CHAPTER SEVEN
Hatred observes with more care than love does.
- Mason Cooley.
Heath
As I wake up Tuesday morning – the second day of school – I try to figure out why I'm in such a bad mood. Waking up is never fun, and yet I can't help the frown marring my face as I scrub my teeth clean. I always brush my teeth with some sort of vengeance. My teeth were seriously screwed up when I was a kid, and I had to have braces for two and a half years. I got them off just before Freshman year. Still, some times I swear I can feel the bands in the back of my mouth, or the tiny slices on my lip from the metal.
I drag my feet around my room as I get dressed, pulling my jeans on and wrenching my T-shirt over my head. I don't bother with my hair, I never do. I don't gel it or style it... Ever. I just run my hands through it and hope for the best. As I kick clothes off my bedroom floor, hunting for clean socks, I wonder how girls can do it. I get tired of getting ready after I put my jeans on, how do they get their hair straight or curly and apply a full face of make-up?
It's something I'll never understand.
After successfully retrieving some socks, I slip my converse on and sling my back pack over my shoulder, whistling at Satan to leave the room with me. I stomp down the stairs, my bad mood travelling with me as I trudge into the kitchen. I fling the cupboards open and slam them closed as I tug out the necessities. Satan notices my mood, choosing to wisely curl up in the corner, though his huge mass takes over most of that side of the kitchen.
My kitchen has the theme of black and stainless steel. Everything in here is new, modern and sleek. Completely different to the rest of the house, with its walls lined with old portraits, it's grand double staircase and ancient crystal chandelier hanging in the foyer.
Yes, my home has a foyer.
The black is a theme throughout my house though, paired with dark red in most rooms, and dark blue in my bedroom. It casts some kind of dark aura around the place, making this huge, old house in the middle of the woods even more mysterious.
I swirl my spoon around in the bowl full of rainbow coloured milk and soggy cereal. It tastes like cardboard in my mouth, and I chew it with a disgusted look plastered on my face.
I don't usually wake up this pessimistic, but I just can't shake my foul mood. After practically throwing my bowl and spoon into the sink, I grab my bag and give Satan a nod of goodbye, not even bothering to rub his head like I do most mornings.
I slip into my car, shoving my keys in the ignition and doing a turn to drive down the long, windy gravel path lined with over grown grass on both sides. Nobody's cut that grass since Dad died, and he died well over a decade ago, which means there could be a jaguar in that grass for all we know.
I drive to school, trying not to think about my dad, but that's pointless. Whenever anything reminds me of the man, I always have to think about him. It's just an impulse, like I'm compelled. I can't remember him much, because all of my memories are twisted. I was so young when he died, that I don't know whether I'm actually remembering him, or am just remembering dreams and fantasies I made up about him.
I know a limited amount about my dad. I know his face, from our family picture in one of our hallways back home, but that's about it. I remember the hours I'd spend just sitting in front of it, staring up at the picture and wondering what secrets and thoughts and life hid in his mind. He looked like me, the similarities were undeniable, and maybe that's why my mother isn't as vile to me as she is to my brothers, but that's just a guess. We share the same shade of brown eyes, and I'm just as tall and broad as he was. Adam also shares a few similarities with him, though mine are the most noticeable. But Dad and Adam both share the same dark brown hair that's almost black and both share the lighter skin and bushy eyebrows.
I don't even know the man's name, which is what makes me sick the most. My mother never talks about him. Never. It doesn't matter how much you beg, or scream, or cry. That woman will not talk about him or mention him ever. Maybe it's because they were soul mates and he's dead now and left her with six kids, or maybe it's because she really is that evil.
My brothers don't mention him either, whether it's because they know as little as me, or because they're just too spiteful to mention it, I don't know. The only one who I would ever consider talking to about Dad is Adam, but Dad is the one topic he never mentions. He's a twenty-four year old man, you'd think he'd be able to talk about our Dad who died fifteen years ago, but he never mentions him.
I take a deep breath, noticing my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and I ease back a little as I turn into the school parking lot. I find a place near the school building, and turn the ignition off. Before I get out of the car, I take another deep breath. Being in a mood like this won't make this day any better, and with the way yesterday went, I need this day to go well.
My nose still aches.
So with a new-found calmness, I exit my car, swinging my bag onto my shoulder. I shut the door and then smile as I see my friend, Colt, hopping off the school bus and bounding towards me. I can't shake my bad mood, but I try to keep a lid on it as I force a brighter smile on my face, smiling to a group of Sophomore girls as they giggle and walk past me. As I walk around my car to head over to Colt, I stop in my tracks.
There, getting out of their car are Peregrine and Juliette Soren.
And I know my bad mood just got a hundred times worse.
______
I storm down the school hallways, shoving people into lockers as I go. People I know and friends give me funny looks, wondering what's wrong, but they know when I get into one of my moods not to bother me.
That doesn't stop Ollie or Colt though.
"Dude!" Colt exclaims, grabbing my elbow and spinning me around. He opens his mouth to speak but my face makes the words catch in his throat.
"What?" I growl.
His mouth opens and closes like a fish before I snarl and turn around, stalking off.
Yes, it's not innocent Colt's fault, but I couldn't care less. I'm angry and I have no one to take it out on. It's not as if I can just walk up and punch the Soren girl in the face. Not only is hitting women morally wrong, but then I'd have to deal with the wrath of her brothers. And even though the short one is a pansy, the rest are almost as built as me.
So I stalk to my first class, taking my anger out by glaring at random people or slamming doors shut. Luckily, I don't run in to any Soren scum, but I have to see my brother for English after home-room, which means they'll be there.
"Hayes!"
I ignore the call and instead carry on with my angry stomps down the hallways.
"Hayes!" The voice calls out again, and I roll my eyes, stopping and whirling around to glare at the offender as he jogs up to me.
He gives me a nervous smile, running his hands through his hair and swinging his board under his under arm. It's still early enough for the school to be practically empty, and the guy looks embarrassed when my eyes zero in on his skateboard. He hides it behind his back, and my eyes focus on him.
"What do you want, Tracey?" I demand, annoyed already by this guy's mere presence. There's something bad about Josh Tracey, something that I can't specifically point out. Something horrible about him other than his clingy-ness and need to be accepted by anyone and everyone, even if he thinks they're below his social standing.
He's not my friend, and I don't really bother with him and his fake personality. One minute he's smiling and kissing my ass, the next he's tripping over some obese Freshman. I don't care how you act, but I just hate falseness, which Josh is the epitome of. It's obvious to me – someone who barely spares him a glance – that the guy is a skateboard fanatic, and yet the minute I turn around he'll cram the decorated piece of wood into his locker and worry over me telling people that he likes to skate.
I don't know why he's so worried, skateboarding isn't going to bring down his popularity.
"I-I-" He swallows, his Adam's-apple bobbing before he squares his shoulders, his eyes still not meeting mine. "I was wondering if football practice is on today or tomorrow?"
I roll my eyes, resenting being captain of the football team. "It's on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. Tuesdays and Wednesdays after school and Thursdays before it." I say in a clipped tone before spinning on my heel and resuming my stalk down the green and white hallways.
After sitting through a non-eventful home-room with one of my football friends, Chris, I head out of the room. We walk down the hallways, him telling me everything he got up to at Colt's end of summer party last week. I was too consumed by girls to pay attention to his supposedly epic fight against Terry Glen, a college drop-out who spends his days hanging out in the local park and hitting on high school girls. One of those high school girls being Chris' girlfriend. I just nod and frown when I'm supposed to.
"You're as moody as a girl, Heathie-boy."
Chris' mouth snaps shut and he jumps, before I roll my eyes, not even bothering to see who's behind me.
"What do you want, Jake?"
