Harder To Love Than Blood

I was learning that Fridays are a thing to be feared.

Two words: Pep rally.

It was an evil event that transcended the Salem Witch Trials in their bid for unholy torture. The Aurora High pep rallies coalesced every clichéd high school hazing you’ve ever heard of, and created some new ones of their own.

And guess which “random” new student got to be the butt of one such hazing?

“You are suspended for three days.”

The principal stared at me with what was probably her “serious” face, but looked to me like she might have a minor case of constipation.

“And you will be given double homework.”

I opened my mouth to rebuke, but DJ, who had been called in after the…unfortunate incident involving three seniors and a well-placed knee, cut me off before I could even start in.

“Understood, Mrs. Bulford. She’ll start on her paperwork as soon as she gets home.” DJ gave that smile that seemed to say “You can walk all over me, if you’d like, I don’t mind one bit.” It was way too agreeable. Made me want to slap him until he could grow a backbone. Or at least turn his stubborn I’m-the-boss attitude away from me and toward other people.

He’s still being a douche when it comes to my job. Constantly insisting on picking me up with his truck hugging the curb so hard the concrete has his tire print.

Of course, it is amusing to watch Gladys stare at him as though she wished she was twenty years younger. Or maybe ten. I never really did get her age.

“Make sure that she does, Mr. Michaels. She’s lucky her punishment isn’t more severe. Those were prime athletes she’s debilitated for the big game. Do you have any idea what sort of travesty she may have caused the school’s record?”

“She’s also right here in the room, you know, in case you want to stop talking over her?” Both adults glared at me. “I’m just sayin’.” I slouched back in my chair and waited through another five minutes of Mrs. Bulford bad-mouthing me over my head. Though it did give some interesting insight into the woman’s state of mind. Mostly commenting on her I-need-to-get-LAID situation at home.

“Of course, Mrs. Bulford. And thank you again.” DJ finally ushered me out the door and practically dragged me down the hall and out the front of the school. I think he was under the impression that I would have been mobbed and hanged by all the people who had been randomly standing around the hallways glaring at my departure had I been left unsupervised.

As if those noobs could handle me. I may not be athletic, but I could swing a bat (or a lead pipe, which ever was handy) with the best of them.

Too bad I didn’t have one for that quarterback and his two guardsmen…or whatever the hell they were.

“You’re grounded for infinity and a week.”

“One of those bastards groped me.”

“I’m picking you up some ice cream. What flavor do you want?” DJ frowned as he gripped the steering column of the truck. “Why didn’t you tell the principal about him touching you inappropriately?”

I glared over at him, though the anger was slightly misplaced. “I did. I told her before you got here. She said ‘those boys were simply behaving with the energy of the rally and were not aware of what had clearly been an accident’.” Okay, so my impression of her craggy voice was a little trollish, but it did make DJ twitch a smile.

Then, just as fast as the smile was there, it vanished with another frown. “If she said that they weren’t aware of it, it meant she was aware of what had happened before she even pulled you into the office. Why didn’t she mention it to me?”

I harrumphed. “Freakin’ told you they were against me. All of them!”

DJ rolled his eyes as he finally started the engine and pulled out of the lot. “The whole world isn’t against you. But I would like to have a private chat with that principal again.”

I brightened at the possibility of DJ actually serving it to that horrid lady. “Really? Can I come along?”

“No, that would go against it being a private conversation. I don’t need you there to jump in with your spastic responses.”

“Spastic? I am so not spastic!” A flash of white out the window caught my eye. “Ooh, look! A dog! Can I have him?”

DJ grunted a sound of disgust. “Like I would let a flea-bitten mongrel into my home.”

“Don’t be maaad, bro,” I told him with my best surfer-boy accent. Can you even call it an accent? Or is it a drawl? Oh, look! Another dog!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you freakin’ kidding me? Did you seriously do that?”

I was standing frozen in front of the freezer with a cherry-flavored Popsicle stuck to my upper lip, wondering which that Clive was talking about, because, seriously, I do a lot of dumb stuff.

“Uuuh, yeth?” I licked my upper lip the best I could and pulled the ice stick away. “Ow. Maybe?”

