Blood Isn't Always Thicker Than Water

Once we finished our pool game—it was intense; and I could swear the eight ball liked Jeremy better than me—Jeremy and I sat ourselves down on one of Troy’s couches and I set up my laptop on a table in front of us. We explored YouTube for a while, then Jeremy asked me, “So, when are we leaving?”

I smirked. “You’re coming with me?”

He nodded like it was obvious. “I’m not letting you pull this off alone.”

I laughed. “I guess you aren’t.”

“So…you’re sending a letter to Ryan?”

“Yeah. He knows about ‘vampires’, right?”

Jeremy nodded. ‘I don’t know how, but he does.”

I shrugged. “Works for me.” Then I left the Weird Al movie we were watching and looked up where George lived. For me it really wasn’t that hard. I’ve got the whole web-world at my fingertips. I’m amazing like that. And my amazingness is also demonstrated in the way my background said “HACKERZ RULE”.

“Okay,” I said, sitting up and craning my head around. “Got a piece of paper,
Jeremy?”

“I think I saw one…somewhere…”

We glanced at each other, then bolted out of the room. A paper-search-war ensued, and Jeremy managed to smash into multiple pieces of furniture. I did, too, so I didn’t bother him about it. But as it turns out, I found the piece of paper just sitting randomly in this cupboard in the kitchen. It looked slightly discolored, but was that going to stop me? By Jove, no.

Anyway, I wrote my brother a letter. Jeremy read it over and approved it, then we reached another dilemma: an envelope.

“I’m finding this one,” Jeremy vowed before we took off, crashing into even more pieces of antique furniture. May Logan’s spirit have mercy on us.

And, by some misplaced miracle, Jeremy came through. “I got it!” he crowed ten minutes after we started.

Bewildered, I closed all the drawers and stuff I had been going through. “Where did you find it?”

A huge grin spread across his face. “You’ll never guess.”

My eyes went wide. “You wrestled Wally?”

He gave me a weird look and stopped midway through a step. “Huh? Who’s Wally?”

I blushed when I realized what I’d just said, then confessed, “Wally is what I named the mold in the fridge.”

“Why?” He finished walking over to me and started to help me get things back in order.

I blushed even more. “It’s after the Green Monster. Y’know, from the Red Sox? Fenway Park?”

He chuckled. “Wow, Cas. I seriously can’t imagine what it’s like in your mind.”

“Hah-hah,” I mocked, shutting the last drawer with a flourish. “You’re so hilarious, Jeremy. I’m dying right now. You just don’t know it.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously along the lines of, “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“But, really, where’d you find the envelope?” I asked once we were back in Troy’s TV room and Jeremy was licking the envelope closed.

He passed it over to me so I could write George’s address on it and said, “The bathroom on Kaitlin’s floor. It’s right below the attic right?”

I halted, pen tip a millimeter from the surface of the envelope. I nodded and asked, “How the heck does that work?”

He smiled. “You know how the mirror in there is also a cabinet?”

“The envelope was in there?”

He nodded. “Isn’t that weird?”

I nodded too. “Was there anything else in there?”

He shrugged. “Not really. An ancient tube of toothpaste.”

I grimaced. “Now that’s gross.”

He nodded.

Then, Jeremy and I got ready for a walk into the nearest town. We needed a public mailbox—hope those exist; Jeremy said they do—and stamps. I had never sent a letter before, so I was totally out of it as to where everything went. Seriously, I had wondered if Jeremy had lost his sanity when he started licking the envelope. And as for the address, that was all guesswork. It seemed like that would be what the mailman—or machine or whatever is used nowadays—would want to see, first and foremost, so I wrote it in, right in the center in medium-sized letters. Jeremy would need to deal with the stamp(s). I mean, I don’t even know if you use one per letter! Or any at all! But then why would we be buying them…? Sorry. Spontaneous blonde moment in the head of a brunette. That’s never good.
Trust the master.

I popped in one of the earbuds to my iPod and started listening to “Poppin’ Champagne” by All Time Low.

Jeremy cocked an eyebrow at me. “That’s really loud.”

“And it’s really normal.” But it was hurting my slightly more-than-human sensitive ears, so I turned the volume down a couple notches.

“That’s what I thought,” Jeremy said with a smirk, and whistled for the dogs.

“We’re bringing them?” I asked, jerking my head toward the two animals jostling
down the slim corridor toward us.

He nodded. "They have excellent senses, as well as amazing navigational skills.”

And, what, I don’t?

His eyes studied my face for a second, as if he could suddenly see through the veils over them.

