It’s in the Blood - Alaric Pt. 02

Episode 2

OUCH! I mouth to Ryn. She'd just kicked me right in the shin with her steel-toe boot. Not hard, no, but damn those things hurt. I ignored her and attempted to focus back in on Mr. Morrison's lecture. It was hard enough to pay attention as is. He was a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and this impossibly thick mustache. It looked like it was growing directly from his nose in places. A seriously short dude. It was not dwarfism either because everything was proportionate. Just super short. Jessica Morris is this super tall chick. I mean huge. She's on the basketball team and does great. Earlier in the year, Ryn told me she heard her talking about him in the locker room before PE, "Perfect height for a mustache ride!" Funny. I didn't mind the guy, but his voice was so monotone that it made it hard to pay attention. Even the stuff that interested me was having a hard time keeping a hold of my mind. It didn't help that his white button-up and khaki shorts blended with the bleach-white walls and dry-erase board behind him. It was always khakis and a pale-colored or white button-up. Plain. Boring.

Love... The idea of love kept bringing me back into my thoughts. It was in the air, and you could smell it at its strongest in the late spring and early autumn. Yay, I say sarcastically at the animalistic instincts I still have to endure. Though I still couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was a mate out there for me. It was a pipe dream, seriously. Call it the last of my dying wistful adolescence. I used to joke a lot that all the Mate gifting goddesses up there had no idea what to do and whose jurisdiction was who's since were all so muddied. They're too busy up there arguing over who gets Mondays.

Still, I wonder what it would've been like though. It sounds like a mighty force. A real team to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, it was also used as a weapon. People's mates would be taken. Being separated caused immense pain after so long. Any torturous moment that ensued would be felt on each end of the connection. This also holds for pain and death. Depending on how violent the death is, it could cause their partner to go mad and sometimes even die themselves. That's the reason the stories give for the Moon Goddess taking away our mate gift. She had made our perfect matches. Other halves, just for us, and after all the fighting and the wars over the centuries with the bond being exploited, she said, "I'm done. You don't deserve this," and yoink! Gone. It's not exactly like that, but you get my point.

It all must be bogus, right? If anything like that had happened, some science would've been behind it—certain secretions or the releasing of pheromones to attract a mate. The rest was probably exaggerated due to us being supernatural. Play everything up bigger than it was to make us seem special and stand apart from humans. But still, though. What if? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't already felt this strange urge. It's hard to explain, but I'll do my best—constant anxiety and feeling that there's something important that I need to do. There's a heaviness on my chest. Not pain. Just a heavy feeling. Plus, the other urges. I've been practically insatiable lately.

I look over at Ryn and smile. She is excellent, and if I wanted to pick someone, I would choose her. I look back at my textbook and the papers in front of me. Too bad I don't want to pick someone. No one feels "it" to me, and I don't know how else to explain it. What was it about us that we needed someone? Humans don't. Some do it all alone until the end, perfectly happy and okay. Stupid coming of age. Clyde said it was a period of 'great emotional stress.'

Granny, always coming in with the truth and clarity, quickly followed it up with, "You get stupid. You want to fornicate all the time, and the urge to find a partner gets stronger the longer you take to choose a mate. It's harder to resist the stronger your bloodline. You should have plenty of time, though, being mixed and all." So much to look forward to waiting right around the corner. Ryn and I made a pact, though, so we will try to brave the worst of the storm together. Best of the worst of the storm. Sounds like a pretty good storm to me. The thought made me smile again.

THUNK

Hitting my desk chair this time, it makes a slight screech noise as it slides across the linoleum. The room was hushed while she turns forward trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You could hear a pin drop until Mr. Morrison clears his throat and continues the lecture. When everyone seems to be refocused, she scrunches her nose at me when I look at her with questions, evident in my facial expressions. I stick my tongue out in response and she rolls her eyes. She started doing this strange hand motion, but I couldn't figure out what she wanted from me, so I tried to get back into the lecture and take my notes. By taking my notes, I mean going back to this sick drawing I was working on. I loved to draw in my spare time. I could get lost for hours sometimes. All my focus would be on the paper, and everything spilled out under the pen. Some of my best drawings would be during these moments of hyperfixation. Ryn would watch me sometimes and say I was entranced. I never shared my work, but somehow, some of my best-looking ones ended up missing. I think she's taking them, but she'll never say. She might be salty because she's asked me to show her, but I always refuse.

THUD

I glare at her, and she smiles innocently. I mouth WHAT to her annoyed. She winks, gestures with her thumb over her right shoulder a few times, and pretends to play with her auburn locks. I look over her shoulder to see Sarah gawking at me and piercing me with those hazel eyes. She was as pretty as any girl—brown hair, nice olive skin, and a great complexion. I was jealous of that in Middle school while my face looked like a slice of pizza with all the acne I dealt with. Plus, she was a cheerleader and popular. I wasn't sure what she saw in me, but it was a no on my end. She wore pounds and pounds of makeup. Not that I have a problem with women wearing makeup. Not at all! It honestly should be considered an art of some sort. It's hot in Cali, though, and it makes it look like her face is melting in some places most of the time. It's so off-putting. Not only that, but I also suspect and am almost sure her boobs are fake. She completely fits the description of Country Club Owners daughter, so she'd have the money to. Again, there is nothing wrong with cash or altering your body either. Do what makes you happy, but again, she's just not it for me. We like what we like, am I right?

Sarah smiles at me and does a tiny finger wave. She wore ridiculously long acrylics. They were a pale sort of dull green. Gross. They resembled the shade of a fresh booger. I see her slide a note to the person next to her. Oh great. I look over at Ryn with the most brutal glare I can. She's smiling ear to ear at me, making exaggerated eyebrow gestures. She loves this crap. I mean thoroughly enjoys watching girls try to pick me up. One thing I loved about her, too, was that she was not the jealous type. It made our friends-with-benefits type situation much easier. I look back to Sarah and give as best a smile as I can muster. She slowly looks me up and down to ensure that there is no question that she's into me. It gets a few giggles from her and her friends sitting at the desks around her. The note finally gets to me. It has her number with a little heart as a zero in the middle. I try not to roll my eyes and give her my most polite smile. She gives me the 'call me' hand gesture. No thanks.