Blood Orange Soda: Paranormal Romance by James Michael Larranaga Page A
Authors: James Michael Larranaga
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much?”
“Enough to make up for our loss of your Reds subsidy,” she says. “I knew if you chose to live as a Normal, once you turn eighteen there’s no money. And if you chose to become a Vampire before eighteen, that money runs out. I’ve always assumed you’d become a Vampire before you became an adult.”
“You’ve prepared for this day?”
She nods. “And for the day when I too will pass away. I have a life insurance policy that will give you and Kira enough money to get through high school, and most of college.”
Another relief, but I reach over to her, holding her hand in mine. “Mom, you could live longer. You’ll see both Kira and me graduate from high—”
“I doubt that I’ll live that long,” Mom says, with tears welling up in her eyes. She’s searching my face, soaking in every detail of her Goth son, as if she’s afraid she’ll forget what I look like after she passes.
“Let’s try another blood transfusion. Jack can get clean blood,” I say.
She smiles to fight back the tears. “More blood won’t save me.”
“Let’s try,” I say, my voice cracking. “See if blood buys us time.”
“Buys us time for what?”
It’s too early to tell her about my bigger plan to find Jonathan, because I know she’ll try to stop me. Hell, I’m not sure I can even find him, much less convince him to help. At this point, I need her to agree to a blood transfusion to buy me time to figure this out.
“Clean blood will buy Kira and me more time with you , Mom.” And I lose it right there at the table. My emotions rise from my chest into my throat and I choke on my words. Her eyes light up and she takes a deep breath, like she’s caught a second wind that will carry her further.
“Honey, I know this is hard on you. We’ll try one more time!” she says, squeezing my hand as if she’ll never let me go.
Silent, I hold my mom’s hand as I drip tears into my cereal. I’ve always been moody, but never like this before. God, I’m like an Emo!
Either the stress of watching her slowly die or the Blood Orange Soda is triggering this new part of my personality. Funny thing is, I’m not embarrassed by my emotions anymore. They’re a sign that I’m human, or at least a human Vampire.
“You remind me so much of your father,” she says. “Before you go to school, I’d like to ask you a favor.”
“Sure, anything,” I tell her.
Mom stands and walks over to the counter and grabs her phone. “I’d like to take your picture.”
“Okay, yeah, no problem,” I say wiping tears and smudged black guyliner.
“Let’s take a new photo every few days to document your transformation,” she says. “Stand by the refrigerator.”
She has me stand and walk over to the refrigerator, and I realize what she’s doing. She’s recreating the same photos she took of my dad while he transformed. Almost all of his transformation photos were in the exact same spot, him standing by the refrigerator, transforming over time.
“How about we take one together?” I suggest. “Stand next to me.”
“Oh, no, I look terrible,” she says.
“Come on, let’s take one photo. If you don’t like it, you can always un-tag yourself on Facebook.”
We pose shoulder to shoulder and I hold up my phone, my arm stretched out as far as it will go. We review it together and I see both of us smiling, but I also notice something different about our eyes. In hers there’s sadness—in mine, there’s actually a glimmer of hope.
In English Lit I’m sitting in the back of the classroom, this time with Shelby next to me instead of behind me. We talked briefly in the hallway before class started, and she had confirmed that I would attend her T-Party on Halloween. I keep trying to tell her about my decision to transform, but there isn’t enough time to explain it. A topic like this deserves more time than the few minutes we have between classes. This might justify asking her out, even if only for coffee after
“Enough to make up for our loss of your Reds subsidy,” she says. “I knew if you chose to live as a Normal, once you turn eighteen there’s no money. And if you chose to become a Vampire before eighteen, that money runs out. I’ve always assumed you’d become a Vampire before you became an adult.”
“You’ve prepared for this day?”
She nods. “And for the day when I too will pass away. I have a life insurance policy that will give you and Kira enough money to get through high school, and most of college.”
Another relief, but I reach over to her, holding her hand in mine. “Mom, you could live longer. You’ll see both Kira and me graduate from high—”
“I doubt that I’ll live that long,” Mom says, with tears welling up in her eyes. She’s searching my face, soaking in every detail of her Goth son, as if she’s afraid she’ll forget what I look like after she passes.
“Let’s try another blood transfusion. Jack can get clean blood,” I say.
She smiles to fight back the tears. “More blood won’t save me.”
“Let’s try,” I say, my voice cracking. “See if blood buys us time.”
“Buys us time for what?”
It’s too early to tell her about my bigger plan to find Jonathan, because I know she’ll try to stop me. Hell, I’m not sure I can even find him, much less convince him to help. At this point, I need her to agree to a blood transfusion to buy me time to figure this out.
“Clean blood will buy Kira and me more time with you , Mom.” And I lose it right there at the table. My emotions rise from my chest into my throat and I choke on my words. Her eyes light up and she takes a deep breath, like she’s caught a second wind that will carry her further.
“Honey, I know this is hard on you. We’ll try one more time!” she says, squeezing my hand as if she’ll never let me go.
Silent, I hold my mom’s hand as I drip tears into my cereal. I’ve always been moody, but never like this before. God, I’m like an Emo!
Either the stress of watching her slowly die or the Blood Orange Soda is triggering this new part of my personality. Funny thing is, I’m not embarrassed by my emotions anymore. They’re a sign that I’m human, or at least a human Vampire.
“You remind me so much of your father,” she says. “Before you go to school, I’d like to ask you a favor.”
“Sure, anything,” I tell her.
Mom stands and walks over to the counter and grabs her phone. “I’d like to take your picture.”
“Okay, yeah, no problem,” I say wiping tears and smudged black guyliner.
“Let’s take a new photo every few days to document your transformation,” she says. “Stand by the refrigerator.”
She has me stand and walk over to the refrigerator, and I realize what she’s doing. She’s recreating the same photos she took of my dad while he transformed. Almost all of his transformation photos were in the exact same spot, him standing by the refrigerator, transforming over time.
“How about we take one together?” I suggest. “Stand next to me.”
“Oh, no, I look terrible,” she says.
“Come on, let’s take one photo. If you don’t like it, you can always un-tag yourself on Facebook.”
We pose shoulder to shoulder and I hold up my phone, my arm stretched out as far as it will go. We review it together and I see both of us smiling, but I also notice something different about our eyes. In hers there’s sadness—in mine, there’s actually a glimmer of hope.
In English Lit I’m sitting in the back of the classroom, this time with Shelby next to me instead of behind me. We talked briefly in the hallway before class started, and she had confirmed that I would attend her T-Party on Halloween. I keep trying to tell her about my decision to transform, but there isn’t enough time to explain it. A topic like this deserves more time than the few minutes we have between classes. This might justify asking her out, even if only for coffee after
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