“What are you lookin’ at?” I asked, failing to sound gangster.

His lips made a thin line. “We need to get you some eyeliner.” And he walked right out the door, dogs on his heels.

Fine, I thought. Be that way. I would never, in a million years, ever figure out the Jeremy Mystery. He was totally and utterly impossible. And I don’t mean that in a nice way.

I rolled my eyes one last time and exited the manor. I spotted Monty right away. He was rooted to the spot, his tongue flopping out. He trotted alongside me as I traversed the distance between the lone manor and any sort of civilization. After maybe an hour and a half of walking at a normal “vampire” pace, Jeremy announced that some people were nearby.

The roads went from gravel to paved, sidewalks popped up, and soon Jeremy and I were walking down a street in a small town while a light rain did unspeakable things to my hair. It was bad enough already; I forgot to brush it. But now the drizzle has to go and wreak its havoc? That’s just not fair.

“What should I do if someone thinks I’m George?” I asked Jeremy.

“Uh, I don’t know. You’ve had that face your whole life. You should know how to deal with hit by now.”

I sighed. “I live in that moth-infested manor with three ‘vampires’ and no sunlight for the majority of my life, Jeremy. Getting used to being mistaken for someone named George wasn’t part of my life until I was…what…fifteen? I can’t even remember.” I started listening to “Famous Last Words” by My Chemical Romance. I only have three songs by them (the other two are “Welcome to the Black Parade” and “Teenagers”) and I love them all.

“That’s a good point,” Jeremy admitted. “Oh, and, by the way, I wouldn’t go into that store.”

I made a pout face and looked longingly at the music store. I missed work at F.Y.E. Yes, I did just admit to missing doing something that requires actual work, not something I can cheat my way through with “vampire” powers. Don’t give me any crap about it.

“Why not?” I asked Jeremy. “I see the P!nk CD… Never mind, I don’t really want it that much. Ooh! Fallen by Evanescence! I’ve been wanting that forever! The Open Door wasn’t the best, but the reviews for this one say it’s much be—”

“The cashier’s gay, and right now he’s thinking of a way to ‘get some’ with you.”

I had my whole body pressed up against the window. I was so obsessed. Argh! Now that reminded me of Mariah Carey. *Shudders violently*. I don’t like her that much. I mean, who’s so desperate that they put inappropriate pictures onto their single/album covers after they’re married to a certain Nick Cannon? I’m not saying I don’t…appreciate the pictures, but I still think they’re the wrong thing to do. I started away from the window, toward the door. If Sam—

My stomach went all hot and cramped and I stopped in my tracks. I could swear a sweat broke out on my forehead. Jeremy quirked an eyebrow. I ignored it and started breathing again. I hadn’t noticed I’d stopped.

I had not just thought that. The idea had half-formed in my head, and I had reacted like I had thought the whole thing.

“Caspian, what’s wrong?” Jeremy asked urgently.

I reached up and grabbed a couple locks of hair. I guess that’s what I do when in distress. “I just seriously thought Samantha and I were going to get married.”

Silence.

“Ah. Um…that’s totally…natural?”

“Ugh,” I groaned and dragged my feet as I trudged into the store. Jeremy sighed
and followed me.

My mind felt fragile as I walked right over to where I had seen Evanescence’s Fallen. First off, the CD had my dead half-brother’s name on it. Second, I had just thought about Samantha and me getting married like we were engaged; like it was natural.

It’s a bit much to handle while you’re stalling a brittle web of plans, and your method of stalling is raiding a music store. Oh yes, you know I’m perfectly sane.

Monty and Balto sat like guard dogs on both sides of the door. Don’t know where they got that from, but it’s cool.

I grabbed Fallen then went in search for another CD. I dug through a ton and managed to extract One-X, Black Holes and Revelations, The Black Parade, Hot Mess, The Paramour Sessions, Silent Alarm, So Wrong It’s Right, and The Sufferer and the Witness. Jeremy reached out and felt hot many CD’s I had, frowning. “Really, Cas?”

“Yes, Jeremy. You spent—sorry, wasted—all that money on those water toys you didn’t use. I’m actually going to use these, and they cost, like, a tenth of what you spent.” When I recalled those memories, it was like I was remembering a past life. So much had changed since then…

“Actually, those add up to—”

“I really don’t care,” I snapped. Excuse: My mind is fragile, and I need to go buy some heavy metal music CD’s. Again, you know I’m sane.

I was turning off my iPod when suddenly I found myself at the checkout counter and spilling CD’s all over it. The dude working there raised an eyebrow. “Gee. You wanna bag for those?”

