Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance

by Larranaga, James Michael

“Tell you what; I have plenty of these to read,” she says, shuffling the stack of papers. “I’ll give you to the end of the month to hand it in.”

  “Cool, thanks—”

  “Make sure you write about your transformation, too, at least as much as you’re comfortable sharing. That’s reason enough to give you more time. Make sense?”

  “Yeah, totally.”

  There’s laughter from a group of students entering the classroom. They’re full of energy, and I sensed them walking toward the classroom even while I was talking with Ms. Andreesen. Without turning around, I already know it’s three guys and two girls. It’s not the sound of their voices, but their pheromones that waft into my nose and make my mouth water. Some of this will go into my memoir, but some of it I’ll have to edit out. It’s just too weird for Normals to understand.

  Shelby arrives and sits at a desk next to mine.

  “How was Vampire Club?”

  “I think I made a few more friends today.”

  Wednesday, October 22

  This morning I ran three miles and only walked twice. Of course, that was right when I saw Mr. Striefland jogging, so he probably thinks I’m a total lazy ass. After my conversation with Ms. Andreesen on Monday I started hyper-focusing on my schoolwork, and I’ve been compiling my notes and thoughts about the first few weeks of school.

  Mom is still on the good side of her disease. The blood Jack gave her that boosted her energy is only a temporary fix, but I hold onto hope for some kind of miracle.

  The Blood Orange Soda goes down easier now, and I hardly notice the bitter aftertaste. I’m finishing my evening bottle, sitting on the floor of my room, typing my memoir notes while I wait for Shelby to arrive. She’s taking me to Jack’s tonight so I can work out with him in his dojo.

  I’m remembering how nervous I was about school last summer, and how now those fears seem totally justified; I was a wimp when I walked the halls back in September. No wonder Bao zeroed in on me. Now that I’m off the Reds and my veins are flowing with Soda, I feel different. I’m changing, and I can feel it happening. I’m better and better.

  The one bad thing about doing homework on a laptop is the temptation to surf Facebook, Twitter and RenRen. I’m constantly multi-tasking tonight, typing my paper while watching to see who’s online and what they’re adding to their updates. Checking my messages, I notice Weezer has sent me links to indie bands he likes. And there’s no reply from Jonathan. I hop over to Jonathan’s page to see if he’s made any updates and there’s nothing new since his post a month ago, when he was at one of his son’s football games. I search deeper into his timeline and realize that he doesn’t post updates very often. He’s like my mom; she posts new photos and updates once a month, or sometimes every other month, but I know she surfs Facebook and creeps on Kira and my pages all the time. Does Jonathan surf Facebook, or is he only on it when he makes updates? Maybe I should pick up the old phone and call Jonathan or text him. He doesn’t list a phone number on his page, but he lists his employer as the Chicago Tribune. My mom has mentioned he’s a writer and I search the Tribune site for his byline on any stories.

  Kira comes waltzing down the stairs and I quickly minimize the screen.

  “Your girlfriend is here,” she says.

  I notice she’s wearing makeup. “What’s on your lips?”

  “Lip gloss.”

  “Why? What are you doing up there?”

  “I got it from Shelby. Darius, you wear more makeup than I do!” Kira says, as Shelby enters the basement behind her.

  “Her lips were dry. Every girl needs a little gloss,” Shelby says.

  These two get along pretty well, maybe too well. Kira wishes she had an older sister like her. I get up off the floor, my legs stiff from my morning run.

  “Doesn’t she look pretty?” Shelby asks.

  “Yes, Kira, you look like you’re in high school.”

  “Furreal?” she says, blinking her eyes.

  “You’ll make Mom very nervous when she gets home,” I say. “You should run upstairs and finish your homework. Shelby and I are going to Jack’s for a couple of hours.”

  “See you later, Shelby.” Kira waves before running upstairs. “I really like her, Darius!”