Can anyone leave me alone?
Chris says a quick goodbye before brushing past me and speed-walking to our English class.
I look to my right, giving Jake my usual stoic, expressionless expression.
"I just wanted to see what has your panties in a twist." He says, feigning innocence and I shoulder my back pack, looking straight ahead.
"Nothing."
"That's a lie. Is it girl troubles? Are you being bullied?"
I ignore him, instead aiming for the classroom where he'll be doomed to ignore me and teach.
But, as the hallway slowly starts to empty out, he clasps a hand on my shoulder and spins me around, pushing me into a wall and leaning against it, staring at me.
"It can't be girl troubles, you're a Hayes so you're obviously lucky in lust." He taps his chin, musing to himself. "You're not being bullied, you can kill someone with a look, figuratively and literally." He gnashes his teeth together, hard in concentration before a thought pops into his head and his eyes widen, smirk blossoming.
"You're pissed that Princess Soren is here, aren't you?"
I wrinkle my nose at her nickname, trying not to punch the wall beside me when he brings her up.
"No." But it's a lie, and Jake knows it.
"You little shit, how could you let that girl ruin your day? Don't you know not to let them put you in a bad mood?" Then he feigns a wince. "Wait, you weren't there when Dad gave us that speech, sorry." But he's not sorry at all, and instead he gets bored and waltzes into class without another word.
I stare after him for a moment, shaking my head in complete awe at the man that is my brother. We're nothing alike, we don't think or act the same at all. All we have are similar features and blood that connects us together, but take away all that. Strip away the skin and the blood and the bones and look at what's left. Look at the emotions and the thoughts swirling around our heads and they couldn't be more different.
We're strangers.
Jake is a clone of every other Hayes. He's a bully above all else; above his looks and his intelligence and his morals. And, for some unknown reason, I believe I'm not a clone of every other Hayes like him. Like everyone, I think I'm special. I think there's something in me that just goes against my family. There has to be some other reason, another explanation as to why I'm not like them. Why I don't feed off of hurting people like they do, why I'm not nearly as uncaring about people as they are, it just doesn't make sense.
Why do I have to be the one with feelings in a family full of monsters?
With an even darker mood than before, I head to class.
___________
"Friday? At Kendrick's party?" Isabel asks as she hands out the sheets my brother gave her. I plaster a smirk on my face, giving her a half-nod.
"Maybe." But I know it's a yes. She gives me her most flirtatious smile before flicking her hair over her shoulder and sashaying back to her desk. Her hips swing, drawing my attention to her tight jeans and white tee. Her hair is long and dark brown and her skin is darker than mine, showing her Mexican heritage. Isabel Cruz is beautiful and every aspect of her screams sex appeal.
She has the trademark clique of five female friends who flock to her everyday to remind her how hot she is. She hangs around with football players mostly, but doesn't mind the soccer players now and again. Her big and strangely green eyes – such a contrast to her skin – get her whatever she wants, always pulling at adults' heart strings or guys' pants. She's hot and powerful and wrapped around my little finger.
Ollie turns around in his seat when she starts up a conversation with her friends, and gives me his go-to lazy smile.
"So, it's true then?"
My brows pull together as I flick through the pages in my hand. "What's true?"
Colt huffs from beside me, doodling on the pages Isabel handed out and glaring at the back of her head.
"That you and her," Colt says the word like it's dirty. "Are exclusive."
I frown, looking to Ollie. "Where did you hear that from?"
He shrugs, ruffling his black hair. "Around. Chloe Marshall told me, apparently Isabel said it to her."
I sigh, rolling my eyes at Chloe Marshall and her big mouth. "No, we're not exclusive. We're not anything. No feelings, whatsoever."
It's known around town that Isabel isn't an emotional person. She has flings with guys and that's it, she's as serious about "love" as I am. I think she's mentioned once or twice that she doesn't believe in love, which I can't help but agree with. At least, when it comes to humans, who don't have these so-called soul mates like Bloods do. She goes from one boy to the next, concentrating more on her dance career than her love life, and I respect that, and her. To be honest, we got involved with each other at the beginning of summer, and I assumed it wouldn't last longer than a week or two of being "friends-with-benefits" (without the friendship, of course). But it lasted all summer, and I'm pretty flattered that she's chosen me as her first guy to actually try and pursue a relationship with.
Angry and irritated, but flattered.
Ollie shrugs but Colt leans towards me, squinting his eyes.
"Are you sure? Because... Isabel," And he says her name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "Looks pretty committed to whatever it is you two have."
It's no secret Colt despises my womanizing ways. His dad was a cheater, and he thinks anybody who sleeps around or has flings are all just being groomed for infidelity. He hates that I've never had a girlfriend and don't have any intention on settling down in the near future. And the thought that Isabel Cruz – practically a female version of myself – has her eyes on me and is trying to be the girl to "tame" me, makes him sick.
I shake my head, focusing my attention on the sheets in front of me.
"I'm single and I'm not going to hop into a relationship anytime soon, Colt. Relax, Isabel and I are strictly casual."
He wrinkles his nose at that, but I can see a flash of relief before he turns back in his seat and my brother calls the class to attention.
The class starts off badly. Luckily, not for me, but for the Sorens. He flings every question he has about Shakespeare on them. Peregrine answers happily, getting them all right, while Juliette stutters out her wrong answers. I can see Jake wanting to curl his lip up in disgust at her, while I just watch with a smirk. Public humiliation of Juliette was my thing, though I don't mind Jake taking the wheel for a while.
But nobody seems to be paying any attention. The girls who don't look and try to catch my eye, stare enraptured at my brother. Their eyes following his every movement. And the guys, well, if they aren't muttering to each other or tossing wads of paper at Larry Ray sitting in the front row of class, they're staring appreciatively at Juliette, completely ignoring the fact that she can't answer any of my brother's questions.
Eventually, Jake gets tired of her stupidity, and instead lays into Peregrine again. I take the time to tune them out and focus on Juliette, realising I've not looked at her properly in three years. I try to do it discreetly, unlike the other idiots in my class, I aim for subtly.
The last time I saw her, she was all points and sharp angles. Her bones seemed to protrude painfully from her body, looking like they'd rip through her skin if she made too big a movement. Her cheekbones were high and her face was too sharp and severe to be classed as anything close to pretty. Her hair was cut right below her chin. Blonde, short and choppy, like she idolised her brothers so much she wanted her hair to be like theirs. Her dress sense was her brothers' hand-me-downs. Oversized T-shirts and baggy pants along with neon runners.
Basically, the girl was a mess the last time I saw her.
But now, she's a whole other person. A new ball game. Her hair is still choppy, but it's way past her shoulders, all the ends uneven and slanted, like she cut it off with some hedge clippers. Her golden blonde hair is decorated with a few random and tiny braids, giving her a hippy effect. She sits with her chin in her palm, glaring at my brother. Her eyes were always too big for her face and a dull blue, but now they seem fine, like she's grown into them. They're big and blue... Almost like a sapphire?
I feel uncomfortable comparing a Soren to anything as awe-inspiring as a sapphire, but that's what her eyes look like.
It's obvious from her position on the seat that's she's tall and slim and has a few nice curves on her, though I'd rather circumcise myself than admit that she has a hot body. Her skin is lighter than last time, not as golden as she obviously hasn't been exposed to much sun for while. Her last home probably wasn't as accustomed to the sun as California is.
But she's put on weight. She's not fat or heavy or anything like that at all, she could still be a little under-weight, but she's definitely not as skinny and pointy as she was before. Her face is more heart-shaped and you can't see her cheek-bones as much, making her look healthy. As she blows raspberries out of boredom, I notice her full lips. Remembering the last time I saw them, that they were bitten and rubbed raw. Her slender fingers lead to long and nail-polished chipped nails, but they used to be bitten to the max when we were thirteen.
