by Amira Rain
The smaller sundae was a little more on the classic side, with a single scoop of blueberry ice cream, a drizzle of blueberry syrup made with blueberries from the farm, and a puff of whipped cream topped with a cherry. It was this sundae that Jen handed to me, frowning.
“Here. Jake made it for you.”
Before I could even ask her how that had come to be, she hopped in bed beside me and began explaining. “See, when I got downstairs, there were maybe only a dozen people or something still hanging around from the meeting, but David and Sean were among those people. So, I had an idea to get to talk to them a little more, and maybe get you involved with Sean a little more, even though you weren’t there. I was like, ‘Oh, I’m about to make ice cream sundaes for me and Chrissy. Do you guys want to help?’ And David said, ‘Oh, sure!’ and Sean opened his mouth to answer, and I know he was going to say the same, but then big, dumb-head Jake walked up, and he was like, ‘Oh, let me help. I’ll make Chrissy’s sundae.’” Indicating that the very memory of this interaction irritated her to no end, Jen paused in her retelling to do an eye-roll for the ages, tipping her head back dramatically while she did so. “Well, what could I do? Be completely rude and say, ‘Well, actually, Jake, we don’t really need your help, so….’ I honestly might have, if Carol hadn’t been around. But I knew she’d probably go off on me about being nice to guests or something, so I just basically shut my mouth. Except that I didn’t shut it completely, though, because I said, ‘All right, Jake. You can come with us to the kitchen.’ But I said it in, like, a not-very-warm sort of way.”
“So, he made my sundae, and David made yours?”
Picking up her spoon, Jen nodded with her expression brightening a bit. “Yeah. David made mine all by himself, and he did a really great job on it. He kept teasing me, saying that in the couple months since he’s been turned, he’s already forgotten what humans like to eat, and how they make sundaes. He kept pulling out all these crazy things from the fridge, like ketchup and mustard, saying stuff like, ‘Now, you wanted extra mustard on your scoops of blueberry ice cream, right?’ He was totally cracking me up. Then when he was getting the can of peanuts out of the cupboard, he pulled out a bag of nacho chips, and he was like, ‘Now, you probably want some of these tucked in the side of your dish, to scoop up the ice cream with, right?’ I think he thought that I’d think that was gross, but I was just like, ‘Now, that’s a great idea.’ Meanwhile, Jake was at the other end of the island, making your own sundae, acting like he didn’t know damn well that I’d wanted Sean to make it.”
Scooping up a bite of ice cream with whipped cream, I couldn’t help but smile a little. “Well, I think it’s kind of sweet that he sort of elbowed Sean out of the way to make my sundae. That must mean that he really likes me as much as I like him…because clearly, he didn’t want to give Sean a chance to move in on me.”
“Yeah, clearly. That’s why once he was done making your sundae, I ripped a sheet of paper from a notepad on the island, and I gave it to Jake, and I was like, ‘Can you please go take this note out to Carol in the dining room for me?’ And he was like, ‘It’s blank.’ And I just stared him down, and I was just like, ‘It’s written in invisible ink.’ And then I just kept on staring him down until he finally grabbed the paper and went out to the dining room with it. That was when I arranged our double date with David and Sean.”
“You what?”
“You heard me. It’s all set for tomorrow afternoon. The four of us are going into Sweetwater to play mini golf.”
Dropping my spoon into my dish, I groaned. “Jen, I really don’t appreciate—”
“You’re welcome, but you really don’t need to thank me. See, when you said my name as your first word when you were a little baby, I knew that was all the thanks I’d ever need to help you do all sorts of different stuff in your life. At that moment, I remember thinking, ‘I’m really gonna help this sweet niece of mine someday. I’m gonna help fix her up on a date to go mini golfing with the boy of her dreams.’ I didn’t know Sean then, obviously, but—”
“But I want to go mini golfing with Paul. Not Sean. I mean…Jake. He’s the one I want to go mini golfing with.”
