“Can anyone tell me what president was in office during the civil war?” the teacher Ms. Baker asked desperately. She was young and obviously new. Her hair was curly and black. She wore a stylish jacket and skirt thing.
I sat up and removed my fingers from covering my mouth. I looked at the book, but it all seemed like total jibberish to me. But I knew the answer. I lived during the civil war. I didn’t pay much attention, but I knew. “What year did it start?” she asks trying hard to get an answer from the class. “When did it end?” she tries harder. “Why did it start?” she is losing the battle. “Why did it end? Who won?” she is desperate.
“1861 to 1865. Abraham Lincoln, it was a war between the north and the south over the expansion of free-states and slavery. The north won. It ended because the confederates surrendered.” I felt bad okay? Her eyes of deep appreciation meet mine and she seems startled. “Thank you…Adam?” she asks. I nod slightly trying to keep attention off me. For the rest of class I am quiet but I feel eyes on me including Ms. Baker’s.
I tried to slip out before she caught me, but I felt a tug on my arm and a soft, “Adam?” I close my eyes at my name and turn around. “Yes?” I ask. Her eyes are warm. “I know that wasn’t the thing you felt like doing as soon as you got here. But thank you. That meant a lot. What school did you come from?” she asks.
“Oh, ugh, I was home-schooled.” Lie. She seems impressed. “Wow. I am very impressed.” Well, duh. I grin. I have this. “Yeah, my dad has his P.H.D. in theology and my mom is a surgeon. My dad is retired from the navy so he taught me during the day.” I impress myself. Where do I come up with these things?
I think her eyes might fall out of her head. “Really? Wow. You come from an impressive family.” She smiles broadly. “Now this means I expect nothing but perfection from you. I am going to tell all the other teachers to. I will contact your parents to.”
Backfire! What a stupid fool. “Ok.” I mutter quietly. “May I have a number?” she asks. A number? I write down Luther’s cell. She smiles again and I leave. What have I gotten myself into? I slouch outside where I see Harry sitting with a bunch of nerds at a table. He’s the leader. I don’t want to interrupt him, but I have to. I walk by without a word and grab his arm. He flies off the table and with a wolf reflex, he jumps to his feet. People aw at him, but I just keep going.
Pause: I forgot to say that we are all wolves. But you’ll get a good explanation in good time.
Play: “Dude what are you,” I yanked him so he would shut up. “I screwed up.” I whispered. He rolled his eyes. “Look lover boy, if it’s about that girl, then I don’t,”
“Oh, shut up about her already! I told a little white lie, and,”
“Adam, your definition of a white lie,”
“Yes, mine. Well, I told my teacher that my dad was in the navy and has a P.H.D. in theology and my mom is a surgeon. Now she wants to contact them because I am so smart.”
He raised a brow. “Hate to say it man, mommy and daddy are dead.” I glare. “I know that!” I hiss. “I gave her Luther’s cell.” I mutter quietly. He slaps me on the arm. “You stupid fool!” he shakes his head.
“Look, Lover boy! It’s your girlfriend!” he sings. “She isn’t my girlfriend!” I yell as quietly as possible. I look behind me. She has a completely different tone to her face. She is staring straight at me; straight into me. I look at her body which is stalk still and her hair blows in the easy breeze. “Hold on,” my voice lags as I walk away. I walk over to her where she follows my movements but says nothing.
“Can I help you?” I ask, and before I notice, I realize that what I say has a snappy tone. “No.” she answers flatly and rearranges her books that are in her arms. She tries to leave but I stop her. “Then why where you staring at me?” I ask. “I, I wasn’t…I…aren’t you from the office?” she asks stuttering. I nod. This is my cue to start flirting. “I’m Adam. Your busy girl that works in the school office, right?” I ask. “That was so lame.” I tell myself. She nods and I get the feeling she doesn’t like me very much. “What’s your real name?” I ask her trying desperately to get on her good side. “Spencer.” She doesn’t give me a second glance. “That’s pretty.” I try again, on the verge of desperation. “It’s a boy’s name.” she makes a face. “Well you put all those boy’s named Spencer to shame you make it so feminine.” I see a small smile, but she hides it.
“So why were you working in the office anyway?” I ask glancing over at Harry who is mouthing, “You stupid fool!” he keeps this up while she talks. “It’s for community service hours. With homework and sports I don’t have time to get much of anything for service hours in. So I try to do things here.” She explains.
“Oh shut up already!” I yell. She looks at me bewildered. “What?” she yells half mad and half confused. “I have to go.” I tell her, one hand brushing her shoulder. I go over to Harry who is laughing like he is the fool.
“Harry Bryant, so help you!” I rage. I walk over and shove him to the ground. “Who’s the stupid fool now, huh?”

The date. I was never good at those. I laid my head back against the wall. I remember that. Well what was yesterday? Heck, I had no idea. Here’s a relative date. It was sometime during 1834. I think it was summer, maybe spring. I can’t remember the day, though. Tuesday, maybe Wednesday. Could’ve been a Thursday. Maybe even a Friday. Well, lucky for you I remember the important stuff like it was yesterday. But not the date.
I remember stepping outside and hearing the bird’s shrill chirps biding me good morning. Sounds like spring to me. The sky was bright and the sounds of hard labor made me wonder.
I never experienced these things. I never had to work before. My father owned a tobacco plantation in southern Virginia; a big one at that. We had slaves, indentured servants, and people who would work for the slightest bit my father would hand feed them; just small spare morsels.
One thing I am going to warn you, my father is a real jerk. The most genuine I had ever met. He didn’t care the slightest bit about our workers’ welfare. He treated them like property. To him they were a block of wood he wanted to shape. So he would cut it, strip it bare, toss it around, do whatever it took to make it how he wanted. I can’t begin to tell you how unfair and cruel I found this. But what really tore me from him was what he did to my mother. It started when I was thirteen, but I didn’t have a clue until I was sixteen. He had a problem. But what made my heart ache most…well, you’ll see.
My parents married young. Love was immediate, but problems erupted quickly. My dad had inherited his land just as his father did. Jones land came easy in the family if you were a political leader.
Mom came from a totally different background. Her name was Elaine Love. The Loves worked hard to earn what they had and never took what they couldn’t pay back.
My dad was a thick and shaped man with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He dressed in suits everyday and as I grew older he expected nothing less from me. My mom was thin and tall with beautiful black hair that draped to her waist and green eyes that sparkled like they had a diamond hidden in them. She wore long skirts that she made herself and would always wrap fabric around her head when she worked. And every day she would pick a flower and put it in her hair.
She didn’t like how dad treated the workers, so she would hold secret meetings in the cellars, spending hours at a time teaching them to read and write and she would do the work that they had missed for their lessons. She held books for the already articulate and would help plan their lives after she had found a way to set them free. She was any good man’s idol.
The Jones family hated her, treated her like a servant; just over all treated her very poorly. But she silently took the pain and glorified from it. Love was my mother’s passion. And she loved me more than anything.
As I said, dad had a problem. He loved women. When I was thirteen, he had his first affair. He did is best to make sure my mom had no clue, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew something was wrong, but she believed in him. She believed in his no good scams, his stone heart, she believed he could change. She was wrong. He had numerous affairs before I caught him.
I was with my guys. We were walking up to dad’s office in City Hall. I knocked on his door and no one answered. Luther looked at me. I listened in. “John,” a female voice said my father’s name then giggled. Luther looked at me as if to say, “Don’t you dare,” I shrugged, sighed then opened the door. My dad was lying on his desk with an assistant. “Dad,” I growled. “Adam. Go home.” He retorted. I looked back at Luther. He gave me a look of sympathy, but caution. I looked ashamed. I felt ashamed.
Mom. I ran. When I told her she saw the sincerity in my eyes and collapsed in my arms. But she stayed with him. She continued to act oblivious. “You haven’t told your mom, right son?” dad would ask. It would take all my strength to say no.
“Adam, he is your father. You need to show respect for him. He supports you, me, and Mason.” She said one day, clenching her fists. “Mom! How does it feel to know that the person lying next to you was probably kissing someone else that day?” I asked as tears swelled in her eyes. “I may not be good enough for him, but I want to be good enough for you!” she cried. “Mom, you are! He is the biggest jerk in the world! He isn’t worth it and he isn’t good enough for you!” I yelled. She smacked me. “You will show respect for him. He is your father. Do you understand?” she turned hysterical. I nodded and walked out.
Now to my guys. There’s Luther, who keeps us all in line. He has sandy brown hair that was kind of shaggy and he had deep, dark chocolate eyes. His brows always knit into one when he thinks and he likes to talk with his eyes. He has always had expressive eyes. He didn’t like bright colors and he liked to be in charge.
Then there is Sam, who has very short black hair and grey eyes. He is burly, but the youngest of us all. He hates being last and loves being care free. He has amazing eyesight for some reason and he always raises his eyebrows.
Thom is short and muscular with long black hair and yellow eyes. He can hear extremely well so he is good for eavesdropping. He likes when girls pay attention to him and hate when they ignore him. He always closes his eyes when he thinks.
David is the buffest of all of us and the second tallest to Harry. He has sandy blonde hair that curls at the ends. He has blue eyes and he hates being beat. He always gets into fights. He loves to win. He always has a smile no matter what. Last but definitely not least is my best friend.
Harry. He is very tall, thin, and lanky. He wears glasses, has golden scruffy hair, and green eyes. He loves reading and constantly finds himself very annoyed with the inarticulate-by-choice. He is our planner. And the best damn friend in the world. We all love Harry, but he isn’t like the rest of us. He won’t stand a chance in a fight since he doesn’t have an ounce of muscle, given the rest of us are ripped. So we thought.
Now for romance. It is kind of hard to remember since it was so long ago, but Luther, at the time, was dating Victoria Shamus. Sam was dating Jane Shamus, Victoria’s younger sister who absolutely adored her even younger boyfriend. Thom. I actually can’t remember the names. I know what you’re thinking. Names? What’s wrong with this guy? So yeah, Thom had a different girl every week. But he treated the girl well while she was there. His philosophy: they’re along for a good time not a long time. But I felt bad for the guy; he could never find the right girl. David had a passion for Madison Gilbert since they were ten, but when she got married he sort of gave up. Her husband died later on, but that’s a whole other story I will get to later. An interesting one at that. And Harry…the poor guy…he would take any girl he could get. This was none at the time. But as far as we knew, he was happy.
I don’t know if I mentioned, but it was kind of a funny sight, seeing five burly teenage boys walking along, and between them is this tall lanky boy with glasses and crazy hair. And harry was real tall, I mean six foot five. Anyways, back to romance.
Me? I was in love. Unbelievably. But it was complicated, something that neither I nor her could understand. Something that was more a burden on me, something that really didn’t have much effect on her, but sort of a…minor detour if you will, in our relationship. I hadn’t been making very wise decisions since I found out about my dad. That was one of many problems that I felt that I didn’t have the strength to fix. Another: I was in love with the most selfish, egocentric girl there was. But when she was with me, she was totally different. She was quiet, slow to anger, humble, and she was beautiful. And she was breath taking when she was vulnerable. She was Ebony Black.

