Sweetblood (9781439108741) by Pete Hautman

young people. I meet all kinds. Some older than me—and I am older than I look—have yet to grow up. Others are like you. You think about things. I can tell. Most people are sheep. They simply react to whatever life throws at them. You’re different. Life reacts to
you
. You’re a thinker, like the man in your card.”
    He taps the tarot card with his forefinger. “You see the castle? That is his home, to which he can never return. The bridge is his dream. The two upright cups represent false hopes.”
    Wayne turns up a new card.
    A gray-cloaked, white-bearded man standing on a snow-covered mountaintop holding a lantern in one hand and a staff in the other. Inside the lantern, a star shines. “The Hermit,” Wayne says. “My card. Like you, I enjoy the use of my intellect. I am a seeker of truth.”
    â€œFind any?”
    He lifts his wineglass.
“In vino veritas,”
he says, and drinks. When he sees that I do not understand, he explains. “That’s Latin. ‘In wine lies truth.’ Are you sure you wouldn’t care for a glass? It’s a very nice California pinot noir.”
    This time I say, “Okay.”
    He talks to me like an equal, an adult, an intelligent person who doesn’t have to go to school or be home by eleven or check her blood sugar every three hours. I sip my wine. It puckers my mouth, bitter and sour, with the scent ofberries and old wood, and a slight metallic tang. Not like the sweet, simple wine my parents drink on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’m not sure I like it, but it’s interesting.
    â€œIt’s very good,” I say and drink again.
    â€œYes it is. And may I say it is a pleasure to share a bottle of wine with one so lovely and intelligent.”
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œYou are always welcome here, Lucinda. Anytime. If you ever need a safe place to go, you are welcome. My doors are open. Shall we continue with your reading?”
    The wine has pooled beneath my heart; I feel it burning. A butterfly lands on the edge of the table, then flits off. Wayne turns up another card.
    A tall, gray tower on the top of a mountain is struck by a lightning bolt. The top of the tower, a golden crown, is blown off. Smoke and fire spill from the windows. A man and a woman are falling, surrounded by licks of flame.
    â€œThe tower,” says Wayne.
    I feel dizzy, as if I, too, am falling.
    â€œChaos, upheaval, revelation. A dangerous card, Lucinda.”
    I set my wineglass on the table. My arm seems longer than my body.
    â€œInsight, crisis, eruption. You are entering into a period of great change.”
    I hug myself. I know that what he is saying is true. His hands grasp my shoulders and I am looking straight into his bottomless eyes.
    â€œPromise me something, Lucinda. Promise me that if you need help, you will come to me.”
    I nod. His hands release me. I sit back, tingling where his hands gripped my shoulders. Everything is in sharp focus, as if someone has cranked up the contrast knob of reality. I stand up. I am ten feet tall.
    â€œI have to go.”
    â€œCome back and see me,” he says. “Come back anytime.”
    I lurch off, past the milkweed and the orchids, looking down at my feet, seeing flecks of black and orange on the wooden floor. I am scuffing through broken monarchs. The floor is littered with the dead.
    I find Dylan talking to Marquissa.
    â€œI have to go,” I say, trying to make my voice hard. It comes out high-pitched and whiny. I don’t care. He tries to argue with me, but I won’t have it. I don’t care about Marquissa and her sleepy, sleazy smirk. I don’t care what any of them think. I have to get out. I half drag him to the door and down the stairs.
    We get into his car.
    â€œWhat’s the matter with you?” he asks.
    â€œI’m tired.”
    â€œDid something happen?”
    â€œNo.” I feel so strange. “Why did you leave me