I start to think that maybe it isn't just her growing up that changed her appearance. But possibly my absence. Maybe she's changed so much because I haven't been around like I was way back then. I haven't seen her in so long for some reason (I'm not complaining), and maybe that gave her the time to grow. Or maybe I just terrified her so much that I caused her to stop eating – making her skinny -, caused her to be so afraid she bit her lips – causing them to be dry and bloody nearly all the time, and unlike me she didn't have the excuse of braces – and caused her to be so worried she chewed her nails off.
I can't help but feel proud. A victory in the eyes of any Hayes.
Of course, then that makes me reconsider the whole "only-guy-with-feelings-in-a-family-of-monsters" thing, but then I shake my head.
Just because I hate all the Sorens – especially this one – doesn't mean I'm another Hayes boy.
In fact, I find being associated with them offensive. As much as I hate the term, I'm too much of a softie to be a proper Hayes. Or whatever is deemed "proper" for a Hayes. And, no, not in the "I'll-hug-everything-that's-pretty" kind of way. Just because I'm a softie doesn't mean I'm like that. I just mean that I have empathy and sympathy, unlike every other Hayes I know. I seem to have some sort of ability to feel and connect with other living things.
Like having friends, for example.
I know that not one of my brothers or any of my cousins have any close friends like I do. They don't have friends they can call in the middle of the night to complain about crap to, in this world, they're all alone. They don't have family, or friends.
And that sucks.
I don't know what I'd want more.
Empathy and sympathy, along with friends.
Or no feelings at all, being a normal Hayes boy with no regrets or conscience but having no friends or proper family.
But, I guess... If I was a true Hayes man – with no conscience, or real morals – I wouldn't care about having no one. I'd trust myself and that's enough.
"Heath." A voice whispers, and I jolt, being ripped out of my reverie. I'm too much of a thinker, and I spend way too long in my own head.
I turn to the voice, blinking at Colt. "What?"
"You've been staring at the new girl for a solid ten minutes, are you okay?" His face contorts with a mixture of amusement and worry.
I shake my head, clearing my mind of thoughts about the old Juliette, and my musings of being a "real" Hayes man.
"I'm fine." I say, a little too harshly, and Colt sinks back into his seat before I tune back into my brother.
He's still demanding answers from the Sorens, and I can see Juliette's anger growing more and more. It's strange and oddly fascinating to see her irritation grow to fury. I can't help but compare her to her weak thirteen-year-old self again. The girl that couldn't kill a fly, and flinched every time someone coughed.
Now, it's obvious not only her appearance has changed. Her eyes flash dangerously as her hands clench into fists, a crease forming between her brows as she glares at him. As if her look alone can damage him.
But then something odd happens.
I feel it. I feel it in me. I feel it in everything that makes me up. Makes me a person, the thing sitting in this seat across the room from that girl. I feel it on my skin and in my bones and pumping through my body with my blood. I feel it in the ground, my feet twitch. I feel it in the air, my lungs filling up with the stuff. I feel it all around me, and it shakes me. My bones shake and my heart beats faster and my blood rushes quicker and my pupils dilate and my breaths become shallow.
But outwardly, all I do is shudder.
With some new-found awareness, I blink my bleary eyes wondering what the hell just momentarily happened and if anyone noticed something that felt like an Earthquake.
But the class remains the same.
I shake my head and roll my shoulders, stretching my neck and wondering if maybe somebody spiked my soda, because that definitely wasn't normal. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie. Like an outer-body experience where the world pauses and the audience get a glimpse into the protagonists body where his blood rushes through his veins and his heart beats like the wings of a bird stuck in a cage. And they watch as his mind explodes and his body quakes before he blinks and the world carries on as normal. It keeps spinning.
Except, it isn't normal.
The class watch on in confusion as my brother suddenly pauses and then stumbles, his ankles bending as he trips over his own feet, trying to steady himself on a nearby wall. He shakes his head like a confused puppy, whipping it side to side and trying to right himself, into a vertical position. But his focus point seems to be off and his hands slide off the wall, his body seeming to malfunction and sink into itself as he slowly slides down the white wall.
"Are you all right, Mr. Hayes?" Chloe Marshall, Isabel's big mouthed friend and crush harbourer for my brother, breaks the silence and causes everyone to start talking at once. People rushing over to him as he sinks to the floor.
As I stand up, my eyes flicker over to Juliette who looks like she's having a panic attack. As a long time sufferer of them, I can tell when they begin, and she looks like she's about to have one any second. Instead of helping my brother, Peregrine hops up and goes to her, kneeling in front of her and bracing his hands on her shoulders, telling her to take deep breaths.
As her panic attack or whatever the hell it was, starts to subside, my brother slowly and shakily starts to stand up.
He almost falls over before my friend, Chris, catches him and leads him over to his desk, sitting him down in his chair. I've never seen my brother look so pale before, but his usual tan seems to slowly be flooding back as he takes a sip of water and shakes his head. He tells everyone to sit down as he massages his temples, and just as I'm about to take my seat, his hard voice calls out:
"Heath. Get outside."
I stiffen, and the class goes quiet at his harsh tone. It's usually a tone he reserves for Sorens, idiots and our brother, Adam, and yet he's using it on me.
He shuts the door behind him as he leaves, and as I follow him out I cast a look to the Sorens, seeing Juliette look on at me with large eyes. She doesn't look sympathetic or like she's recently had a panic attack. She looks cool and composed as her eyes narrow and she throws me a disgusted look.
I practically slam the door behind me as I go out into the hallway, confused as to why Jake demanded that I come out here at al-
A forearm is slammed into my throat, shoving me up against the nearest wall and pressing hard into my windpipe, cutting off my air supply.
"Now," Jake hisses, pressing his forehead to mine and pushing my head back up against the wall with malice. He's eyes are pitch black, no brown in them in his dark mood, and he glares so ferociously at me I'm surprised lasers haven't attacked me.
"Explain to me as to why you felt the need to use your curse," And he pushes into my neck just that bit more as he says the word, leaving me gasping and choking on my lack of oxygen. Stars and bursts of light appear in my vision. "In the middle of my class, you complete psycho." He snarls.
If anyone's a psycho in our family, it's you, I think bitterly. Or Sam or Adam, of course, but... Actually, no, anyone in my family could be a psycho. Perhaps we all are.
I don't reply, or even attempt to. I can't. His forearm is pressing into my throat so forcefully I wonder if he'll damage it beyond repair.
Luckily, just before I pass out, he eases up a bit and steps away, still glaring as ferociously as before. I slide my back down the wall, practically crumpling to the ground as I clutch my throat and gasp for air, eyes bulging out of my sockets and staring at him incredulously.
My throat is dry and cracked and painful as, after a few minutes, I gasp out;
"What the hell is," Gasp. "Wrong with," Gasp. "You?!"
"Answer the fucking question!" He growls, face twisting up into such an ugly expression of anger, I wonder if I should take a picture to show his "fan girls". Showing them how he truly looks like. The evil within finally making an outward appearance.
"I didn't do anything!" I exclaim, vocal chords scratching painfully together as I take another deep breath and struggle onto my feet, scowling indignantly at him. I thought my days of being treated like a little brother were over when my brothers fled the nest.
His black/brown eyes narrow. "Then why was my vision spazzing out, huh?" And he demands the question as if I have all the answers.
"I don't know!"
His shoulders twitch as his teeth clench before he grounds out, brows twitching in unison with his shoulders;
"Tell me."
"I have no idea." And the words roll off my tongue, completely of their own accord. "I was just thinking when you started falling around the room." My voice is normal. Monotone. Deep.
