by Jaime Reed
“Ruiz has a crush on your mother. Huge. And the feeling is mutual. Good luck defusing that bomb.” Whistling, he trotted down the back porch, leaving me stock-still by the door.
18
Welcome to Beat Up on Samara Week in Williamsburg.
First up to bat was Mom, and the lady was a heavy hitter. She didn’t overlook the ditching school thing, but whatever charm Tobias had used on her cushioned the blow. Plus, she seemed too starry-eyed and dizzy over Ruiz to ground me. I didn’t trust the man and was highly grossed out by their courtship, but I appreciated his help in dodging that bullet.
Mom seemed impressed by my new interest in housecleaning. After dinner, I dumped the ashes outside, buffed the kitchen floor to a shine, painted another coat of oil over both entrances, then soaked my hands in rubbing alcohol for an hour before going to bed.
Once again, Lilith added her two cents, curling, flipping, and practically digging a hole in my back. I didn’t know if she was hungry or pining for Tobias, but whatever it was the result was another restless night.
The energy from Tobias made her spoiled, greedy for more than what I was willing to give. We had both fallen off the wagon as far as food was concerned, and it was up to me to take back the reins and resume control. Tobias was a one-time trip to the buffet for Lilith and a lesson that I would never forget. I just had to get her to agree with me.
Things didn’t improve in school. Girls gritted their teeth, sharpened their nails, and cracked their knuckles. Whispers grew louder behind my back. Jason Lao tried to keep the gossip under control, but the web was a lawless terrain with no conscience or master.
Tobias found any excuse to talk to me in the hall, but I kept ducking that fool as if I owed him money. On the day our class pictures returned from the studio, I was forced to look at him, by means of the wallet-size photo that landed on my desk. I peeked over my shoulder and caught Tobias passing out autographed pictures to the rest of his harem.
It didn’t surprise me that my photo looked like a criminal mug shot, but Malik’s senior picture had me wincing for a different reason. Perhaps it was due to the entire image casting a soft glow like those Glamour Shot photos at the mall. Or it might’ve been Tobias’s dead-on impression of Derek Zoolander’s “Blue Steel” pose.
“I know you saw it,” he whispered in my ear. “You should have seen your face on Picture Day. It was priceless.”
Time went still when he was this close to me, yet the world around me progressed in natural speed. Mr. Frasier went on with his lesson, students took notes and texted under the table, and Mia slumped over her desk, not even trying to stay awake.
“What exactly did I see on Picture Day?” I asked while keeping my eyes to the front of the classroom.
“Something only demon eyes can see. It only happens in harsh light. No need to lose sleep over it, Flower. We have plenty of time to know each other.” His breath, a light flame, licked at my earlobe, neck, and shoulder. I gripped the desk and rode out the wave of heat that reached down to my shoes. Each day, the fire took longer to die down and its burn left me exposed to the elements. I counted the seconds until class ended, not that it would do any good.
I wasn’t the only one with problems. I caught Dougie at lunch, hoping to get friendly advice, but got another earful of heartache. His new plaything had decided to change schools, and he suspected Mia’s harassment had something to do with the sudden transfer. He seemed to be pressed for time, eating half his food while still in the lunch line.
“Yo, SNM, you better get your friend. I mean it—she’s friggin’ crazy and I’m done!” he said, grabbing two slices of pizza from the warming pan. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here, ’cause this is just getting dumb. So I go over Mia’s house and bang on the door until she talks to me. Next thing I know the door opens, and I get hit upside the head with a can of soup. Soup, Sam, soup.”
I scooted closer, trying my best not to laugh. “Was it chicken noodle?”
“No. Cream of mushroom. Could you focus please? Anyway, I’m sick of it. You know how many girls would love to get some of this?” He rolled up his shirtsleeve and flexed his bicep to a rhythmic beat. “Check it out. Pow! Yeah, that’s what’s up.”
I had to admit, it was impressive. I guess wolfing down protein shakes and rolling around on a gym mat with sweaty guys worked wonders.
