Blue Sacrifice (Blue Davison) (2 page)

The Davison women were notorious in Lily Falls, but the
Zandis
had their own sordid history
in the town. A wealthy family, who owned many of the businesses which drew people
in and out of the area, the
Zandis
stood out for their wealth and Persian descent. They were notorious
though because eight years earlier Lacey’s uncle massacred every person on his street.
Systematically butchering one family after another, Assad Zandi finished with
his own then took his life.

Many people would have left a town where their
family’s name was so marred, but the
Zandis
were like the Davisons. We had come to Lily Falls a long time ago and just stayed. No matter what happened, we never left. This remained
true until Aunt Aurora moved away nearly nine years ago and just months before
the normally gentle Assad went on his murder spree.

Heading towards me in the large lunch room, Lacey
was beautiful in a way I could never be. Her black hair shined. Her dark eyes
glimmered. Her olive skin was flawless even through puberty. If she had one
physical imperfection, it was that she spent a lot of time plucking and waxing.
Lacey might be a million times prettier than me, but I’d never waxed anything
and I never planned to. I’d rather be a hundred year old hairy monster than get
anywhere near hot wax. Lacey always laughed when I said this even though we
both knew it was unlikely I would reach eighteen, let alone a hundred.

“What happened, Blue?” Lacey asked, joining me in
line.

“I think a guy came along and stopped me. That or
I made him up in my head so I could back out of my plan.”

“Was he hot?” Lacey asked, running her manicured
nails through her long locks.

“Yeah, very much so. Thanks for asking.”

“Then he probably was an illusion. A mirage of
sexy to distract you. I hope you got some sexy times out of the crazy.”

Staring incredulously at her, I laughed. “Can you
imagine me making out with air? How stupid would that be?”

“You talked to air, so why not give it a little
tongue?”

Laughing, we pretended like I hadn’t planned to
kill myself earlier. We also ignored how I would try again tomorrow.

“Need a ride after school?” Lacey asked as we took
our trays outside to eat in the courtyard.

Shivering in the cold, I nodded. “I left my bike
at home. Didn’t want someone stealing it.”

“Right because a dead chick needs a bike.”

“Gretchen could sell it after I died, you boob.
It’s a nice bike.”

“Not that nice and would Gretchen really sell your
stuff?”

“To cleanse her life of negative energy, she
would. I’ll be dead, so I don’t care if she sells it.”

Lacey sighed, her nose turning pink from the cold.
“Will you go back tomorrow?”

“Probably. Need to do it soon. The voices are
getting louder. It’s time.”

Lacey’s dark eyes met my light ones and she just
understood. We lived in Lily Falls and we understood in a way the kids around
us couldn’t. They were outsiders to this place and they thought like outsiders.
For Lacey and me, we knew Lily Falls expected its sacrifices.

My last class of the day was Government and I made
a habit of always being late. I purposely walked slowly, but not because I
hated Government. The teacher was actually sexy like Indiana Jones, rugged with
a nerdy vibe. At the start of the year, I had flirted with him real obvious
like. Nothing as obvious as the girl in the movie who wrote “I love you” on her
eyelids, but pretty damn obvious. Lots of girls flirted with Mr. Farmer. He was
hot after all and we were hormonal. The problem was that with me Farmer flirted
back. Now I worked to be the last to class and the first out of the door, just
to avoid taking our flirting to a level even I knew was unacceptable.

Living every day like I knew I would be dead soon
had led to many stupid choices. I slept with guys who then wrote my name and
number on bathroom walls. On the upside, I was known to give a good time. A
year earlier, I dyed my hair blue which was a really bad look for me. I also
got a tramp stamp of a smiley face. A whole lot of dumb crap that wouldn’t
matter once I jumped in the river one day. Yet even if I would be dead tomorrow,
I knew screwing my Government teacher was out of bounds.

Waiting at my locker, I wiped at my fat lips to
get rid of the pink gloss. I wiped off a little eyeliner too. No need to look
too attractive for Mr. Inappropriate with a Minor.

“With or without makeup, you are lovely, Kate.”

Considering I had only told one person my name was
Kate, I wondered if I was hallucinating again. I glanced over my shoulder to
find Flynn standing too close and wearing a roguish grin.

“Or is it Blue?”

“Why are you here?” I asked, turning to face him.

“I’m a student here.”

“Since when?”

“Since today.”

“You were late on your first day of school?”

“Aye and good thing too or else I wouldn’t have
stumbled upon you. Is your terminal tumor feeling any better?”

“Miraculously healed. Well so long.”

Flynn didn’t move and I didn’t shove him aside. He
reached out and caressed a lock of my long red hair in his fingers.

“I worry about you, Blue. Or do you prefer Kate?
Is it a middle name?”

“I don’t care what you call me. I just want you to
move.”

“I’ll move if you’ll meet me after school so we
can talk about what happened on the bridge today.”

No way did Flynn want to talk. A guy didn’t fondle
a chick’s hair and give such a devious grin if he was worried about her mental
health. He wanted to add another notch to his bedpost. I’d have played harder
to get, but I was planning to die the next day.

“Meet me at 56 Boone Street, next to the donut
shop.”

Flynn lost his smile. “What’s there?”

“A real comfy spot between two dumpsters where we
can talk. You’ll need to be quick though. I have a busy evening tonight.”

Flynn frowned. “Quick how?”

“Don’t play coy. We both know what you want and
I’m game.”

His green eyes watched me then he smiled. “I’ll
meet you. What time?”

“Five?”

“Perfect. We’ll have dinner.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed past him. “I don’t want
to date you, Finn.”

“Flynn, but I think you knew that.”

Sighing, I stopped walking and glanced back.
“You’re right. That was rude, Flynn. I should treat you better since you saved
me long enough for my tumor to heal. Have a great day.”