Disturbed and frustrated that I’d said Paul when I’d meant Jake yet again, I shoveled a big bite of ice cream in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else idiotic.
In response to what I’d said, Jen scoffed. “You really need to get your guys straight, but speaking of Paul, guess what he was doing when I came downstairs?”
To stop myself from asking what and seeming in any way interested in Paul, I ate another large bite of ice cream, trying to act as disinterested in the conversation as possible.
Jen continued anyway. “Paul was sitting at the dining room table with your dad, and they were both drinking whiskey.” When I said nothing, popping the cherry from my sundae in my mouth instead, Jen went on. “Yup. They were just sitting up to the table, just gettin’ sloshed on whiskey. Just like a couple of drunks.”
Finally, I responded. “You know my dad’s not even remotely a ‘drunk.’”
“Yeah. We don’t know that about Paul, though…and maybe that’s why I get a sketchy vibe from him. Maybe that’s what he’s hiding…the fact that he has a severe alcohol dependency problem.”
“Or, like many vampires, maybe he just enjoys a drink every now and again in social situations, since alcohol is the one ‘human’ thing that isn’t absolutely repulsive to vampires.” Irritated, I realized that I’d just defended Paul for whatever reason, and I began backtracking. “Or, you could be right. Maybe he does have a severe alcohol dependency problem. That would make sense with his name-calling earlier…maybe he was just going into withdrawal and decided to take it out on me. At any rate, I couldn’t care less.”
I went back to eating my ice cream, telling myself that the last thing I’d said to Jen was true. However, after a few bites, I couldn’t stop myself from asking her a question.
“So, were my dad and Paul just drinking silently, or were they talking? And, if they were talking, did you happen to overhear anything they were saying?”
With her jaw clenched, Jen dropped her spoon in her dish, then looked at me with her nostrils flaring. “We’re talking about the wrong guy, Chrissy. Sean is your date for tomorrow, remember?”
“Yeah, but he’s only my date because you set it up that way. If I’d had a choice, I would have chosen to go mini golfing with—”
“Don’t you dare say Paul again.”
Horrified, I realized that my mouth had been forming the letter P.
Suddenly extremely tired, I tried to deny it, just as much to myself as to Jen. “I was going to say Jake. That’s who I wanted to go mini golfing with. Jake. Not some guy who tried to make me feel like a complete nerd and a loser for liking books. Not some guy who implied that I’m a total slob or something just because I still happened to be in my work clothes, which just happened to be covered in ice cream.”
“Hey.” With some spark suddenly flickering in her eyes, Jen set her dish of ice cream aside, looking at me intently. “Will this be your very first date tomorrow?”
I said yes, and she clasped her hands together.
“Oh, this will be even more special than I thought, then. We’ll have to get you looking really fancy…I’ll do your hair in big, bouncy waves how you like, and maybe you can wear that new pink sundress you got last weekend. Maybe with your tan, wedge-heeled sandals? I’ll do your makeup, too; this’ll be really fun.”
I wasn’t too sure about that, but I agreed to let Jen do my hair and makeup, just because I didn’t want to have any kind of an argument about it. Seemingly satisfied, she soon fell silent while we finished our ice cream watching TV. When we were finished, she took our dishes and a sleepy Wanted out of my room so that I could brush my teeth and go to bed.
Despite being extremely tired, I couldn’t fall asleep right away that night. In fact, an hour rolled by before I was finally able to drift off. My sleep wasn�
��t exactly deep or pleasant, though. I kept having hazy, vaguely disturbing dreams, waking briefly between each one, although I couldn’t really remember what they were about.
