by Tarisa Marie
"I can't even converse with a bumble bee. That's not a fair analogy. And I really don't give a flying crap who or what you are. You're just as much a person as that guy in there is," I argue. becoming furious.
He shrugs. "You're part human. Of course you'd think that. Your brain is warped like all of theirs are."
I roll my eyes in disgust and begin walking in the opposite direction he is heading. What is wrong with him? Seriously, is he bipolar?!
"Oh my god, Ariella. Seriously? Fine. Go get lost," he scoffs and continues walking in the other direction.
I grew up in a fricken city. My block was the size of this town. I doubt I'll get lost.
I walk a few blocks and then make a right as I explore my new home. I pass many different buildings most of which seem abandoned. Finally I reach a very small coffee shop and I step inside. I could use a coffee about now. I love coffee. If coffee was a man, I’d marry him. God, I’m a weirdo.
As I walk up to the counter, I spot a group of girls sitting in the far corner of the room. They are all staring back at me and so I instantly switch my gaze to the cashier awkwardly.
"Can I just get a black coffee? A medium please," I order politely while taking in their vast menu for future reference.
"She's a lot prettier than I expected," I hear one of the girls say and I wonder if she's talking about me. Does she know that i can hear her?
"She looks kind of like an elf. Look how short she is," another says. Rude. I suck in a breath. This doesn't surpass the level of awkward I've felt over the past few days but it's definitely still at a very high level of awkward. Can’t they wait until I leave the shop to talk about me?
"I thought Americans were supposed to be like super fat," the third girl remarks..
"Not all of them are apparently, Julianna. Haven't you ever seen an American before? Don't you watch TV? Are they ALL fat?" the first asks sounding annoyed by the other girl.
"Yeah. God, you're stupid Julianna." The second murmurs in agreeance rudely.
"Here's your coffee, miss. That'll be one dollar even," the cashier smiles while setting down my drink in front of me.
"One dollar? That's it?" I question, wondering if he's given me the right price.
"Yes, it's one dollar black coffee on days the local high school baseball team has a home game," he reassures me while taking the loonie I offer him. It's going to take some getting used to hauling around a bunch of change instead of dollar bills.
"Thanks!" I cry, while extending my hand. Since apparently everyone knows who I am, I better start getting names and putting them to faces. "I'm Ariella by the way. I'm new in town."
His face lights up and he looks far more attractive while he’s grinning. He's actually pretty cute in a boyish way. He looks about sixteen or seventeen. He's short and his voice is higher than it probably should be for someone his age. His blonde hair is spiked in every direction as if he didn't look into a mirror before leaving the house. He looks like the kind of guy that belongs working as a surf instructor somewhere down in California rather than a barista in Canada.
"Not a problem. I'm Blake Riley. Welcome to the neighborhood,” he says with a half-smile, while taking up my offer on the hand shake.
“If your get bored tonight you should come out to this party...it’s out at the Smith’s farm just east of town. I can even give you a ride...if you like that is,” he offers excitedly.
“I’m not sure my dad…I mean older brother...would approve of it,” I correct slowly. Jesus, I’m already screwing up our story. “I’d have to ask first.”
“Of course. You can text me later and let me know if you can come,” he suggests with a light shrug and grabs a pen and paper from below the counter as if he’s about to scribble down his phone number for me.
“I actually don’t have a phone right now. I busted my old one. I’ll have to pass this time. Maybe another. I’m still busy unpacking and stuff you know? I should probably get settled,” I decide embarrassingly.
He nods and his smile falters. “Sure, next time maybe.”
“Rejected!” one of the girls from the corner shouts. “Nice try, Blake.”
Blake looks down at the floor and turns as if he hasn’t heard the girl but I know he has.
“Actually, I think I will come. Hand me that pen and paper,” I say purposefully louder than I need to. I can play this game. No way am I going to let those girls make this completely nice guy feel like crap.
