“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.