Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance (24 page)

“What if we threw Mom a party?” I suggest.

She stops snooping through the fridge, stands up, and looks back at me. “What would we celebrate?”

“Nothing; we’d have a party to cheer her up,” I say. “She seems down.”

“She wouldn’t want a party like that,” Kira says. “Would she?”

“Maybe not, but what if it’s a surprise party?”

Kira smiles. “Yeah, that would be fun. She’d
never
expect it.”

“Right, and we could invite some of her coworkers and friends on Facebook,” I suggest.

“When? Where? Our house is too small.”

“As soon as possible. Maybe Jack would let us use his place downtown,” I say. “I’ll ask him.”

Reaching for my phone, I start to text my uncle, but I realize it’s not even 6:00 p.m. yet. He’s probably still in bed or in a yoga session. I want to ask him about setting up a party and find out if I can work out again with him this weekend.

Me:
Hey, got time to talk?

If he doesn’t answer right away it usually means that he’s not near his phone. I give him another minute, but there’s no reply.

“Did he text you back?” Kira asks.

“No, he’s probably still in bed. If you’re coming to the game, you’d better get ready. Shelby will be here soon.”

“Cool!” Kira says, and she runs out of the kitchen into the family room and upstairs to her bedroom. I hear dance music blaring, and the glassware in the kitchen cabinet rattles to the beat.

While she’s getting ready, I run down to my room and put on a fresh black T-shirt and add more bracelets and a couple more chains to my neck. I reach into my jeans pocket and my rosary is still there. It’s an odd good luck charm, I know, and I should do as Denny suggests and wear it around my neck; but it’s such a habit to have it in my right pocket.

Passing the full-length mirror, I notice I already have the five o’clock shadow again. And then I suddenly have a craving for Soda, so I pull one out of my mini-fridge and pop it open and drink half of it before stopping to breathe.

“Hey, there.”

Shelby is standing behind me in my room. She’s dressed sporty Goth in black jeans, black Converse high-tops, and a really tight white top only partially covered by her black sweater. Her breasts look larger, or maybe it’s the mirror.

“What?” she asks, with a curious smile. “What are you looking at?”

“I’m looking at you,” I say, turning to pull her into my arms, and she slips her hands into the back pockets of my jeans as we kiss.

Her cheek runs along my cheek. “Hmmm, your skin is so rough. I bet I can find softer skin somewhere else.”

She drops her head down to my neckline as her lips explore my skin, searching for my jugular vein. My heart throbs rapid beats.

“Careful,” I warn her as I stand taller, resisting her.

“Oh, come on,” she says. “I’m transforming anyway. Haven’t you thought about biting
me
?”

She’s tempting, for sure. She’s a Goth on the verge of becoming a Vampire Princess. Smelling her neckline, my lips feel the thumping of her blood, and I could so easily sink my teeth in and taste her. No longer would I need Soda or a stranger’s cold blood, but I’d have the blood of my First Bitten. We kiss, and I taste the mint flavor of gum on her wet tongue.

“Let’s go!” Kira shouts from the top of the basement stairs. “My friends are waiting for me at the game.”

I open my eyes, and Shelby’s are still closed. Her dark eye shadow shields her thoughts. She’s frustrated, imagining what true love must taste like. And I’m frustrated, too.

The St. Cloud Apollo Eagles host the game in their stadium, under bright lights swarmed by moths and insects, with the odor of burnt popcorn hanging in the air. I let Kira rush off with her friends, and I hold Shelby’s hand as we walk along the bleachers, searching for students from Stearns High. Our mascot, The Cobber, is a big ear of corn taunting the Eagle mascot. While parents cheer “Cobbers! Cobbers!” The student section shouts, “Clobber! Clobber!” and sexual innuendos I won’t repeat here.

Angel is sitting next to Weezer and he’s dressed like a Normal tonight, with an Abercrombie hoodie and baseball cap smothering his mop of hair. Angel waves to us and we climb the stairs, with Shelby walking ahead of me. This climb is a bit odd because it’s that uncomfortable moment like when you enter the lunchroom and everyone stares at you, judging you from a safe distance.

