Blood Bond

Wood Point Academy crawled with bodies. And even though they weren’t killer hybrids or attempting any sort of attack, it made me claustrophobic. It was Thursday. Tomorrow signaled the end of the school year. Parents had arrived to cheer on their graduates. Unlike most high schools, where completing twelfth grade was the main celebration, Hunters considered it a milestone to complete each and every year of high school. From freshman to senior, everyone got some sort of ceremony. I guess when you trained as hard as we did, passing your classes was something to be admired.
The junior class had voted on a prom sort of thing, complete with a crepe-papered auditorium and a sound system with enough bass to induce a heart murmur. I shoved aside the flash back to the last school dance I’d attended, the one where I’d caught my ex-boyfriend, George, making out with my arch-nemesis, Cindy Adams. Listening to her smug comments over that night, I’d lost control of my temper and punched her in the nose. An action that had gotten me expelled and landed me here at Wood Point, a private boarding school for Werewolf Hunters like myself. The irony of the connection between that dance and this one wasn’t lost on me.
The thump-thump of the beat as it slammed out of the speakers echoed in my ears and vibrated through my bones. Some kid with red sunglasses and a suit jacket to match bobbed his head to the beat of a remixed version of something that sounded suspiciously like reggae. I hated reggae.
“You look thrilled,” Cambria said. We stood shoulder to shoulder, surveying the room.
“There’s just so much to see and do, I can hardly contain myself.”
She grinned. “Just because you’re antsy to get home and see your sexy wolf-boy doesn’t mean you can be grumpy with the rest of us.”
“Did you just call Wes sexy?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Please, you have nothing to worry about and you know it.” She flipped her hair, which she’d highlighted with streaks of ghostly white. It glowed in the black light. “Besides, you’re supposed to be my wingman tonight.”
“There’s not much to choose from, unless you count that guy.” I pointed to the brightly dressed kid still grooving to his own beat.
“Uh, pass.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re being sulky again. You’ve been like that all month.”
“What can I say? I was ready for summer a month ago.”
“No, you were ready for Wes a month ago. Do you know where he is this week?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t talked to him in a few days. Last I heard they were passing through some hick town in Nebraska.”
“What the hell are they doing in Nebraska?”
“I don’t know. Grandma said they caught a trail that looked like it could be hybrids and decided to chase it down.”
“Is he coming back to take you home?”
“Not enough time. Grandma’s coming tomorrow.” I shrugged, trying to pretend I didn’t miss Wes so much it hurt, and bumped her with my shoulder. “Speaking of home, what are your plans?”
Cambria hesitated. She’d been trying to reach her mom for weeks now with no luck. I wasn’t sure what that meant because Cambria wouldn’t come out and say, but I knew it wasn’t good.
“I think I’m going to become a hippie.”
“What?”
“Like a nomad, a wanderer. You know, road trip. See the country.”
“You don’t have a car.”
“A hitchhiker, then. I’d get a lot of pickups. My thumb is pretty sexy.”
“What happened with your mom? Why aren’t you going home?”
“She’s unavailable.”
“And that means what exactly?”
Her shoulder rose and fell against mine. “She’s in rehab. Or so my building manager tells me. She hasn’t returned any of my calls. I checked with the place she stayed at for a while last year and they ‘can’t confirm patient records.’” She used her fingers to air quote the phrase. “Which basically means she’s there and can’t be reached.”
“What are you going to do?” I tried not to look sorry or pitying. I knew Cambria would hate pity.
“I don’t know. She’s got a van. Or she did last time I was home. If it’s still there, I can use it and maybe take a trip somewhere. I think I have a cousin in Biloxi.”
I didn’t know much about Cambria’s relationship with her mom. Conversation about it was rare, except the occasional allusion to the fact that they didn’t get along when her mom was around—something I could sympathize with. But even with the fighting, this seemed worse. My chest ached at the thought of Cambria going home to an empty house. “Come home with me,” I said.
“Are you serious?”
Disco boy moonwalked by us and winked. We ignored him.
“Seriously, Cam. You have nothing better to do and my mom is probably going to house arrest me for that crap with Miles. I would love having a friend under the same roof.” I smiled. “You’d be doing me a favor.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re trying to get me to feel better about mooching off you all summer, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” I squeaked, keeping the smile plastered to my face. “Is it working?”
“Totally,” she agreed.