I laughed shortly to convey an affirmative. That does mean “yes”, right?

And was it just me, or was the guy checking out the CD’s and my body?

Oh yeah. He’s gay. Ugh. Why did I need to go and burn my jacket? Now I was only in a skin-hugging V-neck T-shirt, looking ridiculously like George.

I stuffed my iPod away then cleared my throat awkwardly. “Um, hi.”

Oh my gosh…

The guy smiled. He had hazel eyes and longish brown hair. “Hi to you too. What’s your name?”

“Caspian.”

He paused to look at me curiously, The Black Parade inches from being under that weird red light that reads the barcode and allows me to exit the store with the wonderful collection of songs without the alarm going off. “Really?” he asked.

I nodded, hands in pockets.

“Hmm. I’m Lancaster, but everyone calls me Cas.”

“Oh my gosh, me too!” Way to sound gay.

A small smile was curling up the edges of Lancaster’s mouth. “You from around here? I’ve never seen you before, and you have good taste.” He nodded at the pile of CD’s he was going to put in a bag.

I smirked. “Alternative and rock are awesome.”

Lancaster nodded and handed me my CD’s. “Duh. Do you know Fall Out Boy?”

I nodded. “I’ve even run into some of the members.”

His eyes went wide. “Is Pete really that hot in real life?” His eyes went wider and he bit his lip, staring at me in a very frozen manner.

I grinned. “It’s fine. And, yeah, Pete’s the same in real life as the pictures. Are…are you gay?”

“Bi,” he admitted. Then he lifted an eyebrow, his eyes looking over my shoulder.

I turned around and almost puked. Jeremy probably thought he was doing something totally normal, but for some reason I’m guessing being a teenage male and staring at a poster of the Jonas Brothers isn’t socially acceptable behavior.

“Will you excuse me?” I said quickly and speed-walked over to Jeremy. “What are you doing?”

“This is a poster, isn’t it?”

I nodded, grabbing his shoulder. “And it’s the Jonas Brothers.”

“Aren’t they supposed to be hot?”

Someone in the rock section was looking at us weirdly. Gee, thanks, Jeremy. Now the terrorists stalking me will think my best friend likes the Jonas Brothers. The gaylords. They need to—as George said—grab a beer, and maybe then they’ll write some decent songs, and Nick won’t sound like he’s trying to sing with his Prada scarf a wee bit too tight. Prada does scarves, right? And that last part wasn't George. It was me and my geniusness.

“They’re hot if you’re a preteen girl or younger,” I told him in a voice that probably sounded like I was talking to a mental illness patient. “Now slowly back away and always check with me before you stare at a poster.” I unconsciously took his hand and dragged him over to where Lancaster was finishing up with another customer. They exchanged thank you’s, then Lancaster smiled and beckoned us toward him, pushing my CD’s back onto the counter. His smile faltered when he noticed I was holding Jeremy’s hand.

I reflexively let it go, and Jeremy soared right into the counter, producing a strange “oomph” sound.

Lancaster frowned and stared at Jeremy searchingly as the latter rubbed his stomach and mumbled impressive strings of profanities under his breath. Lancaster pointed at him and mouthed “Is he okay?”

I nodded, then leaned over and whispered, “He’s partially blind,” into Lancaster’s ear. When I pulled back, he was blushing, and I remembered that he just so happened to have a crush on me.

“And, just for the record, he doesn’t actually like the Jonas Brothers.”

Lancaster nodded. “Does he like who you like?”

I shrugged. “He’s not too huge on music.”

Lancaster got a bit of a pink tinge to his cheeks as he asked, “Are…are you two…y’know…”

I flared up in crimson fireworks that covered my whole head. “Oh no. We’re just friends.”

Lancaster bit his lip again. “Okay. Sorry. It’s just…you sorta…”

“Held hands?”

He nodded.

“He’s blind. I gotta lead him around all the time.”

Lancaster nodded again. “But, I’m curious, where are you from?”

I shrugged. “You could say Las Vegas, you say Idaho. Both, really. I was born in
Las Vegas and grew up in Idaho.”

“Hmm. Cool. Ryan Ross from Panic! at the Disco is from Las Vegas.”

I licked my lips. “Yeah.”

“You look sorta like him.”

I shrugged. Hands back in pockets.

Lancaster frowned. “Can you sing?”

I looked at him like he was crazy, which he most likely was. Me? SINGING? This wasn’t going to end good.

“Um—”

“Please? I just want to know if you sound like Ryan Ross at all.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. How about…his part in ‘She Had the World’?”

