The Awakening (on hiatus)

Rage

I inhale a lungful of icy air, and it's as if the cold is seeping into every cell in my lungs.

"You... what?" I ask John.

When he laughs, whatever part of my body managed to stay warm until this point is now frigid and still. His chuckle is downright evil. I've never heard him sound this way.

I exhale and the steam from my breath surrounds the two of us in a gray plume against the night sky.

"C'mon. Let's go get pizza. I'll tell you all about it." He marches off, and I hesitate. He's acting like this is normal, and that's deeply disturbing.

Should I follow? Especially given that my best friend is a vampire—and considering that I want to also be an immortal? 

This must be a joke. I'm need to find out what's going on with my brother. I power-walk to catch up with him.

Thank God we're silent during the few short blocks to the pizza place. A crushing feeling of sadness hits me, because at one time, John and I were thick as thieves. I remember when I was in middle school and he was a high school sophomore, how he'd help me with homework and take me skiing at a small mountain in Maine.

We never even had typical brother-sister fights; Mom always marveled at this. "Somehow I raised perfect children," she'd brag to her friends.

Which is what makes his absence—and this unannounced visit—all the more shocking.

At the Boston House of Pizza, John holds the door open for me. The place is blazing with fluorescent light, jam-packed, too much to handle in my current confused state. It's well past one in the morning and this is the only thing open for food in Kenmore Square at this time of night.

It's flooded with drunk, poufy-haired suburbanites from Narcissus, the club across the street, arrogant punks from Axis, stone headbangers from the Rathskeller, and a smattering of frat boys. It would be a toxic mix given that three-quarters of the crowd is either drunk or high, but somehow, it's controlled chaos. The air is laced with the odor of cheese, sweat, and beer.

"Go snag that table over there." John points to a booth. "I'll grab our slices. You want Dr. Pepper?"

"Yeah, thanks."

I plop down in the booth and rest my head on my folded arms at the table, exhausted. Between Matteo and my brother, this night has definitely taken a turn for the strange. The only thing I'm thankful for is that John didn't arrive while Matteo was in my room...

"Hey, you want company?"

I look up and there's an older guy with blonde, slicked-back hair standing with a soda at the end of the booth. He waggles his eyebrows. This is all I need, some disco-throwback dude who was desperate for a screw.

"As if," I snort. "Gag me with a spoon." I sometimes revert to Valley Girl speak when I'm sarcastic.

"Bitch," he says, and walks off.