"What were you thinking about?" As his shoulders and eyebrows twitch, I hear the voice not only from his lips, but in my mind as well. Like his greedy little hands have opened my brain and are spewing his ideas in there, forcing truths out of me.
"Juliette Soren. Being a Hayes." Juliette's name sounds foreign on my tongue, and I hate it. I hate saying it because I hate the person it belongs to.
Jake pauses, eyes glinting. "What were you thinking about Juliette Soren?"
"She's changed. I was thinking about her, when we were kids. Her hair is different, and she's put on weight and her personality has changed too. I mean, she was angry when you were picking on Peregrine." It all tumbles out of my mouth ungracefully and un-thought of. "She was pissed and she was frowning and glaring at you like an angry pupp-"
"How does your curse work?" He interrupts my truth spill, and I blink before another wave of honesty overtakes me and I speak again without wanting to.
"I don't know, it controls me. I don't control it. It kind of decides who's going down and what's going to happen before I do. I just have to concentrate really hard an-"
But suddenly, it's like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and my mouth snaps shut. Jake's expression clears before a smirk spreads across his face and his eyes glint with unhidden malice. He does everything but cackle and rub his hands together.
Realisation dawns on me of what he's done, and suddenly I'm the one throwing him up against the wall, forearm to his throat.
"You bastard!" I exclaim, loud enough for my classmates to hear, but all rational thought flows from my mind. Jake's face registers surprise before he smooths his expression out with a placid and fake smile. I don't know what to do except press harder down on his windpipe, my body humming with anger.
He blinks and opens his mouth up to gasp for air, yet the same stupid smirk and glint in his eyes remain. The same stupid arrogance and ignorance that makes everyone who knows him want to punch him.
"What're you gonna do, Heathie-boy?" He rasps out in a drawl, struggling to speak above a whisper as I push into him.
I glare at him, chest rising and falling indignantly, thoughts and emotions tumbling around me. Dreams of what I want to do. What I want to do so badly to him, what I've wanted to do for so long. To pummel that arrogance out of his body.
Instead, I take a step back, not making eye contact and staring at my shoes.
As he slides to the ground, gasping for air, I know he's managed to pull a smirk on his face.
"That's," Gasp. "What I thought."
I curl my hands into fists and try to calm down my breathing, glaring at my converse.
I spin around on my heel, heading for the classroom.
"Yeah, Heathie-boy," Jake calls after me, in a gutteral voice. "Just go and run away."
My strides stop, shoulders tensing. I take another deep breath, and another, and another. Knowing that if I don't, I'll leap on the guy and probably kill him.
Using your curse on another Blood – on anyone – is against one of our many Blood laws. And oh, I want to break it so bad. I want to break that law like Jake just did, melting away my inhibitions and making me tell him everything by using his curse.
But my curse is nothing like his, and if I use it on him, the Old Bloods will find out about it and drag me away.
Something I'll never let happen.
So instead, I take another deep breath, straighten my shoulders and tip my chin back.
"You're just lucky I'm not as stupid as you, Jake." I say, in a quiet tone. "Or else you would've been dead a long time ago."
I end the conversation by heading back to class.
__________
My mind spirals into an even deeper and darker mood as the day progresses. To top it all off, my next class is gym. Gym has never been particularly hard for me, but I just don't have the energy or drive to change and run around a field for forty minutes.
As I pull my gym clothes on, I shudder, the remnants of Jake's curse still clinging to me. Most people have a tell when they use their curse, a give away. Jake's is twitching. His shoulders twitch, sometimes his eyes as well, and that's when you know you're not talking to him because of his bubbling conversational skills.
As I walk out into the gymnasium, Colt skips up next to me, a mile wide smile spread across his face. He's always smiling and it usually never bothers me, but today, with a mood as dark as mine, I want to slap it off his face.
"What?" I grunt out, as we head up to the back of the indoor bleachers, sitting at the top.
His blonde brows shoot up in surprise as Ollie jogs up to us.
"Why are you in such a bad mood?" He asks, innocently, and I roll my eyes.
"Why are you so happy?" I counter, and as Ollie sits in front of us, blocking me from view of everyone else, he flashes his lazy smile.
"I can answer that," Ollie points his index finger over to the door leading to the girls' locker room. "The new girl is in our gym class as well." Colt's smile widens and he and Ollie high-five.
No.
My eyes wander over to the door, dread settling like a rock in the pit of my stomach as the girls make their way out, all of them clustered in groups or hurrying over to join their male friends on the bleachers. Of course, she'd have to be the last one out, just to add to the tension I'm feeling.
Juliette Soren stumbles out of the room, tugging down her white polo shirt that is clearly two sizes too small. She stares down in disdain at the compulsory green shorts and flicks imaginary dust off of them. Her blue eyes dart around the gym, watching the teenagers in all of their little cliques and I see the dawning realisation that she'll be alone in this class come across her face. To make some time before she has to evidently sit alone, she pulls her hair up, tying it with an elastic and pulling it tighter. She fidgets with the hem of her tight polo and quickly does a search of the bleachers, unable to see me as I'm being blocked by Ollie.
She stares at the floor as she hurries over to an empty corner, students' eyes watching her as she goes to sit alone.
"Hey! Juliette!"
My mouth drops open in shock and horror as I stare at Colt, standing up and waving his arms above his head like a mad man. He calls her name again and, with great wariness, she slowly makes her way up to him, girls throwing her dirty glares as she climbs.
"You know her?!" I hiss, and Colt sits down, grinning from ear to ear as he shakes his head.
"Nope, but there's no time like the present." He says cheerfully, and I clench my jaw shut, wondering if I need to tell him how much of an idiot he is, or if my scowl is doing it for me.
"Heath does not look like a happy puppy." Ollie says, and Colt freezes, face panicked before slowly nodding in agreement.
"You goddamn idiot, I hate h-"
"Oh, hey, Juliette." Ollie says loudly, cleuing me into her arrival and I glare at the back of his head as Colt stands bolt upright, jerking his hand out.
"Hey!" He says, speaking in exclamation points for some reason. "I'm Colt!"
Juliette gingerly shakes his hand, staring at him like he's the strangest thing she's seen in her whole life. It reminds me just how much of a pretentious bitch she is, shaking Colt's hand like he's diseased. Colt is like a puppy, how can you be mean to the guy and look at him like he's beneath you, like Juliette is doing right now?
"I'm... Jules." She says, unsure.
He grins and sits down, and her lips tug up at the corners before her eyes flit around our little group and she spots me.
All emotion drains from her expression, and she stares at me, blinking blankly and almost swaying on her feet, like she's seen a ghost. Maybe it's our proximity that has this effect on her, I mean, we haven't been this close in years, if you forget when she punched me yesterday.
Remembering that adds more gasoline on the fire in me that hates her.
Before Juliette can sprint off, Colt takes her by the elbow and pulls her down beside him, her wide eyes never leaving mine as Colt jumps into his introductory.
"This is Ollie," He motions to our friend who gives her a close-lipped smile and looks like he's about to nod off.
"And this," He does a great sweeping motion with his hand, almost smacking me in the face. "Is Heath."
"But you already know that, right?" Ollie says, before I can insult the girl that sits one person away from me. "I mean, you punched him in the face yesterday."
Maybe Ollie doesn't like her as much as Colt does.
I really need to make sure Colt's little crush doesn't continue.
Juliette's expression hardens. "He was beating up my brother."
"Or was your brother beating up him?"
"No," I interject. "I was definitely beating up her brother."
Colt shoots me a pained and exasperated look, as if I'm wrecking his chances of getting Juliette.
