the crumbs from my lap.

John took the other half of my sandwich and stuck it, and the two water bottles, into his bag before slinging it onto his back again. Then he stood up and offered me his hand.

“Then let’s get going,” he said with a smile. “We’re almost there.”

October 2
7

“They can’t
find out
,”
I
echoed. I
shook my head, unable to believe
the words coming from John’s mouth
. “When you say
they
, exactly who are you talking about?
”

John’s eyes bore into mine
, begging me
to grasp the severity of
the situation
. “There are strict rules of living in the vampire world,” he said
without answering my question
. “Ian’s been in trouble before
. T
hey don’t give second chances. If they find out what’s he’s done . . .”

“And how would they find out?
” I said, annoyed I still had no clue who we were
even
talking about. “Y
ou’re not going to tell. And even though I’m human, I’m not stupid.
I’m not about to
prance
into some vampire
lair
and blab to the lot of them just to get Ian in trouble. Call it self-preservation.
”

“There’s no
vampire
lair. And anyway, they wouldn’t touch you.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

He rolled his eyes.
“Because
you
smell like death.
Literally.
”

I let his comment slide. “You never did answer my question.”

He bit his bottom lip, obviously debating about whether or not to tell me.
“Every city has Watchers
who
make sure the vampires in their territory don’t cause
problems
.”

“
Watchers.
Are they like vampire police, or something?
”

“
I guess you could say that.
The number of Watchers depends on how big the city is.
There aren’t many here
, so sometimes it’s difficult for them to enforce the law
.
If you’re careful, you can get away with stuff.
”

“I’ve got to go,” I said, turning away from him.

“Blake,” he said, grabbing my hand again, a look of confusion on his face. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to go,” I said again, wrenching my hand out of his grasp. “I-I’ve got to
do
something
.”

He let me go then without further question and I hurried to my car. I didn’t bother to look back at John, but I felt his eyes on me the entire time.

July 29

Taughannock Falls
boast
ed
a tremendous drop of two-hundred-and-fifteen feet,
measur
ing
slightly higher than even Niagara Falls. I looked up from
the bronze plaque
before me
, unconvinced, and studied the
waterfall
with a critical eye. There hadn’t been a drop of rain in weeks, and water dribbled from the upper creek to the boulders and pool below
in a relative trickle
.
Still, it was pretty impressive.

“I heard
someone
died down there,” a girl stage-whispered to her companion,
though
loud enough
so that everyone standing around her heard.
She
caught
my attention, and I tore my eyes from the
waterfall
to glance over at them.

“
You’re not supposed to cross the barrier, see?
”
she went on
, pointing to a “NO CROSSING” sign
. “There was a rockslide the size of a house.
S
ome say
a
ghost
now
walk
s
the trails
at night
.”

The guy she was with wrapped his arms around her waist and stuck his tongue in her ear, making her shriek and giggle. “That’s a load of crap,” he said. “Not about the
rockslide
, but about the ghost.”

The girl laughed, obviously messing around with him. She wiggled out of his arms and thrust a digital camera in his hand. “Take a picture of me, will you?” 

She leaned against the
wooden guardrail
, striking a pose with one hand on her hip and her other arm thrown wide to capture the background. The camera clicked, and then the guy tugged on her hand, pulling her back in the direction of the trail. I watched
them
disappear around the bend.

John sidled next to me and whispered from the corner of his mouth. “
What’s so fascinating?
”

“Huh? Oh.” My face burned as I realized what he was
implying
. “
I was staring, wasn’t I
?” I didn’t tell him that the couple reminded me of the fun Zach
and I used to have together
.
But that was over now.

John
pinched his fingers together
.
“Only a little.”
He
tipped
his head toward the trail, eyebrows raised in question, and we began walking again.

“So,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Do you believe what she said?”

I
walked with my head down
, making sure I didn’t
trip on any rocks or
protruding
tree roots.
“About
the rockslide
?
Yeah. I remember reading about it in the paper a few years ago.
”

“
Not that.
About the ghost.
Or other paranormal beings, for that matter.
Do you believe in such things?”

I snorted but didn’t look at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“
Nope.
”

I stopped, and so did he. “Do
you
believe in ghosts and other paranormal beings?” I said, using his exact words.

He raised a brow. “
T
here’s a lot
in
this world to which most people remain happily oblivious. Or if they’re not oblivious, they
simply
choose not to believe. ”

I resumed walk
ing
.
“’
I’
l
l
take that as a yes
.
” 

“Take that however you want to, Blake.”

Something in his voice made the small hairs on the back of my neck
prickle
, but that didn’t stop the grin from spreading across my face.   

A light spray had been rolling off the
waterfall. C
ombined with the high humidity of the afternoon, my clothes
clung
to my skin. Out of habit I reached a hand to my hair, worried that my painstakingly straightened hair
-
do had frizzed from
all
the moisture.
I touched one of the
springy curls
, remembering
I’d worn it au natural. 

John
reached out to stretch a curl before letting it go again. From the corner of my eye, I watched it spring back into place and coil tightly at my temple like a snake in hiding.
“I like it better curly,” he said.

“Ugh. I hate it.
Olivia’s got this beautiful stick-straight hair
. I’ve
been jealous of
it
since the first time I met her. Seriously, girls with straight hair do
not
know how good they’ve got it.”

John
squinted
an
eye and tilted his head
as though to get a
different perspective
. My body froze under the intense scrutiny of his gaze.
“
It’s beautiful.
You should wear it that way from now on.”

“I really don’t like—” 

“
It’s
suits you
,” John interrupted, fingering a few stray curls again. “
D
on’t
ever
straighten it
again
.”