“Hey Luth, I need to tell you something.” I inch closer, but cautiously. I try to hide my fear and anxiousness, but I hate getting in trouble by him. I feel bad because when I get in trouble with him, I feel like I let him down. And this one of those times. “What’s up?” he asks mindlessly with no eye contact, not really paying attention or caring.
He looks up from his book, straight at the wall. He is thinking something. I don’t know what, but he is thinking. “What did you do Adam?” He asks looking up at me with a startling horrified look on his face. I sit down and cover my face with my hands. “Just tell me you didn’t do anything to threaten our lives, our cover, or blow up something really important.”
Okay. I have a knack for blowing things up. I started small, but I went big. So far in my lifetime, I’ve blown up Mason’s teddy bear, a home-made rocket (courtesy of Harry), a rose bush, a piece of wood furniture, a chandelier, a clock, a car, and pretty much every little thing you could think of. I don’t know how I blew up that rose bush, but it was epic.
“You know I haven’t done that in a while…”I look up at the ceiling. I have my hands in my pockets and I rock back and forth on my heels while I think up a descent sap story about how great he is and how he teaches us everything and blah, blah, blah. “Let me start by saying how amazing you are. You were totally right about going to high school. I mean there are gorgeous girls just sitting around everywhere and…I guess the learning is a perk, whatever, and you know everything…” I struggle to think up more excuses.
“Adam it would be easier to just tell me what you did so I can try to bandage the injured…” he explains with a strained look on his face. “Well I have this teacher and she was asking about the civil war. Well no one answered. So I just blurted out all the answers to her questions. Well she talked to me after class and she asked what school I came from, and I told her that I was home-schooled.” I look down at him.
“Yeah, so?” he seems confused. “I told her that my dad was a professor of theology and my mom was a surgeon. Then she asked for a number to talk to my parents and I gave her your cell…” I whisper the last part. “Adam Isaac Jones,” “Adam Isaac Love, Luther.” I retort quietly. “Adam Isaac Love so help you! Why did you do that? I don’t even understand the reasoning for this! You didn’t even want to go to high school and now you’re telling a teacher stuff that isn’t even close to being true! You’re helpless!” he clasps his hands together behind his head.
“I tried to tell him…” harry sighed. “You can shut up Harry Myles Bryant! You were acting like a five year old outside at school! ‘There's your girlfriend, Adam! Look!” While the three of us argue, Sam and David sit in the background eating chips. “This is better than reality TV.” Sam laughs. “Yeah, but where are the hot girls?” David asks.”Reality TV time.” Sam clicks the on button with the remote.
You can hear the quiet hum of voices in the background from the TV. “Ha! Look at her! She looks ridiculous!” David laughs uncontrollably and Sam quickly joins. “I’m going out.” I quickly grab my car keys and head out.
As soon as I step off the porch it begins to poor. I pull up my hood. My black Tahoe is pretty beat up but that is simply because I drive it most. Harry and I share a car Sam and David share one, and of course Luther has his own.
Thunder cackles at me as I pull out and I draw a deep but silent breath to make chills run down the tips of my spine like the slow drips of water slowly loosing grasp of the porch banisters and the roof, and the gutters. I drive around taking in the concept of my surroundings, getting a feel for direction in this lonely town. As I drive around the busiest part of town, I realize that the pounding rain on my roof is noticeably louder, much more forceful. For a busy place, there is hardly anybody around, almost no one. I drive past a coffee shop that seems like a good place to grab a cup once in a while, maybe with my guys…or a date.
I see someone running, sopping wet, and shivering. I realize its Spencer. I pull over and she looks back but rolls her eyes and keeps running. “Hey, Spencer!” I yell over the pounding rain. A boom of thunder rumbles overhead. “What?” she snaps. I see that mascara is slowly trickling down her cheeks. Her hair is dripping. “Let me drive you home.” I offer. She shakes her head. “It’s fine out here, thank you. It’s not lightning and I only have about three or four miles…” she reasons. “Three or four miles is a long time. And lightning will start soon.” I offer. She shakes her head. “No lightning.” She is stubborn. Like magic, all of a sudden a big light shines and a snap pops in my ears. I thank God silently. She rolls her eyes and opens the door.
I open the glove box as she buckles her seat belt. I pull out a stack of napkins and wipe the mascara off her face. She grabs a few and starts to drain her hair of the rain. She smells good. Really good. Lavender fumes off her hair with an earthy scent of rain. Her body profusely gives off a thick mysterious scent, one that is way too good to be bought in a store. Very natural. I look away trying to keep my mind off of it. Her hair starts to rap around itself as it dries; natural locks of curls form and it starts to become the lighter brown I know as oppose to the black it had turned.
“Where do you live?” I ask trying not to sound too distracted. “Up on Morgan Hill. It’s pretty easy. Just drive straight past Mango Road and take a right on Harbor Boulevard. It’s the third house down.” She gives directions quietly. “Okay…” I mutter. “You really hate me don’t you?” I ask laughing. “Why do you think that?” she snaps. “I can tell…you just don’t.” I laugh again. “No I don’t. Happy now?” she asks. “No…” I whisper. I pull up next to her house. I turn towards her. “Why do you hate me?” I ask. She rolls her eyes. “’Cause you’re a jerk.” She mutters. “How do you know?” I ask. “I just do. And I don’t like jerks. Get it? Good.” She huffs and turns her head. “I can change that.” I press on. “I highly doubt it, but I suppose you are going to go ahead with proposing an offer.” She looks up at me. I sit for a moment.
“Yeah…” I finally mutter. “Ugh…I…maybe…we could…go for coffee?” I feel like a stupid fool. I wince. She considers then shakes her head. “I have a boyfriend.” She finally rips her eyes from my gaze. “I wasn’t asking you out.” I press gently on her arm when she tries to get out. “Just to be friends.” I carry on. She blushes. “I don’t think so…” “Come on,” I wince as I realize I’m being pushy. “I don’t know anyone around here…and you seem to be popular at school…everyone knows your name.” I don’t want to give up. “Alright…after school tomorrow. Just as friends.” She reminds me. I nod and force back a smile. She gets out and shuts the door before I can say anything else.
I drive home quietly thinking to myself. The solemn chants of the rain are sort of bringing down my excitement so I turn on the radio. I smile uncontrollably inside while Eminem’s cursing is beeped out. I pull into the driveway and jump out of my car, almost hitting my head on the roof, and run inside. “You’ll never believe this Harry!” he seems to still be mad at me from singling him out but he looks up from his laptop.
“I’ve got a date!” this seems to brighten him. “With that hot girl? What did she say? What happened?” Luther doesn’t look as thrilled as Harry and I. “Homework comes first boys.” He chastises. “Now, now. This is a serious event.” I hold up my hand. “Well you two gossip girls need to make it quick. You have many teachers to impress Adam.” I roll my eyes and turn back to Harry.
“So I’m driving around and I see her in the pouring rain running. Well she begs me for a ride and I let her in. So we drive to her house and she asks me out. At first I say no but she insists and I tell her I have a girlfriend but she wanted to take the risk. So were going for coffee after school tomorrow.” I grin. “So what really happened was you saw her, begged her to get in, drove to her house, begged her to go out, she said no, you insisted, she has a boyfriend, and you’re going out just as friends.” He raises a brow. “Yeah, pretty much.” I nod. Luther buts in. “Homework.” He hands me a book and pencil. “Since when were you in charge?”

“David, bottom line, school doesn’t do crap. I don’t understand why we have to go. Well…I’m wrong, I do understand. Hot girls are crawling all over the place. So I get it. But why we have to actually do work just blows my mind.”I roll my eyes as I explain my present and his future difficulties.
He nods studying me carefully then shakes his head. “I guess it’s the same idea that they had when we were in school. But I heard quite the opposite from Harry.” He replies skeptically. I cock a brow and lean forward from my reclined position. “Harry? You listened to Harry?” I shake my head laughing. ”Well…being honest here Adam, he does care more about what school is really about. You know…work. I mean it actually sounds fun with all the clubs and extra classes.” He admits sheepishly.
“I’m wasting my time talking to you. And besides the girls the best part is the sports.” I lean back again. “We can’t do sports.” He flops back in the chair glumly. “What are you talking about? We’d be the best on whatever team we play.” I shake my head and turn on the TV. “Luther says we can’t. He said that using our ‘gifts’ to beat others isn’t what we were meant to do.” He seems like a little child to me.
“That’s stupid. Besides, were not playing to beat other people, were sharing our gifts. And I was going to try out for football. I hear that’s something the girls like. You know Luther has been really getting on my nerves lately. I don’t know what his problem is but I seriously think he needs to know how annoying he’s been. I don’t understand why he has to be in charge anyway. Were all the same age by a few months so I don’t really understand.” I roll my eyes.
“Adam you’re only trying to impress that girl. Can’t you just accept that you’ve lost your touch? Well he’s always really been the leader, you know? He’s always been seen as older. Just more mature than us. I have to say, you are the most immature out of all of us, and you aren’t a logical thinker, so I can’t say that you would be a very good leader.” He shrugs.
I roll my eyes. “Well I would like to let you know that I am very mature and I could be leader of this pack any day. I just think you guys pulled names out of a hat when I wasn’t there. While any of us are eligible, I think that I myself would be the best choice.” I flip channels aimlessly. “Whatever.” He stands and leaves.
Sam walks in just about the same time David exits. “Sam, I have to get your opinion on something.” I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees. “Shoot.” He flops down on the chair across from me and closes his eyes. “What do you think school is about?” he rolls his head to the other side of the chair. “Dude, I haven’t been to school in how long?” I make face and look away.
“I mean in general. Not this school in particular…all schools.” He opens his eyes tiredly and closes them again. “Two words…girls…sports.” He sighs and all signs of stress evaporate into thin air. “Thank you; someone that shares my point of views. I mean Harry and David think it’s actually about work. So what’s wrong with you? You’re all melancholy and stuff.” I ask him. He huffs angrily and kicks his shoes off.
“Luther has this idea that going to school is going to be hard for me so all day he was making me do all this stuff. I am so tired. And it was college level work. He doesn’t think I’m the brightest. That’s what he actually told me.” He sighs and drags his socked toes on the ground releasing all the crumbs and morsels of energy he has left.
“I can’t believe he did that to you. I mean it takes a lot to make you physically tired. But making someone mentally tired isn’t that hard and he shouldn’t be over exhorting your mental abilities. And you are really smart so don’t let him ever tell you any different.” I assure him with full confidence and a plan steaming up in my head about what I am going to do to fix this Luther problem. “But maybe I am stupid. Maybe I’m not as bright as the rest of you let me think I am. Maybe I am as ignorant as Luther says.” He looks at me with struggling eyes; struggling for an answer, struggling to stay open. “I’m going to kill him!” I rage angrily under my breath but Sam hears me. “Hey, Adam, it’s o-Kay.”
He yawns between the “o” and the “Kay”. “No, Sam, it’s not. He can’t just keep talking to you or anyone else like that.” I persuade confidently. He shrugs and falls asleep.
I walk into my room and pace back and forth. My room is small with just the simple pieces of furniture: a bed, dresser, mirror, and bookshelf. Luther volunteered me to have the smallest room and the oldest furniture.
But I don’t mind the furniture that I have, because it’s special to me. It was my mother’s and father’s furniture. Every time I’m in my room, I think about my family.
I think about my mom. Her pretty brown hair that was always braided or twisted in spiral curls. Her smell, just like the flowers she would cut every day.
I think about Mason. How he used to always love the teddy bears mom would give him, and how he had such big blue eyes he could get away with anything and he knew it. I sit and think about how I would do anything to watch him grow up.
And then I think of my dad. All peace and serenity inside me is absolutely gone. I think about how big of a jerk he was and feel bad that I didn’t shoot
Him before I left. Then my mother’s voice lingers inside my head and she tells me that even though I had so much irritation, I couldn’t let my fury take over me. I listen.
Then I think of Ebony. Her curls, her egotistical ways, her fragrance that filled the air.
But today I think about Spencer. The way she smelled so strongly of lavender. How her hair turns dark when it’s wet, how her eyes sparkled. Spencer was different. I quietly mutter to myself, “I’m going to handle things.”

She had never cared about anyone but herself. Her whole entire life had been centered on her own welfare and no one else’s. As far back as I can remember, vaguely, being about ten years old and she would never show an ounce of consideration for anyone around her.
At that time we were, I think, playing tag in the school yard and she would sit there on the bench playing with her luscious curls that seemed as if they never ceased to bounce.
When we were thirteen, I remember a distinct time that she felt revenge was the key to life. After she had been dumped by Jim Goodson, she had literally made his life miserable. Every time he walked by her or one of his friends, they would trip him with their feet. But that was only how it had started. These were little things, almost generous for what Ebony could and would do. They started to bombard him and steal all his money and his lunch. And then it ceased to fade. Instead it became unmanageable. The boy ended up having to quit school because of the fact that everywhere he went within a one hundred feet perimeter of the schoolyard there was some sort of monstrous prank waiting for him.
This was typical of the Ebony everyone knew. But the Ebony I knew would never be capable of anything so horrible. When we were fourteen, a specific time would’ve made anyone think that she was an inhuman monster. But at the same time, just after, then would have made them think just the opposite. “Jane, go get me lunch from that stand over there.” She ordered lazily while playing with her curls that were somewhat hidden by a sun hat that kept her cool since it was sort of hot that day.
But I actually found this to be of no purpose since she was sitting under a very tall willow tree. Jane raised a brow and ruffled her dress. “Ebony, you can get it yourself, there is no reason in pestering someone so much older than you to do things for you. It just won’t happen and it is not pleasant.” Jane turned her head smugly. Ebony looked up with her jaw clenched and her eyebrows highly arched.
“Excuse me Jane, but you are only a year older than I and aren’t even as mature as a thirteen year old.” She shook her head and went back to her sleek and bouncy curls that I so desperately wanted to wrap around my fingers but simply watched in the shadows under my book that bored me to the point of insanity. Jane took this to heart and quickly became deeply offended. “Ebony I must have you know that you are not even close to maturity and you are mindless and rude. You most certainly cannot boss everyone around like your maid because your daddy has money. I am not going to get you anything.” Ebony crossed her arms and her mouth was slightly open from fury.
She then stood up, walked over to Jane, and grabbed her hair. She pulled her to the ground while Jane squealed like a pig. Sam wanted so badly to fix these things, but he was so stunned he had no idea how to fix things. She bent down next to Jane who was clutching her hair and crying. “You know what I like,” she hissed softly in a manner so nasty and disgusting that I found my breath caught in my throat.
“Go buy me lunch.” Her eyes twinkled with a crystal blue that made my head spin and I laid my head back against the tree and regained a steady breathing pattern. Jane stood up and ran over to Sam who had his arms open ready to comfort her while they bought her lunch.
To my surprise, Ebony came over and sat down next to me. She had never noticed me before. Ever. “Hello, Adam.” She greeted me softly in a delicate voice that made my heart do fancy twists and turns that actually hurt. “Hello…Ebony…how are you?” I asked, trying not to sound stupidly eager and foolish. “Hungry. That Jane girl doesn’t listen for anything and she has no respect.” She muttered flatly with her arms folded elegantly across her chest, but I found it to be very childish, in a good way. I laughed quietly.
“Hmmm…you seem to get angry when you don’t get your way, Ms. Black.” I looked down at her from my book and smiled slightly out of the corner of my mouth; my favorite flirting tactic. She glowered. “What are you implying, Mr. Jones?” She asked in a careful but flirtatious tone. She hadn’t fooled me. I rested my book on my chest.
“I am implying that you are selfish and egocentric.” I turned my head away and closed my eyes. “I can deal with that. It is true and I have heard it many times before. I’ve learned to accept these things because it is simply who I am.” She nestled her head into the crook between her shoulder and mine where the soft spot in the tree rested. I was careful not to move a muscle in my neck or shoulder, keeping her delicate head and neck comfortable.
She sighed with contentment while she waited for me to say something. “I don’t believe it.”I simply declared. Her head tensed then retreated. “And why is that…?” she asked lazily, her voice drawn. “Hmmm…” the cool breeze blew past my face so very gently like a brush, the perfect feeling, and it drew a wisp of her sweet scent, the sweetest: lavender, with a hint of cinnamon.
“Because I know what it means to be shaped, formed. I, unlike some people, i.e. my father, find it cruel to form people into something other than themselves. He does that Ebony, almost like it’s for a living. He does that to our slaves and it turns them into something other than there selves. And I know that you are good. Way, way, way, very deep down, you are a good person. But you have been shaped and formed for fourteen years to be the way you are, that you don’t have any idea who you are.” I talked gently so that no one could hear. She took my words into silent consideration.
“You should write that down.” She finally said after a smooth sigh. “I’m not following.” I crease my forehead in confusion. “You should write that down. It would be a good base for a piece of poetry. Now I’m not much of a poet, but I do know that you have always been good at these types of things. Stories, poetry, you make things flow…and I understand what you are saying Adam, I do. And I can try to find these things…deep down in me.” She had sincerity in her tone that was inhuman, unnatural for her.
“Okay…do you promise me?” She looked at me and I opened my eyes. “What’s wrong?” I asked her crystal blue eyes, an icy, frozen blue. “I’ve never made a promise before…” she whispered. “It’s not that hard, you know.” I lowered my eyes. “Well yes, but I have a feeling that there is something more to just saying that you cross your heart and swear to die.” She pointed out. I sat back and considered it. “Well, yes. When you promise you are saying that you will do something and you can’t break it. When you break a promise you lose a friend. And you’re right, because most people don’t consider what a promise means when they make one.” She looked at me again.
“I promise…”