But before anyone can say anything else, Coach Harrison walks into the gymnasium calling for our attention and ordering us out into the baking sun and to the football field. There's a chorus of groans as we all head out while he blows his whistle in the ears of the slow walkers.
Once onto the field, he gathers us all in a circle around him and we do some stretches, most of the guys in the class staring at Juliette across from us. Coach Harrison likes to make us move our whole bodies when we stretch, causing us to twist and turn to evidently end up like some kind of pretzel.
I don't think the guys have ever been more glad of that in their lives.
I have to say, it is pretty mesmerizing. Not hot, God no. I'd never describe a Soren as hot, least of all Juliette. But her actions as we stretch – and her body, I'm not going to lie – are pretty captivating. Like the other guys in class, I'm finding it hard to let my eyes travel somewhere else.
She's no gymnast. Like, wow, is that clear by her jerky movements and really bad balance as she stands on one leg. She sways like a small branch in the wind, I'd say if anyone breathed too deeply near her she'd topple over. But, aside from her unsure and just plain pathetic tries at the stretches, I just can't look away.
Maybe it's the way her slender body seems to move. Yes, in fast and jerky movements, but just the way it seems to move is... Different. Her steps just seem so free, like she's putting no thought or faith into the outcomes. Like she has no idea whether she'll stay standing on one leg or end up sprawled on the ground. And that's kind of refreshing, in a weird way. Everybody else has such concentration on their faces and calculation as they touch their toes or squat down. Juliette just seems to go for it, purely accepting that she won't make the perfect pretzel Coach calls of her.
What also helps in the whole show, is that her shirt keeps riding up. Being Californian and visiting L.A frequently and being a Blood, I've seen my fair share of good-looking people. Now, I'm not admitting to Juliette being good-looking – the day I do you can finally alert the mental hospital because that'll be the day I lose my mind – but from the skin I've seen, her body seems pretty awesome. In this day and age, anybody having a flat stomach – man, woman, child – is pretty rare thanks to Twinkies and burgers the size of their obese stomachs, yet Juliette seems to have mastered it. Her toned and tanned stomach being flashed as she reaches up and rolls on to her tip-toes.
She was never fat, always skinny. But she was never toned, her body never looked healthy like it does now. She always looked run-down and like a strong wind would cause her to have a mental break-down.
Which was stupid of me to think, I guess, considering everybody knows the crazies and psychos are all in the Warren Clann.
"All right, kids!" Coach booms and we all shake our bodies out, our stretching over.
"Y'all are gonna pair up and play a small game of tag to warm us up, 'kay?" He asks like it's a question, but he's already pulling out his book and flicking through the pages to find our names.
"Jules, Jules, Jules, Jules." I hear a male voice mutter from behind me, and I turn to see Colt, fingers crossed and staring anxiously at Coach Harrison.
"Seriously," I demand. "She beats up your best friend, and you still want her?"
"You did beat up her brother." Ollie pops out of no where, shrugging as his eyes fixate on the blonde, tugging at her shirt and shorts. "And she punched you, as if that's a "beat-up"."
I glare at him, but only because I can't find a come-back.
"Juliette and Heath!"
Oh, sweet weeping baby Jesus. I think, the worst thing being I'm not even Christian.
Colt's face falls and he punches me in the arm. "Lucky jerk."
I just stare at him, face in a permanent expression of shock as I refuse to turn around and go over to her.
"Are you deaf, Hayes? I said you and the new girl, now, come on!" Coach calls out, and the class turns to me, but I keep my back to Coach and Juliette.
It's like the universe, our Creator, our God, whoever, keeps throwing us together. Forcing us to see each other over and over and over.
What do they expect to happen?! I think, desperately. Does our Creator really want me to kill her?!
If I keep getting stuck with her, I will.
Sensing that I'm not going to move, Ollie spins me around and shoves me in her direction, shoving me another time just for good measure. I stumble forward, keeping my eyes on the ground and stomping over to them.
Coach carries on calling out the partners while I look anywhere but at Juliette. I try to stand as far away from her, whilst still standing beside her. I don't know if she's looking at me, I hope she's not. The last thing I need is for the dumb blonde to develop a crush on me.
It happens to even the most hardened of women.
I'm charming.
"Okay, kids!" His booming voice echoes around the empty pitch as he spins around, looking at us all.
"We're gonna play a really quick game of tag to warm you up today. The people I called out first are running away from their partner, got it? If I called your name out first, you're running away from them. On my whistle, of course."
He lines us all up, placing the runners a few feet in front of the catchers. Juliette stands in front of me, blonde hair escaping her elastic as she stays stiff and still, not budging as I move slowly in behind her.
We stand in silence for a few moments, as everyone else lines up, their chatter bouncing around us. The sudden realisation that this is the first time I've been in any sort of solitude with Juliette in three years hits me, and I decide to take the opportunity to mess with her. To remind her of our old times, when I was dominant and she would never work up the guts to punch me.
It's easy, channeling the persona. The act that sometimes, I suspect isn't even an act, just a personal trait of mine I push to the fore-front. It's weird because, in my mind, I'm this guy who paints his head with long words and colourful descriptions and dry comments, when in reality I talk like a dumb jock and everything I say is dripped in sarcasm and mirth and told with a smirk.
"So," Her back stiffens even more when I start to speak. "Fate seems to really be pushing us together, huh?"
"Shut up." She snaps so fast, I haven't even finished my sentence.
My eyebrows raise. "What happened to the little Soren who couldn't even talk to me without stuttering?"
"She ran off with the Hayes who was forty pounds over-weight and had food stuck in his braces." Is her brittle reply.
I pause, mind going blank for a second before I blink and stare at her back, wondering what actually happened to her.
"I'm pretty sure even that Hayes had better taste than to run off with an unwanted, anorexic tom-boy."
Coach Harrison blows his whistle before she can reply.
She hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to do, before she sets off at a sprint, running diagonally and zig-zagging around other runners.
Coach blows the whistle a second time, and then I sprint after her.
My feet pump underneath me as I race towards her, dodging classmates and chasing her down the field. Despite her toned build, she doesn't seem to have much stamina, because a few moments into our chasing, her steps slow and she goes for even more zig-zagging instead of plain running.
Due to football and daily exercise, my stamina is a lot higher than hers, so I have no problem hunting her down, and evidently coming within touching distance of her. I reach my hand out, fingers clasping nothing but a strand of hair and I almost have her... I'm so... Close...
And then she stops.
Completely stops.
Comes to a stand still.
Right in front of me.
There's no possible way I could've predicted she'd stop, so there's no way I fore-thought to slow down. So, of course, I go full force and smash into her body. Mowing her down and both of us go flying into the grass. Our bodies clash together, a tangle of limbs and hair and teeth as we land painfully on the ground and roll over and over and over, the sky and ground merging together in a sea of turquoise. My arms are braced on hers, fingernails digging into her arm and I squeeze my eyes shut until we stop rolling.
I look up to see blue, blue, blue. But it's not the blue of the sky, like I anticipated. Instead, it's the deep and dark blue that only belongs to a Soren.
One Soren.
Juliette lays on my stomach, elastic snapped and hair spilling over me – and in my mouth –, covering me. She feels like nothing on my chest, no weight at all and I can feel every groove and every curve of her body on mine. This close, I can see every pore and count every lash surrounding her eyes. Her skin is darker up close then I thought, being a dark gold. Darker than her hair. This close, I can smell the scent of lemons on her. Her shampoo or perfume or whatever isn't bitter. It smells refreshing and nice and reminds me of my childhood. I forgot how... Good she smelled. Like lemons and summer and the sun. Sickly sweet and refreshing at the same time.
She groggily blinks and I do the same before a hand appears out of the corner of my eye and Juliette is being gently lifted off me. I shake my head, hoping that will give me my equilibrium back, before another hand is being offered in front of me and I take it, stumbling my way up. The world is spinning around me.
