I waited for Tabitha just long enough to know that I was going to be late to homeroom if I didn’t get going. The hallways were jam packed with primping socialites, flexing jocks and acne-faced freshmen making a slow walking obstacle course. When I arrived breathlessly at homeroom, I saw Tabitha had beaten me to class. She was always doing that…disappearing and reappearing without a sound and never out of breath. When I shot her a questioning look, she shook it off and mouthed ‘I’ll tell you later’ over her shoulder.
Tabitha had been mysterious since the day we met. Always looking over her shoulder and running after imaginary people. At least I thought they were imaginary because I could never see their faces. And, since I had been experiencing some of the same things, I was starting to wonder. At lunch, we made plans to head to my house after school. Tabitha said that she had something to talk to me about that was too important to do here. Patience was not one of my virtues, so I was anxious for the rest of the day.
As seniors we were able to pick our own schedules, so Tabitha and I had all but one class together. She loved math and I was a history buff, so, while she was taking an extra Calculus course, I was in an European AP History class. During History, I noticed a new student sitting near the far wall. I knew he was new because everyone else in this class had been in middle school with me. Small towns make newcomers stick out.
He was tall and lanky, but not too anorexic looking and his hair was a shocking patch of white sprouting out of his head. His skin reminded me of a caramel mochachino, which contrasted his sea green eyes. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional way, but I could see why some girls would think he was attractive. He was looking out the window before he glanced in my direction and caught me staring.
I knew I should have looked away, but continued to hold his gaze with the same questioning intensity that he sent at me. An instant curiosity came over me, a feeling of deja' vu, and I wondered why he seemed familiar to me. Like I knew him from somewhere. The summer had been dull and boring and I would have remembered meeting him. Yet, somehow, I was certain that he knew me.
The bell rang, causing me to jumped and break my eye contact with the stranger. Shaking off the residual feeling of déjà vu, I gathered all of my belongings and headed out of the classroom. Athletic P.E. was my last class of the day and I was excited to get my competitive year underway. Running was not only my passion but a way to help me sort through my issues. For years I had been experiencing intense feelings towards the Earth and her elements. Even though I had been diagnosed with Asthma as a toddler, I was always able to get as much air as I needed. The doctors had been dumbfounded. I had simply been grateful that I could breathe.
I met up with Tabitha and a few other girls in the locker room where we changed, exchanged summer gossip and generally caught up with each other. Making our way down to the practice track with all of the other athletes, we walked past a group of coaches who were talking about their upcoming schedules.
Our coach left the group and joined us for the rest of the walk. She was an athletic woman who had run cross country in high school and college. Her knowledge of the sport and her ability to perform every exercise or workout that she created for us made it easy to respect her. All of the boys stumbled over themselves to get her attention, but she never paid them any mind.
On the field, about thirty people formed a circle to stretch. I looked around at all of the people who wouldn’t make it past the first week of practices and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Tabitha asked.
“The cocky freshmen and out of shape upper class-men. We go through this every year. Coach is gonna have them throwing up within 5 minutes”, I said.
Every year was the same. Coach would send home an interest packet with recommended diet and exercise plans for the summer so that we would be ready to go on day one. She wasn’t much for patience or excuses, so we all had to be on the ball. And, like every other year, the newbies and out-of-shapers fell like dominoes. It was classic. So, with exercise plans in hand, Tabitha and I had started to run during the summer; the day after we met. It was amazing just how much faster she was than me, but I just chalked it up to her having less weight to carry.
After the three mile workout in the hot desert sun, I was ready for a shower and some food. The locker room was packed with girls from all of the fall sports teams so it was work finding an available shower-head to use, but I was able to get in and out without too much trouble. I didn’t bother looking for Tabitha because she always finished the workouts before me and was undoubtedly in her car with the air conditioning cranked. I passed through the parking lot, waving at classmates as I went, climbed into my Jeep and headed off campus.
I knew that my mom was working a double shift and wouldn’t be home until after midnight, so I drove straight to the house to do my chores. The streets were filled with kids playing around while walking home from school, so my music was high but my speed was low. Leaning on the stop sign at the end of my street was the boy from my History class. I came to a complete stop to prevent hitting one of the kids crossing the street and glanced over at him. He returned my gaze and it unnerved me. He wasn't new to the neighborhood, I realized, not having seen any moving vans recently. The car behind me honked and I turned onto my street.
On autopilot, as always, I pulled up to the curbside mailboxes to get the mail and continued into the garage. I shuffled through the mail while I made sure the garage door closed all of the way and then went into the house. I started to set the mail down on the counter when I noticed a letter with my name on it. It was odd because I never received any mail except from the Department of Child Services concerning me aging out of the system. Flipping the envelope over revealed the return address was Las Vegas, Nevada. I didn’t know anyone from Nevada. I didn’t actually know anyone from anywhere.
I was put into foster care when I was two years old and had been with my foster mother since I was thirteen. I didn’t know if I had any biological siblings, aunts or uncles. As far as I knew, aside from my foster mother, I was alone in the world. So, getting a hand written letter from Las Vegas was a strange thing for me.