I did, however, remember one dream I had around dawn. In it, I was outside in the front yard, looking up at dark, swirling storm clouds covering the sky. After a little while, the clouds kind of floated down to earth, enveloping me in a mist. Stumbling around, I tried to make my way back to the house, colliding with something or someone along the way. Struggling to focus while in this dream, I eventually realized that I’d collided with Paul, who was looking at me with his gray eyes just as dark as the storm clouds that were now swirling all around us. I awoke with a start, knowing that this was not the person I should have been dreaming about.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The following day, Saturday, I reported for work in the blueberry fields around nine in the morning. Not only was I going to be staffing the “pick-your-own” payment desk when customers arrived, but I was also going to be picking blueberries for use in the creamery’s famous homemade blueberry ice cream and blueberry pies. If there was enough surplus, one of the women working in the creamery that weekend also wanted to try her hand at making preserves to sell, so I knew I had my work cut out for me, especially since my Saturday shift was on the shorter side.
Keeping an eye on the payment desk, I picked blueberries rapidly and helped customers until about noon, when I decided to take a short break to have lunch. Having a seat on one of two folding chairs beneath a large umbrella at the payment desk, I pulled out a sandwich from a brown-bag lunch I’d brought; and very soon, I was kind of in my own little world, watching small groups of customers happily picking berries in the distance.
When Paul slid into the chair beside me, after having come up behind me, he startled me nearly to death.
“Tattletale. Tried to get me in trouble with your dad.”
Having to use every ounce of my mental strength not to throw my turkey sandwich at his face, I just looked at him for a moment, sure I was glaring. “Yes, I did ‘tattle’ on you…and I’ll do it again. This time, I’ll tell my dad that you called me a tattletale.”
“Or, you could not act like a five-year-old.”
In order not to throw my sandwich at Paul’s face, I now had to force myself to set it on the payment counter before looking at him again.
“Don’t you have somewhere on this farm you’re supposed to be? After all, I think you’re supposed to be training to become a Watcher, right? Or did you just come here to annoy everyone?”
“How old are you, anyway? No matter how you act, I know you can’t literally be five.”
Seemingly of its own volition, my hand began creeping up toward my sandwich. I really wanted to throw it at Paul’s face, which, to my extreme irritation, was just as maddeningly handsome as it had been the day before.
Apparently noticing the movement of my hand, Paul told me to go ahead and pick up my sandwich. “I don’t mind if you eat while we talk. I know you must get really hungry working out here in the fields.”
I realized that this was maybe the first non-jerky thing he’d ever said to me; however, when I responded, it was still with words spoken practically through gritted teeth.
“I’m not so much hungry right now as I am angry…and my hand seems to want to throw my sandwich right at your face.”
I expected Paul to come back with something rude and infuriating, maybe something how he wouldn’t expect anything less than sandwich-throwing from a five-year-old. However, he surprised me by simply shrugging, then getting up from his chair.
“I’ll go, then. I didn’t come over here to bother you; I just wanted to say hello.”
Immediately, he began striding away, and I called out for him to wait. I didn’t even know why. I’d called out to him before really even thinking about it. And now Paul had turned to look at me, and I had no idea what to say.
When I didn’t say anything after a long moment or two, he began turning to stride away again, but just then, I finally blurted something out.
“I’m nine, to be technical about it. I mean…I was born nine years ago, but I have some sort of a weird, fast-growing gene because my dad’s a vampire, and my maternal grandmother had some kind of supernatural powers. So, I got some sort of a weird gene. It’s made me mature physically and mentally in something like ‘double time’…so, really, for all practical purposes, I’m eighteen. My parents consider me to be eighteen, anyway, and I consider myself to be eighteen. I even have a driver’s license that says I am.”
With his expression unreadable, Paul just looked at me for a long moment, squinting against the sun. “Well, that’s about how old I guessed you were.” Pausing again, he developed a little twinkle in his eyes that I didn’t think was from the sun. “I didn’t really think you were five. Picking berries so quickly how you were doing while I was heading over here, you seemed far too coordinated to be a kindergartener.”
I couldn’t help but crack a little smile. Smiling a little himself, he began turning as if to leave again, but again, I called out for him to wait, still not even really knowing why.
“You can sit with me while I eat my lunch if you want to. I guess I don’t care as long as you don’t call me a bookworm again or anything.”
Paul looked at me with his smile getting even a bit bigger. “All right. Deal.”
