Between Lies Page 9

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. Who was I to argue with a woman who’d lived long enough to see hundreds of generations pass by?

  I watched as she looked around my room. I tried to see it from her perspective and cringed. Her home was probably all stone and marble, maybe some royal reds and blues for color. My lime green and zebra stripes suddenly looked garish and too bright. I wanted to apologize, but for what exactly, I didn’t know.

  “You do not live like a typical vampire.” Her statement was abrupt, very true, and there was no use disagreeing with it.

  “I’m not a typical vampire. But I think you know that.”

  Her strange eyes stared into mine, kindness and knowledge swirling within their depths. “I do.”

  “Do you know why I’m not like the rest?” My voice came out in a whisper, barely audible to my own ears. I was scared to hear the answer.

  I needed to hear her answer.

  She dipped her chin once and upon seeing it, an explosion of emotion spewed from me like a fire hydrant. Tears fell down my face in waves and I reached blindly for her hand as if it was the anchor that would keep me from floating away in a sea of questions and feelings beyond my understanding.

  She let me cry. Holding tightly to my hand, she sat silently as sixteen years of fear, worry, confusion, hurt, shame poured out of me in deep, wracking sobs. All the times I’d thrown up blood and wondered why I couldn’t bear the sight or taste of it flashed through my mind. My stomach churned with the memories of the other vampire children looking at me like I was an outsider because I didn’t look like them. I could remember each fall, every tumble, and the jeers of “klutz” and “weirdo” echoed in my ears. I cried for all the times I’d been insulted. I cried for the all the years I’d been ignored.

  We must have sat there for hours. As the tears for the loneliness of my childhood petered out, they were replaced with sobs of rage. Anger more violent than I’d ever known ripped through me. There was a reason I was different. I didn’t even know what it was yet, but the fact that there was a reason somehow made me furious. I could see nothing but red and a darkness blacker than black. Fury surged through my veins, engorging them until I felt I might explode and float away in a cloud of bloody particles. Had Pen not been gripping my hand, tethering me to this world, I believed it would have been the end of me.

  A sound broke through the rushing in my ears. Faint, but sharp, it sliced through my outrage. It was Pen, humming a childhood tune that had always been one of my favorites. Softly, she broke into a harmony with herself, splitting her voice so it sounded as if two people were singing. And then there were three voices, then four. Mesmerized, I quieted as the melodic chords soothed my ravaged heart. Like a balm, her voice healed and comforted, until I was limp and silent, leaning into her arms in a warm embrace.

  Exhausted, I finally asked, “How have my parents not heard us?” I’d been wondering why they hadn’t come bursting into the room but didn’t think to ask until now.

  “I made sure they would sleep soundly.”

  Of course.

  My face was puffy and the room was hot. I reached for the tissues on my nightstand, but they weren’t there. I gave Pen’s hand a squeeze before getting up to get a washcloth from my bathroom. I ran it under cold water until it was soaked, wrung it out, and laid it over my face for a bit. The coolness soothed my warm cheeks and gritty eyes. I peeked out to see if Pen was still there. She’d already done two disappearing acts on me, and another one would put me over the edge. Not after what I’d just gone through. To my relief, she was still sitting in the same spot, occupying herself by continuing to peruse my room.

  When I came back out, she looked at me gravely. “Come sit back down, Sadie. I still have something to say.”

  I didn’t know if I could handle anything more. Not right then. But I wasn’t going to argue with a First, no matter how kind she may be. I sat down beside her, shoulders stiff, preparing myself for another onslaught of emotion.

  “What do you remember of The Nursery?”

  I was definitely not prepared to talk about that. “Well,” I hedged, “it wasn’t the happiest place on earth.” Her expression didn’t change and suddenly I had an overwhelming urge to keep talking. “I remember the anxiety of waiting for a family to pick me, especially because Molly was chosen earlier and I was scared of being left behind.” My heart was already thumping at the memory. “I was so happy when Mom and Dad did choose me, but then the awful treatments started.” I stopped, hating the reminder of what those days had been like. “And I guess, you know, I’ve always been different.”