Dougie took a bite of his pizza and slid his tray down the line. “But girls around here are too scared to approach me now. I gotta step up my game. Enough about me. How’s Caleb?” he asked. “Does he know about you and Malik Davis?”
Oh, great. Not this again. “There’s nothing going on.”
“Sam, I may not be an honor student, but I ain’t stupid either.” He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “You’ve been all kinds of shady, don’t deny it. We’re in the same lunch and you never sit with me. Who does that?”
“I know, I just ... look, there’s a lot going on.”
“And we mere mortals are too dumb to understand, right?” he replied. “Because we don’t notice all the guys that follow you around, or why you never talk about that girl that died in your house this summer. We’re just too stupid to notice how your brown eyes look real fake.” He inched closer. “I can see the tiny rim around the whites of your eyes. You never wore contacts before.”
I stood frozen in shock. Was my transformation really that obvious, or had I been underestimating my friends? “I’m sorry, Dougie. I wish I could tell you what’s going on, but ...”
“Nah, it’s cool. You got your reasons. Just don’t get too caught up in the bullshit and forget the people around you, is all.” He handed the cashier a crumpled five, then turned to me. With a mouth full of greasy cheese and crust, he said, “Listen, I gotta go. I need to meet the coach before lunch is over.” He snatched up his half-empty tray, and in a moment, he was gone.
That afternoon, my report card came in the mail, confirming that I was, in fact, failing government and trig. Not wanting to be left out of this communal stoning, Dad rolled up and threatened to hold my new car for ransom.
“It seems only fair that since you no longer want to attend Howard next fall, you won’t be needing the car I spent my hard-earned money on.” Dad treaded the kitchen floor, clutching a copy of my transcript, which Mom had faxed to his office. Snitch.
Mom usually played “good cop” during these interrogations, but she was slacking on the job big time. She was parked in front of her laptop, chatting with her new squeeze about live ammo. Only Mom would agree to a date at the gun range and find it sexy.
“Don’t argue with your father, sweetie” was all she offered to the conversation.
Knowing I was on my own, I tried to reason. “Daddy—”
“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me!” he barked. “You know how important education is. You’re ruining any chance of a future running around behind some boy.”
I almost fell out of my stool. “Whoa! How can Caleb be a bad influence while in a coma?”
“You spend all your free time with him and it’s interfering with your schoolwork.”
This debate was going nowhere, so I cut my losses and did damage control. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but unlike Caleb, at least I’m awake to apologize. I don’t know if he will ever open his eyes again. Besides, I haven’t been to the hospital in a week!”
Whatever he was about to say had been cut off and he lost all his steam. “Samara, I know how you feel about him, but take a moment to see things from where I’m standing. I just wish ... I ... Just talk to me, baby girl.” He wore that look again, that confused mask of unfamiliarity, struggling to match the face with the name. The longer he stared at me, the sicker I felt.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m still trying to adjust to everything.” I shook my head and swallowed down what I really wanted to say. “I can take a makeup exam and do some extra credit. I have until Christmas break to pull my grades up.”
He knew I was hiding something, but didn’t say a w
ord, and it was almost a blessing when he left. I could hear his heart breaking, see the fumes of frustration and helplessness waft off his skin. That defeated look hurt worse than any possible slap or strike with a belt, and I bore every lash in silence.
Thinking I would get a break from my troubles, I pranced to work on Saturday. All merriment flew out the window when the store manager called me into her office. I knew I wasn’t employee of the month, given all the sick leave, but I didn’t expect Linda to whip out a chainsaw on my work schedule. She assured me that it was just until the Christmas run began, but I wasn’t getting my hopes up.
Alicia gave me the cold shoulder during our shift. Between busy rushes, she kept herself occupied with odd tasks and rereading the latest edition of Specter. From what little I got from her, she believed the rumors of Malik and my romantic tryst, and was ready to stamp a scarlet A on my forehead. I had never known this, but apparently she supported my relationship with Caleb, and held a personal investment in its staying power. I wished I shared her optimism.
