Sweet Blood of Mine (7 page)

As the tingle faded from my forehead, I took her hand and looked into her deep blue eyes. "Mom, what's realy going on?"

She smiled and brushed a lock of blonde hair from her face. "Just a rough spot at work." She patted the top of my hand with her other one. "Nothing to worry about. I need you to be strong and brave for me and your father."

"You know me," I said, flexing my non-existent bicep. "I'm the
man
."

She kissed me on the cheek. "That's my boy."

Mom turned to the couch and stared at Dad's slumbering form. A new cluster of alcohol bottles had sprouted on the coffee table. Vodka had joined the beer posse. Mom's hands clenched into fists and I feared she might attack him.

Instead, she took deep breaths and went into their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

I sat outside her door and listened until she cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, Mom took me to brunch, a family tradition that didn't have quite the same meaning when Dad was stil passed out drunk on the couch from the night before. Stil, I hadn't seen Mom much lately and I jumped at the chance to spend some time with her although I would never admit it—even under torture—to any of my friends.

Oh wait, that's right—I don't have any friends.

Oh wait, that's right—I don't have any friends.

Mom asked me about school, my friends, and a milion other little things I realy didn't want to talk about since the epic pile of fail in my life was expanding exponentialy. I did tel her my grades were great—the single bright spot in my existence.

"You know how much I love you, right, Justin?" she asked out of the blue.

"Of course, Mom." My face flushed with heat and I looked at the cute girls sitting a table over from us to make sure they hadn't heard. I pushed my empty plate away and stared at the puddle of syrup where once a stack of blueberry pancakes had been. "I just want to know what's going on with you and Dad."

She sighed and stared dejectedly at a happy nuclear family eating their brunch with big grins, giggles, and cheerful banter. "I feel like such a failure," she said after a moment.

"I'm failing you. I'm failing your father. And there's nothing I can do about it." Tears glistened in her eyes.

I grabbed both her hands and squeezed. "Mom, don't say that. You're not a failure. You and Dad are the best parents I could ever have. You're a great mom."

She sniffed and smiled. "Do you realy mean it?"

"Of course I do. I know I'm not the best son in the world, but I love you guys so much even if I can't say that around my friends."

A laugh broke through her tears. "Teenage boys."

She sniffled, wiped her red nose with a napkin, and took another look at the laughing family across the room.

"Sometimes there are things in life we have to do. Difficult decisions that hurt so much it feels like no matter which choice we make, it's the wrong one." She turned her eyes on me. "No matter what happens, Justin, know that I love you. Even if you hate me one day and refuse to ever talk to me again, just know that I understand. And I wil never blame you for it."

"What would you ever do to make me hate you?"

Worry gripped my chest with icy fingers.

"Things happen, honey. People change. Life doesn't always give us a choice."

Much as I wanted to dispute her, I knew it was true. But nothing could ever make me hate my mom.

I gripped her hands. Looked into the deep ocean blue of Mom's eyes and at the fal of a soft blonde lock across her face. Dad always fussed over that lock of hair, saying it couldn't behave as he pushed it behind her ear. I think he loved that rebelious strand because whenever it fel across Mom's face just so, he'd stop what he was doing and stare as though she was the only thing that existed in his universe. I'd thought my parents were one of the rare couples that had found true love. With everything that was going on now, it seemed I was wrong. The thought made me incredibly sad.

After brunch, Mom went back to work. Dad wasn't at home when I walked in so I pilfered some money from the shoebox with their stack of rainy-day funds in it and treated myself to a day at the movies so I could ignore the loneliness crushing my heart.

Monday, the day I'd been dreading more than any other, arrived and the anxiety in my chest was palpable: a living malevolent creature with claws in my guts, my heart, and my limbs. I couldn't think straight. Dad was asleep on the couch and Mom had already gone to work when I got up. As I opened the front door, Captain Tibbs jetted between my legs and raced into the yard.

"Are you leaving me?" I asked.