John drove me home a few hours later with a promise to see me soon, but no indication when that might be. My parents’ car was in the driveway, so he decided not to come inside on account that bringing home a new guy so soon after breaking up with Zach might raise a few eyebrows. I didn’t disagree with his logic and simply let him kiss my cheek
goodbye
. A slight shiver ran up my spine at the touch of his warm lips against my skin, but I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was from the excitement of being with someone other than Zach, or the strange
desire I felt for him
. Whatever it was, I wasn’t complaining. I liked the feeling and hoped it would last.

I dropped my purse on the small table by the front door and picked up Zach’s bouquet of sunflowers still lying there
wrapped in
cellophane. My heart
s
queeze
d
at the memory of his thoughtfulness, but I figured there was bound to be a few casualties of feelings in the course of a breakup. I really needed to stop beating myself up about him and just come to terms with the decision that I had made, however irrational it still seemed to me.

I took the flowers to the kitchen and trimmed the stems in the sink, and then I arranged them in a clear glass vase. I placed
the vase on the counter and then stood back to admire the arrangement.

Did I feel guilty about how I’d left things with Zach?
Absolutely.
Did I think that hanging out with John was questionable?
Maybe a little.
But I didn’t see what I could do about it, either. I really liked John and wanted to get to know him better, and he seemed to feel the same way.

I found my parents lounging by the tear-drop pool out back, my dad with a pipe in his mouth and my mom with a lime-colored frozen margarita in her hand. They each had their noses buried in a book, but my mother looked up at the sound of the French doors opening. Her face brightened at my appearance.

“There you are!” she said. “I assume you and Zach got everything worked out. I can’t tell you how happy that makes
Zach’s mom
and me
. You really had
us
worried.” She took a long pull on the margarita and smiled at me, her bright white, and perfectly shaped, teeth gleaming at me from behind a pair of
glossy red
lips.

My sandals clacked against the stone patio as I made my way to the table, where I poured myself a glass of iced tea. I snagged a chocolate-dipped macaroon from an assortment of goodies that had been set out. 

“Blake?” my mother said when I didn’t answer. I couldn’t ignore the hint of worry in her voice. “
I assume
you and Zach patched things up?”

I turned around and
stared wordlessly
at my mother as I polished off the last of the macaroon, not entirely sure what to say or how to break the news to her that I hadn’t been with Zach at all. “Why would you assume that?”

She pulled her sunglasses down her long, straight nose and stared over the rim at me, her dark eyebrows pulling together. The corners of her mouth turned down. “Didn’t he come by earlier?”

“Yes, but—”  

“You’re note said you were going out,” she interrupted. “You’ve been gone for hours. And considering I saw Olivia outside with the twins
an hour ago
, I knew you weren’t with her. I
assumed
Zach came to pick you up since your car was still here.”

“I did go out. Just not with Zach,” I said, my voice trailing off in a guilty whisper. 

My father finally looked up from his book and removed the pipe from his mouth, a ring of Black Cavendish wreathing his head. “Then who’d you go out with?”

“
Hm
?”

“Who’d you go out with?”

“
Oh.
No one you know,” I said, beginning to squirm. This conversation was quickly heading in a direction I did not want it to go, so I turned my back to them and began fixing a plate of cucumber sandwiches and cut fruit. They’d likely find out about
John soon enough, even sooner if Zach blabbed to his overprotective mommy about what had happened when he came over, and then his mom blabbed to mine.
Which she would.

“No one we know?” my dad echoed.

I shrugged with as much nonchalance as I could muster and headed for the door, plate and drink in hand. “Just a friend I hooked up with yesterday at the lake.”

“Well, okay then,” said Mom with a twinge of uncertainty. “Just bring her by at some point so we can meet her.
W
e like to know who your friends are.”

I turned to face her. “I will. I promise
.
” I would have promised anything
j
ust to get out of there.

My dad laid his book and pipe down on the small side table and then stood up, stretching his
thin
accountant’s arms over his head. “I think I’ll test the water.
Care
to get your fins wet, Blake?”

I shot him an indulgent smile. He fervently believed that the more he pestered me about swimming, the better chance he had of me giving in. But my answer was always the same.
“No thanks, Daddy. You know I don’t swim.”

H
e pointed a finger at me and said the same thing he always said. “One of these days you won’t have a choice. And then it will be sink or swim, Blake. Sink or swim.” 

Three days went by and
not a peep
from John.
Three whole days that I spent avoiding my mother’s constant, critical gaze.
Three
whole days of berating myself for breaking up with Zach for a guy who couldn’t even bother to call.

I didn’t breathe a word about it to Olivia, or to anyone else. How could I? I’d made such a mess of things, not to mention a complete fool of myself
and
Zach. I’d never felt so stupid or humiliated.

The next afternoon, Zach’s best friend Gabe stopped by.
I took a deep breath to steel my nerves and invited him in.
“I thought you and Olivia were going to the movies this afternoon,” I said with feigned interest.

Gabe and I tolerated each other
only
out of respect for
Olivia and Zach. We’d been natural enemies since the second grade when he wiped a booger on my arm. He never apologized, and I’d never gotten over it.

“We are
,
but I wanted to talk to you first.” He stood with his hands fisted against his waist, as though he didn’t know what to do with them, and stared down at me.

His plan to intimidate worked
. Gabe was the offensive right tackle to Zach’s quarterback, and he took his protection duties seriously, on
and
off the field.

Gabe
narrowed his eyes and then, taking a deep breath to fill his massive chest, yelled in his deep baritone voice, “How could you break up with Zach?”