A brilliant smile lights up his features and he quickly hands me the writing utensil and paper. I scribble down my address and hand it back to him.
“Pick me up here. I’ll be ready whenever,” I promise.
“I know where you live though, everyone does I think,” he says in return, while shoving the note into his apron pocket.
“Okay, sounds good. Do you mind if I bring a friend?” I ask him, knowing that the boys back at home are not going to let me leave the house alone, let alone let me attend a party outside of town and possibly past the protective border, alone. D will have to come with me. As much as I really don’t want to spend time with him right now.
“Uh sure,” he says sounding a tad bit sad.
I realize my mistake almost immediately. “He’s like my brother. He’s an international student that we’re hosting. I don’t want him to feel left out,” I tell him.
His face brightens. “Oh yeah, I totally get it. We don’t get too many international students out here. That will be neat. Are you eighteen or should I get my brother to pick you guys up some alcohol for tonight?”
For some reason it never crossed my mind that this might be a drinking party. In Denver there weren’t very many of these because the drinking age in America is 21 and no one ever wanted to be liable for a bunch of underage drinkers at their place. Not many of my friends’ parents anyways.
“I’m not sure if I’ll be drinking or not. If I do, I’ll get my brother to pick me up some. Thanks though.”
“Sure. See you around eight o’clock,” he replies excitedly.
When I turn, I glance over at the group of girls in the corner. They’re all staring at us like we’re aliens or something and I can’t help but wonder if this kid is picked on around here. He seems nice enough to me. Why would anyone pick on him?
I exit the coffee shop, coffee in hand, and begin my walk back to my new house.
Chapter 13
When I get back to the house without D, my father is furious that we separated. I try blaming it all on D but he’s not taking any of it. In the middle of him giving me a stern lecture about the matter, D strides in through the front door with the food in hand.
“Where have you been? You’re supposed to be watching her!” My father roars.
I cringe back.
“I was with her the entire time. She just couldn’t see me. I’ve been following her around on her little adventure. She had an awfully long chat with a barista at the coffee place down town. I think he likes her. You know very well that I wouldn’t leave her alone, Theenis.” D smirks.
“You better not. Ever. I’m trusting you,” my father grumbles back, sounding defeated.
“So...uh...that coffee guy invited me out to a party tonight.” I begin carefully. I’m expecting to get shut down but my father and D wait for me to continue. “I was hoping I could go...you know, so I can meet some people my age and stuff. He said he would drive and everything. He was okay with D coming too. I expect you’ll have to send a supervisor with me,” I assume in sort of a mocking tone, although I understand why I need protection. I’m not going to be idiotic and get myself killed or kidnapped or whatever. I do value my life.
My father continues staring at me as if he’s waiting for more so I mouth the word ‘please’.
He shrugs. “As long as Daymon goes with you then I guess I’m okay with it. You have to be home at a decent time though because you have to spend the day with Daymon tomorrow working on your power wielding. It’s time we start getting back into some sort of a
routine.”
I agree with him. Maybe a routine is what I need in order to accept this crazy new life.
Eight o’clock rolls around quicker than I expect it to and I find myself sifting through my scanty new wardrobe trying to find something to wear. I end up picking out a nice hoodie and blinged out jeans. I hope this isn’t too fancy a party because this is as fancy as I can get.
When I go downstairs to make sure D is ready, I nearly trip over a rug that I swear was not at the bottom of the stairs earlier this afternoon. I catch myself on the stair railing and race into the kitchen more excited than I probably should be for this shindig.
D is sitting in the kitchen, swallowing down some toast, big surprise that he’s eating, he’s always eating. I sneak up behind him and snatch the toast from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. I shove it in my own mouth and he’s suddenly on his feet, poised to attack me.
“Jesus. I thought you were going to try and scare me not steal my food. How rude. Now I have to make more.” He sighs.
“You heard me?” I wonder. Here I thought I was being sneaky.
“Of course I did. You’re not sneaky.”
