Dirty Blood (8 page)

“George,” I called, with fake calm, mostly so Wes
would realize it wasn’t a threat. I didn’t really feel him relax
though.

“Hey babe.” George’s smile faltered at the sight of
Wes and his eyes narrowed slightly.

I looked back at George, desperately trying to figure
out how to explain this in a way that didn’t involve the truth.
“George, Wes. Wes, George.” I gestured back and forth between them
and paused. Neither one spoke. Wes was watching George with an
intense look. It wasn’t menacing, necessarily, but it held a
challenge that I didn’t like. George eyed Wes back and sort of
grunted a hello at him. I felt my patience thinning at their show
of testosterone. “George, what are you doing here?”

He finally tore his eyes from Wes’, breaking whatever
macho stare down they were locked in and looked back at me. “I
figured since you were out sick I’d come over and see if you needed
anything. Maybe take care of you.” His expression hardened a
little. “But it looks like maybe you’re not so sick after all.”

“I was sick, George. I mean, I am sick.”

George ignored me. His eyes swung back over to Wes.
“Who are you anyway?”

I tensed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see
Wes standing still as a statue.

“I’m a friend,” Wes answered, finally. His tone was
not very friendly, however.

George’s eyes narrowed even further. “I know all of
Tara’s friends and I don’t know you.”

“Then I guess you don’t know all of Tara’s friends,”
Wes replied.

I exhaled loudly, hoping to let it be known how
little patience I had left for all of this. “George, Wes is a
friend from out of town. I didn’t know he was coming. Either way,
it’s none of your business. You and I are not together
anymore.”

It seemed to take George a minute to accept this, but
eventually, he seemed to get it. He stuffed his hands into his
pockets and mumbled something about still caring about me. He shot
a glance at Wes again and then stepped over and planted a very
deliberate kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you, Tay,” he said and
headed to his car. I just watched him go, wondering whose benefit
the kiss had been for. Mine or Wes.

I waited until George had backed up and drove off
before whirling at Wes. “What was that?” I hissed.

His eyes were sparkling. “What was what?”

“You were baiting him.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like him very much.”

I gave him a look.

“Your mom will be home soon,” he said.

“Crap. I forgot about that. You better get going.” I
hesitated and then added, “Will I see you again?”

He pulled a small card out of his pocket and handed
it to me. “Here, take this. It’s mine and Jack’s numbers. Just in
case.”

“Thanks, I guess I’ll… see you around,” I said,
hoping I sounded casual instead of the biting disappointment I
felt.

His lips curved up on one side. “Probably.”

Then he left.

~ 7 ~

The next morning, Angela was waiting for me at my
locker. “Feeling better?” she asked.

“Much. Guess all the cold meds knocked it out of
me.”

“So?” she prompted, raising a dark eyebrow behind her
glasses. I looked blankly back at her. “What happened with you and
George? The one time I saw him yesterday, he was moping like a
little boy with a lost puppy.”

I grimaced and rummaged inside my locker for my
English book. “We broke up.”

“I figured that much. What happened?”

I straightened and stuffed my book into my bag before
facing her. “You mean besides the fact that his head has grown too
big for his body? Nothing.”

She gave me a sympathetic look. “Are you okay?”

“I am, actually. I thought I’d be more upset but
mostly I just feel bad that it might’ve ruined our friendship, you
know?”

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was worried
you were just upset about the breakup. I almost came over after
school to check on you.”

I tried not to seem relieved that she hadn’t so I
shrugged. “I was probably sleeping it off.”

Angela’s reference to the previous day did weird
things to my stomach, but I tried to ignore it and fell into step
next to her, headed to class. I’d spent the entire night basically
wide awake and fending off crazy thoughts, like visions of training
with a Werewolf to learn how to fight Werewolves. Or of not
training, and being attacked by a pack of them in an alley
somewhere.

And of course, Wes. The way he’d looked at me when
I’d gotten out of bed and the comments that might or might not have
been evidence of his interest in me. And then there was the weird
pull between us that only seemed to intensify when his eyes held
mine for a particularly long moment. Was I actually attracted to
him? Or was it all a product of simply feeling his animal
presence?