"Whoa, that was quite a tumble there, kids. Y'all need to go to the nurse's office?" Coach's fake Southern accent has never annoyed me so much.
I shake my head, which just makes me dizzier, but Ollie catches me before I fall to the ground.
"No," I say tightly, blinking the Earth to its normal position. "I'm good, Coach."
"What about you, Juliette?"
"I'm fine."
I look over to her and Colt, who flaps around her like a worried mother, and I roll my eyes. She looks perfectly fine, if not a little bruised, as she fixes her hair and scowls at the ground, uncomfortable with the stares of our classmates.
They have to be wondering what's going on between us. And I can't wait to hear all the stupid rumours they've thought up. It's no secret that Juliette and I have both been subjected to rumours before, the Bloods gossip more than humans, which is a fact. There's even a Facebook page named "The Rumours", dedicated to rumours and stories about some Bloods. It's basically just a page where you can keep up-to-date with things that are happening. Exaggerated stories, of course.
Coach finally calls the class to attention and orders us around for the rest of class, but I can't focus on anything. Maybe it's because my chest aches and I think I bruised a rib, as I hobble around the field. Or maybe it's because, no matter how far I walk away from her, I can still smell lemons.
________
"Don't talk to me." I ground out to my friends, as we exit the locker room.
"Don't worry." Colt grumbles, sulking. He's upset because he thinks that because Juliette hates me, she'll hate anyone who is associated with me.
Which is him.
"Molesting a girl in the middle of gym class? Classy, Heath." Ollie claps me on the shoulder and I roll my eyes as we merge into the sea of sweaty teenage bodies and shouts across the hallways.
"It wasn't anything like that. I was chasing her, she stopped, the laws of physics determined that we were going to hit the ground." I explain, exasperated.
Colt and Ollie share a look, before frowning and both turning to me. "Determined?" They quote in unison, before snorting and shaking their heads.
Mathematical genius with the speech of a forty year old English man on the inside, all-American jock on the outside.
Eventually, we make it to Psyche. Ms. Collins is a sixty year old woman who spends more time squinting in earnest at the newspaper in front of her, rather than teaching us. Which is great as it means we have a free period for every Psyche class (as long as we keep the noise down), but nearing the end of the year, when exams come up, we're all pretty screwed.
Unless you just read the textbook, like me.
The athletes and, I guess, the "cool" group, always sit in the back of the class, usually the right corner. If you're in the popular group you just automatically sit there and spend time with whoever else is in the group and sitting there. But, the popular group is made up of at least thirty-five of us, which means half of us don't even talk to everybody.
Sarah Miller and Marissa Donovan sit in the back already, both talking to Josh Tracey and one of his lackeys, Brendan. Sarah and Marissa are inseparable popular best friends, second to Isabel Cruz in the female hierarchy. Josh Tracey is on the outskirts of our group, and you can see him and his leach of a friend, Brendan, want in. Completely. A way to be more involved in our group would be to date Sarah or Marissa.
But Sarah is head-over-heels in love with her boyfriend and my friend, Chris, and Marissa isn't a desperate idiot.
Both girls are hot, they have guys throwing themselves at them left, right and center. Tracey and his leach buddy don't stand a chance.
"Hey, guys!" Sarah's face lights up and Marissa sighs in relief when we step through the door. Both obviously fed up with Brendan and Josh.
I flash them a smile, going to the seat in the corner that's always left empty for me.
"Hey." Even in my bad mood, I can't ignore Sarah or Marissa.
Colt ambles into the seat beside me while Ollie glares at Josh Tracey and Brendan as he slips into the seats in front of me that they quickly vacate. Josh and Brendan end up moving and sitting across the class from us, well out of ear-shot.
Sarah slumps in her seat, her and Marissa sitting to my right.
"Thank God, I was going to kill him. All the guy does is babble." Sarah fans herself with her hand while Marissa leans her cheek on her hand, twirling her brown curls around her finger.
"He is annoying, isn't he?" She agrees, nodding to herself and chewing on her lip.
"Annoying?" Sarah repeats, incredulously. "I'd welcome mosquitoes more than I'd want that guy anywhere near me, he makes flies look like male models."
I frown, not understanding the comparison, but I'm glad I'm not the only one that hates him.
Ms. Collins bumbles into the class. She smiles before going over to her seat and plonking herself down, taking out her newspaper and beginning to squint and read. I kind of love Ms. Collins. She's been teaching at this school so long that she doesn't care what happens anymore, you can tell she'd rather be at home.
So, of course, the class begins to talk as the last stragglers make their way in. There are four rows front to back, like in every class. With this room having two people side by side before there's a space and then another two people. Colt sits beside me while Ollie turns around and leans on our desk with an empty seat beside him.
"You're having a party on Friday, right, Colt?" Marissa asks, leaning towards us, and Ollie's eyes dart to her before he looks away and at the desk in front of him.
"Yeah, bring your friends!" Colt grins at her and she grins back, his smile infectious.
"Cool, we'll be there." She nods to Sarah and herself, and Ollie clears his throat.
"Will..." He clears his throat again. "Will you be going with anyone?"
Marissa frowns, glossed lips tugging down. "Yeah, Sarah. Like I just said."
"N-no," And Ollie loses that laid-back calm and constant drowsiness he always possesses.
He likes her.
"Like a date? A guy?"
Marissa's face clears and she smiles, a dimple appearing. "Nah, Brendan asked but I told him I'm not up for dating for a while."
"Oh." Ollie's face falls and Colt and I share a worried look.
"Which is a total lie," She carries on, not taking any notice of his expressions as she looks at her chipped nail polish, Sarah grinning ecstatically beside her as she realises the crush Ollie harbours on her friend. "I mean, I'm seventeen, of course I'm going to hook up with someone, like seriously." She rolls her brown eyes and Ollie nods vigorously, no longer looking so forlorn.
"That's... Great!"
"You keep going like this and you might as well propose to the girl." A dry voice says from in front of us, and then a bag is dumped on the ground and a figure slouches into the seat beside Ollie.
Ollie's face turns beetroot red while Marissa looks to the guy in front of us.
"Who are you?"
He flicks his blonde hair out of his eyes and turns around to face her, giving Ollie his back.
"I'm Perry," He gives her a blindingly white smile. "I'm new."
She blinks almost deliriously at him, while Sarah leans across her and surveys him, looking him over.
"Yes you are." Sarah bats her lashes, tossing her bleach blonde hair over her shoulder and she smiles at him.
"I'm Sarah, this is my friend Marissa. Have you been getting lost around this place?"
His brows furrow in confusion while Ollie fumes behind him. "What?"
Marissa looks to her friend and grins before turning back to Perry. "Yeah, Perry, have you been getting lost around here? Because I'd be more than happy to show you around."
"Hey-" Marissa elbows Sarah in the stomach, glaring at her.
"You have a boyfriend, remember?" She whispers, and Sarah pouts before leaning back in her chair.
Perry smiles widely, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd like that, thanks."
"Great."
"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask incredulously, getting his attention off Marissa, while Ollie looks like he's about to strangle the blonde boy beside him.
All the happiness seems to drain from his face as he sees me, and he looks at me with a hard stare.
"It's the only free seat in the class, genius." He barks out, and Colt jerks back in surprise beside me.
No one talks to me like that. Not anybody in school, or outside of school. My appearance is enough to ward them off, but my surname seals the deal. Everybody has heard of my brothers, and everybody knows what kind of record they have.
I don't have half the name any of them have, because I've never needed it. By the time the sixth Hayes boy came around, everyone was smart enough not to start anything with me.
It was hard making friends, at first, but harder making enemies.