“Why didn’t you eat your macaroni nuggets or whatever?” I tease.
“Because I’m saving them for tomorrow. We’re going to share them for lunch. You are going to fall in love with these things,” he promises, while popping two new slices of bread into the toaster.
A knock on the front door makes me jump. Blake must be here. I prance up to the door and swing it open.
“Hey!” Blake greets upon seeing my face. He cleans up pretty well. I almost don’t recognize him while he’s no longer in his cafe apron. “Is your friend coming? What’s his name again?”
“His name is Daymon but I call him D,” I explain. “He’s just making some toast in the kitchen. Do you want to come in?” I ask in the friendliest tone I can muster.
“Sure I guess," he says awkwardly and then steps in. I get a waft of his thick cologne and have to convince my body not to cough. I think he could've gotten away with half as much.
“Hello there,” Daymon calls to Blake as we enter the kitchen. “You must be David,” he exclaims.
I roll my eyes. He knows his name. I’ve only mentioned it six times in the last few hours.
“I’m Blake. You must be Daymon,” he corrects.
“Ah, Blake. Right. Yeah, I’m Daymon. Want some toast?”
Seriously? D is going to scare him away before we even leave the house.
“Right on, man. I love toast!” Blake cries and lunges for the bag of bread on the counter. He drops a couple slices into the other half of the toaster. Okay, seriously? Boys are weird.
“I think I’m going to like you. I can appreciate a fellow toast lover.” D chuckles. “Ariella snatched my last piece and ate it so that’s why I’m running approximately two minutes late.I'm always on time, just for record.”
Blake looks at me as if I’m some sort of demon. “She did what?” His eyes widening in mock horror.
“Exactly. I’m glad you understand,” D says and I notice that he’s playing nice with the human. Unlike earlier when he had that little fit. What had gotten in to him?
You look surprised that I’m being nice to the human.
I’m about to answer out loud when I realize that I heard his words in my head and he didn’t speak them out loud. I look to him. He’s staring at me with amusement. How did he do that? Hell, why am I even asking, it must be some sort of witchy trick.
I decide to answer him with a quick nod.
I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know what got into me. It won't happen again. Will you forgive me?
He's sorry? D doesn't really come off as the type of guy to apologize. He must really feel bad. Our silent conversation is interrupted when D’s toast pops. He pulls it out from the toaster and slaps on some kind of yellow jelly. I’m glad he hadn’t put that gross goo on the piece that I stole. I hate jam.
A few seconds later, Blake’s pops up. Blake just has his plain. That's the way to go in my opinion. The whole time the two of them are eating it is completely silent, that is, if you subtract their moans and the disgusting, slobbery sounds they're making as the basically inhale the food. Boys are seriously so weird. I don't think there's any understanding them.
Finally, they finish eating and we manage to get out the door and into Blake’s old farm truck while the two of them banter about some sports game that was on the TV earlier in the evening. I didn't know that D even liked sports.
“Hey, are you guys bringing alcohol or what?” Blake asks as he puts the truck in drive.
“Oh...yeah! One second,” D requests and then runs into the house and comes out with a paper bag full of what I assume is in fact alcohol a couple minutes later, leaving Blake and I in the truck alone in awkward silence.
The drive is longer than I anticipated but still not too far. When we begin getting close I can see the smoke from a large fire filling the sky. I’ve never been to a field party before. I excitedly jump out and I'm immediately glad that I picked acceptable attire for this occasion.
D is dressed in black jeans, a black V-neck and a leather jacket. He quickly takes off his jacket and throws it on the seat of the vehicle before shutting his door. I realize that I’ve never seen him without that jacket before and freeze when I see how his muscles bulge in his t-shirt. A shiver runs up my spine.
He notices me staring and winks. I snort out a laugh. I literally can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or just being weird.
He tosses me a vodka cooler from his bag and grabs himself out a huge bottle of vodka. I wonder to myself if he’s an alcoholic.