  Shelby pulls me close and we kiss for the second time. It’s electric to have her wrapped in my arms, the smell of her hair, and perfume along her neck. The Blood Orange Soda fizzing under my skin, flowing through my veins. It’s like my blood is super-charged when we touch. Opening my eyes from the kiss, I see Shelby studying my face, my hair and my healed eye.

  “Should we hang out here for a while?” she asks.

  My alarm clock on the milk crate next to my bed shows it’s 8:30 and it will take us at least an hour to get to Jack’s, so we won’t be too early. But I don’t want to show up late, either.

  “We’d better go,” I say.

  She holds me tighter, her arms wrapped around my waist, her thumbs in the belt loops along my back. “Kiss me again,” she says.

  I kiss her lips and nuzzle along her ears. She sways as if we’re slow dancing. Her mouth slides along my cheek and jaw, down toward my neck, and I feel her lips on my artery. This is dangerously close to the bite zone, and I come up for air.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Shelby opens her eyes.

  Sweat slides down my lower back. “We can’t do that.”

  “We can’t kiss?”

  “No, we can kiss, we just can’t get that close to the neckline.”

  “Feels good, though,” she says.

  “Feels amazing, but we’re not ready. It’s —”

  “Too soon, I know,” Shelby says in frustration.

  I’m thirsty now, and it’s not an ordinary dry mouth, but a total thirst-quenching craving. Where’s my Soda? I need one, except I don’t want Shelby to know that I’m on the liquid diet to Vampirism.

  “Let’s go to Jack’s, and we’ll stop at Starbucks on the way. I need an iced coffee,” I say.

  I grab a towel off the back of the chair and dry my sweaty forehead. I’m reaching for my jacket on the bed when Shelby stands in front of me seductively.

  “How did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “How were you able to resist me?” she asks, with irritation in her voice.

  This is the first time I’ve been with Shelby when she’s pissed. I look over at my mini-fridge, my mouth watering, wanting to drink somebody’s blood to ease my cravings for Shelby’s. What I’m experiencing is both pleasure and torture. This time I succeeded in my resistance, but as she progresses in her transformation, something tells me this will get a lot more difficult.

  We arrive at Jack’s, and I’m in a much better mood. Shelby sips a hot chai while I’m nursing a caffeine buzz, which is probably safer than the “love buzz” I was feeling with her in my room. Jack answers his door dressed in tapered black sweat pants and a tight, red North Face T-shirt. He looks at my date.

  “You must be Shelby,” he says, hugging her at the doorway.

  “And you’re Jack?”

  “You expecting somebody older or softer?” Jack asks.

  “Ah, yeah, I guess so,” she says. “Sorry!”

  Jack turns to me. “Thanks for nothing!”

  “What? I never said a thing about you,” I say.

  “Exactly,” he says. “You’re supposed to brag about your uncle. Come in, please, before you let a stray cat in through the door.”

  “Jack’s afraid of cats,” I whisper to Shelby.

  He closes the rail doors carefully. “Not all cats are cats.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Shelby says.

  “Some are shape-shifters,” Jack says. “And those cats are my former lovers.”

  Shelby is amused. “Furreal?”

  “He’s serious,” I say to her. “It’s his only phobia.”

  “It’s not a phobia. Some of my former lovers are shape-shifter cats who come crying in the night.” Jack walks across the loft to the kitchen.
“And the others are real cats, which I can’t stand either. If you’re a cat lover, I apologize.”

  “I’m more of a dog person,” Shelby says, as we walk together hand in hand to the kitchen.

  “You’re also a people person,” Jack says. “You like my nephew.”

  “I do,” she says, with a bashful nod toward me.

  “You like him a lot.”

  “Oh, come on,” I say. “Let’s not embarrass her, Jack.”

  He opens the fridge, searching for something. “You’re both crazy in love. I can taste it in the air. More coffee or chai?”

  “Not for me, thanks,” Shelby says.

  “I’m good. I’ve had too much caffeine already,” I say.

  “Just remember,” Jack says, staring at Shelby as he opens a bottle of spring water. “Almost any boy can get a girl pregnant. Biting before you’re eighteen is a more serious thing.”