“You took out Robert Jenson, John Garrenhall, and Felix Schmidt all at once?”

I didn’t know if the wide eyes he was giving me meant “you are my hero” or “did you stab yourself with the Stupid pencil or something”, so I just shrugged noncommittally.

“Before the big game?”

I shrugged again. “They touched me in my naughty place. Mommy says no boy should touch me there.”

“What?”

I grinned at him. “You mad your boys got taken down by a girl they tried to grope?”

His brows crinkled in what looked like repulsed outrage. “No, I’m glad they got taken off the game for a play. It gave my friend George a chance to show his skills. We won. Coach was thrilled.” He bore his fists down on the kitchen table. “Wait, so they touched you?”

I licked at the Popsicle and ended up tearing off a taste bud or two. “Yeah, one of them grabbed my boob when they tried hazing me.” I took the Popsicle to the sink and rinsed it enough to get the frost off the surface. “Didn’t know which one, though. I told them to leave me alone and they wouldn’t, so I did what I do best.” I grinned over at him. “I emasculated them.”

I was expecting an easy grin for that little crack at Jonathan and the flying shoe, but when I looked over at Clive, his face was still hard, his fists balled tight enough that veins were popping out along his forearms.

“Clive? You okay?”

A strange noise sounded, and for a second I thought Clive was growling. But it had to have been the fridge’s cooling system. Because that noise just didn’t come from a human throat. Right?

I took a step closer to him. “Clive?”

Some kind of shift of lighting, maybe the sun breaking through a tiny hole in the clouds, played a strange trick in the color of Clive’s eyes. Because, for just a second, I could have sworn they turned gold. But I know I’m not crazy…at least, I think I’m not.

“Clive, your fly’s open.” My entirely random response had him cocking his head at me. But at least he was focused again. Somewhat. “You alright there?”

He worked his jaw like it was sore at the joints, leaned harder on the table, his arms flexing with his fists. “Why did they touch you?”

I raised a brow at him. “No idea. I didn’t think about sitting down with them for some in depth conversation over their deep-seeded need for a mother figure or anything.” But seriously, why would they grope me? Not like I had much to offer. Dammit. “So does the game changeup mean more play for your George buddy?”

It took Clive a second to respond, his eyes still seeming focused on the air between us. “Yeah, more play time.” He took a deep breath and seemed to shake himself of some nasty thoughts. He rolled his head around on his shoulders like he had some kinks in his neck. “He’s JV, trying out for SV. I think your little run-in with those three boneheads just landed George a spot on senior varsity.” He finally gave that young, happy grin I had wanted to see again. “Thanks for that, Mands.”

I grinned back. “Sure. Anytime you have a friend that wants to prove their worth, just point my knee in the right direction and I’ll help to get them a chance.”

Clive left the kitchen with a laugh echoing through the house, and that sound made me feel good.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Night time had gotten a little easier for me since getting here, but tonight I was back at square one; there was a strange noise coming from below my window. That honking-snorting noise that had the hairs standing up on my arms and had something in my mind telling me to stay the hell inside.

Being the nosey little trouble-maker that I am, I ignored my brain and went to the window. I tried to look out after opening the blinds, but the angle was too steep, so I opened the panel and stuck my head out.

Below me was pitch black, but as a car turning into a driveway flashed their headlights along the yard, just enough light caught on the fur of something…too big to be a cat, and yet too sleek to be anything but a feline.

“Holy sh-!” I closed the window as fast as I could and hauled butt out of my room to the door across from me. Rapping as silent yet urgent as I could, I tried to call to my little brother for help. “Clive? Clive, you awake?” I looked at the door to the bathroom but it was opened and the light was off so he wasn’t in there. “Clive! Hey, Clive! Wake up, Clive. Seriously. Come on, you up? Clive? Clive!” I rapped my nails on the door, but there was still no answer. Kid could sleep like the dead sometimes.

There was a louder noise outside.

“Clive, please don’t be naked,” I said before opening up the door and rushing to the bed. I pulled back his covers, ready to pounce on him and demand he grab a big stick and go scare off whatever that couldn’t have been under my window…and he wasn’t there.