Alliance (5 page)

Our littlest sister is down the hall being X-rayed. Her arm is fractured, but we don’t know how badly yet. Thanks to the bloodsucker knocking her down.

“You know what stress does to her, how it screws with her condition. Did you even think about someone other than yourself before you snuck out?”

A tear leaks out the side of Rachel’s eye. She brushes it away, pops her jaw. I know she hates the show of weakness.

Temper stalled, I sink down in the uncomfortable hospital chair and put my face in my hands. I am so tired. Why do girls have to be so complicated? Ever since our parents’ death, Rachel keeps getting more and more out of control, and I don’t how to stop it.

I’ve already lost Cassidy, now I’m losing Rachel because of her recklessness. Thankfully, Chloe’s out of this mess, at least for now since I lied to the social worker about her being a cousin that I’m babysitting. At least, I think the lady bought my story.

“I didn’t do this on purpose, Shane. It’s not like I set out to–”

I glare at her. “I don’t care what you set out to do. Chloe and I are paying for your lack of responsibility.”

If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to snap, so before I start smashing things I leave the room. I hear Rachel sob once before I close the door. I don’t have time for sympathy in this situation, and even if I did, I’m not good at handling crying females. Rach screwed up, and I’m going to have to fix it. Just like always.

7 - Maggie

The weekend is half-over before Hannah can get out of bed. By Monday morning, she’s still off-color and I’m worried and ready to find out what set this episode off.

“Breakfast is served, milady.” I plop a plate on the bedspread in front of her, then match her pose and sit cross-legged at the foot of her bed. We’re not supposed to bring food up to our rooms, but the caf ladies let me slide today. I toss Hannah’s bottle of OJ onto her pillow.

“Nooo,” she whines. “No more protein. I want cereal.” But she picks up the plate of eggs and bacon with a single slice of toast and starts eating.

“It’s good for you. Get your strength up.”

She’s got a little more energy this morning. She’s apparently dragged herself into the shower while I was at breakfast, because her hair’s still spiked with moisture. She’s still wearing her flannel pjs; the silly witch is always cold.

“Well, one of us has been busy while the other slept the weekend away.” I say, leaning back on my hands. “I took over mentoring your two Freshies; we had a pizza party last night. They gave me a makeover.” I pull a face and Hannah laughs. She is well familiar with my aversion to makeup. I go on.

“And I put together a discussion list for both our group sessions this week.” Getting to know the kids at E.W. House through group counseling is one of Hannah’s favorite parts of being here.

“Plus, I picked up all my junk.” I wave to my side of the room, where the floor is conspicuously bare of its usual decorations—shoes, clothes, books, etc.

And I spent all weekend listening for Lily to start rumors about me, but there hasn’t been a whisper of what happened between us on the third floor.

“Wow, I’m sorry, Mags. You shouldn’t have had to do all that on your own.”

I shrug away her apology. “So what happened? Was the drug addict really that crazy? How come it’s taking so long for you to feel better?”

Her individual freckles morph into one big splotch as she wrinkles her nose. “What? Oh, no. It wasn’t him. It was the girl.”

My mind goes to Chloe and the strange supernatural sense I felt about her. “What girl?”

“The one in the wheelchair.”

“Rachel?”

“Was that her name? I forgot. Yeah, I was focusing on keeping her in the chair until the nurse got her back to her room and then, bam! All of a sudden she… I don’t know, shielded me or something. It felt like a punch in the face and then I got all woozy.”

“Did she know she was doing it?”

“I dunno. She was pretty out of it from the meds.”

Weird. Something supernatural about one sister, and the other with an ability to keep Hannah out of her mind, a feat I’ve never been able to master.

Finished with her breakfast, Hannah gets up and wobbles to her dresser. “I don’t think I should ditch today. Kaufmann is giving a big sociology test this afternoon. I don’t want to get in trouble for missing it.”

“Hannah. Do we ever get in trouble for skipping? Plus, we’ve been in school long enough to learn everything eighteen times. You worry too much.”

“Whatever. I just have a healthy respect for the rules, something you seem to lack these days.”

