Blood Type Read Free

hill.
    Olivia finally spoke up. “I know. I’ll ask my parents if you can stay with us for a while. Maybe you just need to get out of your house and clear your head.”
    I looked at her, raising a brow. “I’m sure your mother would love that. She has enough to worry about with Henry and Eleanor. She doesn’t need me complicating things.” Olivia’s face fell and I touched her shoulder. “But it was a nice idea, Libby. Really.”
    I’d been doing a lot of thinking—more like obsessing—since John told me I had a choice to make. Thinking was all I ever did these days, it seemed. Maybe skipping town, just up and leaving everyone I cared about, was what I needed to do. I could crawl away somewhere and die in peace; spare them having to watch my body slowly disintegrate without any real answers as to why.
    And yet the idea of saving my friends and family a bit of grief did nothing to make the thought of leaving Olivia any easier. We’d been best friends for as long as I could remember. We’d shared everything . Or rather, everything but the biggest secret of my life. I reached for Olivia’s hand in the dark and squeezed, and she squeezed back.
    At last we made it home, our faces and small parts stiff and frozen with the rain and sleet that had started to fall. We waved goodbye to each other and trudged to our respective homes.
    I found my mother in the living room laughing hysterically at t he television, a glass of something dark red in her hand. M y heart fluttered behind my ribs at the sight of it . I put a hand to my chest and took a deep breath , fighting back the rising anxiety . “How many of those have you had, Mom?” I said, only somewhat jokingly.
    She looked up, a smile still on her face , then waved me over and patted the cushion next to her. “It’s only cranberry juice and seltzer water. You know I’m prone to urinary infections. One a day helps.” She raised her glass to me and took a sip.
    “TMI, Mom . ” 
    “What?”
    “Nothing. What are you watching?”
    Mom patted the couch again as her building laughter bubble d out once more. I continued to stand.
    “ America’s Funniest Home Videos ,” she said. “There was this squirrel . . . on a bird feeder . . .” She was laughing so hard now she had to set her glass on the table for fear of spilling its contents. “A crow . . .” she said, gesturing. “Dive-bombed . . .”
    I didn’t laugh. Not in a joking mood, I didn’t even crack a smile. “Hilarious. Are you sure that drink’s not spiked?”
    My response had a sobering effect on her. She pushed up the sleeve of her sweater and looked at her watch. “Where have you been, anyway? It’s after dark, and it’s sleeting. I called your cell, but you didn’t answer.”
    “It’s Friday night, Mom,” I said, finally removing my hat and coat now that I had warmed up some. I draped them on the back of the recliner. “Olivia and I took the bus downtown and just, you know, hung out .”
    My mother stood up suddenly and advanc ed toward me, her eyes wide. “And what’s that bandage on your neck? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call me?”
    I put my hand on my neck and took a step back, having momentarily forgotten about the tattoo. “No, I’m . . . I’m fine.” But in truth, the deed had been done. I would never be any semblance of fine again.
    “If you’re not hurt,” my mother persisted, “then why is there a bandage on your neck?”
    I removed my gloves last of all and massaged my forehead, feeling a slight headache coming on. Of course, I hadn’t really expected to just waltz in and not encounter a total pare ntal freak-out. Mom and Dad were strictly against marring one’s body. I was thirteen before I got my ears pierced, and I’d had to practically beg for studs so tiny they were nearly invisible. A tattoo was a lot worse.
    “It’s nothing, Mom. It’s just a . . . tattoo,” I finished in a very small voice.
    “A tattoo?” She sat abruptly as if she’d been pushed