Nightmare (8 page)

“Do you ever get tired of waiting for me?”

“No.” He's so sure of things. So convinced that it will work out, or it won't. That it is black or it is white. I'm not like that. 

I want to really kiss him goodbye, but don't. I'm still not convinced that being close with him won't kill him. I'm such a hypocrite, because I made him sit next to me while I slept all night. What harm would a little kiss do? 

Well, Peter's kisses could do a lot of harm, I knew that already. They are Weapons of Mass Destruction. So I just looks at him without blinking for as long as I can. He touches my face and slides out the window. I feel the pull to go with him. It sucks so much that I can't. My poor neglected lips cry out as I drive myself to school, hoping today will be better. Better than the previous three.

****

Tex nearly runs me over, she's so eager to talk to me. It takes me a moment to focus. The smells almost swallow me up. It's like being in a huge bakery filled with the most delicious cookies and pies and cakes in the world, but you can't have any of them. Only blood doesn't smell like cake.

“Oh my god, where have you been? We need to talk date details. I need to know what Viktor's favorite color is so I can wear it.” Tex's blood smells sweet, like copper and salt and dark chocolate. Those don't sound like delicious things in combination, but somehow they are. My stomach grumbles, even though I just ate. This is a different kind of hunger. I rest my face on the brick of the main school building. The smell of the brick and the cool temperature helps me focus.

“Tex, I don't know what his favorite color is.” 

“Then ask Peter.” She makes a pouty face and adjusts her purple glasses.

Give. It. A. Rest. “I can't, he doesn't have a phone.” 

“Seriously? Vampires are always up on the new technology.” I don't know where she's heard this. Vampire chat rooms?

“He's not a vampire,” I say, lowering my voice. “He's a noctalis. There's a big difference.”

“Difference, schmifference.” She waves it off. I'm about to argue with her when Jamie walks by. I smile and he stops to talk. 

“Well, hello James, long time no see.” He looks like crap. Things must be bad at home. Still, seeing him is like seeing the sun come from behind the clouds. He envelops me with warmth and comfort. Jamie was like apple pie.

“Hello ladies.” A shadow of his smile comes out and is gone as quick as we can blink. “How are you?” He leans against he wall in all his jock glory. His hair picks up all the spare sunlight and glimmers like gold. His blood is salty and... active. Bright, like him.

“Never mind us, how are you?” He looks around, shifting his bag in his shoulder. Then he tugs his earlobe. That tells me everything I need to know. He's not doing well.

“Cassie and Dad are fighting a lot.”

“He hasn't, you know...” Tex trails off. She meant to say,
he hasn't hit her
, but she doesn't want to say it out loud.

“No, he's been good. Just a lot of yelling. I keep telling both of them it isn't good for the baby, but he doesn't care. He wants her to lose it so he doesn't have to worry about it anymore.” 

Oh, god.

“Jamie.” Tex and I hug him from both sides, wishing this hug could make it better. 

Sometimes I get wrapped up in my head and think that I have it the worst off. Then I talk to Jamie, and realize that both of my parents love me. I know they love me, even though my Dad and I don't get along that well sometimes. We used to. This whole cancer thing kinda screwed things up. But before that, there was no doubt in my mind that both of them would do anything for me. 

“I'm thinking about getting a job at Santina's so I can give her some money to get her own place. I think, once the baby's born, she'll qualify for assistance, but I don't know if she'll be willing to take it.”

Tex and I look at each other, both thinking the same thing. That it isn't Jamie's responsibility to take care of his sister. He shouldn't have to. And if the choice is him taking a job, when he's already busy with sports and a sucky home life, or her going on assistance, we're picking the latter.

“It'll work out.” I try to channel some of that Peter confidence. He's close enough that I can still feel him.

“I hope so,” he says, sounding completely defeated. I give him another squeeze as the bell rings. I haven't even gotten to my locker to get my books yet, so I'm going to be late. Doesn't matter. There are some things more important than punctuality.

“We should do something for him,” I say after he dashes off to class. Maybe I can rope Tex into pitching in. She definitely has more money than I do. 