  When I finished, she didn’t say anything. For a second I wondered if she had even been listening, but before I could ask, she took her cane and stood. A deep sigh escaped her lips. “Listen well. We are not finished talking about this, but it is time for me to go. I want you to be watchful of your surroundings. Take note of anyone or anything that strikes you as suspicious. For whatever reason. If you do notice something, send a text to this number.” She handed me a scrap of paper and I took it. “I will visit again and we will discuss things further.” Her face was serious, her eyes searching mine. “Do you understand?”

  I wanted to scream that I didn’t understand at all. Instead, I nodded.

  “Good.” She gave me a kind smile as though trying to comfort me. But instead, it terrified me. If Pen was worried about something, how did she think I would be able to handle it? “I must leave now. I should return before I am missed. But one last caution: be careful what you tell Kade.”

  The warning slammed into me. Why? What did she mean by that? Why was she sneaking around? Who was she hiding from? The age-old question returned full force. What is going on?

  But as usual, before I could ask her anything, she was gone, moving so fast even my vampire senses were left spinning.

  Chapter Eight

  I arrived at school a little early the next day. Cam and I had agreed to meet before school to catch Mrs. Moody before first period started and ask our questions about the project. I waited by my locker until the hallway slowly filled up, but he didn’t show. I gave him one more minute before deciding to go to Mrs. Moody by myself. It wasn’t that I necessarily needed him to get the clarification we wanted, but yesterday we’d agreed to approach this as a solid team. I hoped he was okay.

  By now I recognized most of the kids on my route to class and was able to call out greetings by name or at least give a friendly nod to a large portion of them. Unlike University, here I was starting to blend in, become just another student, and I enjoyed the relative anonymity of it.

  I walked into Mrs. Moody’s classroom and saw another student talking to her. There were still ten minutes left before class started so I took a seat to wait my turn. Mrs. Moody saw me and gave me a wink. As always, I couldn’t help but smile at her. I pulled a book out of my bag to read while I waited. I tried to get lost in the story but found myself glancing at the door every few seconds looking for Cam to walk in. Wishing I’d thought to suggest we swap numbers, I became more and more nervous by his absence. Was he sick? Or did I make him mad with the way we parted yesterday? Mrs. Moody signaled to me, and I tried to push my worries to the back of my mind as I started going over the project instructions with her. I scribbled notes as we talked, still watching the door, my heart sinking lower with each student who wasn’t Cam. When the bell finally rang, I accepted that I wouldn’t be seeing him that day.

  Class dragged by and my worries intensified. The clock’s hands seemed to be barely moving. I sighed and shifted positions in my seat, wishing I had superpowers that would let me speed up the day. My thoughts drifted back to the previous night. Pen’s final words were still ringing in my ears. I’d been trying not to think too much about it, but who was I kidding? A First just told me to be careful about what I told my boyfriend. She’d been unclear about what I should be wary of sharing, so of course, her vagueness sent my mind reeling toward insanity. A thousand scenarios played out in my head and no
ne of them were good. I looked down at my hand, noticing it was dark with vein shadows. Tugging the sleeve down over my it, I willed myself to take deep breaths. I needed to calm down. There was nothing I could do about it in class, so I needed to chill. Stay calm. Stay calm. Take today five minutes at a time. I didn’t like being openly left out of something I was clearly a huge part of. I was being treated as a child who couldn’t quite be trusted.

  I was still bogged down in those thoughts on my way to Biology and not paying attention to where I was going. I turned the corner to the stairwell and smacked into someone coming down the stairs. We both staggered backward, and papers spilled on the floor from my victim’s bag. Not even looking at who it was, I crouched on the floor to keep the papers from being trampled by passersby.

  “Here you go,” I stammered as I handed the person a messy stack of notes and homework. “I’m so sor—”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are.” I recognized the snotty voice immediately.

  Just great. “Kitty,” I started, “it was an accident.”