Adam…oh, Adam. I don’t even know what to think about him or any of this. I had told him I had a boyfriend, which is true, but we aren’t really together anymore it seems. He really doesn’t seem to be interested in me at all and I feel like I’m losing interest in him to. We rarely talk anymore, and if we do, it’s because he has to complain about something and no one wanted to hear it. Sure it’s good “bling” for football, but I feel no connection to him. But there’s this thing about Adam, I’m not really sure what, but he makes me feel different. He makes me feel angry and full of energy.
So when I walk into the house and leave his car, I feel hot, red, and sticky. Sure, the stickiness is from the rain, but it’s the beginning of October, so it’s starting to get a little cold and rain really induces the bitterness. He waits until I walk in the house before driving away. I take my shoes off and place them neatly on the mat right inside the door so I don’t track water and mud into the house. My socks are wet to, so I put them inside my shoes. My hair is moist, but not sodden. I go upstairs and look into my parent’s room. I am alone. I take a quick shower and start my homework.
I don’t understand why, but I can’t concentrate. I never have problems concentrating, but tonight seems odd. My phone vibrates so I run to pick it up. I have a text from James, my boyfriend. It says, “Hey, Spencer, I want to break up. See you around.” I bite my lip from irritation. He doesn’t have the guts to call me so he just says that he wants to break up over text. And then he says “Se you around”? I’m really angry. I throw my phone onto my bed and ruffle my hair. This is one of the times you need a person like Adam. For the extremely short time I have known him, he would be the one to talk to about this. He would help me spy on him, talk bad about him, and make me laugh. I am tempted to find him but I don’t feel like it’s a very good idea. I feel like it’s extremely straight forward because we just met.
I dial my friend Leah’s phone number, knowing she will want to come over right away and help me cut up pictures of him and make devious plans to spy on him. She answers after two rings. I try to sound as pouty as possible, but I’m not usually one to sit and pout over things, obsess over them more like it. She answers the phone happily but I could sense and edge of frustration. “Hey…”I answer glumly with a long drawn out sigh. “What’s wrong?” she asks half-heartedly. “James broke up with me over text!” I shriek, already tired of being pouty and sad. I am just mad. She gasps effectively and I hear something in the background. “Stay put.” She orders. “I’ll be right over.” she hangs up quickly and about two minutes later she is here, panting, heaving, and all.
“So what’s all this BS your telling me about?” she asks. Her Canadian accent puts an emphasis on “about” that I just love every time she says it. “Read it.” I hold the phone out to her and she squints to read it. “I can do something really bad to him.” She offers hopefully. “I can have one of the guys give him a swirly or something. Eli wouldn’t mind, he always hated James anyway. And then we can spy on him and sabotage every girl he ever goes out with until you’re totally and honestly over it. I mean we can do EVERYTHING.” She has the mystical look in her eyes that she gets every time she has an idea while she looks up at the ceiling. “Can’t we just cut up pictures first? I’m so tired. I ran into that new guy Adam today when I was running in the pouring rain. He dropped me off at home.” She gives me the famous “Leah likes” eyebrow raise. “Adam…he’s been friendly with you. We can use him. He can help us make James really jealous…and then…”I shake my head slowly.
“I don’t want to use anybody like that, particularly him. I have a feeling he’s one of those people who hang with the bad guys, but stands alone. A loner, you know? I don’t really understand him much. He’s so, ‘hot but has a dark side,’ I don’t get it. But his face is perfect. Perfection is the only word to describe him. I mean if every guy in this world looked like him I would be failing and I think every other girl in this world would to. But he does have this nerdy friend. He beat him up earlier though. Maybe he has anger problems. I just feel like I have to stay on his good side. You know what I mean?”She raises a brow.
“Not really. But I do know you like this guy. Because otherwise, you would not be rambling on and on about him.” She walks over to the fridge. “I don’t…like him…like that. He’s just weird okay? And cute. But still weird.” I scratch my head. She laughs as she drinks the bottle of water. “Well were going to go find him.” She declares shortly after swallowing. I want to protest but find the order awkwardly appealing so walk towards but freeze after two strides. “I’m in sweat pants.” I sigh, not exactly talking to her or myself either, just thinking out loud.
She walks to the case of stairs leading to the second story of the house and I follow. I don’t realize it, but she’s eating Doritos. I laugh. She can eat and eat until the world stops spinning but she never gains a pound. Leah is tall and slender, but not in a boney way so that she looks lanky. She has an elegant body and excellent posture. He extremely long blonde hair goes down to her waist and her Sunkist skin reminds me of fuzzy peaches. Her brown eyes remind me chocolate mousse. She is definitely a looker.
I, on the other hand, am shorter with a curvier build than Leah. I have curly brown hair that comes down to my chest. My skin is a bit paler and I have crystal blue eyes. Leah plays around in my closet and looks for something I can wear. She throws a pair of dark blue jeans, almost black, on my bed. “Hey, where is that purple shirt, the dark one, that you wore to that party two weeks ago?” she asks looking at me. I squint and lower my mascara.
“I don’t know that was two weeks ago.” She blinks and turns around. She kneels down and crawls into my closet. “Ugh…here.” She groans. I turn around and frown. “That one? I was going to wear that tomorrow.” She raises a brow. “A little dressy for school.” She mutters disapprovingly. “Yeah, but Adam and I are going to get coffee, so I have to look a little decent.” She rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. “This changes everything! We have to go for a whole new look.” She puts my clothes back and pulls out my drawers. “So it has to say,” she looks out the window. “I’m hot but hard to get. Come chase me. You have to look untouchable.” She grins. “Okay.” I snap the hot iron plates of my straightener together. She rummages through my clothes. “So I’m thinking skinny jeans. They make you look seductive because your average height. They make me look like the giant from the Princess Bride.” And for a shirt, a little low cut but we don’t want to make you look to showy and obsessed with yourself. And desperate. Desperate is not good.” She pulls out a dark blue long sleeve shirt with a v-neck and a black pair of jeans to go with it. “It’s cold. A hot jacket. Hmmm…well I would say this one.” She holds it up for me to look at. “Okay.” It’s a black pea coat that I almost never wear. I frown. “That fits sort of tight.”I point out. She shrugs. “You pay the price.”I huff and nod. “Do my hair the way you did it the other day.” she holds out her hand for the straightener.

We are finished and ready to go find Adam. But where would he be?

We walk into the coffee shop downtown hoping to find Adam. We don’t see him at all. We walk over to our friend Jason behind the counter. My best guy friend in the whole wide world. “Hello, ladies.”
Jason is short, has bronze shaggy hair, and big brown eyes. He is the type of guy every girl likes, and he can have just about any girl, but can never seem to find a girl he likes enough to work with.
“Hi.” We swoon in a lazy tone as he looks up at us. “Wow.” He scratches his head. “You both look fine this evening.” Jason also has a great sense of humor and always knows what to say. Jason and I have been friends for a while and even though I think he’s absolutely adorable, I only see him as just a friend. No spark.
Leah however, takes every chance she can get to try and catch Jason’s interest. He isn’t dumb he picks up on this easily and throws the attention her way. And in only a way Leah can do, she basks in it. Through the years I have stuck to a simple flirty friendship that is extremely mutual.
“Were going to find the new guy Adam. We…I need to talk to him. See Spencer,” I push her out of the way where she is leaning against the counter staring straight at Jason who is working very slowly and half-heartedly. “James broke up with me.” I sigh. “I’m going to kill that guy! He hurt my girl.” He warns throwing a towel over his shoulder and putting a glass in a rack under the counter.
“By the way, he was just in here with Eloise Smith. But I figured you would’ve told me about it so it has to have been recent. Or he was cheating on you…I didn’t know. So a week ago?” he guesses. I lean forward, place my elbow on the table and sit my chin in my palm. I cock a brow and snort. “A week ago? No. Try two hours ago.” I sigh. He drops his jaw slightly and leans forward on the counter with his face barely an inch away from mine. “I will kill him. I promise.” He whispers. I kiss his cheek. “I know you will Jace. But not now.” I say leaning back and giggling. “The right time.”
“So what do you need the new guy for?”He asks standing back up and polishing another glass. “Just Leah being the nosey boy hunter she always is.” He laughs under his breath and reaches for another glass. “Hey. I have a plan to get James crying on your shoulder and you can shove him on the ground and say, ‘too bad so sad sucker!’ That’s what you ought to do.” She uses her hands to give that little spark she likes.
Jason throws his head back and laughs. I put my hand to my mouth and stifle a giggle. “What? You don’t like my idea? Then what?” she tries not to giggle herself. “You should just use someone to make him jealous.” Jason shakes his head. “That’s the only obvious thing.” He rolls his eyes like a girl and jokes. “I,” she says loudly, “Suggested that. But no. She doesn’t want to use Adam. I told her as long as he knows the circumstances.”
I shake my head. “It’s awkward Leah. The dude just moved her and he’s about to be bombarded by two girls trying to get back at a guy. And we don’t know him that well.” She rolls her eyes but sits up excitedly. “Ooh! Light bulb!” She squeals. “Jason you should help! Fake date Spenc so James gets jealous. Then break up with her and then it will be over and we will have good times messing with James.”
Her grin turns to a frown as we stare straight at her expressionless. “Yes guys, hold the applause. I know your just dying to burst out in joy.” She rolls her eyes and sighs. “But that’s too obvious. I’m her best friend. It’s weird to be seen all lovey-dovey with your best friend like that. You know?” I nod at him. “I get you. So who should we use? I’m up for a little revenge.”I giggle. “Alright. Just ask Adam. Please!” I roll my eyes and sigh.
“Tomorrow.”I tell her. “Fine.” She says sitting back up again and looking at Jason. “When do you get off?” she asks stretching and yawning. “I don’t know sleepy, when do you wake up?” she laughs and shakes her head. “Not for a while.” He says with a face I know all too well.
“Jason you’ve been fired from three jobs already. This is one of your last options. Don’t blow it. I mean you’re kind of running out of options. There aren’t many options in Bridgewater Falls. You know that.” he glares at me. “Yes I know that. You don’t know. You’ve never had a job.” He tells me. “I don’t need one.” I glare right back. “I don’t either, little princess. But my parents said I need responsibility and their tired of giving me cash…so ha.” He cuts his eyes.
I laugh and he does to. “Bye, Jason.” We laugh. “See ya’ll later.” I love Jason’s accent to. “So why do we have to use Adam, again?” I ask. She gives me a highly cocked eyebrow and a grin. “Cause he’s burning hot.”

I wake up even more drowsily than usual. Want to guess who has just jumped into my mind? If you guessed Adam, your right. Is he trying to sabotage me? But the question that keeps me going is, “Why do I hate him?”I realize I have just completely stereotyped Adam and never really gave him a chance. So I decide I am going to be open-minded with him.
I put on the outfit Leah and I had picked out the previous night and went to the bathroom and worked on my hair. I don’t bother brushing it yet I just put it up in a bun on the top of my head and brushed my teeth. When it comes to my hair, I’m always kind of stuck. I try to do the “Leah Specialty.” It’s about a gazillion braids all put in to one huge thing. I part my hair far off to the left side. I then start at the left side and do a braid across the top of my head. My hair is just the right length for this. I put the rest of my hair into a pony tail and rap the braid around it. I then decipher between glasses and contacts. I decide on my glasses which look really good.
I walk out of the house and get into my car. I love my car because I got it for my birthday this year and even though I had to pay for half of it, it’s worth it. My black G6 also has an amazing stereo. I feel like some air so I crack my window just a bit. I love the fall breeze blowing on my neck so I crack it just a little bit more. School is only a twenty minute drive, but I enjoy it specifically today. For once, I am in no rush for early practice or detention or being able to have time to finish an assignment I didn’t have time to do the previous night. I know that I am going to be early, but that’s okay with me. I can just sit in the car, listen to the radio and relax.
I arrive in the student parking lot and attribute to the grand total of three cars. It is still musky and dark outside, and since the time change it has stayed fairly dark in the mornings, so I close my eyes, turn down the volume on the stereo the slightest bit, and recline the seat so I can sleep. I doze off quickly but awaken by a tapping on my window. It is bright already. I open my eyes, yawn, and roll down the window.
“Hey sleepy princess.” He whispers. He walks around to the other side of the car and climbs in. “Hi.”I yawn yet again and rest my head on his shoulder. “Haven’t been sleeping well princess?” he asks. I squeeze his arm just a little. He has been calling princess forever. It started way back when we were in first grade and we had to do a play for school. It was mandatory and as much as I didn’t feel like it, I was cast as the princess. I am in no shame to admit that I was horrible. It really used to irritate me when he called me princess, just as well that I could call him frog prince since that was his role but after all these years I’m used to it.
“Listen frog prince. I don’t want any of your crap right now. I just want to sleep.” I yawn for a dreadful third time. “Again with the yawning. Man. And I was a hot frog prince.” I sit up and look at the dashboard for a moment. A hot frog prince. And that he was. But somehow I can’t shake the feeling of my head on his shoulder all of a sudden. It tingles all the way down the side of my face and a good part of my shoulder. The way he called me princess doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
A hot frog prince. “What’s up? You okay?” he sits up a little straighter and looks at me. “Ugh…yeah…sure.” I don’t want to look at me. “Are you sure? You’re not feeling sick or something? Cause I can drive you home and,” “I said I was fine. Alright, I’m fine.” He retreats. I’ve always been weird about boundaries. If I say one thing, don’t question it. If there is one thing I need in a guy is to understand boundaries.
“Sorry. I’m just tired.” I force myself to look at him. The eyes. Oh his eyes. They just stare straight into me like daggers piercing my heart. He must be feeling the heat because he leans in. Close. His hands reach for my face and I only naturally do the same. His lips press softly against mine, only at first, and then he pushes harder. And harder. I’m not really counting but I think it’s been five minutes.
I reluctantly retreat from his lips, but I don’t move away from his face. I open my eyes and he pulls away opening his. “Well…” I say taping my foot nervously. “Yeah…ugh…that was nice. I…ugh…listen, Spencer, I like you. A lot. And I always have and I never really knew what to do and,” I kiss him again. “Good enough for me.”I lean against his chest.
“And hey, Jason,” I sit up. “Yeah?” he looks at me. “You’re a hot frog prince.”