I set the other mail on the counter, my purse and computer bag on a bar stool and opened the letter. The envelope was made out of soft linen paper with a black inner lining. Inside I found a folded piece of paper with exquisite hand writing.
‘Cheyenne, I know that you have questions about your family and where you came from. I know that you have felt out of place and abandoned. I am sorry that I wasn’t able to be there for you, but I am here now. Enclosed is a ticket to Las Vegas. Please come as soon as possible. Love, Mom.’
I read the letter over and over. In the envelope was a one-way plane ticket to Las Vegas.
I sat on a bar stool and read the letter for the fourth time. My mom was sending for me. Or, someone saying they were my mom. This was too strange to be happening. I looked at the ticket and saw the date was the next day. My mother wanted me in Las Vegas quickly. I was reading the letter again when my doorbell rang and I nearly fell off of the stool.
Tabitha had arrived for our afternoon ritual but something about her presence today seemed ominous. She had been frazzled and distracted all day long. And Tabitha never ran as far ahead of me as she did that day in practice. Something was definitely up but I had bigger fish to fry.
“Tab, you will never guess what I got in the mail today,” I was almost jumping up and down as I held the door wide to let her in.
The sound of laughter from the neighborhood kids drew my attention to the grassy area at the end of the cul-de-sac. Amongst the children playing soccer and wrestling was the boy from my History class and he was staring right at me.
“Hey, did you meet the new guy?” I asked Tabitha, gesturing to where he was standing.
Tabitha looked over her shoulder at the boy and let out a curse under her breath. At the same moment, the boy inclined his head in her direction in acknowledgment of her gaze. She immediately stepped over t
he threshold and closed the door. Once behind the closed door, Tabitha began to shake. It wasn’t obvious, at first, but she was always so calm that it wasn’t long before I saw it. My years in foster homes had taught me that when rational and calm people get nervous there is always a good reason.
“You haven’t talked to him, have you?”
“No. He’s in my History class, though. Why, Tab? What’s up?”
“Nothing”, she lied, shaking her head slightly.
I could see a shadow cross over her face like a sea of emotions. I had always heard of panic being contagious, like when you scream ‘fire’ into a crowd, but this feeling went to my core. Something was going on but it couldn’t outshine the news that I had.
I followed Tabitha into the seldom used living room and sat down. It didn’t escape me that she placed herself so that she could clearly see the boy standing across the street.
“So,” I began, “I got a letter from my mom.”
“Your mom is always leaving you notes,” Tabitha said, absently.
“Not Mom, Tab. My bio-mom. She sent me a plane ticket to Vegas.”
I waved the letter and the ticket in her face until she turned away from the window. Looking as if she had seen a ghost as she grabbed for my waving hand and snatched the items out of it. I watched as she read the letter and examined the ticket. Her body was stiff with what looked like rage as she stuffed the items into her purse and rose to leave, never completely taking her eyes off of the boy outside.
“Hey…’” I started, reaching for my letter and the ticket.
Tabitha put her hand up to silence me. I was not one for the talk-to-the-hand gesture, but she was my best friend so I gave her a pass. She had pulled out her phone and was waiting for the ringing to stop. She cursed under her breath when it apparently went to voice-mail and then turned to me.
“Look, Cheyenne, I know you think this is a good thing…that your bio-mom has finally come for you, but you have a great mom here. Why would you want to leave that?”
I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach because it had never crossed my mind that going to Vegas was leaving my mom. Guilt weighed me down and I sank to the floor beside the sofa. She had been the last in a long line of foster parents. My social worker had all but given up on me because my age and behavioral history made me very near unplaceable. My mom took me in despite my colorful past and the many strange accounts from other foster families; literally saving me from the system and I was forever grateful. I couldn’t just leave my mom. What in the world was I thinking?
I sat there for a long time watching Tabitha and the boy outside watch each other. It felt strange to me because it was so familiar, as if the two of them had always done just that; watched each other. Both Tabitha and I jumped when her phone rang and she spun to answer it, walking just out of my earshot. There was muffled hurried speech and then a mumbled curse before Tabitha came back into the room.
“I have to get going,” she said, with one of her brilliant smiles on her face. I had spent the last three months with that smile and never once had it not reached her eyes. That time, however, her smile was just an attempt to appease me and I wasn’t buying it.
“I thought we were doing homework.”
“Come on, Cheyenne. You are smart as a whip, you don’t need me. Besides, who has homework on the first day of school?”
And with that, she walked out the door, jumped into her sleek black Mustang and drove off. I noticed that the white-haired boy was nowhere to be found and decided that he was one of her many admirers. She had tons of them. Ever since she arrived, boys that had never given me the time of day were asking me to parties and letting me bring a plus-1. It didn’t bother me since none of these boys were my type and Tabitha didn’t seem impressed either. It was fun to see them stumble all over themselves in order to get close to her.
Since my mom wouldn’t be home until late and I didn’t, in fact, have any homework, I turned on the TV and got something to eat. The funny thing about the brain is that there is never anything interesting on TV when you have a lot of things on your mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong or that something was on the verge of happening. You know how people from California say that the weather gets strange right before an earthquake? They call it earthquake weather. Well, I felt like my world was about to shake in a very major way.
