Bleeding Hearts
Page 10
“I’ve counted eighteen of these so far,” I shot back. “How much freaking sex do you think I’m having?” Especially with a curfew of roughly seven o’clock at night, which was about the time Nicholas woke up. It’s not like we can hang out at school.
Dad blanched, setting his cup down so fast his tea sloshed over his hand, scalding him. I don’t even think he noticed. “Who’s having sex?”
“No one, Dad.” I stole an oatmeal molasses cookie from the plate in front of him while he was too busy hyperventilating to notice.
“You’re sixteen,” he said, half-accusing, half-terrified.
“I know, Dad.”
“That’s too young for sex!”
“I’m not having sex!” This was getting embarrassing, even for our family, who talked about everything. Besides, Nicholas and I had been together for only a month or so. He was trying to not drink from my jugular, not trying to get into my pants. He was more squeamish about drinking my blood than I was. When Dad just blinked at me, his skin the approximate color of a frog’s belly, I shot Mom a reproachful glare. “See what you did?”
“You’re sixteen,” Mom said serenely, as if this weren’t mortifying. “I just want us to be realistic.”
Dad scrubbed his face. He had a long strand of crystal mala beads around his neck. “I’m going to need to get a gun, aren’t I?”
“You don’t believe in guns,” I reminded him. “Remember? That big political march last year? Gurus, not Guns?” They’d om’ed for a record twenty-three hours straight on the lawn outside city hall. I lasted an hour before I got bored. Plus, I really like miniature crossbows and UV guns, so I felt a little hypocritical. I met Solange for ice cream instead.
“That was before I had a sixteen-year-old daughter,” Dad said, his hand pressing on his ribcage, a clear indication that his ulcer was bothering him. I kissed the top of his head. His ponytail was longer than Mom’s.
“Drink your tea, Dad.” Then I pointed sternly at my mother. “I mean it, Mom. No more condoms.”
“I want you to see my gynecologist.”
“Mom!” I turned on my heel. “Conversation over!” I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me in case she considered following me for a mother-daughter chat. I loved my mom but I did not want to talk about sex.
Frankly, I had bigger problems.
Sex paled in comparison to the myriad ways Solange and all her irritating brothers could get themselves killed without me. I deserved to be part of their clandestine plans. I’d earned it. And I was sure they’d need a human touch at some point. And if they asked Hunter to help instead of me, I’d stake every last one of them myself.
Mom says jealousy is unattractive.
So’s a broken nose.
I’m just saying.
I dropped onto the bed, sighing. Emo best friend, crazy mother, and feral vampires in the woods.
Just another Thursday night in Violet Hill.
Chapter 4
Christabel
“You are not bringing a book to a bonfire party at the beach,” Lucy said from the doorway to my room. She was wearing a long skirt with a tank top and a jean jacket decorated with a huge pink silk rose brooch.
“Nope,” I agreed. I was wearing my usual torn jeans and combat boots. “I’m bringing two.”
“How are you even going to read in the dark?”
I waggled my battery-operated booklight at her before dropping it into my favorite black knapsack. I’d written bits of poetry all over it in silver marker. “The only reason I’m even going is because you won’t stop bugging me about it.”
“Careful, all that enthusiasm will wear you out,” she said drily.
I slung my bag over my shoulder. “How did you convince your parents to let us out after dark?”
“Nicholas and his brothers will be there. And dozens of people from school. Plus, I told them you needed to get out and do something normal.”
I stared at her. “You blamed this on me?”
“Hell, yeah.” She shrugged unrepentantly. “Anyway, I’m right. And I promise, beach parties are way cooler than the lame field parties where drunk idiots grope each other.”
“You guys actually have field parties? Cars parked in a circle with their headlights on and everything? I thought those were only in the movies.” I really missed the city. We had normal parties in people’s living rooms.
“At the beach we have bonfires, and you can see all the stars, and the lake always looks like it’s full of glitter. You’ll love it.”
“It doesn’t sound entirely horrid,” I admitted.
Aunt Cass was in the front hall trying not to look worried. Her jeans were covered in mandala patches. “Be careful, girls.”
“Mom, it’s just a party,” Lucy said. But there was something in her tone. I suddenly felt as if I were missing out on the actual conversation.
Aunt Cass’s smile was forced. “I know.” She handed Lucy a batik bag. “I packed snacks for you. And water. You know how I feel about soda.”
I had to grin. She didn’t mention alcohol like normal mothers.
Lucy didn’t take the bag, though; she just narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Do you swear there are no condoms in there?”