“We could throw Cassie a baby shower. She's going to need all sorts of baby stuff. And it would be fun.”

“You know there would be no boys or drinking, right?”

“My dear, a party is a party. As long as
I'm
there.” She does a little hip wiggle and Trevor Hyasin's eyes almost bug out of his head as he walks by. 

“I was thinking about something for his truck.”

“That's lame. A party is a much better idea.”

“Thanks for stomping on my idea, Tex.”

“No stomping, just suggesting it's not a great idea.” Same thing.

Somehow I get through the rest of the day, even though I'm like a kid with ADD high on sugar. No focus. Too much blood. Too many people I picture killing. It's almost a relief my teachers sort of ignore me. They don't know about my mother's diagnosis, but just having a mother with cancer is enough of a free pass to slack off.

I call Mom several times to check in. Dad came home from work to watch her, so she's drowning in blankets and soup and TLC. Poor thing.

Jamie has practice, so I text him asking if he wants to do something on Tuesday night. It will mean a night away from Peter, but Jamie's important. He needs a friend right now. And I owe him. I've been a pretty crappy one.

Tex and I carpool to work, which is so close to school, we could walk if we wanted. I always mention this, but Tex is usually wearing impractical shoes, and throws a hissy fit about ruining them. So we drive, increasing our carbon footprint. Peter lurks nearby, trying to send me happy vibes. A for effort.

After reprimanding us for being late, Tex's parents set us to making a display of the poetry books. April was National Poetry Month, and they were a little late getting a display up, so we pick out all the prettiest and most famous books and try to come up with an eye-catching way to showcase them. Usually Tex's mother doesn't let us do things like this, but she's so busy, since one of the workers quit, she doesn't have time to do it herself. Waves of scent caress me, and I can barely focus on anything but the blood smell. I focus on Tex's voice.

“We could use that old velvet cloth from Halloween and put some glitter on it.”

“What does glitter have to do with National Poetry Month?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. I just like glitter.” Glitter it is. We stack the books on top of boxes draped with the velvet to create a little dimension. And then Tex sprinkles gold glitter over everything. To give it pizazz, she says. 

It makes me think of that night when I invited Peter to a party and we'd danced. Well, it was more like we'd mashed our bodies together and moved with the music. It had been totally amazing. I wished I could have frozen that moment so I could go back to it later. Go back to that moment when it felt like we were one person. I still felt that way with Peter, but I missed his physical touch sometimes. Or all the times.

“Hello? Can you hand me that sign?” Tex snaps her fingers in front of my face. She does that a lot and it makes me want to bite her fingers off. And taste her blood.

“Here.” I hand her the sign and she hangs it in the window.

“I feel like it needs something.” She tilts her head back and forth and squints her eyes as if she's trying to see what's missing. “Aha!” She says, jumping down from the window. She's gone for a few minutes and then is back, hauling a giant quill pen that's about three feet tall. I don't remember why her parents bought it, but it's been sitting in storage for a while. Tex sneezes as she props it against one of the boxes.

“I couldn't find the ink pot that goes with it, but oh well. This says poetry, doesn't it?”

“I think so.” 

She bangs her hands together and I choke on a glitter cloud. I think Tex has a glitter addiction. She should join GAA. Glitter Addicts Anonymous. 

****

Later on, she catches me in the New Age section of the store. It's located right next to the knitting books in a back corner near the heater that is so loud you can barely hear yourself think. It was also perpetually dusty because no one really wants to go back there. Also because Tex's parents had contempt for anything remotely like that, so they hadn't ordered any new books in years. Or bothered to do anything about the ones they did have.

“What the hell are you doing back here?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was dusting?”

“Yeah, nice try. No one's dusted back here since this guy was alive.” She holds up a book with a guy with a beard so impressive, it covers most of his face, a shirt covered in flowers and a pair of bell bottoms that looked like lampshades. 

I can't lie to her anymore. “I was just, um, looking for a book about dreams.”

“And my next question is: Why?”

“I had a dream and I wanted to know if it meant anything,” I mumble. 