So here I am about to have lunch with Adam, be completely open-minded with him and give him a fresh start when I just sort of kind of started a thing with Jason, my best friend, who I was pretty sure carried no spark that matched mine. And I mean, Adam was never really anything to me but nice. He gave me a ride home, asked me out for coffee and just made an effort to be friends with me and talk to me. I don’t want to tell Leah about what just happened because I know she will be really mad at me. She likes Jason obviously. I haven’t concentrated all day. I had three classes with Jason and they were the most uncomfortable. He sits behind me and I just had no idea what to do or how to react. It is last period and I have class with Adam. He catches me when we walk in. He smiles slightly and lets go of my arm. His smile is really cute so I grin back. “Were still up for today right?” he asks finally. I nod and bite my lip. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it. So the Bridgewater Coffee House?” I ask. He nods. “That’s what I was planning. Unless you have a better suggestion. I don’t know much around here.” He seems a little awkward, which is surprising because he always seems to be smooth. It is even sort of hard to talk to him in public because girl after girl is checking him out and giving me the worst glare. I almost feel like he’s cuter than Jason. I realize that I am thinking way too much and Adam is still waiting for an answer from me. “Ah, yeah, I like the coffee house. Sounds good. Meet me at my locker when you’re ready and we can go. My car or yours?” he thinks for a moment. “Mine I guess. But we should get going. Mr.…Jones is going to kill us if were late. Especially together.” Something catches my attention. The way he hesitated to say Jones throws me off. But I shrug it off. He hasn’t been here for a long time he’s probably still having trouble with getting around. He opens the door for me and guides me inside. Thank goodness the teacher isn’t here yet. He takes his seat across the room from me. I run my fingers through my hair and look at him. He smiles and I smile back. I don’t feel guilty, oddly enough. I’m not freaking out about Jason. All my focus is on Adam. It was the most amazing feeling in the world just to stare at him. What is this? I used to feel a strong sense of hate for this guy, and a day later I feel the most amazing feeling about him. This isn’t even right. I just tell myself to stop worrying and to just look at Adam, listen to Adam, I am free to like Adam, I think. I didn’t start anything official with Jason, we just had a moment. All day I have been pestered by Jason without him even talking to me. But his eyes just constantly staring at me, the way he smiled every time he looked my way. I just almost can’t stand it. But one thing I can stand is Adam’s smile. He and I just sneak looks at each other the whole class. As soon as the bell rings I walk straight to my locker and throw in all the books I don’t need and take out the ones I do. I shove them into my bag and turn around. Jason. “Hi…” I drag out of my mouth quietly. “Hey. Listen we should talk.” He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Maybe today at the coffee house?” he looks hopeful as he bites his lip. “Ugh…I can’t today. Right now. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow is Friday right? We can talk then.” I tell him as I look around for Adam. “Ugh…sure. Okay. Well can I call you tonight?” he asks. It takes me a second to answer. “Sure.” He walks away and I feel a little bad, but I’m just confused! I feel like I really like Adam, but I know that Jason really likes me. But just as they had started, all my worries, yet again vanish. Adam walks towards me and smiling as always. I grin close my locker. “Ready?” he asks. I nod, grin and walk in stride beside him. We walk out to the parking lot, sort of just rambling at each other, giggling here and there. We are standing at his car, an old black suburban. As he digs for his keys, my worst nightmare arrives. Jason walks over to me. Adam turns around. “Oh…” he groans. Jason folds his arms and knits his eyebrows into one. “I see,” he looks at Adam. “Why you couldn’t talk today. Hey, ugh…” Jason looks at him with his eyes cut. “Adam.” He mutters quietly with his head down. “Yeah. Well I just want to tell you, my best friend, your girlfriend made out with me this morning. In her car.” Adam laughs. Really hard. “Girlfriend?” Jason looks at him with a confused face, the anger suddenly slipping. “Yeah! Spencer!” is all he can say. “NO!” Adam says grabbing his stomach. “Spencer and I are so far off from boyfriend girlfriend terms. She hates me! We’re just trying to see if we can get along for two seconds.” He raises a brow. Jason unfolds his arms and stands there for a moment. “Well…” he scratches his head. “I think you just made yourself look like a real a hole.” I tell him quietly and scratch my arm. “Yeah I guess so.” He turns to walk away. “Sorry man, your cool. Spenc I was a jerk. Sorry.” He walks away and I get into the car. Adam looks at me grinning wide, so wide I can hardly stand it. We laugh all the way to the coffee house. Not really saying much, just laughing. And it feels so good. We walk in and his arm is over my shoulder. He grins at me and after a little laugh says to the waitress, “I’ll have a cappuccino.” She is pretty, and I am a little worried he will shift his attention to her, but he doesn’t give her a second glance. He turns to me and leans on the counter. “So regular or decaf?”

Growing up, I had always heard about the Bridgewater Bar. My dad would go up there every week and wouldn’t come home until at least three in the morning. I would lie awake and wait for him in my bed. Baby Mason was sound asleep like always. That’s all he ever seemed to do.
I was around eleven or twelve years old. Mason was about a year and a half. Mom said she never worried. But when she thought I was asleep I would see the flicker of a candle and a creek of a door. I would hear her very quiet footsteps and she would sit in the living room with a book of poems and wait for him. She would help heave him in the door and he would sleep on the couch that night. She would wake him up early
and drag him into the bed so it looked like he was never gone. But we wouldn’t see him much the next day. Sometimes when I got really scared, I would walk over to Mason’s cradle and put him in bed with me. I would lie there with him and he always gave me the sense of comfort. Such a small little child can do the biggest things. As I grew older I seemed to care less about my father and I honestly didn’t give a damn about what he did, how he did it, or when he got back. It was just kind of a ritual. But as I got older I became more curious about the Bridgewater Bar.
One night I snuck out of my room, hoisted myself out of the window, and ran over to Harry’s house. He was most likely asleep already, but the main problem wasn’t waking him up. His room sat in the back of his house, but it was a long walk from plantation to plantation. The Bryant Plantation was almost the size of ours, maybe a little smaller. I could run just about the whole way. But we were going to need some type of transportation. I had no doubt that Harry would go with me. He has always been a loyal friend to me.
I try my hardest so scale the building and I lose my footing just as I grab a hold of his window pane. I try banging on the window lightly. I kick the wall, I do everything I can. He finally runs to the window and opens it. “Hey, Adam!” his one eye is still closed, his glasses are very crooked, and his hair is standing straight up. He leans against the pane.
“What are you doing here? I was just sleeping a little bit.” I shift my weight uncomfortably, my hands slipping. “Hey you want to pull me up so I don’t fall a story off of your house?” I hiss. “Oh, sure!” he coughs and pulls on me. He heaves, but I don’t budge. “I’m better falling.” I mutter. I let go and fall on my back in the bushes.
“Ouch…” I groan. Harry leans out the window. “You Okay?” he asks. But he leans just a little too far. He lands next to me rubbing his stomach. “What did you need?” he asks standing up and rubbing his backside. “I want to go to Bridgewater bar. I want you to come, but since you’re in your pajamas…” I scratch my head and pat down my hair. Harry pulls a huge twig out of his then a leaf out of mine.
“Is your dad there?” he asks. “Yeah. But that’ll be fun. You need to get dressed. Oh, and your horses. I’ll go tack up and we can ride over.” I walk into the barn where I see one of Harry’s family’s indentured servants. Lydia is from Ireland and she had no other choice than to work. I startle her as I walk behind her and put my hand on her shoulder. She jumps as she turns around. “It’s okay.” I whisper. “It’s just me.” I tell her.
She puts her hand to her chest and sighs. “Thank goodness.” She breathes of relief. Her tall and fragile stature looks like it is about to collapse. Her beautifully thick and red hair is twisted and pinned up on top of her head, but it is falling out. Lydia was lucky to have found the Bryant’s. They took such good care of her.
“I just need two horses tacked up. Harry and I are going out. Which do you think we should use?” I ask and lean against the door frame of the barn. “Well, Mr. Jones.” She turns to the stalls and opens a door. “This one, Mud Pie,” she brings her to me. “Let Harry use her. She’s older so Mr. Bryant won’t come looking for her tomorrow.” She clips her rope halter a chain and walks to the far end of the barn.
Mud Pie puts her head down and closes her eyes. I pet her nose and underneath her chin. “Well,” she brings a slightly larger black horse to me. “How about him? Jet. He’s easy to handle, but he’s fast.” I nod at her. “Be careful Mr. Jones.” She warns me. “Thank you Lydia.”
Harry no sooner comes to the barn and grabs Mud Pie. He frowns. “She doesn’t like me.” He complains. I just look at him. He pulls the hood over his forehead and buckles his cloak. I do the same and mount Jet. We take it easy for a while before we go full force in speed. Harry lags behind because Mud Pie keeps trying to stop to eat grass. I am using all m y strength to hold Jet back.
“Alright man, Jet is about to burst, so I’m going to go.” I loosen the reins and he flies. He is fast, faster than any other horse I have ever ridden. It is almost unmanageable, but I slow him down when we reach the bar. I wait a few minutes, and Harry emerges from the woods with the biggest frown his face can hold. We walk in and it is a completely different scene than we thought. It is bright as hell, and it smells awful. The smoke brings heavy fog and Harry coughs. One table is full of guys playing cars, the rest full of guys passed out from a few shots of heavy liquor. And sitting at the bar with his big mouth opinion is my father. We look at each other in exasperation. “So this is Bridgewater Bar.”

Spencer grabs her coffee and heads to a table. Just stepping into the store brings back so many memories for me. Bridgewater is completely different than the way I left it. The school used to be a huge textile mill. I remember having to ride miles into town just to buy things. It would take the whole day to get there, shop, and come back. It was a privilege to be asked by my father to go into town by myself. I would take the carriage, but he never let me take the nicer one. The whole area is totally different, but I can picture just the same as I left it, and the way it all appeared so placidly before. I may seem confusing now, but time will tell you, in detail, how things came to be.
I sit down across from her. “Not to bother you with this,” I approach carefully. “But, what’s up with you and …ugh…Jason?” she throws her head back and sighs. “Yeah…I don’t even know. I mean, yeah, we had a moment this morning, but I just don’t know. I’ve never felt spark with him before, ever, so why now? I’ m not sure if it was just the heat of the moment or something real. It makes me crazy when you just don’t know.” I look at her for a moment before saying anything.
“Well,” I finally say. “What do you think? How do you feel?” I ask her. She laughs. “You know, no one has ever asked me that. I always seem to come last. And when someone asks me what I want…hell…I have no idea. There are so many times I’ve known what I want, but no one has ever asked me, or even cared. And the one time you open that door for me, I have absolutely no idea.” She rubs her head.
“Sorry. Drowning you in my problems wasn’t what I had in mind.” She bites her lip, but her bottom lip slips from her top row of teeth. “It’s alright. I don’t generally like getting into peoples’ problems it almost always gets me in trouble, so I don’t generally do much…or care…but your okay, Spencer. So, I’ll ask you a question and don’t think, just answer.” She looks at me, thrilled she’s getting some attention. “Do you like Jason as a friend?” I ask. “Yes.” She answers quickly.
“Do you like him as more than a friend?” I ask trying really hard to not show my disappointment. “Ugh…” I laugh. “Don’t think remember?” she giggles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I…I’m a thinker.” She giggles some more. “Yeah, I can tell. Just think. What do you like about Jason more than you would like in a friend? Now if there isn’t anything…” she sits for a moment. ‘Well, he’s hot. He’s funny. He knows what to say…most of the time.” I smile. “But here’s the thing. You’re not saying anything about the way you feel when you’re around him.” I sit back.
“Maybe you just gave yourself an answer.” She grins. “Yeah, I think your right. Thanks Adam.” She grins and takes a sip of her coffee. I nod. “No problem. So…why did you decide to give me a chance?” I ask. She opens her eyes a little wider for a moment. “Don’t know, exactly. I just…I started to feel different. Really…different. About you, I mean. Maybe I’m crazy.”
I start to drown myself in her words, but something quickly catches my attention. I see a familiar face through the window. There are so many people I have seen in so many years. But this face…I remember more than others.
I can recognize so many of these people from the slightest details. The waitress: tall, thin, and deep black hair. She has a thin chin, and an awkward stance. I can guarantee she is related to Jane and Victoria Shamus. The old cook: a hunch back, thin hair, and very pale skin. He was related to the inn keeper at the Bridgewater Inn and the stall keeper, Bernard Shoemaker.
This face though, is something that brings a chill to my spine. I think…so hard. This is an exact face, like a picture, no relative, no founding family, this is a founder. The man seems to be around thirty years of age. He has a large build he is very muscular, and tall. He has curly golden hair that falls in his face when he walks. They are very fresh and every time he moves, they bounce. He loiters around the coffee shop, not talking to anyone, just moving around with his hands in his pockets. I almost sort of let it go, until I catch a glimpse of his eyes. They are in such contrast from his gold hair I know exactly who he is. And everything seems to really piece together. Tall, golden blonde and curly hair, tall and muscular…big coal black eyes. This is none other than Harland Bridgewater.
He ran this place when his father died, and his father’s father founded the whole Bridgewater town. But Harland Bridgewater was killed the fateful night I was driven out of town. At least I thought he was dead. No one, not me, Luther, or the boys, had ever considered immortality could be a factor. His body, I saw his dead body lying in a carriage, blood hanging out of his mouth, his hat covering his face.
But Harland Bridgewater was standing right there. And it was another thing to mention that my dad’s side of the family was in constant competition with the Bridgewater’s, and Harland and I clashed way more than a few times. Spencer looks at me. “Is…everything Okay…Adam?” she asks me as I stand up. “I just gotta…go to the restroom real quick…” I step out the door.
As I approach him, I think back to a certain time at the bar. Harland was driving me crazy. That was just a thing about him. He knew how to get under anyone’s skin. And that was just a Bridgewater thing. It happened to my dad, it happened to me, even Harland’s little brother Albert drove Mason to violence. My dad broke Barney Bridgewater’s jaw and a couple of ribs. I completely kicked Harland’s ass and broke his arm. Mason kicked Albert in the chins and dragged him into the bushes.
So I can only get this feeling when I grab his shoulder and say, “This really is a different Bridgewater, isn’t it Harland?”

