Read Online Jane Jones by Caissie St. Onge - Free Book Online Page B

house while I’m not here, Dottie. It isn’t safe.” My brother and I exchanged a brief look, before casting our eyes elsewhere. Neither of us would ever say it, but we both thought the same thing. My father had been in the house when the worst thing possible had happened to us. So had my mother. They had both been powerless to protect us then, hadn’t they? To worry about inviting some random kid into our home now seemed sort of ridiculous. Especially since any one of us probably could have glamoured him, and my mother or Zach could have easily drained him if he’d turned out to be an enemy. Picturing Eli Matthews white and wasted on my kitchen floor sent a shiver up my neck, and I shook my head to dislodge the image.
    “He’s a good boy, Jim.
I
invited him to come. It’s good for Jane to be with children her own … her own age. Well, of course they’re not technically the same age, but … you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s required. We don’t really have a choice.” She patted my arm solicitously and my skin tingled pleasantly the way it does when one vampire touches another in a gentle way.
    “Well,” my father said, still looking unconvinced, “I don’t like it, but I guess we can’t go bucking the system.What’s the project, Janie?” My dad’s face transformed from a mask of worry to the face of love as he beamed at me warmly. No matter how stiff and cold my heart, it always swelled when my father looked at me like that. But even though I was a daddy’s girl all the way, I wasn’t really ready to discuss my history project or my history project partner with anyone just now.
    “It’s no big deal, Dad. Just a history paper. But,” I said, shoving my spoon into my mouth and withdrawing it with a lipsmacking
pop
, “I really have to run or I’m going to be late.”
    “Can I give you a ride, Magpie?” Magpie was another name he’d called me for as long as I could remember, even after I had gotten too old. Although I wasn’t fond of being treated like an eternal child, it comforted me to think that I would always be my father’s Magpie.
    “Thanks, Daddy, but I’m going to walk. I don’t want to waste any of this post-feed energy. Thank you for the breakfast, Ma.” I stood up from the table, kissed my father on the cheek, and slung my backpack over my shoulders while crossing to the door.
    Rather than discouraging me from walking (shock) my mother began to run through her regular checklist of questions that always preceded any time spent outdoors during daylight hours. “Are you wearing sunblock?”
    “I put some on before I went to sleep.” I was lying. I hadn’t. I just didn’t feel like getting all goopy and it was only a short way to school. Besides, aren’t teenagers known for sometimes making bad choices? It was kind of my duty.
    “Do you have your cell phone? In case—”
    “In case I suffer a massive SPF failure during the ten-minute walk?” I cut her off. “Check.”
    Undeterred, she pressed on. “Are you planning on wearing a hat?”
    “Ma, I’m not planning to wear a hat because I don’t really have a hat face. I’ll just let my hair hang in my eyes like you hate. I’ll be fine.” My hand on the doorknob, I thought I’d be able to make my escape, but this morning my mother had a new addition to her list.
    “Don’t forget—we’ll see you later for that meeting with your vice principal,” she reminded me.
    Ugh, I
had
forgotten, momentarily, but I wasn’t about to let her know that. “How could I forget?” I replied, and banged through the screen door, then bounded down the steps. It was really incredible how even just two tiny drops of blood warmed my skin against the brisk breeze. I felt more like myself than I had in weeks and I felt ready to face the day. Let Astrid torment me. Let Mrs. Rosebush pigeonhole me as a troubled teen. Let Charlotte Smithburg continue her transformation from my favorite teacherinto someone who kind of freaked me out a