The more I thought about it, the more I decided there
was no way he’d been flirting. Making fun of me? Likely. Flirting?
Not so much. I mean, I was pretty sure he’d been somehow involved
with Liliana. Which of course brought me back to the fact that I’d
killed somebody. The fact that the ‘somebody’ was also a
‘something’ made it a little easier to process but part of me felt
guilty enough to march right into the police station and hold out
my wrists for cuffs. All of it just added up to complete,
impossible, surreal weirdness; I had no idea what to do about
it.

“Tara, did you hear anything I just said?” Angela
asked.

We were standing outside the English room now. I
forced myself to pay attention under Angela’s scrutiny. “Sorry, I
guess I’m still a little out of it.” I would’ve felt guilty for the
lie I kept perpetuating about being sick, but the statement I’d
just made was actually the complete truth. I definitely felt… out
of it.

“I said, Sam was asking if we wanted to go to the
mall and get dresses for the dance next weekend,” Angela said, a
little impatiently.

As if the mention of her name had summoned her, my
friend Sam waved at us from across the sea of bodies that crowded
the hallway and began weaving towards us. “Hey guys.” Without
waiting for a response, she rushed on. “You would not believe what
Cindy Adams wore to school yesterday.” The first bell rang and Sam
ignored it. “Ohmygosh, it was this plaid homemade thing.
Hi-larious. I have a picture on my phone. Look.” She held her phone
out.

“You weren’t even here yesterday,” said Angela.

Sam shrugged. “I know, but Jenny Slater was, and she
has homeroom with Cindy so she sent it to me. I laughed for like
twenty minutes.”

“You weren’t here, either?” I asked.

Sam winked. “My Tuesday night was sort of
draining.”

I shook my head. “Your social calendar makes me
tired.”

“Which is exactly why I’m entitled to a day of
recuperating,” she said, flipping her hair.

“Plus, Macy’s had buy one, get one on the eye shadow
I love.”

I rolled my eyes and at her prompting, glanced at the
phone she was holding out. It was pretty bad. “Wow, nice,” I said
with a laugh.

To be fair, Cindy Adams was the closest thing I had
to an arch nemesis. When we were in sixth grade, she and I had run
against each other for student president. I hadn’t even wanted to
do it, but the teacher hadn’t given us a choice; our office had
been assigned to us. Cindy couldn’t have been happier. She’d wished
me luck and then thrown herself into campaigning, making elaborate
signs, and even preparing a speech to give on the morning
announcements.

Unfortunately for Cindy, in sixth grade it’s all
about who you know, and Cindy’s circle of friends was considerably
smaller than mine. When she saw that everyone was going to vote for
me, she started playing dirty, spreading rumors and lies to bolster
her chances.

Several different rumors flew around, the nicest
being that she’d found me in a compromising position with her cat,
during the last sleepover we’d had. Yeah, you’ve got to be pretty
twisted to come up with the stuff she did. Needless to say, that
was the end of whatever friendship or civility we might have had.
She won the election, which would have been fine by me, except now
I couldn’t stand her. So, we’ve enjoyed a quiet, though vicious,
rivalry ever since.

As a result, seeing her in an outfit like this sort
of made my day. “Where did she get this and why does she think it’s
cute?” I asked as Sam snapped her phone closed.

“I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t have a friend to
tell her how bad it is.” Sam flashed an evil smile. “Maybe we
should be those friends.”

“Maybe we should,” I agreed.

The warning bell rang, and we all scattered to make
it to class.

“Find me at lunch,” Sam called, sailing down the
quickly emptying hall, her dark hair billowing out behind her.

~ 8 ~

“This dress would be perfect for my date with Ryan,”
Sam said, holding up a black mini with sequins on the waist.

“I thought the dress you bought at the last store was
for your date with Ryan,” Angela said.

“No, that was for my date with Chad,” Sam
corrected.

Angela laughed. “I can’t keep up anymore.”

“Feel free to pick up my slack anytime, Ang,” Sam
said, smiling and wiggling her eyebrows.

“No thank you. Besides, once you go out with these
boys, they’re hooked. They follow you around like you’re the Pied
Piper.”