Lancaster nodded. “Go ahead.”

Jeremy tapped my shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Someone’s in line.”

I glanced over and saw that it was true. So I stepped out of the way, the person got their stuff checked out/rang up—seriously, I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl—and they walked out.

“Anyway, sing, please.” Lancaster bent down and leaned his elbows against the counter.

I cleared my throat and called up the verse. Summoning up as much nerve as I possessed, I tentatively starting singing, “I don’t love you, I’m just passing the time. You could love me if I knew how to lie. But who could love me? I am out of my mind. Throw and old line out to sea, to see if I can catch a dream.”

Lancaster’s eyes were wide and Jeremy looked smug. Poop him.

I grimaced. “Was it okay?”

“Okay? Dude, you sound better than Ross!” Lancaster exclaimed, moving his arms around for emphasis.

I frowned. “Really?” I thought I sounded like a piece of decomposed
crap. “Jeremy, what do you think?”

“I think you are abso-freakin’-lutely awesome.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry Lancaster, he stared at that poser a bit too long. C’mon, Jeremy. A nice up of coffee or something should get you back to normal. Or at least your usual height of weirdness. I mean, ‘abso-freakin’-lutely’? Where’d that come from?”

While I rambled on, I grabbed my bag of CD’s and dragged Jeremy out the door while waving goodbye to Lancaster and checking to see if the dogs had run away. And people say only women can multitask productively. Wait a minute… Does that mean I’m a girl? OH NO! I DON’T WANT TO HAVE PMS! *Cries violently* And I’d be a lesbian ‘cause I’m undeniably in love with Samantha! Life is cruel.

Jeremy was laughing under his breath.

“What?” I asked, whining slightly.

“You. Do you realize just how odd your thinking tendencies are? About a third of the time is spent thinking about Sam and terrorists.”

I squinted at him “We’ll see who’s laughing when some guy comes running up to us with a grenade in-hand yelling ‘Allah!’, okay?”

He put up his hands. “Okay. Alright. No more terrorist comments. And no need to get so harsh…”

I sighed. “Sorry. I get carried away. Terrorists scare the living shit out of me.”

“Does Jesus, too?”

I slapped his shoulder. “No. Now shut up.”

We walked into the post office that just so conveniently popped up beside the music store and bought a thing of stamps. I took one off and told Jeremy to put it on the envelope. Then I gave the rest of the stamps to the next lady in line. I didn’t need them.

And the whole place smelled like formaldehyde (or sterilizer, whatever you prefer), paper and El Glue-o of Snot-o. I don’t know how the people worked here all day. It was incomprehensible.

But all those little lockers off to the side looked really col. They were so shiny.

After that was done, Jeremy found a nearby Walgreens and carefully navigated his way in, me right on his tail, the dogs whimpering as we left them behind for a third time. Monty looked especially crushed. But what could I do? Jeremy is not to be denied when he’s on a “mission”. OMG, never mind.

“Are any of there workers here gay?” I asked quietly.

Jeremy shook his head no.

“Hallelujah,” I sighed, and followed my friend over to…the makeup section. What was his issue?

Oh no. The poster really had gone to his head! Next thing you know, he’ll buy
me, him and Fallen matching golden shoes even though Fallen’s dead and I only wear
black and white! NOOO! EPICEST FAIL EVER!

“You are so dramatic.”

I frowned at Jeremy as he pretended to be looking at some eye shadow, but I could see and hear that he was actually sniffing. “But you’re in the makeup section!” I said in my defense.

“I know perfectly well where I am. I told you before. We’re getting you eyeliner.”

“For the love of oven-baked muffins… I don’t want eyeliner! I keep becoming more and more like George!”

“You may not want it, but trust me, you need it.”

“How could you know?”

I see pictures of you in other people’s—and dog’s—minds. Not all the time, but only when they’re obsessed with you at that moment, thinking really hard about how you look. So, therefore, I can tell that you need this.” He finally found the eyeliner. “Now. I’m guessing that you want plain old black?”

“How about white?”

“And why that?”

“It won’t show up.”

“Caspian… I’m trying to help you. And it probably would show up now. That sunburn gave you a tan…” He was quiet for a second. “Now grab two packets of black, and if you want any other color, get that too.”

I sighed and picked up two of the black sticks in their little packages. “Okay, let’s go.” Jeremy followed obediently, and just stood, whistling under his breath, while we waited for our turn at the register. Once I paid and Jeremy found his way to the door, we left and the dogs followed us as we made way for Logan’s manor.