Because It Is My Blood

by Gabrielle Zevin

  I shook my head. My cheeks were wet, so I suppose I was crying. “I have to, Win.”

  “I mean that little to you?”

  “No … But I can’t be anyone other than who I am.”

  Win looked at me with an expression of disgust. “You know he poisoned you last year, right?”

  Win knew. “He told me.”

  “You know exactly what kind of a man he is and you go and do this anyway! If he’s helping you, it’s because he sees some kind of angle for himself.”

  “I know that, Win. He’s using me, and I’m using him.”

  “You deserve each other then.” Win shook his head. “We’re done,” he said.

  “Don’t do this, Win. Not here. Not now. Take a little time to think.” Embarrassing as this is, I fell to my knees and clasped my hands together.

  He said he didn’t need to think. “I will not be my mother. I will not be long-suffering.”

  And then he left. I got up to run after him, but I tripped and skinned my knees against the pavement. By the time I stood up, a bus had arrived, and Win was on it.

  * * *

  As soon as I got home, I tried calling Win. “He’s already gone to bed,” Mrs. Delacroix said coolly. “Would you rather speak to Charlie instead?”

  I told her that wouldn’t be necessary. I saw Charles Delacroix all the time.

  This went on for several days (fill in excuses appropriate to whatever time of day it was) until finally Mrs. Delacroix said that Win had gone to visit friends in Albany.

  Maybe I should have gotten on the first train to Albany, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t know what I would say. The truth was, he was probably right. I had disregarded his feelings in pursuit of whatever this was, and I couldn’t explain to him why. Or rather, if I did explain, I suspected he wouldn’t like the answer: Win had been steadfast, loyal, kind, and everything good, but all that was not enough. For better or for worse, the desire I had to succeed where my father had failed was greater than the love I had for Win.

  So, no, I did not chase my boyfriend to Albany. I was occupied with arranging for my business and finishing preparations for the prelaunch party on Friday.

  The phone rang. Despite myself, I hoped it was Win, but it wasn’t.

  “Are you not happy to hear from your old friend?” Theo asked.

  I had messaged him several days earlier for advice from the abuelas about what could be used as a substitute for cacao in frozen hot chocolate, the drink I planned to serve at the party.

  “The abuelas say that nothing can substitute cacao! They want to know why you would want to commit such a blasphemy.”

  I told him about my business. “We’re having a prelaunch party, but my business partner doesn’t think it’s a good idea to serve anything illegal since the whole idea is for it to be aboveboard.”

  “I see. Well, then perhaps you might try carob powder? It is a pale substitute but…”

  I thanked him.

  “Let me know what else I can do to help,” Theo said.

  “How about a good deal on Granja Mañana cacao?” I suggested. “I’m going to need a supplier.”

  “The best deal I have,” Theo said. “I am proud of you, Anya Barnum-Balanchine. You seem to have made peace with everything.”

  “Gracias, Theo. You know you are the only person to say that to me.”

  “It is because I know you, Anya. In our hearts, we are the same.” Theo paused. “How is your boyfriend?”

  “He’s mad at me,” I said.

  “He will get over it.”

  “Maybe.” But I wasn’t really sure if he would this time.

  We talked for a while longer, and Theo promised to come and see me when he could. I asked him if they’d be able to spare him at Granja Mañana, and he said that Luna had been much more help since he’d been sick. “I guess I should be grateful to you for getting me shot.”

  “Unfortunately, you aren’t the first boy to say that to me.”

  * * *

  Friday came, and with it, the party. Still I had not heard from Win. I spent the day having the space cleaned and setting up samovars for the frozen hot chocolate along the sides of the room. I’d invited everyone in my circle—though no one from the semya—and Charles Delacroix had invited people, too, including potential investors.

  Scarlet and Gable were among the first people to show up. She was about a million months pregnant at this point and I hadn’t been sure if she’d come at all. When I messaged her though, she had replied in about a second: Really happy to have a reason to get out of the house and really happy for the invitation! P.S. Does this mean we aren’t mad at each other anymore? I am so lonesome without you. When she arrived, she hugged me.

