Blood Type: Book One of the Blood Type Series (complete)

Unhappy Ending

I was twirling back and forth in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, making sure I looked good from every angle, when the doorbell rang. Before I could rush downstairs to head off my parents, I heard heavy footsteps in the foyer. A moment later there came the squeaky hinges of the front door and the familiar tenor of my father's voice as it carried up the stairs. I took a deep breath and held it, hovering in the hallway a floor above while listening.

"You must be John." My dad had adopted his accountant's voice, firm and business-like.

"I am." John's voice was just as sure and steady.

"It's nice to finally put a face to the name. Come in. Blake's upstairs getting ready. Honey?" my dad called, voice raised. "John's here!"

"I'll be down in a minute!"

I raced to my closet and wiggled my feet into my red sandals, pulling the straps in place around my heels. Then I grabbed a matching red cardigan, the one with the shimmery sequins on the front, just in case it got chilly once the sun set. Checking my makeup in the mirror one last time, I raced to the end of the hallway and skipped down the stairs to meet John.

"Hey," I said, feeling giddy and breathless all at once.

John's eyes seemed to light up as his mouth dropped open when he saw me. I took his reaction as a good sign. "Ready?" he asked.

I grabbed my purse. "Ready."

"Just make sure to eat the funnel cake after you've ridden anything that spins or revolves," my dad advised. He turned to John, nudging him in the side, and said in a stage-whisper, "Blake is extremely susceptible to motion sickness. The last time she—"

"Dad!" I exclaimed, interrupting a story I had experienced firsthand and knew had an unpleasant outcome. I cast a stricken glance at John before giving my father a look that I hoped conveyed he should keep quiet. "Where's Mom so I can tell her goodbye?"

He thumbed over his shoulder, a look of innocence on his face. "Out by the pool, working. I've got to get back to the office myself. I'll probably be there until late tonight, so I might not see you before tomorrow." He held out his hand to John. "You two have a great time. Come over again soon."

"Thanks, Mr. Ehlert."

We found my mom sitting at the table under the shade of the oversized umbrella, surrounded by organized stacks of papers. She rarely took an actual break from work, but that's how she'd earned the reputation of being the most accomplished real estate agent in a tri-county area.

"We're leaving now!" I called out to her, hoping we could just wave and skip the small talk. I was half afraid she might also try to regale John with some embarrassing story from my past.

She looked up. "Oh! How are you, John? It's nice to see you again."

"I'm very well. Thank you. It's nice to see you again, too."

"You remember we're going to the fair, right?" I said.

"Of course," my mother answered. "Have fun. Be safe and mind your curfew."

"About that," I said, shifting from one foot to the other. "Do you think I can have an extended curfew, just this once?"

She peered at me over the rim of her reading glasses. "Blake, if I extend your curfew tonight—just this once—you'll end up asking me to do it again some other night. It sets a bad precedent."

"C'mon, Mom. I've never missed curfew before."

"You should have left for the fair earlier," my mother replied. "You would have had more time."