Just then, I heard my name being called from somewhere not too far away. I turned to look in the direction the sound had come from and saw Jake coming up the dirt lane to the fields.
“Have you eaten yet?” In one hand, he held up an orange-and-white-striped cardboard boxed lunch from my favorite sandwich shop in Sweetwater. “Your dad sent me into town on an errand, so I figured I’d grab you some lunch just in case you didn’t have time to pack your own. Your dad said you love sandwiches from this place.”
Jake had reached me at the payment table by this point; however, I was prevented from answering him. This was because the sound of some kind of a strangled screech had caught our attention and made us both look up the dirt lane behind him, where Jen was running full-out with an orange-and-white-striped cardboard boxed lunch under one arm. Sean was trailing just behind her, not having to run nearly as hard as she was because he was so much taller.
Within seconds, Jen reached the payment table, where she slammed down the boxed lunch in front of me, panting, before fixing Jake with a look that could only be described as a “death glare.”
“What did I tell you, Jake? What were my exact words? I believe I said, ‘If you dare bring her lunch before Sean and I have the chance to, I will literally kill you with my bare hands.’”
Lifting his own hands, palms toward her, Jake said he didn’t want any trouble.
Pulling out one of her silver hoop earrings and slamming it on the payment table, Jen snorted. “Well, then, maybe you should’ve listened to me, bro.”
Taking a few steps back, Jake said he didn’t mean to make her mad. “I just thought that if I beat you guys here, it’d be okay, because the most important thing was that Chrissy got some lunch on time, right? Remember how I even said that when I ran into you guys in the sandwich shop? I said, ‘It probably doesn’t even matter who gets lunch to Chrissy first, because the most important thing is just that she gets some food and doesn’t have to go hungry for long. Doesn’t matter who brings it to her.’”
Glaring at Jake, Jen slammed her other earring down on the payment table. “I remember that. But then I remember grabbing you by the scruff of your shirt collar and threatening you with murder if you even dared to bring Chrissy lunch before Sean and I could get ours to her. Do you remember that?”
Standing up from the table, I asked for everyone to just please calm down, with “everyone” really meaning Jen. “I think if we can all just take a deep breath—”
“You ready, bro?” Jen had raised her fists to Jake and was now kind of dancing on the balls of her feet, like a boxer. “Just let me know whenever you’r
e ready for me.”
Beside her, Sean spoke in a low voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “Jen, he’s a vampire. He could probably kill you with just one really good punch.”
Jen shook her head. “Not if I knock his ass out first.”
“Okay.” Putting an arm around Jen’s shoulders, I began trying to pull her over to sit in a chair. “I think this has gone far enough.”
Looking more than a bit alarmed, David had arrived on the scene, and he now echoed my sentiments, asking Jen to please just have a seat. “You can’t eat the gummy bears I bought you if you’re fighting, you know.” Offering her a tentative sort of smile, he held out a package of gummy bears to her. “I’ve heard that eating the clear ones can be calming. Remember how you told me that? ‘Clear gummy bears soothe the soul,’ I think you said. ‘Eighty-four percent of scientists have proven that to be a hundred and fourteen percent true.’ Remember that?”
Lowering her fists, Jen cracked a tiny smile, then took the package of gummy bears, ripped it open, and had a seat. “I guess I’ll have a few.”
Clearly relieved, David gave her a smile. Relieved myself, I had a seat beside her, giving Jake what I hoped was an apologetic sort of smile. He gave me a little smile back, with an expression that I could tell he meant to be comforting. Standing between David and Jake, Sean just stared off into the blueberry fields, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up a little higher on his nose.
Not really knowing what else to do, I began opening one of the boxed lunches. “Thank you, all parties involved, for bringing me lunch.”
Popping a handful of clear gummy bears into her mouth, Jen glanced over at me. “You’re welcome. The one you’re opening was from me and Sean, and really, specifically Sean. We got you chicken teriyaki on wheat, with lettuce, bell pepper, and just a couple of pickles, just how you like it.”