Harland stares at me a little bowled over and his eyes almost seem to turn gray and swirl. Almost like a thinking tactic. But just as soon as they appeared that way, they seemed to convert back to the shiny coal black, expressionless, immortal eyes that seem like glass.
“Adam Jones. My, lord. I haven’t seen you since the night of…let see…Friday…October 13…1836. Was that right, Adam Jones?” the way he looks at me. I just want to hit him so bad. I want to punch him right between the eyes. “It’s Adam Love. I was never a Jones. And yeah that was the date. I remember it well. You, me, the bar, and a serious need of an attitude adjustment.” I roll my eyes.
“Listen punk, I’m older than you, I’m stronger than you, and I’m richer than you. And do you see that right there? Those eyes of yours? That’s a Jones’s pair of eyes, Adam. You have those eyes. Your stupid and arrogant and all you are is a fake. Just like your father. But lucky for you, you were never the drunk he was. I remember,”
I shove my fist into his stomach. He bends over for a second then laughs. I look at him. “I’m not a Jones. And we’ll settle this later. Meet me here at ten thirty tonight. I’m busy right now.” I look over at Spencer who has one leg neatly propped on top of the other and has her phone in her hand. She looks at me and smiles. I put my finger up as if to say one minute and turned backed to Harland. “You understand?” I ask looking up at him. He is slightly taller than me, but nowhere near as thick and muscular. He rolls his eyes, nods, and walks away.
I step inside the door and a soft jingle presents itself behind me. She gives me that cute little grin that is sort of mindless, almost as if she thinks I’m not looking. I sit next to her, noticeably closer this time. “Sorry. Just a jerk I know out there. I needed to kick his ass.” I roll my eyes and she smiles. “I bet you did. So…how do you know him?” she looks at me with the coffee in her hand. “Ugh…we go way back.” Yeah, way back. She nods. She looks at the clock and notices that it is six thirty.
“I’ll drive you to the school to pick up your car.” I tell her. “Thanks, Adam.” She stands up and walks her coffee over to the counter. “Thanks, Janet.” She nodded at the waitress who’s face I related earlier and walks back over to me. She walks to the car door and reaches into her bag for her phone. I open the door for her and she sits on the seat.
“Give me your phone.” She commands looking at me. I have fallen victim to her deep eyes and I hand it to her. “Here” She hands it to me. I look in my contacts and her name is in the S section. I smile and get in the car. We drive the five minute drive back to the school and we are kind of quiet those few precious minutes, enjoying the sweet silence we both create. I pull into the parking lot and I notice her looking at me. I don’t look over at her, but I do concentrate on trying not to smile. I pull up next to her car and sigh. I look at her finally.
“Well…”I take a deep breath and exhale through my nose. She makes a clicking noise with her mouth and opens the door. I step next to her and she pulls the straps of her bag on her shoulders. After staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, I realize that, maybe, she isn’t feeling the way I am. ‘Well, I’ve got to go.” I turn, but she grabs my arm. She grabs me around the middle of my stomach and hugs me tight. For a moment I don’t do anything, but getting wrapped up in her is impossible to avoid so I hug her back. And we stand like this for what seems like a pleasurable forever. She finally looks up at me. Her eyes seem to get a little wider and she swallows hard. “I’m sorry I never gave you a chance before.”
She reaches up and I bend down. Her lips touch mine really softly at first, then slightly more rigid. Her lips seem to get intense to. She pulls away and presses her forehead against mine. “I guess we need to talk to.” She sighs pulling away. “Let’s do this tomorrow. I like hanging out with you…Adam.” She smiles and letting go of my waist, grabs my hand, squeezes it, and walks to her car. She drives away without another word, just lingering questionable feelings.
I feel horrible all of a sudden, I’m dizzy, and there’s a pulling achy feeling in my chest, almost like a tearing or ripping feeling. I lean my head back on the hood of my car for a moment. I’m sure I’ve felt this before. I think hard, as hard as my brain can manage for my circumstances and close my eyes. A vampire. A vampire is sending me a threat. My eyes open wide and I run to the right side of the car and burn rubber to get home. I fly through the front door and scream for Luther. “Luther! Get out here! Luth!” I throw my keys which fly across the table. He jumps over the stare case and runs over to me. “I just got a threat, from a vampire.” I wheeze.
He looks at me a moment. “What? Like you met a vampire on the street and he threatened to kill you because you kicked his ass or a vampire sent you a threat, like the crippling migraine etcetera?” I roll my eyes. “The etcetera one.” I laugh under my breath, but Luther only scowls at my dry humor. “Have you come in contact with any possible vampires? They have to have some type of your DNA to send it to you.” he looks at me. I stand there for a moment in bemuse and then I realize.
“Oh, Oh…” I bite my lip and sigh gravely. “Who?” Luther asks with his eyes closed. I don’t answer. He shakes his head but his eye lids are still fastened tightly together. “Who?” I sigh and lean back on the counter. My hand kneads my head. “Harland…Bridgewater.” He opens one eye. “Come again?” I scratch my head. “Harland Bridgewater. Luscious gold hair, kind of like a gold mine. Big black crow bird eyes, real ugly.” He opens his other eye. “Harland Bridgewater is here? In Bridgewater? How did he get your DNA?” he folds his arms as I hop onto the counter.
“I was on a date, real hot girl, and here comes the ugly Harland Bridgewater walking all smug like a preppy little girl,” I hop off the counter and demonstrate. I clasp my hand to my chest. “I didn’t believe it was him, but,” I bat my eyelashes. “Oh those eyes, those gorgeous eyes!” I talk like a girl. ‘Oh, how they look like crows. It just had to be him.” I roll my eyes. “Want to actually tell me how he got your DNA?” I stand there for a moment staring at him. “Oh, right. So then I walk outside and start talking to him. And while he played with the luscious gold mine living on top of his head, he was going on about how I haven’t changed, that I’m just like my dad and he made fun of how he was a drunk so I got him in the gut. Well, were meeting tonight at ten thirty to settle some things. It was probably just a warning.” I conclude my dramatic reenactment by clasping my hands in front my like prayer form.
“He’s a vampire Adam. You can’t fight a vampire. You’ll get killed.”I roll my eyes. “Oh, so serious. Hush now. I can kick little goldy lock’s behind.” I wave him off. “You don’t know how strong he is, his history.” He tries to reason. “But we never knew anything about the guys we’ve ever fought in our careers. But we’re standing here aren’t we?” I ask.
“Career? This isn’t a career, Adam. It’s a punishment, a curse.” I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on! Why can’t you accept who you are?” I ask him. “Because I’m not you, Adam. None of us are. And anyways, you almost got killed. Do you remember anything about that?”
I turn and walk up the stairs. But I start to think about something. Spencer is my best friend around here. Well normal one. I can’t forget old Harry. But I have to tell her. I’m not ashamed of what I am. No one ever think that. I’m no Luther. This is my career. Living in a dreamy paranormal romance novel is what I do. Well…no one is writing it down yet, but just you wait. I’m going to be famous! But I love being what I am and I want her to know so I can share that with her. If we’re going to be something I’m not into lying to her.
I pull a box out of my night stand drawer and pull out a picture of Ebony. I sigh as I look at her face. I remember Friday the thirteenth of 1836. That was the day I should have lost my heart. But somehow I didn’t. See, it’s crazy. It took me years to get her to love me. And just as she did, I pushed her away because I felt like I was used. But then I realized that I wasn’t. And then it was too late. But in reality, I’ve come to terms that I was used, even more than I thought I was in the first place, why can’t you pick your memories? Why can’t you just throw away the ones you don’t want? And on top of all that, it’s my fault she’s dead. But yet, I clearly still have a heart.
I crumple the picture and throw it into the waste basket. I walk out of my room and half way down the stairs, I resent my recent action. I walk back up the stairs and kneel down next to the waste basket and pick up the browning ball. I softly un-wrinkle it and put it back in my box. You really can’t throw away your memories, I realize. You just have to life with them. And even if they aren’t the ones that you want to love, you still have to deal with them.
I run back down the stairs and run to Luther. “When can I tell her?”

I put on old dirty clothes that feel like I haven’t worn them in forever. I am raging with fury over Luther. I asked him simply when I could tell Spencer about it all. And do you know what he said? No. Just no! I don’t get an explanation, no chance for reason?
But I acquire a thought. Since when do I ever listen to Luther? Last time I checked, never. Actually, I do listen. I listen precisely to what he says then I do the exact opposite. I’m like an artist. I see myself as some type of perfectionist. I have to disobey in just the right way so that I don’t get busted for it in any way. And when he says, “You didn’t listen, you never listen!” I can say, “Yes, yes I did. Because you said no. Therefore, being me, I said yes.” And so if I tell Spencer, it will happen in a way that is clearly not my fault. Because clearly his answer was not that itself, clear. And if Spencer finds out in a way that isn’t my fault there is every reason not to blame. Confusing yes, but genius. See I find that convincing me of these things convinces the whole situation of that itself. I really am as smart as Ms. Baker thinks I am. And if Harland Bridgewater dies tonight, it is clearly not my fault. Self defense is perfectly legal in both mortal and immortal worlds.
I run down the stairs with my jacket over my shoulder. Thom walks around the corner and stares at me for a moment. “Where are you going, hotshot?” I stand there for a minute stirring up a lie. “Out. To the mall. To buy a new…sweater…” sweater?! “Umm…dude…you have never put on a sweater in your life. You’ve never touched a sweater in your life.” I look down. I am losing my touch, just like Harry said. Stupid Harry. “Right. But it’s not for me. It’s for Harry.” I tell him. “Why are you buying Harry a sweater?” he asks very confused. “Geez, the man with a thousand questions. It’s Harry’s birthday tomorrow. He thinks for a minute. Then puts his hand to his head. “Oh man! Birthday! I forgot. I’ll come with you.” he opens the hall closet door to grab his jacket. “No!” he looks at me funny. “Because I’m leaving right now!” I run down the stairs saying. “No time for you and your jacket.” I run out the door leaving it open and drive away as fast as I can.
I drive as fast as I can to the coffee shop. I park behind the library to avoid attention and walk back up. It seems like the wind is starting to pick up and the sky gets blacker and blacker. I feel a chill crawling up my spine and the adrenaline really starting to pump through my veins. I spot Harland’s curly locks blowing in the wind and his cold black eyes shoot cobwebs into my soul like he’s spider-man. My green eyes seem to turn to ice and the vibrant color seems t dull. It’s one of those things where you can feel it. I feel my palms start to get sweaty and sticky. My feet feel like they are growing larger and larger by milliseconds and my heart is going a mile an hour. The veins in my neck and forehead pulse and grow hot.
Sometimes, when I fight, I hear voices in my head directing me from place to place like a conscience, but it is certainly not that. I hear my conscience all the time, I am very aware of it. My conscience always tells me to go forward. Like a magic eight ball, just yes or no questions. But this voice is skilled. I don’t ask this voice questions, I do what it tells me to do. An unrecognizable heavy voice tells me just what I should do. Something like, ‘Breathe, Adam. Breathe heavy so you don’t get winded. Use your left paw to grab his face and pierce the neck right on the jugular vein.’ Things like this. I don’t really question the voice, almost as if I am afraid to, I just listen, and it always does me well. So walking to the front of the coffee shop, the voice does nothing but fill my head. ‘Make sure his teeth get nowhere near you. Knock him out as hard as you can. Constantly kick, punch or bite. Do whatever you can to keep it away and to weaken it. The capacity of my brain is running out, I tell it. ‘Listen to me!’ it growls furiously. And I do.
Because when the rain starts to pick up so does my pace. I run full speed into the woods and I can hear Harland behind me. I run into the woods and dump my clothes behind a tree. I getting a running start and jump in the air, transforming into a wolf. A werewolf is extremely large, much larger than Harland. But we are equally deadly. While I am large, have big teeth, and extremely sharp claws, with one bite, Harland can kill me.
When I land, my paws make a huge thud and Harland turns around. I growl very low in my breath. And I listen to the voice. ‘Breathe, Adam. Breathe heavy so you don’t get winded. Use your left paw to grab his face and pierce the neck right on the jugular vein.’ And this is all it will tell me. Exactly what it had said before. So listen. I breathe. Harland circles me and I breathe. Hard.
And when he is behind me, I attack. I knock him over and place my left paw firmly on his face. And like in a hockey fight I use my right paw to hold down his arm. I go for his neck, but my one little mistake could cost me my life. I am delicately unbalanced and he knocks me on my back. I try to scramble to my feet, but he jumps on me. He is crouched on my chest, the treads on his boots pressing hard into my ribs. ‘Flip him off!’ it whispers as if it is afraid Harland will hear him. So try as hard as I can to get on my feet or my stomach. He jumps off my chest and I get to my feet quickly. I growl and he hisses. He jumps on my back and digs his fingernails into my shoulders. I almost whimper, but the voice says, ‘Stay strong, don’t show him your feelings, just growl hard.’ And I do. It catches him off guard for a moment and I can throw him off, but when I do, he doesn’t let go of my shoulders, and I fell my skin ripping apart. I whimper then growl a little then whimper. He laughs at me and I look at his face.
He had just fed, I could tell. His face was purple and swollen and his fangs were stained a little pink. I start to think about Luther. If he sees what has happened to me he will say, ‘I told you so, you’re never going to do this again.’ And then I stand up, weak, but I’m standing. He smiles again. “Come on, Adam. Don’t you remember how you killed me? Do you want to do it again? I won’t let you do it. Because this is my turn. I am going to kill you this time. Let’s go Adam. I want you to,” I feel a strong sense of anger all of a sudden and with this comes this power. I jump on him as hard as I can and he falls to the ground with a loud thud. I rip through the leather jacket and through the heavy cotton waffle shirt underneath. I start to rip at his chest when I think about something.
What about a stake? If I don’t stake him, he will come back to life and kill me. I am killing him for a second time, this should be for good. All I need to do is change back, get a stake, and kill him. But I’m back. And now he’s back. This sparks my attention. Because if something is going on, I might need his story, I might need to question him. I need him. And if I killed him once why should I kill him again? It’s a, ‘To kill or not to kill,’ situation. So I make sure he’s momentarily paralyzed before I get up and go to the tree to put my clothes back on.
I come back to him and he is still on the ground groaning. “Why didn’t you kill me?” he whimpers. “Because. Something is going on. I’m going to find out what it is and I need your answers. I’m going to take you to my place, and you are going to work with me. Do you understand Harland?” He moans again and I yank him off the ground by his arm. “Get up. Come on, little girl. Stand up.” He cries and leans against me awkwardly. I start to walk and Harland staggers behind. “How did you get here?” I ask him. “I stole a car…a car from a car lot.” He pants. “Alright.” I pull out my cell phone as we near the edge of the woods. “Harry, I need you to get out here. At the coffee chop there is a car,” I look at Harland, “Black Cadillac Escalade.” He tells me. I repeat this to Harry. “And what I need you to do is find it and park it on the other side of town.”
I lug Harland behind me to my car. It rains even harder and my hood doesn’t do me much good against it. I open the door and shove him into the back of my truck. I shut the door and climb in the front seat. Just to irritate Harland’s pounding head, I turn up the radio super loud. He slaps my arm and I turn around to look at him. “Hey princess, I spared your life. Now this doesn’t mean I’m going to spare your happiness. You choose which one you want.” And I turn it up slightly louder. I receive a text from harry saying that he has reached the car and is driving it up to the edge of town. It’s maybe a ten minute drive to our house from the coffee shop. But it seems a lot longer. I can’t even enjoy Harland’s screeching and the loud radio. I keep thinking about Ebony. Just seeing Harland brings back so many memories already. What if, just what if Ebony comes back? No, it’ll never happen. We drive back in silence and when we arrive at the house I yank Harland in and throw him in the middle of the floor.
I step over his torso and arm and walk over to Luther. I turn around and say, “Don’t bleed. That’s a nice rug. I retrieved it in India when I was doing my studies.” I look at Luther who is stifling a laugh. “What?” I ask him. He pulls his hand away from his mouth for a moment. “Studying what? Female summoning? Did you take classes in that, Adam?” He asks me laughing. “No…that’s not the point Luther. Seriously though, that rug was expensive.” I turn to Harland and motion him to get up with my finger. “So you didn’t kill him? And you survived? Take your jacket and shirt off.” I hesitate for a moment. Luther looks at me knowing his suspicions have been confirmed. I turn around, take off my shirt and jacket, and let him see the painful cuts in my back.
On both shoulder blades there were four long slices in my skin. Most of the blood had been devoured by my shirt but the browning stains are still very visible. And though I will heal quickly, the cuts are visibly sore and deep. He shakes his head. “You should have killed him, why didn’t you kill him?” I stand there slightly taken aback. Did Luther just say that? “Because something is going on here. And I’m going to figure it out. And he might have answers. And he’s going to work with me to figure it out. And besides, just when I was about to stake him I thought, to kill or not to kill?”