“You should have just asked. I've got one of those encyclopedias at home. Aunt Bea gave it to me.” She rolls her eyes as she says it. She's Tex's mother's sister, Beatrice, otherwise known as Aunt Bea or the Crazy Lady. I've only met her once and my first impression was that she looked exactly someone who dressed as a cheap psychic for Halloween. Only she dressed like that all the time. Scarves and long flowy skirts and bracelets that jingled whenever she moved. She also brought a cloud of patchouli wherever she went. Tex said it was to cover up the smell of pot smoke, which wouldn't surprise me. After she'd told me my aura was cloudy I'd pretty much tuned her out.

“You can borrow it if you want.”

“Yeah, sure.” She gives me a weird look and then edges away from the books as if they're going to give her a disease. I also want to escape the close space that smells like dust and books and blood. 

Work drags on for another hour until I can finally leave. Peter's waiting for me outside the back door like a shadow. We always walk back to my car, taking our time. I'd told him he didn't have to, because Tex always tackled him with questions about Viktor. Tonight was no exception.

“Hello Texas.” He always calls her by her full first name. I think it bugged her at first, but she seems to have gotten over it.

“Well hello there.” She always tried to fake-flirt with him, trying to get a rise. It never works, but Tex is not easily deterred. 

“Ava.” He nods formally at me. 

“Peter.” I smile and curtsey, feeling both of our relief that we're near each other. It must last for a while because Tex coughs and waves her hand in front of my eyes.

“Yeah, that's enough eye sex. You should remember to wear protection.” I smack her in the shoulder. Real classy, Tex.

“We need to go.” I take Peter's arm and try to steer him toward the street. Tex darts in front of us so fast, I wonder if she's a noctalis.

She snags my arm. “Uh! We need to talk date details.” I give Peter a look that says I'll tell him later.

“We'll let you know.”

“What, are you like one person now?”

I think I'm getting a migraine. “Tex, can we please not do this now?”

“I just don't want to see you saying things like 'we love pumpkin scented candles' and wearing matching plaid shirts.” Like that would ever happen.

“You are free to slap me in the face if I do any of those things.” Peter doesn't say anything. I look at him and he blinks. An agreement.

“Bye!” I grab Peter's arm and start walking before she can react. 

“Wear protection!” She calls. I wave over my shoulder, considering giving her the finger.

Peter

“Have you come up with a plan yet?” Ava says as we walk back to her car. She's still holding my arm. It blazes against my skin. 

“I have consulted Viktor. He has stayed less in touch with the noctalis world than I have, so he did not know what we should do. There is an old friend I can contact.” She stops.

“You have a friend?”

“Yes.” I do not elaborate. Cal is from a time in my life that I do not want her to know about. Granted, if I hadn't Claimed her, and wanted her to stay away, I would have told her. It would be enough to make any human run. Even her.

“Why have I not heard of this friend?”

“I have not seen him in a long time.”

“What's he like?”

“Tall.” How can I describe him in a way she would understand? I am not sure how.

“Tall? That's it?” She raises her eyebrows. 

“He is my oldest friend.” That is a truth I can part with.

“So you've got a little bromance going on.” Her smile returns. I am not familiar with that term, but I believe I know what she is thinking of.

“He is my friend.”

“So you think he'll help us?”

“Yes.” He has helped me before. When I have needed him, he has been there. Ava searches my eyes, looking for more information. Her natural curiosity will harm her one day. It already has. She came back to see me, even after that first night in the cemetery. I told her then she was reckless. She has not learned.

She sighs and leans her head on my arm. Her contentment is palpable. 

“How was your day?” I say as we get in the car. 

“Awful. Jamie's issues just keep getting bigger and Tex won't leave me alone about Viktor. I may have to kill her before this date happens.” Her laugh is weak.

“You could not kill anyone.” 

“How do you know that?” She is offended. Angrily, she starts the car and turns the radio on loud. It is one of Texas' German rock albums.

“Your soul is pure.”

“So is yours.” Ava will hold to her belief I have a soul until she breathes her last breath. I like her determination. Even if it is false.