He gave me a curt meow.
So long and thanks for
all the fish.
Then he trotted away into the neighbor's hedge.

"Thanks for abandoning me in my time of need," I said.

A faint meow from the other side of the hedge was A faint meow from the other side of the hedge was al I received in reply. Now I realy was friendless. I took in a deep breath to ward off the crushing pain in my chest and decided to take Dad's car. The school bus would be a pure nightmare.

Every head seemed to swivel my way as I walked into school. I avoided the gymnasium like the plague. In homeroom, Jenny directed a gleeful smile my way and shook her head.

"I'l give you this," she said. "When you screw up, you go for broke."

Annie laughed. "Epic meltdown, dude. God, I love this drama."

I tried to smile. "I got a little drunk."

"A little?" Jenny smirked. "Katie hates your guts.

You got a lucky punch on her boyfriend and then caled her a tramp on Facebook."

"Yeah, wel I guess I won't win Mr. Popularity this year."

"More like Mr. Infamous."

Annie giggled. "Mr. Douchebag."

"I was super drunk," I said, the desperation plain in my voice. "I don't even remember writing that stuff. Can you help me out with Katie?"

Jenny gave me a "yeah, right" look. "I'm not helping you, Mr. Creep." She and Annie turned their backs to me.

Fury roared like an inferno through my chest and into my head. I wanted to pick my desk up and slam it on the floor. Scream to the class that I wasn't a loser. The room wobbled and a wave of dizziness hit me. It would make perfect sense if a blood vessel decided to explode in my head right that second as the universe executed the final punch line to my joke of a life.

My vision blurred and I winced in anticipation of another headache. Instead, the room snapped back into focus and my head only tingled for a split second. My hand hurt, however. I was clenching something painfuly tight.

Upon closer examination, I realized I was gripping the snapped-off corner of my desk. I hastily tossed it into my book bag before anyone noticed the vandalism.

I must be going insane.

The bel rang and I jetted out of there.

At lunch, I discovered how Andy Dudowitz, the obscenely fat kid felt. He and his palpable body odor had a table in the corner al to themselves because nobody wanted to be within smeling distance of him. I couldn't find a seat.

Everyone locked me out with angry glares or derisive laughs. Even Andy shook his massive head when I looked his way. Mark and Harry shot dark glares when I glanced in their direction. I was positive even the lunchroom ladies would reject me at this point.

One of the Goth guys motioned me over. I figured they were going to invite me then diss me at the last minute, but anything was better than standing alone in the middle of the lunch room. The Goth girl was with them. She had enough metal piercings in her nose, mouth, ears, and tongue to construct a battleship. Next to her sat a short guy with a hazardous amount of eye shadow and a red Mohawk flopped over to the side. I stared at them for several seconds before deciding I wasn't getting a better offer.

I sat uneasily next to the girl. If she sneezed, the flying metal would probably kil me.

"Hi," she said. The trailer hitch in her mouth clacked against her teeth.

I lost my appetite.

"Screw the system, dude," said the Goth guy who'd invited me over. "I'm Ash Fals." He pointed at the Goth girl. "She's Crye Rayne, and that," he said pointing to the Mohawk guy, "is Nyte Cradle."

"N-y-t-e," Nyte said.

I'd already figured out how to spel their names since Crye had written them in depressing Goth letters al since Crye had written them in depressing Goth letters al over a notebook titled
Poems of Dark Souls
.

"Where'd you come up with those names?" I asked.

"They are our true names," Crye said. "You have your own waiting to come from the darkness of your soul."

"Mine is probably Stinky Crap," I said.

She burst out laughing. "Nice, Stinky. By the way, I was just kidding about the true names stuff. We like to act weird and mysterious since everyone expects it."

"Do I have to wear eye makeup too?" I cringed inside soon as the words left my mouth. Last thing I needed was to be a smartass to the only group in school that hadn't ostracized me.

Ash laughed. "You fight the systems, man. I like that. Doesn't matter whose system it is."