Right as I’m about to thank him for the cooler, music begins blaring from someone's truck speaker. Until that moment, I was completely unaware that a truck could play music so loud without blowing its speakers.
D wraps his arms around my shoulders and leads me towards the crowd as Blake waves for us to follow him. I wonder if he’s going to lock his truck, what about our alcohol? Shouldn’t we lock it inside of the vehicle? Then I remember that I’m no longer in the city. It's doubtful that anyone would steal someone else's stuff when it's in the open and everyone knows everyone.
Blake shouts something from ahead of us and D laughs but I have no idea what he’s just said because the music is far too loud.
One we reach the fire, Blake begins introducing us to people. I’m sure we meet nearly everyone around the huge bonfire in the center of the party, that is except for one group of people off to the side. I recognize the girls from the cafe standing with these people. Along with a few other people who look not so friendly.
After meeting most of the crowd, I can hardly remember any names but everyone is certainly excited to me meet D and I. We tell our fabricated stories numerous times and answer the same questions fifty times over before we are let free when Blake finds one of his friends pulling up to the party and races over to their truck. I have a couple more coolers and mingle with a friendly couple sitting on a log by the fire for about half an hour. I manage to put names to their faces. The girl is Vivian Meyers and the boy is Mason Ransok. They seem friendly enough. Meanwhile, D is out dumping vodka down other people’s throats. Is that how guys socialize and make friends? I watch as a few guys high five him and give him what I can only call ‘bro hugs’. I roll my eyes.
Vivian and I talk, or should I say shout, about the weather, school, my old classes, my old city, and other things. Finally, I decide that I have to pee and get up from the comfy log and say my goodbyes to the nice couple. I skip over to some nearby trees and am about to whip down my pants when I hear strange sounds coming from deeper into the trees. I stand perfectly still and listen closely. The sound of the music is still loud but not near as it is closer to the fire. I can make out the sound of a girl moaning and I worry that she’s hurt. I start rummaging through the trees towards the sounds when I hear a man’s voice. It’s only then that I realize what is real
ly happening. Gross. I quickly get out of there and find a new batch of trees a little further on to pee in.
“Oh, thank god. There you are,” D’s familiar voice calls thankfully as I finish hiking up my pants with more difficulty than necessary. I realize that between the few coolers, swigs of other people’s drinks, and gulps of D’s vodka, I am very, very, tipsy. Okay, possibly even drunk.
I swear I was fine when I left the fire to go pee but suddenly things are a little blurry and the sounds are a little muffled. “I’m peeing. I was gone for five seconds. Just chill out,” I demand.
He chuckles. “You’re drunk, Ariella. You better sober up or your dad will kill me.”
“Am not," I lie. I hope he doesn’t decide to take me home or something.
“Sure,you're not. Would you like to dance with me?” he asks as a new song comes on.
I shrug. Sober me is not much of a dancer...at all, but apparently drunk me is...or at least thinks she is. He grabs my left hand and drags me back towards the fire and to where a few couples and groups of people are dancing off to the side of the gathering.
“You’re old. You probably dance like they do on the TV in old movies,” I tease drunkenly.
This time he rolls his eyes at me. “I do not. I’m not old, Ariella. I mean I’m old but not in the way that you think.” He laughs while pulling a stick from my hair. I grab it from his hand and begin laughing. Oops. I must gotten it stuck in my hair when I went to pee.
He takes a swig from his bottle of vodka and then hands it to me. I take a small taste as I don’t want to overdo it and embarrass myself in front of all of these people and make a terrible first impression.
D takes the last gulp from the bottle and then tosses it towards a pile of bottles beside the fire.
“You finished that already, man?” some guy from beside the fire hollers towards D. He smirks and nods.
“Go hard or go home, my friend,” he replies. Then to me, more seriously, he says, “I think Blake passed out somewhere, I haven’t seen him in forever.”