  It’s a warning—a bit uncomfortable and unexpected, the way Jack has laid it all out for Shelby and me. He’s reminding us that the Department of Health is cracking down on biting before the age of eighteen.

  “I understand,” she says. “I won’t let him bite me.”

  “I think Darius will be able contain himself,” Jack says. “How will he protect himself from your bite? Hmmm? We’ll see about that.”

  If Jack only knew what happened before we got here!

  “I won’t bite you,” she says to me with a subtle wink.

  Jack shakes his head. “If I had a dollar for every time a woman said that to me, I’d be rich. Oh, wait, I am rich…see what I mean?”

  We’re upstairs in the dojo on the mats. Shelby sits in a leather chair, watching us while texting her friends. It’s only been a few days since my first workout with Jack, so I’m uneasy about how to spar and fight with him. We’re both standing and stretching, our hands wrapped in athletic tape, and I know Jack is measuring me, based on his questions.

  “You’ve doubled your dose of Soda, right?” Jack whispers low enough that Shelby can’t hear him.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you burn off the buzz by running?”

  “Yeah, every morning.”

  “How far are you running?”

  “Three miles.” I’m whispering too. “The buzz wears off after the first mile but I keep running. I kind of like how it clears my head before school.”

  “Great, the farther you can run, the more your blood is pumping,” Jack says, flexing his arms over his head. “Your body will transform faster. Any other changes?”

  “I feel more confident, colors are richer and I can taste almost everything around me.”

  Jack stands in front of me. “You’re taller. Let me see your teeth.”

  I open my mouth and he rubs his thumb along my eye teeth. “These will grow soon, and people will know about your transformation.” He pulls two mouth guards out of his pocket and hands one to me. “Let’s fight.”

  We’re standing toe to toe, both of us bouncing off the mat to stay loose. He stares, making me nervous.

  “Shelby, time us,” Jack says, muffled through his mouth guard. “We’ll fight for three minutes, and then tell us when time is up.”

  “Okay, ready…go.”

  Jack shoves me with both hands, hitting my chest. I stumble backward but I don’t fall and I move to my left, circling around him. Jack turns and follows my movements with only his head.

  “What are you doing?” he asks me.

  Stopping, I lower my hands, and once my guard is down, Jack lunges at me and tackles me to the mat.

  “Hey! What the hell?!” I protest, with him on top of me.

  “This is a fight. I broke your concentration by fooling you into thinking you’d done something wrong. In a street fight, there are no rules. Get up.”

  He’s too heavy, and he’s got both my arms pinned to my side. “I can’t!”

  “Yes, you can. Your heart is racing. I see it pumping in your neck. Blood is flowing to your brain, so use your brain,” Jack says. “Think about your next move.”

  Lifting my legs up toward his body, I attempt to strangle him, or at least pull him back.

  “Nice try, and if I weren’t so high up on your chest, that might work.”

  I’m flailing and swinging my legs up and down, still trying to reach his head. It’s all I can do other than lie there. I feel like a fool as Shelby watches me struggle.

  “Look up at that beam on the ceiling. Last time you were here, you touched it.”

  The wood beam seems too far away. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?” Jack challenges me. “Close your eyes and see yourself leaping from your position on the mat, to hanging from that beam.”

  Closing my eyes, I imagine myself doing that, and it suddenly makes perfect sense. I see my legs rise up and then slam on the mat with such force that my upper body lifts from the mat as Jack tumbles away. When I open my eyes I’m in the air, flying to the beam, which I grab with both hands and swing as if I’m on the monkey bars on the playground.

  “Wow!” Shelby says. “You flew!”

  “Of course he flew,” Jack says. “Bats are the only mammals that fly.”

  Looking down at him, he stares up at me.

  “You had it in you, Darius. Your mind is your best tool in a fight. Never let him break your concentration or fill your head with garbage. Empty your mind. How is the view up there?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt for you to dust this place,” I say to him. “And my arms are tired. Other than that, the view is great. I’m on top of the world!”

  “How much time is left in this round?” Jack asks Shelby.