I had never felt so lost, so overwrought, so alone in my life. I craved my Cake Boy. Though only a week had passed since I’d last seen him, it felt like a millennium and each minute lasted a year. I needed to see his face, touch his hair, smell his skin, hear him breathe, just a few crumbs of his presence to keep me going.
The last straw came the day before Thanksgiving break when I caught Mia by her locker. She’d been evasive as ever during class, pretending I didn’t exist. When that didn’t work, she delivered her famous death-ray glare that turned living objects to stone. I was used to that look from the other students, but getting it from Mia hammered the final nail on my coffin.
“Would you please talk to me?” I begged. “I don’t get why you’re acting this way.”
She loaded books into her locker, not bothering to look at me. “I’m not acting like anything. You’re the one who’s forgotten who your friends are. I’m curious, how is Caleb doing? Or are you so far up Malik Davis’s ass that you forgot about him, too?” She lifted her eyes to a spot behind me.
Tobias stood by the wall, wearing his Malik suit, some faded varsity sweats, and a secretive smirk. He watched attentively as if he could read lips from the thirty-yard gap. It appeared that he could, and he clung to every word and the spaces in between.
“Mia, I’m not cheating on Caleb. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a cheat. Again, always jumping to the wrong conclusions; no wonder Dougie dumped you.” The words just flew out of my mouth, their venom going straight for the heart. I had no idea where they had come from, but as soon as they reached daylight, it was a wrap.
Mia slammed her locker, the noise drawing an audience. With one hand on her hip, she crowded my space and unleashed the dragon. “Look, I understand you’ve become male catnip for some inexplicable reason. But in case it escaped your attention, the world doesn’t revolve around you. You’re not some sacred vessel; you’re not God’s gift to the world. You’re the same girl who snorted a packet of ramen seasoning in eighth grade on a dare, so get off your pedestal.”
“Mia, I—”
“No, Sam, you forget yourself, but I know you. Don’t be that girl who’s too caught up in attention to make up her damn mind. If you want Malik, cool, go be with him, but don’t string them both along. You’re better than that, and I refuse to be another groupie in your fan club.”
I stood with my mouth open as she marched up the hall. Trust Mia to serve it up raw, and the hurt in her eyes told me this had been a long time coming.
I turned, ready to go after her, but stopped on sight of Tobias. He stood against the wall, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. To add to my disgrace, he lifted a finger to his lips, tracing the tiny dent at the top. His eyes twinkled as he mouthed, Shh, before disappearing around the corner.
Only then did I realize how much of my life Lilith had taken, a pendulum swinging to the beat of indecision. Her obsession was making me soft, letting me go quiet into that good night like a punk. If Mom knew that I’d allowed some dude to bully me, I really would be grounded. I had to take Angie’s advice and handle business, demonic treaty be damned. This was my house, not Lilith’s, and this dance had to end before the music stopped altogether.
19
Thanksgiving wielded a type of magic that complemented the ever-changing foliage.
Nature and tradition conspired, performing works deemed impossible, except this time of year. The enchantment held healing properties, a warm salve in the form of hugs, laughter, and comfort food. Relatives traveled long distances, arms full of goodies and well wishes.
This was the only occasion where the fridge exceeded its storage capacity, yet everyone starved until that Thursday. Even then the torment continued, because no one could enter the kitchen when my nana was throwing down. Equipped with her own ingredients and cookware, Nana toiled over her concoctions, sending thick clouds of peppery spice to tease our empty stomachs.
Family members—mostly from my dad’s side—rattled the walls with laughter, howls, and clinking silverware. The festivities took place at our home since Nana’s house was too small for large parties, Dad lived too far away, and everyone wished Grandpa Marshall would die in a fire. My house became neutral territory where everyone behaved themselves, though not like in the family get-togethers usually seen in movies. The feast itself was much like dinner theater, with a parade of oddball characters who resembled me to some degree.