“I’ll see you at five then?” he called out and I
just shrugged.

Flynn was achingly beautiful and I suspected he
was probably an above decent lover. The manwhores usually were from all of the
practice, but I didn’t really want to encourage him. On the other hand, a guy
like him would be less interested once I put out. They loved the chase, so I
would give in and enjoy his beauty. Then I would tell him I’d see him at school
and instead jump off of the bridge. Sounded like a solid plan.

After school, Lacey drove me home in her power
blue VW Bug. Listening to the radio, she clicked her power blue nails against
her power blue leather steering wheel. Adjusting her power blue sweater under
her power blue jacket, she smiled at me. Oh yeah, Lacey was a big fan of power
blue.

It was my fault or really my mom’s. When I was seven,
I was invited to one of the many parties the Zandis threw on a very regular
basis. The family celebrated everything. Half birthdays, anniversaries of overseas
vacations, and every milestone they could think of. I couldn’t remember what that
particular party was for, but I was invited because I was officially Lacey’s
best friend by then.

My mom made a decent living as a legal assistant,
but we couldn’t afford super fancy outfits for every occasion. I had one nice
dress and it was blue. My mom always told me she picked the dress because of my
eyes, not my name, but people didn’t care. As Blue, I was expected to wear blue
and I fought the expectation. Though truth be told, I have always looked pretty
amazing in blue.

Lacey’s mom Amira decided since we were best
friends, her daughter should theme her dress to mine. This was what people did
when they had so much money and time on their hands. They themed everything. While
my mom made fun of the Zandis, she always said she would theme everything too
if we were rich.

So Amira bought her daughter a power blue dress to
go with mine and Lacey was livid. She wanted pink. Her older sister Alyssa wore
pink. Pink was girly, but blue was for boys. Oh, the humanity when Lacey first
saw the blue dress. How would she ever stand out next to her prettier older sister
when she was wearing blue?

At the party, every guest fawned over Lacey’s
power blue ballerina-style dress. They told her again and again how lovely she
looked. It was one of the few occasions when Lacey received more compliments
than Alyssa and power blue was the reason.

Flash forward nine years and Lacey was a power
blue addict. Everything had to be that color if she was to shine. The weirdest
part wasn’t her color obsession, but Lacey’s assertion that she was a tomboy
because she wore blue. Compared to me and my jeans and tees, Lacey dressed like
the frigging Queen of England. Yet compared to her princess sister, she did
seem a bit boyish.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Lacey asked, her dark
eyes worried. “If you’re going to leave, I need to prepare.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Call me tonight and let me know. If you don’t
jump and I spend the morning thinking you have, you’ll ruin another day for
me.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t be like that. You know what I mean.
Feelings aren’t my thing.”

Smiling, I tugged at her thick black hair. “You’re
just too much of a tomboy for that.”

Lacey shared my grin. “It’s true I’ve never been
very feminine.”

We laughed, though I wasn’t sure we were laughing
at the same thing. Either way, I said goodbye then headed into the yellow
bungalow I called home.

After my mom sacrificed herself, I needed a place
to live and Aunt Penny was in a mental institution by then. While Aunt Aurora
wanted to take me in, she refused to return to Lily Falls to pick me up which
pissed off the Social Services lady. I ended up in foster care with a woman
named Gretchen Poirier. Six months later, I was adopted by Gretchen, but she
had never even tried to be my mom.

Gretchen was my friend. I didn’t even have to call
her mom. She wanted a kid and ended up with me, but I don’t think she really
enjoyed being a parent. She didn’t help me with my homework. She didn’t
remember my birthday. She didn’t know where I was at any moment of the day,
unless I was standing right next to her.

Yet Gretchen wasn’t a bad person, just an
uninspired parent. I was a phase she went through and she went through many of
them. She was into men at one point. Then she was a lesbian. Now she was
bisexual, but didn’t date. She used to paint. Then she wrote poetry. Then novels.
Then she turned to music. Finally she started collecting things. Angel
figurines, thimbles, shot glasses, and cats. I wasn’t sure Gretchen would have
been allowed to adopt me if she tried today. Our house had a hoarder vibe to it
with a dozen indoor cats and a dozen outdoor cats. She also had a dog I hadn’t
seen in months, but Gretchen assured me was still alive.

Gretchen’s latest phase was business owner. Ever
since she was a teenager, she helped her rich aunt with errands. When her aunt
died, Gretchen received sums of money at various intervals. I was never clear
how it worked, though I suspected the inheritance was in the hands of a trust
which doled out money only if Gretchen used it properly. This money was how
Gretchen bought the pretty three bedroom bungalow. It was also how she bought
her food truck.

Gretchen’s old boyfriend Hans helped her design
the menu of the food truck and he handled the money part of the operation.
Gretchen basically just cooked. She was a pretty good cook too. While she
rarely cooked at home, I usually ate dinners off of the food truck and they
were always tasty sandwiches or tacos. Gretchen changed the menu a lot depending
on her current phase. Her changes were mainly related to what she saw on the
Travel or Cooking Channels. If Anthony Bourdain liked something, Gretchen
wanted it on her menu.

Entering the house, I received no love from the
cats. They weren’t mine. They were more like a family with human caretakers. If
their bowls were empty, they would have shown interest. With their tummies
full, I was just the annoying person who woke them from their naps.

Three years earlier, Gretchen had the bungalow
remodeled so she could move her private quarters upstairs. I suspected she was
concerned I was using her toothbrush when she wasn’t around. While I couldn’t explain
this particular fear, Gretchen tended to be worried about the little things. A
tornado heading for our street was a minor nuisance, yet the daily paper
landing in our lawn instead of the walkway was enough to send her into an
emotional tailspin.