I can’t sleep for anything. I toss and turn and constantly open and close my eyes. Harland is passed out on the floor, so I don’t have to worry about him getting away, or really waking up. For some reason he heals slower than most vampires I’ve met and seen. His cuts are thin now but still there. His hair isn’t so shiny anymore. It has large mats in it and large clumps of it are stuck together with blood.
If you watch slowly, very carefully, you can see his wounds heal. But it is so slow you have to know what’s happening to see it. I turn my head the other way and close my eyes. I think about when Spencer and I kissed. It was one of the best feelings I’ve had in a long time. But then I think about my first kiss. With Ebony.

Flashback 4: Finally

For that last part of the year we had a friendship, a bond that we had no intention of breaking. Like she had said, I wrote what I told her down and each day she would help me write a page of a book that we had planned together. It was a fiction story about slaves and how poorly they were treated. The character, James, had enough of being mistreated and he ran away. The story was about his journey of becoming who he truly was and not who his master had shaped him to be.
Ebony had really understood and taken to heart what I had said to her. Though she still had her ways, she tried to make herself better. “We have exactly one-hundred pages.” She counted. “Good. It will be finished in no time.” I assured her. We were under the same tree, the same spark, the same understanding. I lie down under the tree and closed my eyes. “Adam, how long do you want it to be?” she asked while shuffling pages. I didn’t answer. “Adam?” she asked. She sighed and climbed on top of me. She sat weightless on my stomach. “Adam you have to listen to me.” She begged. I moaned. “I don’t have to do anything.” I pointed out with my eyes still closed. She sighed declaring her forfeit and lie down next to me. I propped myself on my elbow and looked at her soft and delicate eyelids. “Ebony,” I started. “Hmmm,” “Do you…” she opened her eyes when I didn’t finish.
“Do I, what?” she propped herself as well so that our faces were an inch away. Her eyes opened more at my questioning eyes. She moved gracefully toward me with her eyes closed and before my mind had registered what was happening, her lips glided across mine. Her upper lip slipped from mine to my lower lip and back up. Her lips repeated this motion forever, it seemed, and when it stopped my mind swirled and spun and swirled and spun until I felt certain that it could not swirl or spin anymore.
She rested her head on my shoulder as I pet her hair. “Does that answer your question?” she asked in a shaky voice, implying that she was just as much affected as I was. “Mhm.” Finally Ebony and I Connected. Finally.
But this only makes me angrier and more awake. It hurts me to think about her. How she should have stolen my heart. And thinking about it, I realize that Ebony wasn’t everything, she was never everything. And why I used to think that she was…just blows my mind. I don’t even understand what I saw. But I get this pain, this irritating pull in my chest. I have been avoiding these questions and feelings for so many years.
I sit up and rub my face. Harland takes a very deep breath and rolls over. I stand up and walk down stairs trying not to wake anyone up, because I know it will start a fight. We dogs are light sleepers, specifically Thom. So I creep down the stairs and pray no one hears me. My back is still really sore. I walk over to the mirror and lift up my shirt. Huge scars cover my shoulder blades. They may never go away.
And I know that. I have so many. My biggest runs down my whole leg. The strangest thing is that they aren’t there when I’m a wolf. And I don’t feel daily pain like I do when I’m human. Everyday my bones crack and pop and are sore and achey. But when I’m a wolf, the pain is obscured. I quietly and slowly open the fridge door and take out the milk carton. I unscrew the cap and take a large drink. I set it on the counter and rummage in the cabinets for food. I pull out a bag of extra cheesy gold fish and sit down. I hear soft footsteps come down the stairs and I close my eyes. I know I’m going to have to fight again. But I’m surprised when I see a limping Harland Bridgewater walking towards me rubbing his eyes and his curls bouncing up and down. “Hey, little buddy.” I whisper.
He stares at me, too tired to retaliate and sits down across from me. “It hurts.” He tells me pointing to his chest. I bite my lip, sort of feeling bad, knowing he is going to help me. “Sorry about that. But we do have to start working. I want to know what’s going on. We have a lot to do. I need to figure this out. I mean, I am almost positive I killed all vampires and wolves. There weren’t any left.” I bite my lip. “Well…maybe, maybe they had died maybe you did kill them all. But what if they fed on other people like me and then you didn’t kill us.
But the question is…how many of us are there?” I nod. “Good. This is good. But if there are a lot more people than we think. We could have serious trouble, and serious enemies. It’s almost like there’s no way out. But we need to make alliances.” I sit up straighter. He slumps over. “Well, hold on. We don’t know how many there are and how many are actually here. Let’s just let it go for a while and then see how it gets.” I nod and stand up. He does the same. We walk upstairs quietly and get back into bed, Harland on the floor. “Pleasure doing business Harland.”

I call Leah from my car feeling really content and happy and fiery down in the pit of my stomach. “So?” she squeals before I can say anything. “Were meeting tomorrow again.” I tell her. “Whatever. Did you kiss? You know I want the juice.” She told me. I laugh. “Yep. And hugged…and talked…so the only thing I have to do now is tell Jason were not going to happen.” I huff. “We’ll figure it out. But you can’t hide it from him. That’s the worst thing you could ever, ever do. And then Jason will be out the door as fast as he can, seeking revenge on who you care for most, currently Adam.” I laugh a little. She sounds like she’s talking about a romance novel. “Okay. Well I’ll tell him tomorrow. But until then, I’m just going to…not think about him. I can’t, I don’t want to.” She giggles. “What?” I ask. “How well did he kiss?”I laugh harder. “Really, really well.” She giggles. “Good. Do you have his number?” she asks animatedly. “Yeah. He was so cool to talk to! I mean he knew just what to say. And he got into a little fight outside but came back in and acted like nothing was wrong.” She squeals. “He sounds so cool! I’m so happy for you Spenc!” I laugh. “Yeah me to. Hey I’m getting a text, but I’ll call you…tomorrow. See ya.” I yawn at the end. “Bye!”
I look at my message. From: Jason. ‘Hey, I’m so glad you’re not going out with that jerk. And again, I’m real sorry for what I said.’ and here is where I get second thoughts. I felt for sure that I wanted to be with Adam. And now, there’s that little tiny feeling in the pit of my stomach and the very back of my head.
‘Jason can we talk? Why don’t you come over? I’ll be home in less than a minute.’ he doesn’t respond, but my next door neighbor, the kid I had grown up with, the cutest boy in town, is waiting for me on my porch and kissed me earlier today. He stands up when he sees me and walks over to my car. I shut the door closed and he kisses me. I don’t push him away, but I don’t kiss him back either. He steps back.
“What’s wrong?” he asks holding my shoulders. I huff. “Jason…do you think that you and I are…together?” he closes his eyes for something. “I don’t know. I wanted to be, I sort of assumed.” He looks at me. “Do you not want to be?” he asks me gently. “I…don’t know…I think you should know I kissed Adam today. And that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I was going to tell you that we weren’t going to happen, but I’m not sure about any of this anymore.
And honestly I’m having second thoughts on Adam and turning you down…I don’t know.” He sighs. “I don’t want you to turn me down. But I also want you to be happy. And I think you’re happier with Adam.” This stings the back of my throat. “What are you crazy? I just met the guy!” he laughs. “But you and I aren’t meant for each other. And maybe for you, it’s Adam, maybe it’s not, but we shouldn’t waist our time on something we know isn’t going to work. Besides, I think Ella from biology is growing on me.” He smiles. “She’ll be happy to hear it. Thanks Jason. For being a good friend.” He nods, and walks down the driveway.
A huge sense of relief floats off my chest. I didn’t even have to say much. And I am positive he is right. I walk in the house and climb into bed. I haven’t really noticed how tired I am until I get into bed, but it feels so good just to lay my head down and not have racing thoughts. I sigh deeply and fall asleep almost instantly. I open my eyes groggily and then close them again.
“Saturday.” I moan and roll over. I hear a soft meow and a purr in my ear. “Blue…” I push the cat away, but it comes back. My brother Eli’s cat is in love with me, but I don’t particularly like him. I’ve never had a thing against cats, but ever since he put a huge scar on my dog Sammy’s face, I never liked him. I push the cat off the bed and reach for my phone on the night stand. I have a new message from Adam. ‘Hey when are we going to meet? Can’t wait to see you.’ I lay my head back and I feel my cheeks get hot.
‘Meet me outside my house in twenty minutes. I CANT WAIT to see you!’ I jump out of bed, feeling a sudden rush of excitement and exhilaration. I put on my favorite t-shirt that is big and slides off my shoulder and a pair of swats that say ‘Bridgewater Prep Eagles’ and my furry boots. I brush my teeth, grab a fiber bar from the kitchen pantry and head out the door. And there he stands, his back to me, his hands in his pockets just like they are every time I see him. I walk up behind him quietly and slip in front of him. I knew he heard me, but he pretended to be caught off guard.
“Hey, Spencer.” I reach up and kiss his cheek. He smiles and kisses my forehead. “So what are we going to do today?” he asks me. I smile. “I am going to show you Bridgewater.” I tell him giggling. I pull his hand, but he grabs my arm first. I turn around a little confused. He laughs and pulls me in really tight. He raps his arms around me and kisses me, and kisses me, and well, kisses me.
I open one eye to make sure no one is staring. When I see Eli’s head poking out of a curtain I pull away from Adam and yell at Eli, “Get a life, jerk!” and turn back to Adam. Guess we have to take this somewhere else.” I lead him down the street and behind some bushes. “Hey, umm, are we a thing?”I ask him. He thinks for a minute. “We shall see, my love. We shall see.” He pulls me out of the bushes and stands me in front of him. “Lead the way.” He whispers in my ear. I turn around. “I will do just that.
But first, can we please eat? I haven’t had anything except a fiber bar and come to think of it, I haven’t had a huge plate of donuts from Bridgewater bakery in a long time and I could eat about six right now.” I roll my eyes. He laughs and looks up. “Thank you, God! Finally I get a girl that has an appetite! You…don’t count calories do you?” he asks me. I laugh. “I haven’t counted a calorie a day in my life.” He laughs and we walk to the bakery. I step inside the door with Adam’s hand in mine and the smell of those donuts is about to drive me crazy. “What’s your favorite?” he asks wrapping his arms around me. “The big powdered Bavarian cream ones. I love them!” he laughs. “I like the chocolate frosting ones with sprinkles.” I he sighs and rests his head on my chin.
“Is that what you want then?” he asks. “Yeah.” “How many?” “Three.” He laughs. “Okay. Go get a table.” He lets go of me and I walk. “Wait, Spenc.” I turn around. “What do you want to drink?” I scrunch my nose. “Chocolate milk.” He nods and I turn back to a table. I sit down at a small one in the way back, and soon I see Adam coming with breakfast. He sits down and puts my plate in front of me. I thank him and start to eat. He wipes powdered off my nose and I giggle.
“So when do I know were a thing?” I ask. “Just go with it. We’ll see how today goes and then we’ll see. Listen. You know I like you a lot. And I don’t want to be just friends. I just don’t want to mess this up. Don’t worry. I give you a firm guarantee.”