  She didn’t say anything, only snatched the rest of the papers from my hand and flounced around me muttering under her breath. Part of me wanted to call after her to apologize, but I heard Molly’s voice in my head telling me not to. I hesitated as the people pleaser in me fought to try to make things right with Kitty, but with some effort, I squished her down. I was the victim here, and I was not going to sit back and take abuse any more. I’d had my fill of that from my Jill days and had no intention of returning to the scared girl tiptoeing around for fear of offending someone. I straightened up and hurried the rest of the way to Biology.

  As soon as I hit the hallway the classroom was in, I could smell it. My stomach automatically clenched and I held my breath. It had to be the frogs. If the stench was this strong in the hall, how in the world was I going to go into the room and not faint? Breathing through my mouth, I approached the room slowly. A couple of people looked at me weirdly, but I didn’t care. I made the last few steps and cautiously peeked into the room.

  Yep, I was right. We were definitely dissecting the frogs today. There were two small tubs sitting on each table of four. I assumed that meant we’d be breaking into pairs to do the assignment. My stomach churned and I tried desperately to ignore it.

  “Why are you hovering around the doorway, Sadie? Afraid to go in?”

  I briefly closed my eyes, praying for strength, before I turned my head to look at Angie. “I’m just finding the smell a little difficult to get used to.”

  Trina, who was standing behind Angie, nodded vigorously. “I don’t like it either.”

  “Trina!” Angie snapped. The girl lowered her head as if she’d been scolded. A pinprick of anger punctured my concentration on the smell. I looked back and forth between the two, noting the posture of power straightening Angie’s spine and Trina’s opposite look of defeat.

  “Who do you think you are, Angie?” My voice was a blade with razor-sharp edges that sliced a thin layer of attitude from her. Her eyes widened slightly. “You’re not a queen, yet, and even if you were, you have no right to talk to anyone like that.” I leaned in a little toward her and went for the kill. “Only insecure, unhappy brats try to control others.” I turned to Trina and gave her a warm smile. “Trina, would you like to be my partner on the frog thing? And, I bet we could totally switch seats to another table.”

  She looked at me with indecision flickering in her eyes. They slid to Angie and back to me. The corners of her mouth turned up as she took a step toward me. “I think I’d like that.”

  I grinned. “Excellent! I’ll go talk to Coach Anderson real quick, and you can go see what we’ll need from the table to take with us.”

  She gave Angie a little look and bounced off toward our table, looking for all the world like a freshly filled balloon of happiness.

  Angie glared at me. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  “Pay for what? For being kind to a fellow student and asking them if they would like to partner up? You’d attack me for doing a nice, helpful thing that demonstrates one of our treasured school values—citizenship? How do you think you’ll look if you make me pay for that?” I lowered my voice. “Especially right before the voting starts for Homecoming queen.” I could see it then. I may as well have punched her in the gut. She looked completely shocked and deflated. I wanted to feel sorry for her, but I didn’t have it in me. She was a mean girl just like Jill. And I was done letting mean girls have power over me.

  The drama in the doorway had taken my mind off the smell, and now it didn’t seem so potent. I found Coach Anderson in the back of the room, digging through more tubs, looking a little greenish in the face. He looked up at me as I approached. “Sadie.” He took a deep breath. “What do you need?”

  “We’re going to need to partner up for today’s lab work, is that correct?” I waited for him to nod before continuing. “Well, Trina and I are going to be partners, and we’d like it if we could maybe move to the back table that’s empty?”

  He looked like he was struggling to speak, but he eventually got the words out. “Why do you need to move?”

  Getting concerned, I ignored his question. “Coach Anderson, are you okay? You don’t look like you feel very well. Can I do anything?”

  He shook his head quickly. “N-no, Sadie. I’m fine. Yeah, you and Trina can move. Go ahead and do that before class starts.”

  “Okay. Thank you, sir.”

  He waved his hand at me and went back to what he’d been doing. I watched as he dug through a bunch of bottles and random stuff. I saw him grab a small vial and stuff it in his pocket, a look of relief on his face. Before he could see me watching him, I hurried back over to Trina to tell her the news.