Sensing some kind of fight, Marissa and Sarah look away, starting up their own conversation, while I look at Peregrine Soren. I blink at him, not glaring or scowling, just looking.
I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand as I raise an eyebrow.
"So, Soren, how does it feel to have a sister who slept with a Warren? Your family must be very proud."
Peregrine is nothing like me. He cares about his family, loves them. Which is why, unlike what I'd do in his situation, his face flushes to an angry red and he grits his teeth.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He grounds out.
"Sure you do," I lean back in my chair, not caring about whether or not Ollie and Colt are listening in. They have no idea what's going on anyway. "Your sister and that Warren guy." I make a circle with my thumb and index finger on my left hand, and then push the index finger on my right hand through it.
Peregrine glares at me, smoke practically pouring out of his ears. I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to laugh.
"You're lying." But why does he look so unsure? Does he actually believe me? Does he trust a Hayes more than his sister, or does he just trust this story more than his sister?
Realising I'm winning, I give him a smirk. "What? Are you telling me you never thought your sister would get hot and sweaty with a Warren? It's no secret he wants her, and everyone knows he's a little psycho." I give him a wicked smile, leaning towards him. "Your sister did the horizontal tango with a Warren." I try to think of anything to make him angrier as he glares at me, lips turning white as he presses them together. "Now, either your sister is stupid enough to break a law like that, or she's easy enough to sleep with a Warren." I tap my chin. "I wonder if it's just a mixture of the two-"
"Shut up!" Peregrine stands up and reaches across his desk, grabbing the front of my shirt and wrenching me towards him. His surprising strength causing the corner of my desk to jerk into my stomach.
"Mr. Soren! Put Mr. Hayes down right now!" Ms. Collins yells from the top of the room, but Peregrine's eyes don't leave mine.
"It. Never. Happened." He grounds out, and a slow smile spreads across my face.
"I know." I say softly, and he blinks at me, confused.
"Wait wh-what?"
"Juliette wouldn't do something like that. She's too good to break a law like that... Right?"
He roughly shoves me back into my seat and throws me a disgusted look, lips curling up. But, I'm not the one who believed a lie about their sister so easily.
"Mr. Soren, Mr. Hayes get out of my classroom and both of you go to the Principal's office now!" Ms. Collins screeches when Peregrine turns around, and we both freeze.
I stand up, slinging my back pack over my shoulder and I meet Ollie and Colt's eyes, sending them a what can you do look, as I stride out of the room, Peregrine stumbling after me and apologising profusely to Ms. Collins.
The door closes and we're alone in the hallway. I give Peregrine my darkest look before stalking away from him and towards the office. Knowing that I'm going to get suspended on my second day of school. And knowing that that's not going to get me into the Ivy League colleges I need to get in to.
As we walk down in silence, I sigh, knowing that I need to get out of this. My future rides on me getting into an amazing college miles away from my mother and my family, which means my permanent record needs to be impeccable. Which means I can't let my intense hatred for the Sorens ruin my life.
It's happened to too many of my ancestors.
"So," I break the silence, shoving my hands into my pockets. "I don't suppose your curse can help us in this situation? You can't magically sweet-talk Mr. Reed into letting us off the hook, can you?"
His reply is a glare.
"I'll take that as a "no", then."
This is going no where, and I need to get out of this.
But there's also the part in me that wants to keep this conversation going, to find out more about Peregrine. And not because I want to know him or anything like that, but because knowledge is power. And any more leverage over the Sorens is good, no matter how it's gained.
"Seriously though, what's your curse?" It's a very forward question in our culture, to just out and ask. But these are the kind of things I want to know.
Peregrine's steps halt and I have to back up a few steps to be on line with him. But then he shakes his head in disbelief and starts walking again, strides faster as he silently speed walks down the hallway.
"Hey!"
I catch up to him in a few long strides, my legs much longer than his. His head is down as he tries to block me out, but in all my seventeen-almost-eighteen-years of being on this planet, nobody has been able to ignore me.
I'm just too irresistible.
"What? Are you embarrassed or something?"
No reply.
"Come on, it can't be that bad. Like, it's not as if you can control puppies, or create rainbows or talk to flowers." I say flippantly, waving the notions away.
It's not until his cheeks burn and his steps quicken that I realise that it is one of them.
"Oh my God," I halt and stare at his back, eyes wide. He hurries along, not even pausing as I stare at him. Shaking my head, a bubble of incredulous laughter comes out of my mouth and I jog to catch up to him.
"So, which one is it?" And now my need for knowledge is replaced with a burning curiosity. "Can you control puppies?
His head snaps over to me, face scorched red. "What?! No!"
"You can create rainbows?!" I retort, aghast.
"Of course not!"
My mouth pops open. "Sweet Jesus, you can talk to flowers."
He grits his teeth, jaw clenched as he keeps his eyes forward. "Not exactly."
"Not exactly?" And my voice is high with the strain of this news. "Either you've got the flower power or you don't, dude."
His eyebrows furrow, face settling into a frown. "I don't have full-blown conversations with them, but..."
"But, what? How do you even talk to them?" Now my incredulity has passed and disbelief has taken over. Talking to flowers? No way. I've heard of some pretty far-fetched curses in my time – time-travelling, walking through walls, growing extra limbs – but none of them have been confirmed. And none of them are like being able to communicate to flowers. What do flowers even have to talk about?
He groans, covering his hands with his face. "I'm not talking about this."
"Fine, then. I'll just keep all my questions for your sister. We have gym together, did you know that? You know, she's really grown up these past couple of years. She's gotten taller and her boobs, I mean, whoa-"
"Shut up!" He launches himself at me, a mess of blonde hair before I grab him by the shoulders and whirl him into the nearest locker.
This Soren seems to have a temper as short as his height.
He struggles like a mouse caught in a trap, blowing his blonde hair out of his face.
"Let-me-go!" He bursts out, still struggling as I push his shoulders harder into the metal.
He grunts in pain, staring at me with burning eyes and red-faced.
"Shut up, Soren." I say irritably, knowing he's making this harder than it needs to be. Does he not understand sarcasm?
"Then let me go!"
"Only if you don't try to tackle me again." I relent, and he stops his struggling to glare at me before nodding.
Cautiously, I let him go. I take a step back as he slowly fixes himself, running a hand through his hair, his blue eyes still fixed on me. I take a deep breath, blowing it out and giving him a charming smile.
"Now," I say, like a teacher speaking to a five year old. "Can you actually speak to flowers, or are you just screwing with me?"
He glares at me with all the might he can work up in that little body of his, his face flushed scarlet and teeth gritted. I can't help but think of him when we were kids, always the older and taller brother, until one day I was the same height as him. Three years later and I'm half a foot taller than him.
Soon, his eyes flit to the ground before he licks his lips, finally relenting in his information.
"Why are you so interested?" He croaks out, folding his arms over his chest and looking extremely uncomfortable.
I give him a bland smile. "It's always good to know things. Wouldn't you love to know what my curse is?"
Peregrine gives me a wary look as I begin to walk again, re-starting our walk to the Principal's office.
"If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"
I give him an are you crazy look. "Why the hell would I do that?"
He blinks, his expression turning blank before he nods his head. "Right," He says shortly. "It would make too much sense."
As we turn corner after corner making our way to Principal Reed, I start to wonder if he'll ever grow the balls to tell me. I open my mouth to yell at him, but his voice beats me to it.
"I'm a chlorokinetic." He sighs, as if he's been through this many, many times. He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Chlorokinesis is the ability to mentally manipulate plant life. Vines, trees, wood, moss, fungu-"
"Flowers." I interject with a malicious grin.