“Hey, let’s go the…movie place we have a Blockbusters up here on this street…what kind of movies do you like?” I ask him. He opens his eyes wider and looks up. “Action movies I guess. You know, the scary ones that make you,” he picks me and spins me around. “Scream, jump into my lap, and hide in my chest.” I roll my eyes. “So your that kind of a guy.” He wraps his arms around me. “Yes…do you have a problem with that?” I lean back on him and stop walking. “I never said that. I just…your typical.” He laughs. “I am anything but typical. And you know that.” I sigh.
“What kinds of movies do you like?” he asks me when I turn around to look at him. Those gorgeous green eyes. I look away for a minute. “Chick-Flicks mostly…” he rolls his eyes and huffs. “Now, who’s the typical one?” I drag Adam through the door of the Blockbuster and head straight for my favorite movies. “Spencer…” I slap his chest. “Were going to watch a good one I promise.” I pull out ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’. He waves it off.
“I saw it when it came out.” I stare at him. He opens his eyes wider and looks away. “What I meant by that…is…when it came out on Blu-ray…” I raise a brow. “It’s out on Blu-ray?” he blinks a few times. “Ugh, yeah, right here…” he pulls it out. I nod and huff. “How about…we each get our favorite movies and we have to sit through both.” He nods and walks away. I pull out the, ‘The Notebook’ and join Adam. It’s not one of my favorites, but I know for sure he’ll hate sitting through it. He takes the movie out of my hand. “Seriously, Spencer!” I laugh at him and take his movie out of his. “You did not just pick ‘Red Dawn’.” He steps closer to me. “Pay the price.” He presses his forehead against mine.
I roll my eyes and walk to the counter. Adam pays and we walk back to his house. I step in the door, and…wow…”Dude, you live here?” I ask him bewildered. “It’s a group home…thing. I just hope you don’t have to meet any of them. Especially Luther. He kind of heads the thing and he really irritates me.”I look down at a rug filling the hallway. There are metal spiral staircases on each side of it. It has a black shape in the middle resembling a flower with little white ones filling the inside of it. Surrounding the flower is red with the same little cream colored flowers as in the inside of the shape and it is bordered by black.
“Where’d you get that?” I ask him. “India I was there running from…running from my teachers that taught me…school stuff…see I was on a boat. A school boat…if that makes sense.” I nod. “Oh like worldly studies?” I ask. He stands there a moment and then nods. “Yeah that one.” I look at him. “Where’d you say you were from. “Where am I from? Ugh…Wisconsin…the potato state.” He pulls me further along.
But I stop. “Wisconsin is the cheese state Adam.” His eyes grow large. “Right…” he starts to walk into the kitchen but I stop him. “You said you were from Indiana.” I tell him. He lowers his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I was just…joking…” he walks in the kitchen and when he realizes a man occupies a portion of the space he throws his hands in the air. “Great! Harland is here. Why aren’t you…getting an extra job like you said you would?” he asks the man. “A job?” the man cocks a brow. After staring at Adam a moment he stands a little straighter as if a light bulb had just magically appeared on top of his head, it had lighted, and he heard a ding. “A job! Right, ugh…I applied for one at the pizza place and they said that they would get back to me.”
Adam rolls his eyes. “Great, lovely, wonderful, all of the above. Come on Spenc.” He pulls me into the living room. “Who is that guy?” I ask him as we sit on the couch. “Our…room advisor.” He tells me. “He seems a little confused.” I look back at the man wandering around the kitchen aimlessly scratching his head. “Should we help him?” I ask. “No. he’ll be better off on his own. He’s a little more than confused.” He tells me. I nod and just sit back into the crook of his arm.
Suddenly Adam’s story seems to get extremely foggy.

It feels like I’m getting worse and worse at this lying thing. I know the story is starting to rub Spencer the wrong way, believe me I am well aware. But what am I supposed to say? Defying Luther isn’t what I feel like doing right now, but lying to the prospect true love in a long time isn’t what I have in mind either. I kiss Spencer’s head and I tell her I need to go talk to Harland for a few minutes. She nods and leans further back on the couch as I carefully lift her head up from my shoulder.
I walk into the kitchen a little irritated. I hate lying to her. Anyone but her. “Dude, I’m sorry.” I whisper. He looks up at me a little dazed. “For what?” he asks slowly. “Did I do brain damage? I’m soor putting you on the spot. It seems like I did do some damage because you don’t look like you know what you’re doing at all. Come on upstairs, I have a spare room upstairs for you to stay in for however long I need you and further on whenever you need a place to stay.”
He sits for a minute slowly processing what I had just said. He raises a brow and then looks up at me. “Okay. I look at him a little vexed.”Does it always take you this long to heal?” he nods slowly. This time was just worse than usual. I’ll be fine in a few days.” He pushes his locks out of his face. “Okay. Is there anything else that would help speed up your healing?” he looks at me sheepishly. His cold black eyes seem to turn to glass marbles. His face is turning whiter and whiter quicker and quicker and it’s growing long and thin. “There is one thing.”
His voice grows colder and deeper. “What?” I ask. But I already know. “Blood.”
He looks over at Spencer. “She smells good…” Spencer is half asleep watching, ‘The Notebook’ and Harland’s eyes grow glassier and wider. I drag him by the shirt out the door. Normally he could have put up a very good fight, but he is no match for me because of his ailments. “Go. Go drink and don’t come back until you do.” I shove him down the driveway. “Go!” I step back inside and lock the doors.
I walk back to Spencer who is sleeping on the couch now with her head falling off the couch cushion. I place her on my lap and try to fall asleep. But I’m worried. I’m worried for her. if she is with me she’s in a constant web of danger. I’m going to have to tell her. it’s the only way to help her stay safe. But I’m going to have to do more than just tell her. I’m going to have to compel her mind.
I am going to have to take a key human element from her.
her fear.
Not all of it. Just her fear for the supernatural and momentary danger. But when do I do this? How? Where? I guess the best place is where I met Harland. Before I can keep talking to myself about my plans to confront Spencer, she slowly wakes up. She flutters her eyes open, but closes them for a minute again. She sighs of contentment and turns her head to look at me. Her brown eyes look groggy, but she smiles largely and stroke her forehead. “Hey.” I whisper quietly. She looks up at me and then the large wooden clock with the roman numerals hanging above the TV. “Seven thirty already?” she asks sitting up quickly.
“Want me to drive you home?” I ask her as she stands up and combs out the knots in her hair with her fingers. “Yeah, thanks.” I stand up and on queue my knees crack. “Does that hurt?” she asks walking over to me. I wrap my arms around her. “Not really. Too many years of football, I guess.” That was a lie. She laughs. “Yeah, I bet. Wait, didn’t you say your friend has your car?” she asks. I nod.
“We can take the bike.” She raises a brow. “Come here.” I lead her into the garage and in the corner where an odd shaped object is covered by a tarp. I pull it off and it reveals a very large black Harley. Her eyes widen and I laugh. I throw her a helmet. “Ready?” she nods a little nervously and puts on the helmet. It looks a little big on her, but I can’t give her mine because it’s even larger. I laugh a little and climb on. She struggles but gets on and grabs my waist tightly.
I pull into her driveway and when I stop the bike she still doesn’t let go. “Spencer?” “Yeah,” “Your still holding on.” “Oh…” she lets go and steps off the bike. I pull off the helmet and put it on the handle bars. She hands me the helmet. “You might want to keep that. put it somewhere safe.” She smiles and steps very close to me. I place my large hands on her face and they are so large they swallow her whole face.
And I kiss her. she leans back, stands on her toes, and puts her arms around my neck. I sit her on the bike and when her phone vibrates, it frightens the both of us so that the bike rocks. I pull her up so quick that she can barely breathe. She looks at me and I gently set her down. She pulls out her phone and reads the message. “Were getting a new English teacher.” She tells me. I nod. “Call me tonight.” I whisper.
She smiles, kisses me on the cheek, and walks up her driveway. I put my helmet back on when she opens the door I crank the engine. I drive off and into town trying to find Harland. I check the place where we met, the car dealership parking lot, the school’s football field, the woods in the park, the dumpsters in the recreation area. And then I realize the best way to find him is to be on all fours. I can make my sense of smell stronger and, well, strengthen all my senses. I can use them without being a wolf, they are just enhanced and I am less suspicious.
I would be a little noticeable because I am a huge dog, but I can blend in. I leave my clothes in a tree and change. I trot through the woods of the park, back and forth until I can hear, see, or smell something. I cant smell anything in the woods, but running around the recreation area where they were getting ready for the fall carnival, I smell it. Blood. Human blood. I jump over tools and huge parts of rides and seats and all things necessary for a carnival. I can smell it though.
Stronger and stronger. I am careful not to excite myself too much so that I don’t go too fast and loose contact with the trail. I go slower and slower with my nose to the ground. The sweet scent of iron and roses tell me the victim is female. ‘Iron Roses’ is exactly what it smells like. I stand still, close my eyes, and let the wind blow the scent towards me. And it does. I bend my head downward and the scent is stronger than ever. Because blood is right there. I lick the ground and everything finally takes over.
I follow it straight into a pool of blood. And then just like that, it is gone. There is no body, no more blood, just a perfectly straight line leading to the dumpsters and then a pool that is so perfectly formed and then a blank clean slate of nothingness. And most importantly for me at this moment, no Harland. Where is this girl? Is she dead? Is he going on a killing spree? I lick the pool of blood and my tongue tingles.
From my tongue to my claws, every ounce of my body, every single strand of fur, everything tingles. And I love it. I forget what it had tasted like. We usually only feed on a full moon, and even in that short lapse of time, you can forget how good that one simple thing can make you feel. But the worst part is that you have to kill to get it.

The worst part of all of this is the fact that I have no leads now. I have no idea where to find Harland. I run around in circles trying to smell it, but it is so hard because of the blood surrounding me. So I need to find a new area. But the fact that the blood is so strong and there is so much of it I won’t be able to get a true lead for miles. So what do I have to do? I have to clean it. So I run back behind the dumpsters. I lick the blood again and again, and I go to the point if drinking it. The puddle is gone, just not the stain. She can’t be far from here.
I smell it.
Still strong enough to confuse me. I look around the work site, hoping to find a bottle of water. There is one. I must use it sparingly. This will be enough to dilute the iron in the blood, the strongest component. This way I can focus on another lead. I turn back too human form and pour the water over the puddle sparingly. I use the rest to pour over the trail. I turn back, and can barely smell it just from where I am standing.
So I run to the woods, knowing that I efficiently covered this area. And then the worst thing possible happens. It rains. And I mean pouring rain. This rain is washing away every lead I have. I run faster and faster. But with that my vision becomes blurrier because the rain is hitting so fast and so hard. But I run even faster.
I howl a little to see if he responds.
But I hear nothing.
I cut through the woods and into the backyard of an old abandoned building. It used to be a mill. The back door is open. I push the door open further, very carefully, with my nose. It creeks a little and I close my eyes and hold my breath.
No noise.
I walk slowly and quietly so that if someone is here they don’t recognize the sound of my claws clicking on the floor and the sound of my pads grazing the wooden floor boards. I poke my head in the first door on the left and close my eyes. Only my nose is in the doorway at this point. I sniff, and smell nothing. I pull my full head around and open one eye slowly, then the other. No one is in the room.
Out of curiosity, I walk around just to see what I can find. The room is dark and there are no lights. Furniture is covered with white sheets, and there is only one picture on the wall. The picture is of a woman, but I can’t make out the face. It is old yellow, and decaying. The ends of it were stained brown. This room seemed to be a meeting area.
I lift a certain sheet with my nose.
This piece of furniture has a lumpy and awkward shape. The floral patterned love seat is dusty and it smells oddly enough like smoke.
I lift it further.
I see a dark colored stain.
All of a sudden I feel something on my foot.
Blood.
I look down, and force myself to stay in place.
I lift the sheet further.
I see finger tips.
A glossed fingernail presents itself as I slowly lift it. I breathe hard, but I can’t help it. I lift it high enough to see the full hand. Blood continues to drip all over my foot. I swallow hard before uncovering the rest of it. I close my eyes and rip off the sheet. I slowly open one then close it again at the sight. Just from the glimpse I know that Harland had killed her.
The blood is running from her neck and her fingers. The tips of them are red and crusted. Her neck has one distinctive set of teeth on them. His fangs are much larger than normal for a vampire. They are about an inch around and very sharp. Blood was running profusely from them. I moan extremely quietly and open my eyes again.
There are several cuts on her legs and she isn’t wearing any shoes. She has a cut across her cheek and her hair is matted with dry blood. I haven’t seen her or met her before. I nudge at her body a little. I don’t smell anything peculiar so cover her with the sheet and walk out of the room.
I open the next door.
In this room there is a large furnace and old machine things and weavers used to make fabric. I open the large furnace door and find a body. Her eyes were large and swollen and her mouth was cut open in the side. Her neck had the same bites as the past victim.
I shut the door and walk across the hall into the next room. It has many, many sewing machines and huge baskets that had been used to store clothing. In one I find yet another body. And this man I know. He is a newscaster from the Bridgewater cast. His nose is visibly broken and his chest had multiple stab wounds.
Again, the same bite marks.
I am about to walk out into the hall when I hear talking. I hold breath and stand stalk still. “Why, why are you doing this to me?” a woman asks quietly and in a high voice. “Don’t worry.” He tells her. She sighs and he covers her mouth. She squeals a little, but it comes to an abrupt stop and I hear a suctioning sound, very odd.
I walk in and I see Harland biting her.
She looks at me and I run over to her and pry him off. Growling in the process, I break her free and she runs back into a wall. I need to turn back before I can compel her mind. But I need clothes. I look at him, confused on how to tell him this. His face is still contorted and blood still trickles down the sides of his lips. His face is abnormally pale for a human being and his eyes look exactly like a porcelain dolls would look.
I howl.
He stands up and staggers into another room. He comes back with a white sheet and lays it on me. I turn back and wrap it around my waist. I grab her shoulders and look her dead in the eye.
“Your not afraid.” I tell her. “Are you?” she blinks and her eyes turn hazel and gray, then black and porcelain. “No…I’m afraid of nothing.” she tells me. “You forget all of this ever happened. You just remember being really tired.” She blinks. “I’m so tired.” I let go and her eyes turn blue again. Before she can look at me, Harland hits her on the head enough to cause her to pass out and I catch her completely limp and battered body. I lay her on the floor carefully and run into the other rooms.
I pick up the girl in the sheet and wrap her body with it. I hand her to Harland and he places her in front of the door. We wrap the rest of the bodies and place them in front of the door. “Go get my car.” I tell him. “And there is a tree with my clothes lying around it.” I throw him the keys. He walks out the front door. I sit next to the bodies and sort of just think. I don’t think about much at all, but I just sit calmly.
I uncover the first victim I found and look at her. for some reason she seems completely familiar. I think maybe from school. I move her bangs out of her face and make sure there aren’t anymore scratches. I bend down and she is the victim I have been searching for. She is ‘Iron Roses’.
I cover her face again and I stand up and look out the window. I don’t have a clock in here. I crack the front door open. The cool wind blows in my face and I lean against the frame. And the person who comes to my mind isn’t who I think it would be. Her deep brunette curls and her ice cold eyes were what captivated me at first sight. And now she is in the ground. Brutally murdered at my own hand. And even though I have killed people so many…it just doesn’t make sense to me.
Not all of them died.
Just a few.
But even that is wrong. And I’ve never been in contact with human feelings like these. And I feel like I’m starting to think more of what Ebony and I had. Her long eye lashes, her tall and curvy stature. I feel regret again. I always get these agonizing feelings when I’m alone. And that’s not all. I start to come in contact with human feelings and I don’t truly like them. Not when they’re for Ebony. She has caused me too much distress and pain these past years and I am so sick and tired of living like this. I can’t mask being so care free anymore. because in the truth, I’m the exact opposite.