She leans against her dresser, seemingly worn out just from standing up and moving around that little bit. “Maybe you’re right. I can retake the test later this week.” She comes back to bed and I move to straddle my desk chair so she can lie down.

“So why’d you text Director Phillips on Friday? I thought you tried to keep communication between him and ‘Mr. Wellington’ to a minimum?”

I shrug. “Mr. Wellington pays him well to keep the two of us out of trouble. He was just doing his job.”

“Really, and I thought you hired our good Director to run this school? Now you’re telling me it was for personal gain?”

I roll my eyes. “No, I’m telling you that he does an excellent job of running this school, which
Mr. Wellington
hired him to do, but it’s a nice perk that he keeps us on the DL.”

“Speaking of things on the ‘DL’, you were mumbling about Lily in your sleep last night. What did you do?”

“The little twerp was being nosy. I didn’t attack her or anything. I can’t help it if she happened to stumble across me while I was vamped out.”

Hannah’s eyes widen. “Mags, you didn’t!”

I look down at my sock feet. “Well, she hasn’t told anyone. Yet. Maybe she thought she was hallucinating or something.”

Hannah sits up in bed again. She must mean business. “You
know
Lily is a recovering user. What if she thought you were buzzed? Maggie!”

I know she’s concerned, but I don’t want to hear it. I spend my life helping teens through this school, but Lily brings out my spiteful side. I may be ancient, but sometimes I just want to
be
the seventeen-year-old I am.

I grind my teeth. “Fine, I’m sorry I did it. But it was all I could do to get her out of there, and if I didn’t get into that room I probably would’ve just eaten Lily instead, and that wouldn’t be any better.”

Hannah continues to glare at me. Whatever. She doesn’t have to worry about bloodlust, so I can’t expect her to understand how bad it gets.

“Can we move on, please?”

Finally she relents and lies back down on the bed. “Sure, let’s discuss that little scene at the hospital with you and that boy Shane.”

That’s not a better topic.

“What?”

“I may have been about to pass out, but I saw the way you looked at him, Mags. Don’t deny it.”

I turn to my desk and jiggle the mouse to wake up my laptop. “Hmm?”

“Don’t play coy with me. What’re you blushing for?”

“It’s warm in here.”

“No, it’s not. Dish, girl. Did he fall down on his knees to thank you for saving his sister? Did he ask for your digits?”

“Hannah, stop.”

“No way. This is too fun,” she sing-songs.

“He…” What can I tell her? The truth, or I’ll never get her off my back. “It was a case of instant dislike. He wouldn’t even shake my hand.”

Her face changes from teasing to serious. “Aw, honey. I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “It’s not like I’m on the market for a guy. Hel
lo
, I’m a vampire.” We’ve had this discussion before, and I know she’s going to say, ‘Just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you can’t date.’ It’s what she always says. But she surprises me.

“Maybe he was intimidated. You know, thrown off his game by a strong woman commandeering the situation.”

“W-what?” I can’t help laughing, her statement is so far off from what I expected.

“It could happen. Guys have a whole self-image, fragile ego thing that us women don’t understand.”

I shake my head, smile lingering. “You are too funny.”

“What? You think I’m making it up? I know!” she exclaims, and her sudden enthusiasm startles me. “I can call Lisa at the hospital—she owes me a favor—and ask her to pull the patient’s records. We can find out where he lives and you could… I don’t know have a flat tire in front of his house and let him come to the rescue! Then when he’s all ‘me manly man’ you can swoon at his feet. And then live happily ever after.”

It’s nice to see her so lively. Her eyes are sparkling. Maybe she is finally feeling better. But I can’t help but point out the flaw in her plan. I go with the easy one first, not the big ones like the issues of blood-sucking or immortality. “I don’t have a car.”

This does not deter her.

“You can buy one. It’s not like you can’t afford it, Miss Ritchie Rich.”

“I don’t have a driver’s license.”

“You don’t need one. Just park the car out front and flatten the tire.”

“Hannah.”

“Maggie.”

We both dissolve into giggles. After the stress and worry that’s been following me around all weekend, it is a nice relief.

A knock on the door interrupts our merriment.

“Enter,” I holler.

