Read Online Sweetblood (9781439108741) by Pete Hautman - Free Book Online

shrimp?”
    â€œCrevettes,”
I say.
    And so it goes. Gustave and René both decide to have
steak au poivre
for dinner. Guy wants
poisson et frites
—his way of saying fish and chips—and I decide to go for the
boudin noir,
or blood sausage.
Ooh-la-la!
    Guy’s knee keeps bumping mine. The place where they touch feels hot, like sunburn. I can see his tattoo peeking out from his shirtsleeve, the hilt of the sword and the red tip of the heart. René and Jean-Claude are discussing appetizers. They are getting goofy. René is insisting on
escargot,
while Jean-Claude wants
les oeufs du lapin étouffée
(stuffed rabbit eggs). Guy leans over and whispers to me, “You want to head over to Harker Village after school? Grab a latte and something to eat? Snails or something?”
    â€œCan’t,” I say.
    We return to our weird meal plans.
    After class, in the hall, Guy stops me. His blue eyes pin me to the wall. “You sure? I’ll buy you a cappuccino at the Bean.”
    â€œI told you. I can’t. Why don’t you ask Marquissa?”
    â€œMarquissa?” He looks puzzled. “Why would I do that?”
    I look away, embarrassed now. “Anyway, I’m grounded. My parents have got me under house arrest.”
    He says, “How can they do that? You’re almost an adult.”
    â€œI’m sixteen.”
    â€œA couple hundred years ago you’d already be married and have kids.”
    â€œA couple hundred years ago I’d be dead.”
Sweetened to death.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYeah.”
Or maybe with a stake through my heart.
    â€œI thought vampires lived forever.”
    â€œI’m of the mortal variety.”
    Guy laughs. The halls are emptying as kids filter into classrooms.
    â€œI gotta go,” I say.

12

    Poisson
    Fish—Harlan Fisher, M.D.—is a very handsome man, but old. His temples are gray, and the crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes have more toes than a centipede. I’m sure he’s older than my parents, and they’re almost fifty. This afternoon, Fish is wearing jeans and a yellow shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to show off his hairy arms. You would never guess that he’s a doctor except for the stethoscope. He grins at me as he enters the examination room.
    â€œWhat’s up, Lucinda Szabo?”
    â€œThat’s
Ms.
Lucinda Szabo, to you.”
    â€œOh-ho! In a mood today, are we? How have your blood sugars been?”
    I tell him, lying only a little bit, which he expects. He goes through the usual list of questions, making notes on my chart. He chides me for my last glycosylated hemoglobin—that’s the test for long-term blood sugar level—andcongratulates me for having a pulse. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter as he checks my feet for signs of neuropathy and looks in my eyes for signs of retinopathy. If I didn’t know better I would say he is nervous.
    I’m waiting for an opportunity to say something about my problem with my parents, but it’s not an easy thing to get into. Maybe I’ll say nothing, then tell my parents that Fish said I don’t need a shrink. Would they buy it? I don’t think so.
    â€œHello? Earth to Ms. Szabo?” Fish is staring at me.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI asked you how school was going.” He backs off and sits down at his swivel chair.
    â€œOh. Okay, I guess.”
    â€œI heard different. From your mother. She called this morning.”
    â€œOh. Well, it’s not going
that
okay. Basically, I’m flunking out.”
    â€œI thought you were Ms. ‘Straight A’ Szabo.”
    â€œAn older version of me,” I say, quoting Alanis Morrisette.
    â€œI see.” He waits.
    â€œActually, it was this paper I wrote that got me in trouble.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYou remember last time I was here I told you my vampire theory?”
    Fish has very nice, large, even teeth, but they are kind