“I know. Poor things.” Sam sighed dramatically.

Angela and I just grinned and kept browsing. We were
at the mall, dress shopping for the dance I was thinking more and
more of not attending. George would have insisted, for social
standings, if nothing else. But I was actually free to decide for
myself, and the thought of going alone just didn’t appeal.

“I’m going to try this black one on,” said Sam.
“Tara, can you hold my bags?”

“Sure.” I took the four bags from her, set them on
the floor nearby and plopped into a chair. This could be awhile.
Sam was a serious shopper; no such thing as browsing. Everything
about Sam was that way; impulsive, indulgent and fun - always
fun.

“Hey, Ang, you never told me how your date with Dave
went,” I said.

“It was really great,” Angela said, her smile turning
a little dreamy. It was sort of fun to watch; Angela never looked
dreamy.

“Are you going out again?” I asked.

“Yeah, he asked me to the dance.”

“Oh. My. Goodness. Did I just hear that Angela The
Librarian has a date? Like a real date with a real guy?” Sam called
from the dressing room.

“Ha-ha, Sam,” said Angela.

“Well, hot damn, how exciting is this! Is he a good
kisser?” she called back, in a loud voice.

Angela’s face turned red, and she glanced around the
store, adjusting her glasses. “Can you be any louder Sam?”

“Probably.” There was the sound of the latch being
pulled back and then Sam stepped out, the little black dress
hugging her like a glove. “Okay, what do you think?”

I whistled. “Wow.”

Angela was nodding in agreement. “Definitely a show
stopper. How short is that thing?”

Sam twirled slowly, inspecting herself in the small
mirror beside her. “Short enough, I’d say. You wanna borrow it,
Ang?”

Angela’s cheeks reddened a little. “I’m good,
thanks.”

“I’m getting it,” said Sam. “What about you Tara? You
haven’t even tried anything on.”

“I don’t think I’m going to the dance.”

“What? Why?”

I realized I’d forgotten to tell her. “George and I
broke up.”

She leaned down and put her arms around me. “I’m so
sorry, Tay. Are you okay?” She pulled back and looked down at me
sympathetically.

“Yeah, I’m fine actually. I think it was the right
thing. But he doesn’t agree – or seem to be accepting it.”

“Okay, that’s it. You have to get something new,” Sam
declared. “If you’re going to be boring and not get a new dress, at
least get a new pair of jeans. You know, the ones that squeeze your
butt like a vise and you have to lay down to zip.” She wiggled an
eyebrow. “It’ll make you feel better.”

I laughed. “I do not want a pair of jeans that cut
off my air supply. And if I change my mind, I’ll be sure to borrow
them from you.”

“Fine. But I’m going to change and then we ARE going
to find you something new. It’s a rule. After a breakup, you have
to buy new clothes.”

“Fine,” I agreed.

We waited while Sam changed and then we spread out
and wandered through the racks.

“Tara, this is cute, come see,” called Angela, a
moment later.

I wandered over for a closer look and froze. It was a
hoodie, with the face of a wolf on the front. Even worse, its face
was split in two, one half on each side of the zipper. I tried to
keep my expression neutral while I mentally cringed. “I think I’ll
pass.” I moved away as quick as I could.

“What about this one?” Angela called again, this time
holding up another. This one was a myriad of different shades of a
single color: green.

“Perfect,” I said, taking it out of her hands.

“It doesn’t have anything on it,” Sam argued.

“Which means it’ll go with everything,” I argued
back.

Sam rolled her eyes.

By the time we reached the food court for burgers, I
realized I was in a good mood and the most relaxed I’d been in
days. I was enjoying normalcy; something I’d seriously taken for
granted up until forty-eight hours ago. Maybe, despite everything
that had happened, nothing needed to change for me, after all.
Maybe nothing like it would ever happen again; which also meant I’d
probably never see Wes again. And just like that, my good mood
evaporated.

On the way out to the car, I saw that clouds had
rolled in, making the sky a dismal shade of winter gray, and there
was a dampness in the air that made the chill feel heavier. I
pulled my coat tight around me and kept my head down.