  “You two married yet?” I asked them.

  “We’re thinking about waiting until after she gives birth,” Gable said.

  Scarlet shook her head. “I couldn’t get married without you, Anya.”

  “This is a terrific place,” Gable said. “What are you planning to do with it anyway?”

  “You’ll hear all that soon enough,” I said. “Hey, Gable. You planning to take any pictures tonight?” I asked.

  Gable snarled that Scarlet had taken away his camera phone. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he wanted to know.

  I pretended I didn’t hear him and I moved on to other guests.

  Once most everyone had arrived, I went to the podium at the front of the room. I looked around to see if Win perchance had shown. He hadn’t. Without him or Natty or Leo, I felt a bit unmoored, and it certainly was not the best speech of my life. I ran through the bullet points about the club I was planning to open, and what I planned to serve, and the reason all of this would be perfectly legal. As I described the business, I could feel the room grow deathly quiet, but the quiet did not scare me. “Tonight, you’ll be drinking carob versions of the medicinal health drinks I’ll be serving in the fall. They’re going to taste a lot better then, I promise.” I raised my mug, but I hadn’t remembered to have it filled before starting my speech. Because it seemed awkward not to, I pretended to drink. “Someone once told me that last year’s enemy could very well be this year’s friend, so with that in mind, I’d like to introduce you to my new legal counsel.”

  Charles Delacroix took the podium. He had shaved for the occasion, a gesture I appreciated. “Forgive me if I’m a bit rusty. I’m out of practice,” Charles Delacroix began, with a falsely modest chuckle. “Seven months ago, my career in politics, for lack of a better word, ended. We don’t need to go into the reasons why.” He shot a look over at me, which made the crowd laugh. “Tonight, I’m here to talk about the future, however.” He cleared his throat. “Chocolate,” he said. “It’s sweet. It’s pleasant enough. But it’s not worth dying over and it’s certainly not worth losing an election over. Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think about chocolate this past year for obvious reasons”—he looked at me again—“and here’s why chocolate matters. Not because I lost or because organized crime is bad. The reason it matters is because the legislation that banned chocolate is and has always been bad legislation.

  “How does a city in decline become a city of tomorrow? It’s a question I’ve asked myself nearly every day for the last ten years. And the answer I’ve come to is this: we must rethink the laws. Laws change because people demand change or because people find new ways of interpreting old laws. My friend—and I think I can call her that—Anya Balanchine has come up with a novel way of doing both.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you are at the start of something larger than just a nightclub. I see a future where New York City is a shining city once again, a city of laws that make sense. I see a future where people come to New York City for chocolate because it is the only place in the country that has had the good sense to legalize it. I see an economic windfall for this city, this chocolate city.” He paused. “Even when we aren’t elected to serve, we can still find ways to serve. I believe that this is so, and that’s why I have agreed to help Anya B
alanchine in any way that I can. I hope you, my friends, will join us.”

  It was a far better speech than mine, though it should be noted that Charles Delacroix had had far more practice with such matters. It should also be noted that my colleague’s goals were a bit loftier than my own. He’d never said anything to me about a chocolate city. The term struck me as absurd.

  I made my way through the crowd, stopping briefly to talk to Dr. Lau. And then I saw Dr. Freeman from Cacao Now. He shook my hand. “I can’t thank you enough for inviting me. You must come speak to us this summer. This is visionary, Anya. Visionary!”

  Just as I had reached the banquet table, a waitress I had hired for the evening told me there was someone who was asking for me outside. I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t hoping for Win.

  I went into the hallway, which was deserted. I walked down the stairs. On the landing stood my cousin Fats. He was sweaty and red-faced. Needless to say, he had not been invited. A flight down, I could see his security. That was new. Fats usually traveled alone.