Somebody shouts, “Gladiator!”

And the student section chants, “Glad…i…ator! “Glad…i…ator! “Glad…i…ator!”

Not really sure if this is mock praise or not. I raise my arms, as if I’m showing off my biceps. Somebody tosses a bag of popcorn that explodes when it hits my chest.

Thanks, fuggar!

They clap. Then I give them the finger with both fists and they roar with approval!
They’re mine.

Shelby pauses and looks back at me. “Mr. Popular!”

We squeeze our way down the row. Shelby sits next to Angel, and I sit further down on the outside of our foursome next to Weezer. He’s texting again, and totally somewhere else.

“What’s up?” I say.

“’Sup?” he responds, still texting.

“Nice apparel tonight,” I say.

“Dude, don’t even start.”

“I’m kidding.” He looks so Normal, I have to call him on it.

“She’s kind of pissed at me,” Weezer says.

“Angel? Why?”

“She says, ‘Be yourself’ and when I try she says I’m faking it,” Weezer says into my ear.

“You
like
wearing Normal clothing,” I say. “Right?”

“Yeah, but she thinks I’m doing it for her. I’m not.”

“She thinks you’re more authentic when you’re Goth. You feel more authentic when you’re a Normal?” I suggest.

“And it pisses her off,” Weezer says. “How can I be myself when she won’t let me? Women are warped, man. God, maybe it would be easier if I were gay.”

“
Are
you gay?” I ask.

“What? No,” he says. “This is a Vampire vs. Normal thing, not a gay vs. straight thing. Don’t make this any more complicated than it already is.”

The crowd cheers, and there’s a wall of students standing in front of us so I can’t see any of the action on the field. The four of us join everyone by standing. The play is over and the quarterback for Apollo is on his back, barely moving his legs, while the other players from our school and Apollo stand around watching him.

“Another sack,” Angel says. “Third time Bao has taken down their quarterback.”

“Is the quarterback hurt?” Shelby asks.

Watching closely, I see Bao pacing the field anxiously, as if he wants to pounce on the quarterback again. I’ve been where that quarterback is, and I know how painful Bao’s tackles are.

“Yeah, he’s hurting,” I say to Shelby. “He got the wind knocked out of him.”

The referee and two medics run from the sidelines with a stretcher, and all the athletes on the field kneel or sit, which is the official protocol in situations like this. Except Bao remains standing, bouncing up and down. He’s hungry. He wants more. The referee finally motions to Bao to sit on the field and he obeys, but he never removes his helmet.

“He’s psycho,” Weezer says. “He’s totally jacked.”

“Believe me, I know,” I say. My stomach is in knots.

“No, he’s seriously on something,” Weezer says. “He’s either on ‘roids or crank, because he’s slaughtering players out there.”

“He’s on the Juice,” Angel says. “He drinks Soda before games.”

“How do you know he’s juicing?” I question Angel.

“He and his friends crashed a party a couple of weeks ago. They were lit up and crazy. Chao bragged that they were blood-suckers.”

We all sit with the rest of the crowd, and a new quarterback from Apollo jogs out onto the field as both teams huddle. Bao leaves the field to sit on the sidelines and talk to our team’s coach.

How much Soda has Bao been drinking? And what would it do to his fighting?

Angel reaches across Weezer and sets her hand on my knee. “You still think you’re ready for him?”

I’m starting to freak out now, and I feel panicky. I can’t even think of how to answer Angel, because I’m having my own doubts.

“He’s been training,” Shelby brags. “Darius is pretty amazing.”

Angel forces a smile. “Good, because I’d hate to see you get hurt, Darius.”

After the game, Kira catches a ride with her friend’s mom, and the four of us cruise to the McDonald’s in Shelby’s MINI to get a late dinner. The car smells of saturated fats from the French fries we all share, and the aroma is ten times stronger for Shelby and me. Weezer and Angel are sitting in the back seat sharing a vanilla shake as Shelby drives slowly along the streets of St. Cloud. We see a row of fast food restaurants on both sides of the boulevard and teenagers hanging out of their vehicles, waving and yelling to each other. This is where the winning team and its fans take a victory lap, and tonight belongs to Stearns County High, thanks in part to Bao Wang’s bone-crushing defense.