Dad came by with his wife, Rhonda, and the twins. Prim and proper as she pleased, my stepmother wandered around, forcing small talk behind a tight, condescending smile. I withstood every thinly veiled insult she slung at me, while my brother and sister ransacked my room and terrorized the guests.
When Rhonda wasn’t turning her nose up at everyone, she voiced her conspiracy theory on how Mom’s parenting skills had caused my “bad juju.” The rest of my family didn’t discuss my sudden transformation, but Rhonda tried to expose me to anyone who listened. If she only knew just how close her assessment came to the truth, these greetings would be far less hospitable. It took all my willpower not to drain her dry.
David Ruiz made an appearance during dinner, bearing cheesecake and a bouquet of roses for Mom. The next hour was a tense affair, for both the investigator and investigated. Dad shifted in his chair, gritting hard at Mom’s new companion. A few of my uncles cleared the room for fear of Ruiz digging into their shady pasts. The women circled around the detective, crooning at his northern accent and forgetting that their men were in the house.
I still didn’t know Ruiz’s motives, but he made Mom happy. Most of all, he wasn’t a Cambion or any facsimile thereof, which was a plus in my book. Mom was a cautious woman, and with good reason, but I couldn’t help notice how she came alive when Ruiz was around. I wasn’t the only one who noticed and Dad got all in his business, making such a stink that Rhonda pulled him aside to have a “talk.”
After the big meal, the guest list dwindled in size and I could now see the floor and the trash left behind. Children ran everywhere, women gossiped in the kitchen, and the men gathered in the living room, screaming to the television at the missed touchdown. Everywhere I looked, people lounged around like beach seals, giving in to the drugging effects of the Itis.
Itis [i-tus] noun
A chemical reaction when too much blood rushes to the stomach in order to help digest large quantities of food. Symptoms occur frequently during holidays and gatherings that involve pork, poultry, or Chinese takeout. Symptoms include: light-headedness, fatigue, laziness, indigestion, bloating, sudden weight gain, and a propensity to repeat the gorging cycle an hour later.
I sat on the other side of the kitchen island as I had done every year since I was five, watching the best entertainment in town. My legs swung under the stool while I listened to the women gossip and talk smack about the men in their lives.
Things were quiet on the paranormal front. Tobias hadn’t made any effort to contact me and if he knew what was
good for him, it would stay that way. I didn’t want to entertain any negative vibes today. I was surrounded by chaos, warm, loving chaos, and I savored the flavor.
My peace crashed and burned when Mom opened the door and Haden stepped into the house. My aunts and cousins swooped in to appraise the merchandise. The Ross brothers may be ladies’ men, but none of them could handle the wanton females in my family.
Squirming from the throng of pinches and petting, he pulled me to a secluded corner. “Samara, I need you to come with me.”
“Why?” I asked with a mouthful of pecan pie.
“Caleb’s gone.”
I froze mid-chew, unsure if I heard him right. “What do you mean gone?”
“He’s not in the hospital. I went to grab a bite to eat. Michael popped out to use his phone for a moment and when we came back, he was gone. Three nurses on duty were taken to the emergency room tonight. Heart complications.”
His words, though simple, held deadly connotations pertaining to our kind. A donor experienced stress to the heart and could die if too much energy was taken, and the severity of the news forced me to set down my plate and take action.
“Do you think it was Caleb?” I asked.
“Well, it wasn’t us,” Haden snipped. “Are you really shocked that he’d go to this extreme? You haven’t been around and he’s starving for energy. Why did you abandon him when he needed you the most?”
“I didn’t abandon him,” I said, not wanting to see the resentment on his face.
“Caleb must’ve taken it that way and decided to take matters into his own hands. I’d assumed this would be the first place he would go, but I guess not. Two possibilities are at play here. If he left on his own, he’s running about somewhere, desperate for energy. But if he was taken ...” The sentence went unfinished, but the words poisoned the air.
I didn’t want to think about the possibility of someone abducting him. “Where do you think he is?”
