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

An Alliance

My mother placed her hands over her ears as I trailed after her into the kitchen, so close on her heels that I bumped into her when she stopped. "I don't want to hear it," she said, not for the first time.

"You don't want to hear what?" my father asked from behind his newspaper.

She poured a cup of coffee and took a sip. "Blake claims she doesn't feel well. Again."

Lowering his paper, my father studied me with a critical eye. "She does look a bit rough around the edges this morning."

I gave him a look. "Thanks a lot, Dad."

"I'm only trying to help your case," he replied before returning his attention to the news.

"She isn't staying home, Bill. If Blake doesn't get back on track—and soon—she won't graduate with the rest of her class. And after that stunt she pulled yesterday—"

"It wasn't a stunt, Mom. I told you I had an errand to run. Besides, it's not even the end of October. Graduation is a million years away."

She breathed in deeply through her nose as she continued to glare at me. "You've always been an excellent student, which is why your apathy toward school lately is so concerning."

"Dad doesn't seem too concerned," I pointed out.

"I am concerned," he intoned from behind the newspaper.

I pulled out one of the chairs and slumped into it. "But I have a migraine. And I think I have a fever." My head really did hurt, if only because playing hooky seemed more trouble than it was worth.

My mother placed her hand against my forehead. "You do not have a fever, Blake. You're cool as rain. Cold, in fact."

"Which means I should stay home," I said. "I'm obviously not normal."

Her eyes narrowed. "Does the fact that you want to stay home have anything to do with a boy? Maybe you're planning on skipping school together?"

"What? No!" I glanced at my father, who had lowered the newspaper once again, suddenly more interested in the conversation now that it possibly had something to do with a boy.

"Because if it does," my mother continued. "If you're staying home from school so you can . . ." Her voice trailed off, but I got the picture.

"Don't even go there," I said, unsure if the burning in my cheeks was because I was embarrassed or just plain angry at the insinuation.

My father cleared his throat and rose. "I'm going to be late for work," he said. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he then gave my mom a quick peck on the cheek.

"I am not skipping school to hook up with anyone," I said once my father had cleared the room. "It hurts my feelings that you would automatically go there. Don't you trust me?"

She closed her eyes and massaged her brow. "I am exhausted before this day has even begun," she muttered under her breath. She looked at me then. "You're a beautiful girl, Blake. Every parent's mind goes there. Wait until you have kids. You'll understand."

"I'm never having kids," I said. My mother raised a brow but didn't comment. "So does that mean I can stay home?" I asked hopefully.

"No, it does not. If you insist on not going to school today, you can get your things and come to work with me."

"Why do I have to go with you?"

She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, and I had the sinking feeling I wasn't going to win this argument no matter how hard I fought. "Blake, whatever it is, I suspect you're up to something. I don't have time to worry about you today, so go get your things and meet me in the car. End of discussion."