  “Fats,” I said lightly. When I was close enough, he kissed me. His lips smacked almost violently against my cheeks. “What brings you here?”

  “Heard there was a party,” he said. “Hurts my feelings when I don’t get an invite after all the time you and your friends spent in my joint over the years.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested,” I said lamely.

  Fats craned his neck up the stairs. “This where the—what did you call it?—health cacao place is gonna be?”

  “I came to you. You didn’t like the idea.”

  “Maybe so. Guess I didn’t think you’d go and do it anyway,” Fats said. He pulled me in to whisper in my ear. His breath was moist and hot against my skin. “You sure about this, Annie? You sure you want all this brought down on you? There’s still time for you to change your mind. You got your brother to think about. Your little sister, too. And I know you already have plenty of enemies. Yuji Ono. Sophia Bitter. Mickey Balanchine. You really want me to be one more?”

  I pushed him away. He was bluffing, I was certain. And even if he wasn’t, there were months before the club would open, which meant there were months left for me to broker some kind of peace between us if that proved necessary. Maybe it was foolish of me, but I truly believed that I could convince him to my way of thinking. Fats had loved my father, and I knew I was doing what Daddy would have wanted. I just didn’t want to make this case to Fats tonight. “It’s done,” I said. “Have a good night. I really must attend to my guests.”

  I ran up the stairs and I did not look back.

  At long last, I made it over to one of the samovars. I turned the spigot to fill my glass, and Charles Delacroix sidled up next to me. “You did well,” he said. “This is a great night. This is where it all begins.”

  “So you said. ‘Chocolate city,’ huh?”

  “I thought it had good drama to it. People like drama, Anya. They remember drama.”

  I tasted the drink. I’d followed Theo’s instruction to the letter, but the flavor was strong, if ever so slightly sour. Though no one at the party seemed to notice, something had gone bad in the mix. Maybe Theo was right when he had told me that there wasn’t a good substitute for chocolate. Yet half the samovars were already empty, so perhaps I was being an overly sensitive hostess. I took a second tentative sip. When I looked up, I saw Win, standing across the room next to Scarlet and Gable. I hadn’t seen him arrive. Despite everything, he had come for me. At that moment, my heart, my lowly, amnesiac heart, could not recall the things that had been more important than those eyes, those hands, that mouth. Forgive me, I wanted to say to him, I knew I would hurt you and I did it anyway. I don’t know why I am the way I am. I don’t know why I do the things I do. Please, Win, don’t give up on me. Love me a little, even though I’m flawed. “Thank you,” was what I did manage to whisper. He couldn’t have heard, but I was sure he saw my lips. He did not cross the room to me. He did not reply or even smile. I was not forgiven, not yet. After a moment, he raised his glass. I imitated his gesture before draining that bitter drink to its lees.

  Also by Gabrielle Zevin

  All These Things I’ve Done

  Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac

  Elsewhere

  Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers

  175 Fifth Avenue, New York 10010

  Text copyright © 2012 by Gabrielle Zevin

  All rights reserved

  First hardcover edition, 2012

  eBook edition, October 2012

  macteenbooks.com

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Zevin, Gabrielle.

  Because it is my blood / Gabrielle Zevin. — 1st ed.

  p. cm. — (Birthright ; bk. 2)

  Summary: In 2083, seventeen-year-old Anya Balanchine seeks a way to make Balanchine Chocolate legitimate, and although a trip to Mexico gives her new insights and ideas, escaping her mobster family’s legacy of violence may prove impossible.

  ISBN 978-0-374-38074-8 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-0-374-30674-8 (e-book)

  [1. Organized crime—Fiction. 2. Chocolate—Fiction. 3. Celebrities—Fiction. 4. Violence—Fiction. 5. Family life—New York (State)—New York—Fiction. 6. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. 7. Oaxaca de Juárez (Mexico)—Fiction. 8. Mexico—Fiction. 9. Science fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.Z452Bec 2012

  [Fic]—dc23

  2011036991

  eISBN 9780374306748