Blood Doll (2)

            It revealed itself when I was searching for my phone. I watched with ­inquiring eyes as it fluttered facedown onto the passenger side seat. Tossing my bag to the floorboards, I deftly snatched the flyer. White cursive spanned the page, black and purple spider webs assuming residence as the background. “Drac’s Lair,” it read. “Saturday the 27^th, 9:30 pm �"” Below the directions, more writing ensued: “Invitation required at admittance.”

            The paper had not been in my bag when entering the doctor’s. Made to sit in the waiting room for over half and hour, I had searched the entire expanse of my things. Not one thing had been out of order at any time; no evidence gave signal that my bag had been rifled through.

Regardless, I held in my hands, by no hallucination, a paper which seemed to have mysteriously ventured into my purse.

            Setting it carefully away, I started my car, maneuvered out of the parking lot and down the road in a giddy haste from this new find.

            Home was a one story house neatly folded into the recesses of rolling hills filled with most nothing. Baby blue siding and stark shutters wrapped snuggly around the building with minutely arched windows and dark, half-circle shingles applied lovingly elsewhere. Cows snorted in the distance. The smell of their waste stung my nostrils as I hustled to the front door on a path obscured by an enormous, exotic garden. A plethora of hues, fragrances, blooms outlined the entire house. It was Stonehenge to me, with my parents the Druids.

            From the kitchen, pots and pans clanged, followed by boisterous opera music. My mother was by the stove, I noted as I entered, my father chopping cucumbers at the island.

            They were night and day. My father’s broad build and long, sandy hair rivaled my mother’s lankiness and dark bob. Mother’s tan physique had been brought on by years in Hawaii, whereas his was startlingly pale, speckled with freckles from his Ireland ancestry.

            Spotting me by the door, Father inquired about my doctor’s visit.

            “Disease free and blood healthy,” I announced. “It only took an hour, but Dr. Reese was behind.”

            “She took blood again?” Mother asked.

            “Last time,” I corrected. “She gave the results today.”

            “And?”

            “My blood is normal. I have nothing to worry about. She had no idea why anyone would think otherwise,” I replied before slipping out of the kitchen.

            The sun poured from skylights positioned in my ceiling, layering the furniture with an evening glow that my mauve walls absorbed as I entered my room. A few Teddy Scares toppled to the floor when I dropped my grommet encrusted bag on the bed.

            One mirror on my vanity caught my reflection as I toed my boots off. Easily distinguishable were which parent’s genes in myself. I had inherited Mother’s hair and small frame, and Father’s skin and green eyes. Often I thought of myself as ugly, to the objections of my parents. My features were plain, my body slightly too curvy. My bottom lip jutted out just enough to give the impression of an ever-present pout and my cheeks held a minute plumpness to them.

            “Eve! Dinner!” Mother called, shearing through my trance.

            “I’ll be there in a second!” I replied hastily, scrambling through my bag to locate my cell phone. My thumbs raced to type a message to my best friend, Angel: ‘I need to talk to you after I eat.”

            The dinner table had been piled high with a vegetarian’s dream. Fruits and vegetables, baked, sautéed, and not rested precariously in wooden bowls of various colors. Rice and pasta were set between everything. For me, a small portion of sushi inhabited my plate.

            Growing up on a vegetarian’s diet had accustomed my stomach to measly portions of meat. Both of my parents were vegetarians, and although I had had a phase of consuming practically nothing but meat in protest, soon enough the want for most animals waned generously. Among few others, a craving for crustaceans had not diminished.

            “How was school?” Mother asked as we settled in.

            The noodles I had just swallowed almost were retched back onto my plate. A moment was taken for me to swallow. Behind my eyes, I pictured Wade, my school’s most popular Jock, single me from the crowd, shove me under the stairs. His pack of football players restrained me as he shanked me, bowed, and all left.

            I smiled to my mother. “As normal as any day. I had quizzes in most of my classes, and I have loads of homework.”

            Not all of my school experience was so resentful; therefore, I withheld little scenarios from my parents. They would only worry. I was the one darkling at Leeburg High School, but was mostly left in solitude because of my crippling shyness and tendency for outstanding grades.

            Sometimes, though, Wade threw tricks from his sleeves, directed at the ‘Zombie’ he had pinned me as. Despite that occasionally his persisting attacks pried full-fledged fury from me, I was more than capable of protecting myself, excepting when more attackers were included. Alone, his tricks were child’s play I could handle on my own.

            Only when he wanted an actual response from me did he attack my best friend, Ang. She and I had known each other for over seven years, and were close enough to be sisters. The ambushes on her were not nearly as ‘severe’ as with me, but using Angel as by proxy was out of the question. Wade more than deserved my retaliation then.

            Father began a ramble of his new research, the Maya, and I tuned all out. As their culture and history had been the spur of most conversations with him for months, this was hardly a new subject.

More than a lot of things I wished to know how I had obtained the flyer. I was certain it was from the doctor’s, but no person could have found a way inside of my bag without my knowledge. Only Leeburg High stood out as a likely place to have acquired it, but I had forgotten most of my things in my car, my purse being one.

Whatever the case, however it had fallen into my possession, it was mine.

            A minute smile tipped my lips. ‘Drac’s Lair.’ What would it be like? Was it a club, a time and place to hang out? Would anyone I knew be there? Why had I not heard of it before? Its location was not far �" the closest city to this span of nothing. The only dilemma I could foresee was the consent of my parents due to my underage, though the flyer had refrained from giving an age limit.

            I was not certain I wanted them to know, regardless.