by Jaime Reed
“I feel you,” he whispered. The double meaning made me laugh out loud, as did the next topic of discussion.
“So ...” Caleb drawled, trying to sound sultry, but coming off extremely sleazy instead. “What are you wearing?”
4
Lunchtime: where social lines were clearly marked in the sand and where group status hung in the balance of the faintest whisper.
Legends were born, hearts were broken, and the weak were herded to the slaughter in front of a live studio audience. Here lay the watering hole for all members of the food chain and hunting ground for predators. And I was the deadliest of them all.
Just a taste. That was the Cambion policy, our credo. Just take enough to appease the spirit, then move on. It sounded simple enough, but sometimes taking a little was worse than taking none at all.
I inhaled the boundless life that hummed in the air and consumed the electricity just under their skin. I could see their energy if I squinted my eyes—a turbulent haze or sweltering heat on the horizon line. This was my daily vitamin and Lilith’s food supply.
Energy in assorted temperaments mingled in large gatherings like these, serving up a convenient buffet platter of human life force. Each sip of energy, no matter how small, gave me joy and replenished my starving psyche, a free-for-all without guilt. Though strictly for dietary purposes, I still felt weird about feeding from anyone who wasn’t Caleb. I didn’t want a stockpile of memories of another guy in my head. It was too intimate, too personal, so direct contact was for emergencies only.
I sat at the far end of the cafeteria with the leftovers their peers chewed up and spat back out. These discarded table scraps assembled into a patchwork of loners, from bookworms to goths, to that one weird kid who never bathed and talked to himself. My allure didn’t work on the willful and chaste, which revealed more about my lunchmates than I’d really wanted to know.
What no one realized was that they were the nicest people in the entire school. Unfortunately, this was a dead zone for anyone who was part of a preexisting clique, but it was an excellent place for those like myself who wanted to stay under the radar. Not even Malik had the nerve to come over, but he watched me from the east wing of the cafeteria, licking his chops.
Trying my best to ignore him, I dove into my writing assignment headfirst. Papers and folders spread across the rectangular table, sorted by priority, subject, and difficulty. Between Caleb and work, I had to squeeze every moment to keep up with classes. I had to write a poem for English, which now seemed to be an effortless task. No doubt Nadine’s lingering influence had something to do with it, because much like her prose, mine was now leaning toward the dark and dismal.
While I was trying to find a word that rhymed with “fester,” a voice whispered my name. “Hey, Sam.”
I lifted my head in time to see Mia sitting next to me, wearing a hoodie and shades over her eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I should ask you the same question.” She nudged her chin toward my lunchmates.
“Unlike you, this is my lunch period and I want to keep a low profile. How did you get out of class?”
She waved her hall pass in front of my face. “I needed to go to the nurse—woman problems and all that.”
“That’s like the fifth excuse this month. People will think you’re pregnant.”
“Whatever. Actually, I’m here on business. I was supposed to meet Jason at twelve-forty-five on the dot.” Mia examined her watch.
I leaned away from her, just in case crazy was contagious. “Am I about to witness some shady drug deal?”
She crouched lower in her seat. “No, but I gotta keep it on the DL. Dougie’s in this lunch and I don’t want him to see me.”
I glanced sideways at her. “Uh-huh.”
Even though I’d seen it a mile away, it had still come as a shock when it arrived. Mia and Dougie’s breakup had hit our trio hard, leaving me in a messy custody battle for friendship. I refused to take a side. I only had a small handful of true friends, and I was surgically attached to all of them, including Dougie.
Scanning the cafeteria again, Mia leaned in and whispered, “Don’t look, but Malik Davis is checking you out.”
“Good for him.” I sniggered, not bothering to lift my head from my notebook.
I didn’t need to. His heated glare was burning a hole in my neck. I did wonder how his pictures would turn out, but I would have to wait another month until they came back from the studio.