The worst part of all of this is the fact that I have no leads now. I have no idea where to find Harland. I run around in circles trying to smell it, but it is so hard because of the blood surrounding me. So I need to find a new area. But the fact that the blood is so strong and there is so much of it I won’t be able to get a true lead for miles. So what do I have to do? I have to clean it. So I run back behind the dumpsters. I lick the blood again and again, and I go to the point if drinking it. The puddle is gone, just not the stain. She can’t be far from here.
I smell it.
Still strong enough to confuse me. I look around the work site, hoping to find a bottle of water. There is one. I must use it sparingly. This will be enough to dilute the iron in the blood, the strongest component. This way I can focus on another lead. I turn back too human form and pour the water over the puddle sparingly. I use the rest to pour over the trail. I turn back, and can barely smell it just from where I am standing.
So I run to the woods, knowing that I efficiently covered this area. And then the worst thing possible happens. It rains. And I mean pouring rain. This rain is washing away every lead I have. I run faster and faster. But with that my vision becomes blurrier because the rain is hitting so fast and so hard. But I run even faster.
I howl a little to see if he responds.
But I hear nothing.
I cut through the woods and into the backyard of an old abandoned building. It used to be a mill. The back door is open. I push the door open further, very carefully, with my nose. It creeks a little and I close my eyes and hold my breath.
No noise.
I walk slowly and quietly so that if someone is here they don’t recognize the sound of my claws clicking on the floor and the sound of my pads grazing the wooden floor boards. I poke my head in the first door on the left and close my eyes. Only my nose is in the doorway at this point. I sniff, and smell nothing. I pull my full head around and open one eye slowly, then the other. No one is in the room.
Out of curiosity, I walk around just to see what I can find. The room is dark and there are no lights. Furniture is covered with white sheets, and there is only one picture on the wall. The picture is of a woman, but I can’t make out the face. It is old yellow, and decaying. The ends of it were stained brown. This room seemed to be a meeting area.
I lift a certain sheet with my nose.
This piece of furniture has a lumpy and awkward shape. The floral patterned love seat is dusty and it smells oddly enough like smoke.
I lift it further.
I see a dark colored stain.
All of a sudden I feel something on my foot.
Blood.
I look down, and force myself to stay in place.
I lift the sheet further.
I see finger tips.
A glossed fingernail presents itself as I slowly lift it. I breathe hard, but I can’t help it. I lift it high enough to see the full hand. Blood continues to drip all over my foot. I swallow hard before uncovering the rest of it. I close my eyes and rip off the sheet. I slowly open one then close it again at the sight. Just from the glimpse I know that Harland had killed her.
The blood is running from her neck and her fingers. The tips of them are red and crusted. Her neck has one distinctive set of teeth on them. His fangs are much larger than normal for a vampire. They are about an inch around and very sharp. Blood was running profusely from them. I moan extremely quietly and open my eyes again.
There are several cuts on her legs and she isn’t wearing any shoes. She has a cut across her cheek and her hair is matted with dry blood. I haven’t seen her or met her before. I nudge at her body a little. I don’t smell anything peculiar so cover her with the sheet and walk out of the room.
I open the next door.
In this room there is a large furnace and old machine things and weavers used to make fabric. I open the large furnace door and find a body. Her eyes were large and swollen and her mouth was cut open in the side. Her neck had the same bites as the past victim.
I shut the door and walk across the hall into the next room. It has many, many sewing machines and huge baskets that had been used to store clothing. In one I find yet another body. And this man I know. He is a newscaster from the Bridgewater cast. His nose is visibly broken and his chest had multiple stab wounds.
Again, the same bite marks.
I am about to walk out into the hall when I hear talking. I hold breath and stand stalk still. “Why, why are you doing this to me?” a woman asks quietly and in a high voice. “Don’t worry.” He tells her. She sighs and he covers her mouth. She squeals a little, but it comes to an abrupt stop and I hear a suctioning sound, very odd.
I walk in and I see Harland biting her.
She looks at me and I run over to her and pry him off. Growling in the process, I break her free and she runs back into a wall. I need to turn back before I can compel her mind. But I need clothes. I look at him, confused on how to tell him this. His face is still contorted and blood still trickles down the sides of his lips. His face is abnormally pale for a human being and his eyes look exactly like a porcelain dolls would look.
I howl.
He stands up and staggers into another room. He comes back with a white sheet and lays it on me. I turn back and wrap it around my waist. I grab her shoulders and look her dead in the eye.
“Your not afraid.” I tell her. “Are you?” she blinks and her eyes turn hazel and gray, then black and porcelain. “No…I’m afraid of nothing.” she tells me. “You forget all of this ever happened. You just remember being really tired.” She blinks. “I’m so tired.” I let go and her eyes turn blue again. Before she can look at me, Harland hits her on the head enough to cause her to pass out and I catch her completely limp and battered body. I lay her on the floor carefully and run into the other rooms.
I pick up the girl in the sheet and wrap her body with it. I hand her to Harland and he places her in front of the door. We wrap the rest of the bodies and place them in front of the door. “Go get my car.” I tell him. “And there is a tree with my clothes lying around it.” I throw him the keys. He walks out the front door. I sit next to the bodies and sort of just think. I don’t think about much at all, but I just sit calmly.
I uncover the first victim I found and look at her. for some reason she seems completely familiar. I think maybe from school. I move her bangs out of her face and make sure there aren’t anymore scratches. I bend down and she is the victim I have been searching for. She is ‘Iron Roses’.
I cover her face again and I stand up and look out the window. I don’t have a clock in here. I crack the front door open. The cool wind blows in my face and I lean against the frame. And the person who comes to my mind isn’t who I think it would be. Her deep brunette curls and her ice cold eyes were what captivated me at first sight. And now she is in the ground. Brutally murdered at my own hand. And even though I have killed people so many…it just doesn’t make sense to me.
Not all of them died.
Just a few.
But even that is wrong. And I’ve never been in contact with human feelings like these. And I feel like I’m starting to think more of what Ebony and I had. Her long eye lashes, her tall and curvy stature. I feel regret again. I always get these agonizing feelings when I’m alone. And that’s not all. I start to come in contact with human feelings and I don’t truly like them. Not when they’re for Ebony. She has caused me too much distress and pain these past years and I am so sick and tired of living like this. I can’t mask being so care free anymore. because in the truth, I’m the exact opposite.

I guess it was shortly after we had kissed when everything started to go wrong. Ebony and I would meet all the time, and that was really good. But she started denying things. Trying to make me look like a fool. And so then I decided that maybe we weren’t compatible at all. At the time I thought it was breaking my heart, but really it was just my own embarrassment that I had actually fallen for her. That I was childish and was stupid enough to play her games. But then she was the one who planned the ultimate revenge. She was going to seduce then kill Harry. And she almost got away with it. It just about worked.
It was during winter. It was a crisp and cold January day. My dad had told me to ride into town to go stock up on things like coffee grains and other things I can’t really remember. I was in town at the time, maybe around two thirty in the evening, talking to Alexander Rochester, the general store owner. We were discussing the latest issue of the newspaper, in more detail a crime that had been featured.
I remember clearly that Mr. Rochester had given me a free pound of tea for visiting him. He was a lonely old man who didn’t have many friends or people come to his store. Well ones that he actually liked. Because there were a lot of political issues going on in the States and since he was republican, as I, and most of the people in town where democrats, like my father, they boycotted his store unless they absolutely needed to. I had thanked him, walked out to the carriage, and put everything in the back. I untied the horses, and rode off like I would any regular time that I had gone into town. But this time was different. And it was the last time.
I was about to get into my carriage when Sam ran up behind me and stopped himself by pressing his hands on my back. I jolted forward and into the carriage. “Sam!” I yelled. “It’s Ebony, its Harry! Come on!” I took off running after him, leaving my horses and carriage to sit unattended. I don’t know who I was more concerned about truthfully. Maybe it was Harry…or Ebony. But I don’t feel like that matters anymore.
He slowed down in front of…I think it was Ebony’s father’s shop. I can’t really remember. Just that it was a store. I walked in and heard a quivering voice from Harry and a seductive tone from Ebony. Sam walked in first and I behind him. Harry was lying on his back with Ebony on top of him. She was only wearing her corset and Harry’s shirt was on the floor next to her dress. She had a knife to his neck.
She looked up coolly at me and raised a brow. “This is what you get.” She told me with a very evened and flat tone. I stood there speechless. Not that I didn’t know what to say, I just didn’t have anything to say. I opened my mouth then closed it. I cocked my head to the left to look at Harry. He looked terrified, sorry, and blank. He looked blank, I remember. What you’re going to find out is that I didn’t kill her directly. But I stood there and watched and basically gave my okay. This makes me just as bad as the direct.
“Why?” I asked her after a while of exchanging furious glances and eye flickers. She opens her eyes a little wider and then squints them. “You did this Adam, not me. You’re doing this to Harry. I can’t do this to you directly, it wouldn’t hurt enough. So whatever pain you caused me, I place it upon the ones you love.” She pressed the knife harder against his neck. He tried really hard not to move. His sweaty brow wrinkled than went completely straight.
I looked at Sam who was standing stalk still very pale against the door frame. He didn’t make any sort of eye contact with me but his face seemed to get whiter and his eyes darker and more shined over. I walked closer to him and grabbed his shoulder. “Are you okay?” I asked him. He shook his head and looked at me groggily. He staggered out and I watched him walk down the street. He fell to the ground and a certain man walked up to him. He pulled him up and dusted him off. He picked up Sam’s limp body and walked off with him. It was…Luther. I never really thought about the odd things about Luther. I just know that he wasn’t from Bridgewater. He moved here three years prior to this incident. And he looked exactly the same, immaculately enough.
So badly did I want to help him, but Harry had a knife to his neck. “Ebony,” I started but she put one hand up. “Say your last words. He’s going to die soon…” the words rolled off her tongue like they would a hiss on a snake. “Adam, I’m sure she’s just fooling around,” she covered his mouth and pressed the knife harder. “Shut up! I said he may talk to you, but you may say nothing!” she hissed. He gulped and nodded.
I walked over and I remember grabbing Ebony. I held her for a little while, trying to figure out what I was going to do. She felt content in my rms. I took the knife gently from her and turned her around. My grip had become really rough and I pressed the knife on her neck. I had laid it on its side I remember. She swallowed very hard but didn’t move. She closed her eyes and held her breath. I walked her into another room and told her to sit on the table.
“Why Ebony? Why do you have to do this to me and everyone else?” I asked her with the knife still in my hand. I heard Harry talking to someone, but I took my focus away from him and transferred it to Ebony. She looked at me with very little remorse. “Because you gave me pain. Now I must give it back and more. I’m a giver, Adam.” She stood up and walked over to me. She placed her hands on my chest. “I always have been, and you know that.” she raised a brow.
But then I heard a large crash and Harry scream. We peaked out the door and he was lying on the ground panting and sweating. Blood slowly trickled down his neck. I didn’t know how to react so I just…stood there. Ebony grabbed the knife from my hand, stabbed him four times in the heart, grabbed her dress and ran. And her you have my motive for murder.