  “One minute,” she says, showing him her phone.

  “Hang on for one minute,” Jack says.

  “Seriously? My arms are burning,” I protest. “I doubt I can hold on for a full minute.”

  “You can and you will. Clear your mind. Sway gently, like a willow branch.”

  I close my eyes and visualize myself as a thin, wispy willow branch, swaying in an autumn breeze. I feel lighter, and the burning in my arms and hands fades. I hear Jack talking to Shelby, but I’m so deep into my meditation I can’t understand what they’re saying, and I really don’t care. I’m in a happy place that I’ve created, and it’s so pleasant up here.

  The next thing I realize I’m on the mat again, crumpled into a ball.

  “Darius?” Jack asks. He’s kneeling next to me with Shelby, who’s holding a water bottle.

  “What happened?” I ask, sitting up.

  “You were up there, hanging for a good five minutes,” Jack says.

  “You were completely calm,” Shelby says.

  “And then you lost your concentration and dropped like a rock,” Jack says. “But that’s what the mats are for.”

  Shelby hands me a bottle of water and I quench my thirst. “Did I fall asleep up there?”

  “You were in a semi-torpid state, kind of like hibernation. You were able to calm yourself and slow your heartbeat. And then you were so relaxed you let go. We need to work on that.”

  “What next?” I stand up and roll my shoulders, sore but with no major injuries.

  “You just fell from a beam ten feet off the ground. You’re done for today,” Jack says.

  “I’m fine,” I say, bouncing up and down.

  “He’s right, Darius,” Shelby says. “Your flight from the mat to the ceiling was awesome, and you hung there for five minutes before falling. You might need to rest.”

  Maybe it’s the caffeine mixing with the Blood Orange Soda. I’m feeling strong and invincible tonight. “I’m ready for round two, Jack.”

  He nods. “One more exercise. Shelby, come with me.”

  They walk across the dojo and Jack crouches. “Sit on my shoulders.”

  “No WAY!” she says.

  “I won’t drop you, I promise.”

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “You can’t weigh more than 120 pounds. Get on my shoulders.”
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  She climbs on and he stands easily.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I ask.

  Jack backs away from the center beam where I hung moments earlier. “We have enough headroom here. Jump over Shelby and me. Make sure you do a handspring first.”

  I haven’t done a handspring since I was a little kid on the playground, and even then I wasn’t very good at them. I’m so pumped up and excited I run without giving it much thought and I plant my taped hands on the mat and spring upwards, rocketing past Jack and up over Shelby’s head. Then, I descend again and land softly, like a cat jumping off a couch.

  “Amazing again!” Shelby says, clapping from up high.

  Jack lowers her to the mat and I step in for a warm kiss. We embrace and hug, both of our hearts beating wildly in our chests.

  “That’s enough for today,” Jack says.

  We ignore him and kiss again until he pulls us apart.

  “Shelby, Darius needs a breather. And he’ll be up early tomorrow, training. How about you go warm up the car while he and I talk for a few minutes?”

  “Sure, I’ll wait for you in the car, Darius,” she says. “Nice meeting you, Jack. I don’t know what you’ve been doing to this boy to prepare for this fight but whatever it is, it’s working.”

  “Have a good night,” Jack says, as we watch her running down the spiral staircase.

  “Your training is coming along fine,” he says to me.

  “Thanks, I feel awesome. You saw how I cleared her so easily,” I say with excitement. “You leap and jump, both good self-defense moves,” Jack says, “but you’ve got to work on your concentration. And you need to work on your punches and jabs. That’s the offense stuff.”

  “I’ll come back and we’ll work on it.”

  “When you run, I want you to jab and punch like this,” he says, throwing a series of three punches. “Tap, tap, tap. Jab, jab, punch. Got it?”

  “Yeah, got it.”

  “And one more thing: I want you up to three doses of Soda per day.”

  “Three? When would I get in the third dose?”

  “At lunchtime, with a meal,” Jack says.

  “I eat lunch at school,” I remind him. “I’ll have a buzz for my afternoon classes.”