zipping it, Mom and Dad come in my room. “I’m busy packing,” I tell them. I’m still not done sulking yet.
“Xandra, you understand we’re doing this because we honestly think it’s the best thing for you, right?” Mom asks. I look at her and I can tell she really believes that. Dad is trying to look supportive next to her but it’s obvious he’s still not a hundred percent sure about this plan.
I pick up my backpack that already has my sleeping bag rolled up and attached to the bottom of it and walk past them. Over my shoulder, I say, “Dad, what should I pack besides my clothes?”
“Xandra, can we please talk about this?” Mom asks.
I shake my head. “You’ve already made the decision so there’s nothing to talk about. If you think you’re going to get me to believe that this is the right thing to do, you might as well not even try. I think this plan stinks. You’re basically giving me to a stranger who for all you know could be a homicidal maniac who’s going to kill me as soon as we’re out of sight.” I open my bedroom door and walk out without glancing back.
I carry my back pack to the kitchen pantry. Using the step ladder, I collect some of the camping gear I had moved aside earlier to get Mom’s box of plants. I bring down two sets of metal dishes, a lantern, a flashlight, and a small kerosene cook stove and I put them all in the appropriate side and front pockets of my back pack. When I come out of the pantry, Mom and Dad are standing there looking shell-shocked. They don’t say anything and neither do I.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not a homicidal maniac.” Kallen is standing in the doorway of the kitchen leaning on the frame with his arms crossed over his bare chest. His head almost reaches the top of the doorway.
I tilt my head and give him a dirty look. “Like you’d admit it if you were.”
He ponders that for a moment and then smiles. “I concede that point to you.”
“Great,” I mumble. I walk around Mom and Dad to bring my backpack into the living room. Kallen is still in the doorway so I glower at him until he moves which he finally does and I don’t miss the humor in his eye. Glad he thinks this is so funny.
Once in the living room, I drop my back pack on the floor and drop into the recliner to wait for whatever horrible thing is going to happen next. Maybe we could round up some poisonous spiders and snakes to put in my sleeping bag just for the fun of it. Okay, I’m not handling this well at all, but who would?
It’s several minutes before my parents float back into the room. This time, Aunt Barb is trailing behind them. She has a small ceramic bowl and a knife in her hand. Okay, maybe it’s not snakes or spiders but it definitely looks as if things are going to get worse. “What are those for?” I ask her.
My mom answers for her. “For the blood oath. You and he will be bound with your lives to the promise that is set forth with your blood. If he fails you, he will die.”
“I hope it’s slow and painful,” I murmur under my breath. Apparently, Kallen heard what I said if the dirty look on his face is any indication.
Mom chooses to ignore my comment and she has Aunt Barb set the bowl down on one of the dark wood end tables. Turning to me, she says, “You need to put several drops of your blood in the bowl.” She indicates to Aunt Barb that she should give me the knife she has.
“You want me to cut myself?” I ask in disbelief.
Mom looks at me gently. “It’s just a few drops that are needed. If you just prick your finger with the tip of the knife that will be enough.”
Reluctantly, I take the knife from Aunt Barb. She doesn’t look any more thrilled about the idea than I do. I use the knife to jab the tip of my finger before I have time to think about how much it’s going to hurt.
“Xandra, you understand we’re doing this because we honestly think it’s the best thing for you, right?” Mom asks. I look at her and I can tell she really believes that. Dad is trying to look supportive next to her but it’s obvious he’s still not a hundred percent sure about this plan.
I pick up my backpack that already has my sleeping bag rolled up and attached to the bottom of it and walk past them. Over my shoulder, I say, “Dad, what should I pack besides my clothes?”
“Xandra, can we please talk about this?” Mom asks.
I shake my head. “You’ve already made the decision so there’s nothing to talk about. If you think you’re going to get me to believe that this is the right thing to do, you might as well not even try. I think this plan stinks. You’re basically giving me to a stranger who for all you know could be a homicidal maniac who’s going to kill me as soon as we’re out of sight.” I open my bedroom door and walk out without glancing back.
I carry my back pack to the kitchen pantry. Using the step ladder, I collect some of the camping gear I had moved aside earlier to get Mom’s box of plants. I bring down two sets of metal dishes, a lantern, a flashlight, and a small kerosene cook stove and I put them all in the appropriate side and front pockets of my back pack. When I come out of the pantry, Mom and Dad are standing there looking shell-shocked. They don’t say anything and neither do I.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not a homicidal maniac.” Kallen is standing in the doorway of the kitchen leaning on the frame with his arms crossed over his bare chest. His head almost reaches the top of the doorway.
I tilt my head and give him a dirty look. “Like you’d admit it if you were.”
He ponders that for a moment and then smiles. “I concede that point to you.”
“Great,” I mumble. I walk around Mom and Dad to bring my backpack into the living room. Kallen is still in the doorway so I glower at him until he moves which he finally does and I don’t miss the humor in his eye. Glad he thinks this is so funny.
Once in the living room, I drop my back pack on the floor and drop into the recliner to wait for whatever horrible thing is going to happen next. Maybe we could round up some poisonous spiders and snakes to put in my sleeping bag just for the fun of it. Okay, I’m not handling this well at all, but who would?
It’s several minutes before my parents float back into the room. This time, Aunt Barb is trailing behind them. She has a small ceramic bowl and a knife in her hand. Okay, maybe it’s not snakes or spiders but it definitely looks as if things are going to get worse. “What are those for?” I ask her.
My mom answers for her. “For the blood oath. You and he will be bound with your lives to the promise that is set forth with your blood. If he fails you, he will die.”
“I hope it’s slow and painful,” I murmur under my breath. Apparently, Kallen heard what I said if the dirty look on his face is any indication.
Mom chooses to ignore my comment and she has Aunt Barb set the bowl down on one of the dark wood end tables. Turning to me, she says, “You need to put several drops of your blood in the bowl.” She indicates to Aunt Barb that she should give me the knife she has.
“You want me to cut myself?” I ask in disbelief.
Mom looks at me gently. “It’s just a few drops that are needed. If you just prick your finger with the tip of the knife that will be enough.”
Reluctantly, I take the knife from Aunt Barb. She doesn’t look any more thrilled about the idea than I do. I use the knife to jab the tip of my finger before I have time to think about how much it’s going to hurt.
Similar Books