What happened on Picture Day stayed close to my mind, but not enough to exchange words or follow him around. He did plenty of that for the both of us; it was kind of his thing. Okay, I may or may not have taken pictures of him with my camera phone when he wasn’t looking, but all the images turned out fine. Until further evidence came to light, the case of the skeletor mug shot remained unsolved, and Malik still held the title of douche bag of the year.
“Man, he is straight up on your six,” she exclaimed, indicating his position clockwise. “The guy looks hungry, and not for what’s on his tray. I don’t know, Sam. He’s pretty hot and has a shiny new truck,” Mia teased.
“I’m quite content with the guy I have, thank you very much.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you like your men older. Nineteen is the new thirty.” Continuing her stakeout, Mia spotted her inside man.
Rail thin and covered with acne, Jason Lao was anything but discreet. The head editor of our school newspaper was the fast-talking, Korean equivalent to Perez Hilton, with a not-so-secret gossip blog that the superintendent had tried in vain to shut down. This tenacious news hound could find dirt on dirt, but he always gave us the week’s scoop before it hit the web.
Spying the area for any witnesses, he scurried to the table. “Wow. When you said you wanted to meet in private, I didn’t think you meant no-man’s-land.” He swung his legs over the table’s bench and plopped down across from us.
Mia drew closer and whispered, “I’m on the clock here. What you got?”
Getting right to business, Jason pulled out his notepad and flipped through several pages. After clearing his throat, he reported, “Courtney B. is sending out invitations this week. I managed to sneak a peek at the guest list first period. Sorry, kid, you didn’t make the cut.”
Mia sobbed and rested her forehead on the table.
“Don’t feel bad. You can tag along with Sam.”
“What?” Mia looked to me with surprise. “You got an invite to the Halloween party?”
“Not really. She wants Caleb to deejay, so I’m invited by association.”
Mia closed in on me. “Why didn’t you tell me? Sam, you have got to get me into that party.”
“I’m not sure if I have power like that.”
She grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Of course you do. Caleb’s the deejay. Just tell her that we’re a package deal; one can’t go without the other.”
I groaned, knowing that my classwork would have to wait yet again. My theory became fact when a shadow darkened my notes.
“Hey?” called a voice behind us, snatching all humor from the building.
Mia turned around, removed her shades, and stared her past in the face.
Dougie was a sight for sore eyes, and what a sight he was. He’d put on some extra weight since he joined the wrestling team, with muscles popping out the yin-yang. His sudden interest in school activities didn’t harm his position as the most thugged-out white boy I’d ever met.
My recent purchase of a demonic man-magnet kept my visits with Dougie brief, but the allure had diminished over time, thanks to the recognition exercises Angie had taught me. As practiced, I corralled all the memories of Dougie and pushed them to the forefront before Lilith had a chance to pounce. Since my draw didn’t work on virgins, Jason Lao wouldn’t be a threat until he was thirty.
Dougie tipped his chin in greeting. “Yo, SNM, what’s good?”
“Same old,” I replied.
His smile faded as he locked eyes on Mia again
. “What are you doing here? I thought you had second lunch.”
“I’m just talking to Sam.” Mia wrapped her arm around me possessively.
He nodded. “So, how you been? You a’ight?”
After undressing him with her eyes, Mia stammered, “Good. I mean, I-I’m good.”
Dougie did some visible disrobing himself, his hazel eyes twinkled with longing. My head panned to our growing audience. Everyone at the table stopped eating to watch the action like it was the Thursday night lineup. This table had seen more action within the past five minutes than it had in all four years of school.
Suffering a long and thoroughly awkward silence, Dougie spoke up. “Listen, what are ya’ll doing for Halloween? We should try to do something. It’s our last year and I miss hanging out.” He stared at Mia with a look that almost broke my heart. “We used to have fun.”