  By this time, Becca was at the table with Angie. She glared at me so hard I thought the veins in her eyes were going to pop. If looks could kill, I’d be dead as a doornail. Just to annoy her, and because it felt good not to be afraid anymore, I gave her a sugary sweet smile in return. Trina and I gathered up our half of the supplies and moved them to our new spot. Fortunately, everything had lids, but I could still hear the sloshing of liquid as we carried them. Trying not to picture what was making the sound, I placed them as far as possible on the opposite end of the table from where we were sitting.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do this,” I groaned.

  “I know. I didn’t want to take Biology this year, but the only other option was health class, and you know what goes on in there.”

  I didn’t know. But she’d piqued my curiosity. “Um, no, not really. My homeschool schedule didn’t have things like that.” I tried not to sound too eager, but I was super curious. “Sooo, what does go on in health class?”

  Trina lowered her voice to a whisper. “They talk about sex and stuff. Like getting pregnant and how the baby is born. They even show a movie. Can you imagine? Sitting in class with boys and watching a baby come out?” She shuddered, and I could tell she meant it. “No, thank you. I’ll take my chances in here.”

  “What’s the purpose of talking about all that stuff?”

  “I don’t know. I guess because they think all teenagers are interested in is the opposite sex and… well, sex.” She started giggling and I couldn’t help myself from joining in. I was slightly mortified they would do that, too. I made a mental note to try to avoid health class in future semesters.

  Coach Anderson cleared his throat from his position at his desk, and the room grew quiet. I noticed he looked decidedly less green and I wondered if the vial he’d taken from the tubs had anything to do with it.

  “Today we will be beginning our dissections and understanding of a frog’s anatomy.” There were some queasy-sounding moans from the class, but most of the boys’ sniggering covered them up. Coach Anderson gave us a minute to get it out of our systems, before raising his hand for quiet. “I know there are many in here who will be a little hesitant or squeamish about this assignment. Those feelings are perfectl
y normal and there is no shame if you need to leave the room briefly to collect yourself.”

  I was happy to hear it. I wasn’t exactly the world’s most stoic person. I mean, drinking blood is a pretty terrible thing, but even cutting into a frog counted as malicious and disgusting to me.

  “So, let’s get on with it. On each desk are two tubs per partnership. One contains the specimen you will be working on. The second includes an anatomy map, worksheet, instructions, and the tools you’ll need to perform the assignment. We will be spending the rest of the week on this, so please don’t feel rushed to finish it all today.” He paused and looked at his watch. “Okay, we have forty-five minutes left, you may begin. I’ll be walking around the room to answer any questions you may have.”

  The room was filled with the sounds of papers shuffling, some “ew’s” as tubs were opened, and a powerful scent of formaldehyde. My stomach flipped over and my hands shook as I tentatively opened the specimen tub. I held my breath as I looked at the dead frog floating in the disgusting liquid. I looked at Trina. Her face had gone pale and she was pressing her lips together like she was trying to hold back from throwing up. I sighed inwardly. I could tell she wasn’t going to be much help, which meant the majority of this task was up to me.

  “Trina, could you hand me some gloves?”

  She dug around in the other tub and shook them at me. I sighed, this time where she could see it. “Do you need to go get some air?” Her only response was to run out of the room, her hand over her mouth. A couple of boys called out to her as she left.

  Wishing I was in any other class but this one, I fished the dead body out and consulted my instruction sheet. There was a tray with a rubber bottom we were to use. Following the written directions, I turned the frog over, spread each limb out and carefully pinned them down so that it was spread-eagle. In this position, it almost looked as if it was grinning at me, the edges of its mouth stretched wide, and I swallowed hard. Next came the hard part. I took the scalpel and brandished it over my victim. You can do this, you can do this. I touched the blade to its belly and held it there, bile rising in the back of my throat and a loud humming starting up in my ears. Trying to ignore everything, I pushed the blade in. Right as the tip penetrated the frog’s skin, my vision became dark around the edges—a darkness that crept in closer until it seemed as though I was looking through a camera’s tiny viewfinder. The humming became a rushing, and the last thing I remember was the evil grin of the horrible frog.