His blue eyes meet up to mine and he nods, not denying it. "Flowers included. I can make plant life grow, die, move, walk..." He trails off as he sees my shocked face. "What?" He demands defensively, and I shake my head as I absorb his information.
"Keep going." I mutter, fascinated.
He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with baring himself like this. Especially to me.
"I've only tried this a few times, and I haven't told anyone, but... Well, I can kind of... Change some plants." He confesses, looking antsy.
"Change?"
He nods.
"What, like make them different?"
"Yes, I can mutate them. I can manipulate their DNA structure and conjure them into a completely different form of flora. It takes too much effort and energy for me to do it for long periods of time, or regularly, but with practice I think I'd be able to do it daily." And he seems excited by the idea. Irrevocably proud.
I can't help but look at him as if he's a mad scientist.
Our footsteps slow, him too engrossed in his explanation and me too shocked by these discoveries to concentrate on getting to the Principal's office.
"It's pretty cool, once you get down to it." He continues. "At first, I thought it was the lamest thing I've ever heard of. Plant manipulation? Who wants that? But after a couple years, after I grew up a bit and decided to really focus on learning my curse, I discovered that I don't think I'd change it if I had the chance." His eyes shoot over to me, looking me up and down and searching my face. "I have no idea why I'm telling you all this stuff. I haven't even told my family this." Then he shrugs. "Probably because I don't care about your opinion of me."
"Would your family's opinion of you change if you told them?" I find myself asking, curious as to the mechanics of my long-term enemies.
He shrugs. "Who knows with them?"
Shouldn't you?
My family and I are a lot of things, but in the Hayes Clann, you always know your place.
"But how does talking to flowers come into this?"
He sighs, as if I'm missing the most vital of points to this whole explanation.
"It's not really talking, per se. I don't bring a potted plant out for coffee to bitch about my family, but they do communicate to me."
"How?!" And I pack all of my confusion, curiosity and incredulity into the million dollar question. How can this tiny, unremarkable and extremely dramatic blonde kid communicate to flora?
He shrugs, looking almost sad that he can't explain it to me.
Maybe he just wants someone to understand what he can do.
But a curse is not to be understood, but to be used.
It's an unspoken rule.
He taps his temple and gives me an almost sad look, like he wants my pity. "All I know is that my brain understands. And it's not words that I get, or pictures or hidden messages I need to translate or any of that. I just get it," He snaps his fingers. "I understand what they mean, like it's one of my own thoughts. Like plants aren't telling me things."
Whoa, I think. It's like something out of "Little Shop of Horrors".
As Principal Reed's office looms ahead of us, an idea springs to mind, one that could save me from suspension and possibly help me keep my impeccable permanent record to help me on the road out of this town.
"Stop." I command, and Peregrine halts his steps.
I slip my cell out of my pocket and dial a number, ignoring Peregrine's confused and irritated looks.
"Hello?" The voice sounds from the other end of my phone.
"I got in trouble again."
"You're a total screw-up, you know that, Heathie-boy?"
"Shut your mouth, Jake. I got in a fight with a Soren again, the little one and I need you to sweet talk Principal Reed. Get me out of this mess." I grunt, and Peregrine's light eyebrows shoot up. I lean against the locker beside me, concentrating on the plan formulating in my mind.
"Why the hell should I help you?"
"Because we're brothers and that's what we do for each other?" I throw out.
I hear a snort. "Try again."
I sigh, banging my head against the locker. "I'll volunteer to go to that Cross funeral next weekend so she won't bring you."
"That's in Ireland."
"I know."
"You'll willingly travel in an aeroplane where there's no chance of getting away from our mother for hours to then spend a whole weekend with her just to get out of trouble?" He asks incredulously.
There's a lot more at stake.
"Yes." I say, between clenched teeth.
There's a few moments of silence on the other end as my brother thinks over my offer, but we both know he'll agree. Nothing is worth spending that much time with our mother. Or heading over to a Blood event with just her. But I'm not taking any chances when it comes to colleges, and getting suspended would risk getting far enough away from here.
"What will I say to him? How will I get you out of this?"
I almost sigh with relief, closing my eyes and giving myself a small smile as the Soren beside me slides down the wall and sits on the ground, messing around with his phone.
"Tell him I-I-" I choke up. As ridiculous as it might sound, I have trouble saying the next words. A sentence I thought I'd never say, even though it's been rumoured.
Which isn't a complete shock. If you were to believe The Rumours, Juliette Soren has slept with every Blood that isn't a Soren. As long as it has a penis.
I take a deep breath, swallowing my revulsion and disgust at just saying it. "I slept with the Soren girl and that there's bad blood between our families."
Oh, if only our hatred was as simple as that.
Peregrine's eyes widen and fly up to me, but I concentrate on Jake's voice.
I hear a feigned sigh. "This was how Romeo and Juliet started, you know. Romeo calls his super hot brother up and tells him to lie about screwing Juliet. Juliet is pissed but can't help falling in lust with Romeo. Every time he's around she just wants to rip her clothes off an-"
"Will you do it or not, jackass?!" I need him to stop speaking. To stop putting images in my head of Juliette naked or me naked with her or anything like that. Because if I continue, my food will make a second appearance.
"It'll be done," He says with a sigh. "Stay in whatever hallway you're in and don't be seen. Just head to your next class once the bell rings and it'll be sorted."
I sigh in relief. "Thanks." And it feels weird and foreign to be grateful towards him.
"Don't thank me, Heathie-boy. Hate me. You're the one stuck on a plane with mother dearest at seven o'clock Saturday morning."
I groan, knowing I'll have only returned from Colt's party a couple hours before we have to leave.
"Bye." I grunt into the phone.
"Later, oh, and Heath?"
I pause, holding the phone away from my ear, warily. "Yes?"
"Remember, I love you."
I hang up, hearing his tinny chuckle on the other end of the line.
Perry stands up and I glare at him, no longer being able to bear his presence now that I know about his curse.
"What's happening?"
"We're free. At the cost of your sister's sex life no less, but we're free." I spin around on my heel, stalking down the hallway and dismissing him.
"What do you mean "my sister's sex life"? He calls down, his footsteps sounding as he jogs after me.
"The story is that I screwed your sister and your family hates me." I reply nonchalantly, trying to remember what I have next and where in this gigantic building it is.
"What?!" He screeches, and the only reason I turn around is because if I don't he'll keep shouting and get us both caught for "ditching".
"We've only just started here!" He exclaims. "This could ruin everything for her, how people see her, how they treat her-"
"Oh, come on," I roll my eyes, tapping my foot with impatience. "All the girls hate her and all the guys want to have sex with her. You know that, it's obvious."
Peregrine's mouth snaps shut as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Shut up." He says, like a petulant child.
With a final roll of my eyes, I turn around and walk away. Finally gaining the distance I so desperately wanted from the Sorens.
But then I remember gym class.
When Juliette and I were rolling and rolling and rolling.
And the intoxicating scent of lemons.
And the curtain of blonde hair.
And the blue eyes.
And Juliette.
"Heath?"
I pause and raise my eyebrows in surprise as Isabel Cruz walks out from one of the halls, giving me a smile.
"Isabel? What are you doing out of class?"
She laughs, tossing her brown hair over her shoulder and making her way over to me, batting her long lashes over her green eyes.
"German is making zero sense to me right now," She runs a hand through her hair, stopping in front of me. She's very close. "I needed out of there." She waves the bathroom pass in front of my face and I give her a charming smile.
"German isn't your thing?"
She brings her finger across her throat in a cutting gesture, and I smile as she rolls onto her tip-toes and winds her arms under mine to wrap around my chest and back. It's weird, but she never wraps her arms around my neck.
I lean down and bring her lips to mine, all thoughts of the blonde haired, blue eyed girl flying from my mind.
________