"Everyone belongs to a system," Crye said. "Even if they're alone in it."

"Like me," Nyte said.

"Fight the man?" I said. "Even if it's just you?"

"Especialy if it's just you," Ash said. "Otherwise the man in your head wil keep you down."

I opened my mouth to spit out another witty repartee, but Ash's comment hit a tender spot. I had been keeping myself down. I'd been scaring myself into submission over and over again. I wanted to take control but I didn't have a clue how. How did people like Brad not give a crap and do whatever they wanted even if it hurt people like Katie? How did people find the guts to put on eye shadow, black lipstick, and color their hair red? There was a fine line between not giving a crap and making it work, or ending up like the Goth crowd.

"I guess I don't have much use for those people," I said, nodding my head at the rest of the lunchroom.

And they don't have much use for me.

Despite the cold shoulder from the general high school populace, I wasn't ready to trade in my cargo pants and sneakers for black leather pants and platform shoes. At least I had someone I could talk to and sit with, even if they were a bit touched in the head and on the creepy side.

Then again, that described me perfectly.

As I left the lunchroom I ran into a meat wal, bounced off it, and fel onto my butt. I looked up at Nathan Spelman.

"Oh, excuse you," Nathan said. I tried to get up, but he put his hand on my head and pressed me into a sitting position. "Wel, wel." He crouched, keeping his sweaty palm on my head while other students walked past with wide eyes and/or smiles, depending on their current opinion of me.

"I want to make something crystal clear, stalker boy. You get within a hundred feet of Katie Johnson, and I'm going to smear you from one end of the hal to the other. Won't be enough left of you to put in a bucket."

"You get to stalk Katie but I don't?" I couldn't believe what I'd just said. Something was wrong with my mouth today. I needed to get it checked before someone punched my teeth out. Although that moment might be upon me.

Nathan popped me on the side of the head. For him it was probably a love tap. I felt my brain hit the side of my skul and stars danced in my eyes. "You better keep your mouth shut about things you don't understand."

Anger pounded in my chest and the next words just shot out of my mouth. "You're probably right. I don't understand rapists."

Next thing I knew, I was face down on the floor looking at a smear of blood on the tiles. My glasses were gone. Someone shouted. An authoritative voice roared for everyone to shut up and move on. I pushed myself to my knees and saw a blurry figure standing over me. I found my glasses a few inches from the blood smear and put them on.

The blur resolved into the face of Ted Barnes, the Vice Principal.

"Go see the school nurse," he said in an impatient tone.

I looked around for Nathan but he was gone.

"Nathan Spelman just beat the crap out of me."

"Funny, looks like you just slipped and fel. Now go get cleaned up."

"Are you kidding me? I'l bet he has one of my teeth lodged in his fist."

"You want to get suspended, boy?" I shrank back as Mr. Barnes and his gleaming bald head invaded my personal space. "I suggest you listen to me."

It didn't take long for the gray porridge I cal my brain to see where this was going. Mr. Barnes was a member of the Quarterback Club, the biggest group of supporters of the footbal team. I hadn't made too many friends by uncovering Nathan's womanizing tendencies. Mr.

Barnes wasn't about to cut me a break, especialy when it involved a footbal player.

I pressed my lips together so I wouldn't say anything else stupid. My upper lip hurt like crazy, but my jaw seemed intact. My tongue traced my teeth and didn't find any unexpected gaps or wiggly ones. I skipped the nurse and went to the bathroom instead, halfway expecting a biker gang to jump me the moment I went inside. After washing off the blood I took a good long look at myself. Lank greasy hair hung past my shoulders. Scratched and battered glasses teetered crookedly on my nose. My split lip looked like the king of al cold sore outbreaks. My chubby, ashen face needed a tan. I was ugly. Worthless. Everyone hated face needed a tan. I was ugly. Worthless. Everyone hated me. I puled off my glasses and wiped my eyes furiously to keep the tears away. That'd be just swel, walking around with red teary eyes for everyone to make fun of.