Karla, our floor mom, comes in with a stack of papers in her arms. “Maggie, I have a new ‘little sister’ you’ll be mentoring. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

I meet her in the middle of the room, hand outstretched. I love mentoring. It’s nice to help make someone’s transition easier. She hands me a manila folder and excuses herself.

“Anybody interesting?” Hannah asks.

I flip open the folder and start reading. “Sixteen-year-old girl. History of violence, recent arrest, recent hospitalization.”

Next page. “Parents deceased. Judge is deciding if she goes back to the guardian…”

I reach the end of the page and the bottom drops out of my stomach. “…her eighteen-year-old brother.”

I fold the manila envelope inverted, so the picture paper-clipped to the inside is visible and then lift it so Hannah can see.

“It’s Rachel Campton.”

8 - Shane

I parallel park in front of a four-story historic-looking building. It’s got red brick and a nice lawn. A sign out front says Edward Wellington House with the words
Alternative School
emblazoned below.

I can’t believe I’m going through with this. I should be tracking down vampires, but instead I’m moving my sister into a school for troubled teens. I’ve spent three days trying to figure a way to get Rach out of this, but finally decided to bide my time. Maybe she can get come counseling or something that will make her listen to me more.

Jumping out of the truck, I pull Chloe out after me, being careful of the cast on her forearm. I want to say something to comfort her, but I don’t know what. I know she’s cried herself to sleep the past two nights and I’m still pretty angry that Rach is causing her this stress.

“Am I still your cousin today?” she whispers.

I nod and smile, even if it is forced. “Yes, ma’am. You’re still my cousin until all of this gets sorted out.”

“When will that be?”

“Hopefully soon.” I ruffle her hair in its pixie cut—at least I remembered to brush it today—but she doesn’t want to play, she grabs onto my arm instead.

A black Toyota pulls in behind us. Jennifer, Rach’s state-appointed social worker, steps out of the driver’s seat. She’s got her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, making her look like a school principal that hates children and vice versa.

Rachel gingerly climbs out of the backseat. Her wounds are healing, but she’s still paying for her recklessness. Her curly hair is a tangled mess like she hasn’t bothered to comb it in several days. Way to make a great first impression.

Chloe’s lower lip trembles slightly, but she holds back the waterworks for the time being. Crying isn’t going to fix this, though I’d shed a few tears if I thought it would help.

Rachel grabs a duffle bag out of the trunk, and winces under its weight. I don’t offer to help. She walks over and Chloe throws her arms around Rach’s waist. Rach wiggles her eyebrows and looks pointedly at my truck.

I shake my head. Even if we got a fifteen minute head start, traffic this time of day would make us sitting ducks for the cops or whoever the social worker might send after us.

Rach pats the top of Chloe’s head and nudges the clingy girl away. She mumbles something that sounds like “let’s get this over with.”

I grab another suitcase, one that Chloe and I packed last night, out of the bed of my truck and we walk towards the steps. I scan the sidewalk and front of the building, trying to take in as much as I can. If I’m going to bust Rach out of this place, I need to be familiar with exits and such.

Two people wait near the front door, but we’re too far away to get a good look at them. The front of the building only has one door. The first and second floor windows have bars on them. Any higher and a window would be too hard to sneak out of anyway. Whoever designed the place didn’t intend to have students sneaking out.

As we walk up the front steps Rachel grabs my arm and squeezes. At first I assume she’s having trouble with the steps, but when I look at her she’s gawking at something in front of us. I follow her gaze and realize exactly what the issue is.

Blondie’s
here?

There’s an older lady standing next to her, in her thirties maybe, but the younger girl is unmistakably Blondie-the-vamp-from-the-hospital.

The girl—Maggie, I remember—raises her eyebrows, and I realize that Rach and I are awkwardly staring at her. The social worker clears her throat behind us.

“I’d like to remind you both that any more trouble like you caused at the hospital and your visitation rights will be revoked.”

I look at Rachel, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. We should just take out these few people here, stake the vamp, and get the heck out of dodge. But what’s the chance we can get out of here without any of the many pedestrians seeing us? It’s not worth the risk.