I coughed. “What?”
“Mom’s obsessed,” Lucy replied without looking at me. “You know, because I’m sixteen and a big old slut.”
Dad blanched, setting his cup down so fast his tea sloshed over his hand, scalding him. I don’t even think he noticed. “Who’s having sex?”
“No one, Dad.” I stole an oatmeal molasses cookie from the plate in front of him while he was too busy hyperventilating to notice.
“You’re sixteen,” he said, half-accusing, half-terrified.
“I know, Dad.”
“That’s too young for sex!”
“I’m not having sex!” This was getting embarrassing, even for our family, who talked about everything. Besides, Nicholas and I had been together for only a month or so. He was trying to not drink from my jugular, not trying to get into my pants. He was more squeamish about drinking my blood than I was. When Dad just blinked at me, his skin the approximate color of a frog’s belly, I shot Mom a reproachful glare. “See what you did?”
“You’re sixteen,” Mom said serenely, as if this weren’t mortifying. “I just want us to be realistic.”
Dad scrubbed his face. He had a long strand of crystal mala beads around his neck. “I’m going to need to get a gun, aren’t I?”
“You don’t believe in guns,” I reminded him. “Remember? That big political march last year? Gurus, not Guns?” They’d om’ed for a record twenty-three hours straight on the lawn outside city hall. I lasted an hour before I got bored. Plus, I really like miniature crossbows and UV guns, so I felt a little hypocritical. I met Solange for ice cream instead.
“That was before I had a sixteen-year-old daughter,” Dad said, his hand pressing on his ribcage, a clear indication that his ulcer was bothering him. I kissed the top of his head. His ponytail was longer than Mom’s.
“Drink your tea, Dad.” Then I pointed sternly at my mother. “I mean it, Mom. No more condoms.”
“I want you to see my gynecologist.”
“Mom!” I turned on my heel. “Conversation over!” I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me in case she considered following me for a mother-daughter chat. I loved my mom but I did not want to talk about sex.
Frankly, I had bigger problems.
Sex paled in comparison to the myriad ways Solange and all her irritating brothers could get themselves killed without me. I deserved to be part of their clandestine plans. I’d earned it. And I was sure they’d need a human touch at some point. And if they asked Hunter to help instead of me, I’d stake every last one of them myself.
Mom says jealousy is unattractive.
So’s a broken nose.
I’m just saying.
I dropped onto the bed, sighing. Emo best friend, crazy mother, and feral vampires in the woods.
Just another Thursday night in Violet Hill.
Chapter 4
Christabel
“You are not bringing a book to a bonfire party at the beach,” Lucy said from the doorway to my room. She was wearing a long skirt with a tank top and a jean jacket decorated with a huge pink silk rose brooch.
“Nope,” I agreed. I was wearing my usual torn jeans and combat boots. “I’m bringing two.”
“How are you even going to read in the dark?”
I waggled my battery-operated booklight at her before dropping it into my favorite black knapsack. I’d written bits of poetry all over it in silver marker. “The only reason I’m even going is because you won’t stop bugging me about it.”
“Careful, all that enthusiasm will wear you out,” she said drily.
I slung my bag over my shoulder. “How did you convince your parents to let us out after dark?”
“Nicholas and his brothers will be there. And dozens of people from school. Plus, I told them you needed to get out and do something normal.”
I stared at her. “You blamed this on me?”
“Hell, yeah.” She shrugged unrepentantly. “Anyway, I’m right. And I promise, beach parties are way cooler than the lame field parties where drunk idiots grope each other.”
“You guys actually have field parties? Cars parked in a circle with their headlights on and everything? I thought those were only in the movies.” I really missed the city. We had normal parties in people’s living rooms.
“At the beach we have bonfires, and you can see all the stars, and the lake always looks like it’s full of glitter. You’ll love it.”
“It doesn’t sound entirely horrid,” I admitted.
Aunt Cass was in the front hall trying not to look worried. Her jeans were covered in mandala patches. “Be careful, girls.”
“Mom, it’s just a party,” Lucy said. But there was something in her tone. I suddenly felt as if I were missing out on the actual conversation.
Aunt Cass’s smile was forced. “I know.” She handed Lucy a batik bag. “I packed snacks for you. And water. You know how I feel about soda.”
I had to grin. She didn’t mention alcohol like normal mothers.
Lucy didn’t take the bag, though; she just narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Do you swear there are no condoms in there?”
I coughed. “What?”
“Mom’s obsessed,” Lucy replied without looking at me. “You know, because I’m sixteen and a big old slut.”