I turned to Mia, my invisible pom-poms waving in the air, encouraging her to make a move. She worried her bottom lip as she searched the cafeteria for a reply. “Well, I just—”
“There you are. I was looking all over for you.” A short girl clung to Dougie’s arm, and slaughtered any trace of hope. At first glance, I could tell she was one of those high-maintenance girls who usually had small dogs hiding somewhere in their purses. She used her X-ray vision to size up Mia, then rose to her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Dougie’s cheek. “Dougie, I wanna go eat now.”
Say what? I was ten seconds away from snatching those extensions off that chick’s head. Nobody, and I mean nobody called Douglas Emerson III “Dougie” but us. It was official law, and no one dared transgress and expect to survive.
Mia had the same reaction, but she hid it well under a guise of cool. I knew that look of deadly calm, a look that usually preceded bloodshed and a police report. Mia may not have known karate or kung fu, but she had mastered the ancient art of kut-a-bitch at an early age.
Dougie squirmed away from his arm candy. “I told you not to call me that.”
The girl pouted. “Why? It’s so cute.”
“ ’Cause only special people call him that,” I answered through gritted teeth.
Little Buffy narrowed her eyes at me. “Well, I’m special. Aren’t I, Dougie?”
The bell chimed on Mia’s side of the ring. Rising to her feet, she rounded on her target. “Obviously not if he told you to stop, and obviously not if you continue to ignore him. You don’t know him like that to use the title.”
Resting her head on his shoulder, the girl caressed Dougie’s chest. “Oh, I know him real well. Don’t I, Dougie?”
The suggestion did not go overlooked by Mia or anyone else in the cafeteria. Heads whipped in our direction, mouths dropped, and Jason’s pen rapidly scribbled away at his notepad. And Dougie just stood there sporting a mask of dumb, neither confirming nor denying the claim.
Mia’s gaze iced over as she stared at the couple in front of her. “Nice seeing you, Douglas. But let’s not do it again.” Like the Hollywood starlets of old, Mia lifted her chin in the air and brushed past them, preceding her graceful exit—stage left.
Dougie turned to me, almost pleading. “Sam, I—”
“I’m staying out of this. You had your chance to say something and you didn’t. Besides, you have your hands full. Good luck with that.” I patted him on the shoulder, gathered my stuff, then met up with Mia at the double doors.
Though both parties had agreed to see other people, Mia hadn’t expected Dougie to adhere to that contract. Mia had never told me what happened that caused the big break, but I had a feeling that that “something” had to do with little Miss Clingy. I figured Mia would tell me in her own time. Telling by her robotic walk and stiff shoulders, today wasn’t it.
“So, Dougie’s trying to date my body double? He should know that nothing can replace the original,” Mia grumbled with a taught jaw.
“Didn’t you break it off with him?”
“That’s not the point. You don’t date one girl and then go try to find her designer knockoff. He could at least own the decency to upgrade.” She put on a brave front, but the heavy bags under her eyes revealed worry and fatigue.
“Mia, you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting strange lately.”
“I’m fine. Just haven’t been sleeping, that’s all.”
“You would tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn’t you?”
“As much as you would tell me.” Her gaze met mine for a moment, drilling her point home.
The events of the summer had put a veil of awkwardness between us that we couldn’t remove. I had to choose my words carefully; every action, every excuse ran through a censoring filter, so I thought it better to say nothing.
We stopped in front of her physics class when Mr. McNamara snatched open the door. “Good of you to rejoin us for the last five minutes of class, Miss Moralez,” he barked, his sunken brown eyes narrowed in accusation.
Lowering her head, Mia fumbled with the pass in her hand. “I’m sorry. I just felt a little faint.”
Stepping in front of Mia, I held his unblinking gaze. “She’s not feeling well, sir. I wanted to walk her to class in case she fainted again. She’s a bit under the weather. I’m sure you understand.” I spoke the words in a low, even tone, allowing my influence to reach his hardened heart.
