Blood Draw: Book Two of the Blood Type Series (complete)

A Secret Revealed

 "What are you supposed to be?" I said as I shoved my dance ticket at Coach Wally's chest.

Coach dangled his whistle in front of my face. "What does it look like, Ehlert? A football coach. Don't spill anything on my floor," he warned us, "or you'll be pushing mops after everyone else goes home."

We walked away and Olivia said to me, "Don't pay any attention to him. He's still pissed at you for breaking up with Zach."

"Why would Coach Wally have an opinion about my love life? It's none of his business."

"Because," she said. "He thinks you're the reason Zach's been off his game lately."

"What about Gabe?" I said. "You broke up with him. Is Coach pissed at you, too?"

She gave me a sheepish look. "You know Gabe. He's been channeling his anger into the games. He's at peak performance."

I snorted and she added, "Sickening, right? Just goes to show how much he didn't love me. I'd rather him be brokenhearted and pining for me."

"You have Marcus now," I said, noticing that Olivia's current boyfriend was well within earshot of our conversation. But either he didn't hear, or he had chosen to ignore her comment.

"Marcus is great!" Olivia said quickly. "But still. I've got my pride."

I shook my head. There were times I didn't understand the odd ways in which my best friend's mind worked.

Within one minute of entering the transformed gym, the four of us were told no less than a dozen times how awesome we looked. Even if only the adult chaperones knew who Kenny Rogers was, most everyone else recognized Dolly Parton. They were impressed by the authenticity of John's fangs, too. A few girls commented that they wouldn't mind being bitten by him, even tilting their necks in offering. If only they knew how perilously close they were to having someone else sink her fangs into their throats, that would teach them to flirt with a vampire's boyfriend. Especially mine.

"We're getting punch," Olivia yelled over the thumping music as she surveyed the crowd. "Wanna come?"

I grabbed John's hand. "Pass. We're gonna dance."

Dancing, in my opinion, seemed much safer than cruising a table loaded with rank-smelling food. Vampires weren't immune to hurling. I had quickly discovered that disgusting little fact after opening the fridge and getting a whiff of my mom's deviled eggs from Hell. I didn't want to spew the only thing in my stomach at that moment, which was two pints of O-negative.

Leading John to the middle of the gym, now serving as a temporary night club, I had to admit that the party committee had done a pretty good job of transforming the place. The fluorescents had been dimmed and strobe lights strung near the dance floor. The Chemical Brothers blasted from the speakers, and people jumped and gyrated as though they were possessed. Mr. Wigley, my AP history teacher, was trying to break up some of the more risqué dancing, but he wasn't having much luck.

I squeezed my eyes shut and surrendered to the syncopated rhythm of the music. The only thing grounding me to reality was John's hands on my hips, pulling me against him until our bodies were close enough to be considered indecent. I lifted my arms in the air and swayed to the beat, not caring if I looked stupid. None of it mattered anyway. Not when all of these people would eventually die, taking their memories of me with them.

"Blake."

"Zach," I said in surprise. The look on his face, I noticed, was a mixture of extreme hurt and disbelief. "Nice costume. Zorro?"

His lips tightened as his eyes cut to John. "No. Dracula."

Of course. Before I became a vampire, he had suggested we go to the dance together as Dracula and Mina Murray. I guess I stole his idea. Compared to John, he looked downright comical in his long black cape and oversized plastic fangs. He spit them in his hand.