I had several questions running through my head. One of them was why didn’t I just wrestle the ticket out of Tabitha’s hand? I am taller and weigh more than her, but I somehow knew that those facts didn’t equate to being stronger and faster. The second was why in the world would someone say they were my mother and send me a ticket? Or, worse yet, what if it really was my mother? What could she possibly want after all of these years? I knew that I wouldn’t get any answers tonight and resigned myself to talking to my mom the next day after school.
It was Thursday night, why school started on a Thursday was anyone’s guess, and my mom had most weekends off which made Friday the perfect time to talk to her. Besides, I would turn 18 in three months and I would be getting my bio-mom’s information then, anyway.
Hours later I found myself asleep on the sofa with the TV tuned to Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. I was hesitant to click it off because he was in the middle of one of those musical skits with Justin Timberlake, but I knew I needed to get to bed. As soon as the sound went off I heard hushed talking from the side yard. I walked closer to the window to see who was out there when I heard my mom’s voice. That was strange that she was outside at this time of night. Usually she came straight in and got ready for bed due to her tight schedule. She had incurred a lot of bills over the years and, even though I knew that her financial situation hadn’t been directly my fault, I still felt guilty about it.
I leaned forward until my ear was pressing against the window. I felt like such a child by eavesdropping on my mom, but curiosity got the best of me. I stood as still as possible and held my breath as I heard my mother’s voice.
“Listen, I have done what you have told me. I have kept her safe and out of trouble until her 18th birthday. It’s not my fault that this blond chick is messing up your plans. How was I to know who she was?”
“Ms. Redding,” said a smooth voice. “We have no intentions of going back on our word. We simply need you to keep Cheyenne away from Tabitha for the next three months. Once Lord Oleander arrives, we will take it from there.”
“Well, how am I going to keep her from her best friend?”
“You will figure it out or you simply will not get paid.”
“Oh, I’ll do it alright. I spent the last 5 years earning that money.”
“And, remember, you must not interfere when we come to take her. That is the agreement.”
“Oh, I won’t. Just tell your ‘lord’ that I want my money!”
I knew that I was hearing my mom’s voice but I had never heard this much venom in it. My mother had taken me in for profit? This must be a mistake. I would just go outside and ask what was going on. She was probably auditioning for a play or something, even though she had never acted a day in her life. I started to open the side door that was next to the window when I saw the face of the person with the smooth voice and I froze. I was staring at the profile of the boy with the white hair from my History class. I ducked out of sight right before he turned in my direction and prayed that he didn’t see me.
After a few moments and more talk about when and where my mother was suppose to deliver me and how she was going to collect her money, the white-haired boy walked off. My mother turned toward the window at that time and I jumped back, not wanting her to see me, then ran up to my room before she came into the house. I climbed onto my bed and pretended to be asleep. Like clockwork, she opened the door to check on me. This was a nightly ritual that I had always thought was a display of love and concern. The fact that her concern for my well-being was attached to a dollar amount made me sick. She stood in the doorway for a few moments before clos
ing it and walking away.
Anger, fear and sadness overwhelmed me. When my adoptive mom agreed to take me in 5 years ago, I thought that I had finally found someone to love me. She had read all about my problems with my other foster families and didn’t even blink. But, in the end, she had just wanted money. It wasn't love that made her look past all of my faults and mishaps. My first foster family was a middle class family from Atlanta and I was their pride and joy. They would dress me up in the cutest little dresses and parade me around their church as if I was a prize they had won.
One day during Sunday school, the Pastor’s granddaughter pushed me down and got my dress dirty. When I started to cry, she started to laugh. The more I cried the more she laughed. It was horrible. As I stood there with clenched fists, crying over my dirty dress, I tried to catch my breath. Her laughter quieted with each breath I took. After a few deep breaths, her laughter was silenced and she lay at my feet fighting for air. By the time the Pastor’s wife found us, the little girl was gasping for breath and I was smiling over her prone body. The younger members of the congregation were terrified and my foster parents were scandalized. Needless to say, I was returned to the orphanage the next day.
For the next several years I had tried to control my anger in order to stay in my foster homes. And time after time I failed. My first foster parents thought I was possessed by the devil. The rest of them simply thought I was too much trouble for the pay. For 9 years I was shuffled from home to home feeling like a living, breathing version of Carrie and the fire-starter. The entire time I was only trying to find someone to love me. But, after 5 years in the Redding home, I was faced with another rejection; a true betrayal.
My plan was to wait until my mom got into the shower before I got off the bed. I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to fight back the tears that were inevitable. When my vision began to blur I had to admit that I was losing the battle and my world began to spiral before me. Closing my eyes to keep from throwing up I was well on my way to calming down when a hand covered my mouth. Futility I screamed only to have the sound muffled and the hand clamp down harder. I struggled against the weight that was holding me down and tried to get a look at my assailant.
Blood Descendants (St. Clair Vampires Book 1) Page 2
