helps.”
The Colemans. Of course. That was where he’d be.
“Also,” Luisa continued, in a rush, “we’re all getting together tonight at the Franks. You have to come! We miss you so much. And of course, bring Caleb. It’s going to be an awesome party. Half the class is going. You have to be there.”
“Well… I don’t know —”
The bell rang.
“I gotta go! I’m so glad you’re back. Love you. Call me. Bye!” Luisa said, waving at Caleb, and turned and hurried down the hall.
Caitlin allowed herself to imagine herself back in her normal life. Hanging out with all her friends, going to parties, being in a normal school, about to graduate. She liked how it felt. For a moment, she tried really hard to push all the events of the last week completely out of her mind. She imagined that nothing bad had ever happened.
But then she looked over and saw Caleb, and reality came flooding back. Her life had changed. Permanently. And it would never change back. She just had to accept it.
Not to mention that she had killed someone, and that the police were looking for her. Or that it would only be a matter of time until they caught her, somewhere. Or the fact that an entire vampire race was looking to kill her. Or that this sword she was looking for could save a lot of people’s lives.
Life was definitely not what it was, and never would be. She had to just embrace her current reality.
Caitlin put her hand into Caleb’s arm, and led him towards the front doors. The Colemans. She knew where they lived, and that would make sense, Sam’s crashing there. If he wasn’t in school, then he was probably there right now. That’s where they’d have to go next.
As they walked out the front doors and into the fresh air, she marveled at how good it felt to be walking out of this high school again – and this time for good.
Caitlin and Caleb walked across the Coleman property, the snow on the grass crunching beneath their feet. The house itself wasn’t much – a modest ranch set on the side of a country road. But way back behind it, at the end of the property, it had a barn. Caitlin saw all the beat-up pickup trucks parked haphazardly on the lawn, and could see the footprints in the ice and snow, and she knew a lot of traffic had headed towards that barn.
That was what kids did in Oakville – they hung out in each other’s barns. Oakville was as rural as it was suburban, and it gave them the chance to hang in a structure far enough from your parents’ house so that they didn’t know or didn’t care what you were doing. It was a whole lot better than hanging out in the basement. Your parents couldn’t hear a thing. And you had your own entrance. And exit.
Caitlin took a deep breath as she walked up to the barn and slid back the heavy, wooden door.
The first thing that hit her was the smell. Pot. Clouds of it hung in the air.
That, mixed with the smell of stale beer. Way too much of it.
Then what struck her – more than everything else – was the smell of an animal. She had never had such keen senses before. The shock of this animal’s presence raced through her senses, as if she had just sniffed ammonia.
She looked to her right and zoomed in. There, in the corner, was a large Rottweiler. He sat up slowly, stared at her, and snarled. He broke into a low, guttural growl. It was Butch. She remembered him now. The Colemans’ nasty Rottweiler. As if the Colemans needed a vicious animal to add to their picture of mayhem.
The Colemans had always been bad news. Three brothers – 17, 15, and 13 – somewhere along the way, Sam had become friends with the middle brother, Gabe. Each was worse than the next. Their dad had left them a long time ago, no one knew where, and their mom was never around. They basically raised themselves. Despite their ages, they were always drunk or stoned, and out of school more than they were in it.
Caitlin was upset that Sam was hanging out with them. It couldn’t lead to anything good.
Music played in the background. Pink Floyd. Wish You Were Here.
Figures, Caitlin thought.
It was dark in here, especially coming from such a bright day, and it took her eyes several seconds to fully adjust.
There he was. Sam. Sitting in the middle of that worn-out couch, surrounded by a dozen boys. Gabe on one side and Brock on the other.
Sam was hunched over a bong. He had just finished inhaling, and he set it down and leaned back, sucking in the air and holding it way too long. He finally released it.
Gabe tapped him, and Sam looked up. In a stoned haze, he stared at Caitlin. His eyes were bloodshot.
Caitlin felt a pain rip through her stomach. She was beyond disappointed. She felt like it was all her fault. She thought back to the last time they saw each other, in New York, to their fight. Her harsh words. “Just go!” she had yelled. Why had she had to have been so harsh? Why couldn’t she have had a chance to take it back?
Now it was too late. If she had chosen different words, maybe things would be different right now.
She also felt a wave of anger. Anger at the Colemans, anger at all the boys in this barn who sat around on those beat-up couches and chairs, on piles of hay, all sitting around, drinking, smoking, doing nothing with their lives. They were free to do nothing with their lives. But they weren’t free to drag Sam into it. He was better than them. He’d just never had any guidance. Never had any father figure, any kindness from their mom. He was a great kid, and she knew that he could be the top of his class right now if only he’d had even a semi-stable home. But at some point, it was too late. He’d just stopped caring.
She took several steps closer to him. “Sam?” she asked.
He just stared back, not saying a word.
It was hard to see what was in that stare. Was it the drugs? Was he pretending not to care? Or did he really not care?
His look of apathy hurt her more than anything. She had anticipated his being so happy to see her, his getting up and giving her a hug. Not this. He didn’t seem to even care. As if she were a stranger. Was he just acting cool in front of his friends? Or had she really screwed things up for good this time?
Several seconds passed, and finally, he looked away, handing the bong off to one of his friends. He kept looking at his other friends, ignoring her.
“Sam!” she said, much louder, her face flushing with anger. “I’m talking to you!”
She heard the snickers of his loser friends, and she felt the anger rising up in waves in her body. She was beginning to feel something else. An animal instinct. The anger in her was welling to a point where it was almost beyond control, and she feared that it would soon cross the line. It was no longer human. It was becoming animal.
These boys were big, but the power rising in her veins told her that she could handle any of them in an instant. She was having a hard time containing her anger, and she hoped she would be strong enough to do so.
At the same time, the Rottweiler ratcheted up his growling, as he started slowly walking towards her. It was as if he sensed something coming.
She felt a gentle hand on her should. Caleb. He was still there. He must’ve