After several blinks, Mr. McNamara gave a lazy smile. “Of course, I understand. Mia, if you’re not feeling well, you can go home. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” His offer was as smooth and sweet as molasses.
The sudden change of attitude took Mia aback. She shot me a puzzled glance, then said, “No, I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.”
I was sure that baffled expression stayed long after she entered the classroom. And for as long as Mia remained in the dark about Lilith, that look would be permanent.
For the sake of all involved, only my mother and the other Cambions in my life could know what I was. That was our policy, our credo. The secret slowly ate at me, but it was something I would have to live with. For now.
5
The slow drag of the following week didn’t affect the weather’s natural timetable.
Autumn leaves set fire to the landscape, determined to die in a blazing glory of red and gold hues. People donned leather and fleece and sipped hot drinks to keep warm. Pumpkins, scarecrows, and ghosts sat on porches and lawns. Orange and black streamers garnished the cafeteria and classrooms. Cackles and squeals echoed the halls; plastic fangs and fake blood dripped from painted lips.
And where was I? Locked in the girls’ bathroom, blowing up Caleb’s phone for the fifth time today. Caleb and I were quickly turning into the couple we’d sworn to never become: strung out and wondering what the other was doing, and calling at random just to hear them breathe. How disgusting is that? But there I was, in the handicap stall, sending cutesy text messages with numeric hearts and smiley faces. Satisfied, if only for the moment, I tucked my phone in my bag and went to my last class.
School, work, Mia’s ongoing drama, and the suspicion of supernatural doom had me running around like a headless chicken. Caleb was the only thing that kept me going, my life support.
During our wireless romance, he bitched about his Jeep, from repairs to the crooked insurance company, and wondered whether he should pimp his ride with new rims. The police reported the incident with Caleb’s car as vandalism, though all the evidence pointed to a failed Mob-style hit. This didn’t surprise me. Last summer had Williamsburg’s finest running scared, and they stuck to the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy when it came to Caleb and my family.
However, what did surprise me was Caleb’s flippant attitude. Whether it was denial or stubbornness, he was ignoring the signs that bad times were a-comin’. He had always been protective and fought hard to keep me out of danger, but there was a fine line between protection and omitting vital information. His secrecy had caused a rocky start to our relationship, but I’d believed our link would’ve put an end to that. When I went home to change for w
ork, I realized we had more ground to cover in the trust department. This latest bombshell came in a FedEx box that waited at my front door.
Carrying the package to the stairs inside, I noticed it was addressed to Mom and me with a European zip code and stamp. I ripped at the cardboard and burrowed into the crumpled Styrofoam until my fingers retrieved from the bottom what appeared to be two old spell books. Bound in aged leather with a buckle fastening, each volume carried the thickness and weight of a dictionary.
My fingers played with the buckle when a cream-colored envelope caught my eye. I recognized the handwriting immediately, and the smile on my face started to hurt. I had become accustomed to her long-winded emails, so this one-page note left me intrigued.
Dearest Samara,
How are you, little one? I hope you are doing well and that you’re excelling in your studies. Are you practicing the memory exercises I showed you? They’re tedious, I know, but you must stay vigilant to accelerate the recognition process. The spirit will not draw from those it knows. This may not work with new people you meet now, but it will help you with the male friends you already knew from school, so please practice at least three times a day.
Forgive this brief letter, but I’m away on business and my time is limited. I regret to say that my schedule will not allow me to visit you as I wish. By now, you are probably wondering about the books I enclosed with this letter. They are a collection of letters and journal entries from my ancestors that your mother requested. I have also bookmarked several passages that might be of interest to you, mostly involving Cambion bonding.
This is a very serious matter that you and Caleb need to discuss before you consummate your relationship. I have already discussed this with your mother, and though your bonding is inevitable, she agrees that this is not a matter to take lightly. So please read the marked passages so you don’t enter a situation blindly, because this decision will affect the rest of your life and it cannot be undone.