Lowering my window for fresh air, I feel the cold wind blowing across my face. Finally I can breathe again, and my nervousness about Bao subsides briefly. I’ve already had my third dose of Soda today so I know my body isn’t craving for blood, but I sense maybe Soda is the only thing right now that will bring back my courage. A shake and fries isn’t going to cut it tonight.

“You okay?” Shelby asks. “You seem quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m tired. That’s all.”

“Would you rather we call it a night?” Angel asks.

“If you don’t mind, I could use the rest,” I say.

“I’ll drop off Weezer and Angel, and then you and I will hang out at your house,” Shelby suggests.

“Honestly, I’m so tired you might as well drop me off first. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Shelby seems disappointed, and we drive in silence for most of the way home. My mind strays back to Bao and his aggression. If my uncle had a hard time finding Soda, how does Bao have access to it? It occurs to me that I should confront him directly. Or I could report him to Officer Denny and have Bao thrown off the football team; but then I’d be the school nark and nobody would trust me. I could at least talk to Bao, though, and warn him that I’m juicing, too. I decide to sleep on it and see what Jack thinks.

By 1:00 a.m. I’m in bed surfing Facebook and finishing another Soda. I feel mellow and I have my confidence back, even if it means I’ll be wide awake for at least another hour. There’s plenty of video from tonight’s game, most of it Bao Wang body slamming quarterbacks. He set a school record for seven sacks, and recovered two fumbles.

Hooray for the Juicer! What must his buddies back in China think of him now?

I call Jack because I know he’s only a few hours into his day. When he answers, I hear heavy breathing into the phone, and music in the background.

“Jack here!”

“Hey, it’s me. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Why aren’t you in bed? You need to run in the morning!” he shouts.

“Where are you?”

“At a club.”

“Dancing?”

There’s a pause, with more breathing. “Yeah, you could call it that,” he says.

“Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“What’s this about?”

“Bao Wang is juicing,” I say. There’s a long pause and I say it again. “Can you hear me? Bao is juicing. He’s on
Soda.”

“I heard you. I know what you mean,” Jack says. “Keep training, man. You’re a Vampire, and he’s a Normal. You should win. Stop by tomorrow. We need to talk about your strategy.”

Strategy? What strategy? So far it’s been about punching and leaping, so if Jack has a strategy, then he needs to reveal it soon.

“Okay, I’ll be there after eight thirty.”

He hangs up and I take a sip of Soda and lie back in bed, staring up at the floor joists in the ceiling. I’m regretting my wise-ass attitude and bravado toward Bao. If I’d kept my mouth shut after he bullied me, I wouldn’t be in this position at all. But I talked my way into a fight, so maybe I can talk my way out of it too.

Kira rushes downstairs to the basement and peeks her head around the corner.

“You awake?” she asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“There’s a girl here to see you.”

“Who, Shelby?”

“Nope!” Kira laughs and runs upstairs.

I sit up as Angel comes down the stairs. She’s dressed differently than earlier in the evening. Now she’s wearing a loose gray sweatshirt and sweat pants.

“You couldn’t sleep, either?” she asks, stopping at the foot of the stairs.

“Usually I’m up until two or three anyway. Come on in,” I say, straightening my covers as I move and sit on the end of my bed.

She sits next to me. She’s nervous. Her pheromones are elevated.

“I snuck out. I can’t stay long,” she says.

“Cool, not a problem.”

“I keep thinking about you and Bao. On the ride home, Shelby told me the Vampire Club will be at the fight—”

“Only there as a show of force,” I say. “Besides, I’m going to confront Bao ahead of time about his juicing.”

“What good would that do?” Angel asks. “He wouldn’t
care
if you knew.”

“He might care if he knows that I’m on Soda too,” I say.

Angel’s eyes amplify her shock. I suddenly realize I slipped and spilled my secret. This is the reaction I’ve been avoiding. I can’t avoid it any longer.