Blood Type (9 page)

And yet I couldn’t deny that there was something about John that edged out Zach in a very definite way, even if I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

John held up his hands. “Take it easy. There’s nothing going on between Blake and me.”

Zach squared his shoulders, intent on confrontation. “Then what are you doing here?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Oh really?”
Zach said.

“I think you should leave,” I said to Zach, not giving John the chance to answer. “Obviously my mother should have talked to me before sending you over here.”

“Just who do you think you are?” he said to John, poking him in the chest with his finger and ignoring me completely. “You waltz in here and think you can steal my girlfriend away from me. Well
,
I’ve got news for you: That’s
not
going to happen.”

John took a deliberate step back. “I hate to inform you, but she’s not your girlfriend anymore. And I would appreciate you keeping your hands off me.”

“Oh, yeah?
And what if I don’t?” Zach shoved John in the shoulders with both hands, making him rock back on his heels.

I rolled my eyes. The last thing I needed was two guys fighting over me on the front stoop of my house. And if I had to place a bet, it would be on John. Zach was a fantastic athlete, but he really didn’t have the brawling spirit in him.
He was even
scared of
spider
s
!
I suspected
John
could take care of himself in a fight just fine. He had that look about him. And as annoying
as
Zach was being at
the moment, I didn’t want him to get hurt.

I tugged Zach’s arm.
“Stop it
.
You need to leave.”

He yanked his arm out of my grasp. “No.
He’s
the one who needs to leave. I came over here to talk to you . . . I brought you flowers, Blake!”

“And I appreciate that, Zach. But can we please talk about this later when you’re not so emotional?”

He
broke out in hysterical laughter
, trying to disprove my point, but failing. “Who’s emotional? I’m not emotional! I just can’t believe you broke up with me for
this
guy, and you don’t even have the decency to tell me why.” He looked at me head-on, his face going an angry shade of red. “You’re nothing but a back-stabbing bitch!”

John stepped between Zach and me
, his expression hard as steel
.
“Get out of here now
.
Go.
Before I do something that will get me in a lot of trouble.”

Zach’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and his throat worked in a convulsive swallow as though he meant to
put up a fight
. But he turned without another word and stormed off down the walkway back to his car.

John and I watched in silence as Zach reversed out of the drive
way
, his tires screeching as he sped off down the street.

I let out my breath.
“Sorry about that
.
” 

John’s hand brushed my shoulder. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have provoked him. He seems like a really good guy, all things considered, and I’d probably react the same way if a girl like you had just dumped me for some loser.”

I tried to smile, but I was pretty sure it
came out more like
a grimace. “I don’t think you’re a loser.”

“Do you want to cancel?
We can do this some other time if you’re not up to it today.”

But what good would it do to cancel? I’d only be stuck at home dwelling on the fact I’d made Zach miserable.
Again
.

I shook my head. “No, I definitely need to get out of the house. Just let me leave a note and lock up.”

As John and I were walking toward his car he slipped his hand in mine. “For what it’s worth
,
I think you made the right decision.”

We ended up at the wide mouth of the trail leading to Taughannock Falls. I hadn’t been to see the falls since the end-of-year trip my class took in the fifth grade. While my parents enjoyed the outdoors and fresh air, they preferred lounging by the pool or on the deck of someone’s boat, rather than doing anything too physically strenuous like hiking.

We had walked maybe a hundred feet, clusters of people passing us both ways, when John pointed to a small break in the spindly trees just off the trail.

He towed
me by the hand.
“This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, a note of breathless anticipation in his voice.

We edged our way down a small slope and broke through the trees, ending up in the valley of a dried-up riverbed. The dark gray walls of the shale-rock canyon rose to the sky on either side. My breath caught in my chest
, overcome by the sheer beauty of it
.
“Wow
!
” 

“It’s something, isn’t it?” John said with a grin, satisfied by my reaction.

We were not alone, the two of us. Other people had the same idea, and small
scatterings
of people
filled the canyon
. Still, the space was so vast it could have been just him and me.

The bedrock
dipped and rose
so that rainwater collected in small, isolated pools.  “Take off your shoes so they won’t get wet. And see the algae?” he said, pointing to streaks of green and rust-orange film on the rocks. “Be careful where you step. It’s slippery.”

I had ventured only a little way when, as if to prove him right, my right foot skidded out in front of me. I flailed my arms to compensate, but John
had quicker reflexes
. He grabbed me around the waist to steady me, gently setting me back on my bare feet.

“Hang on there,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

My cheeks flamed. “Thanks. I’m not usually so klutzy. I’d probably get kicked off the team if Coach saw that
brilliant move
.”

He laughed. “I doubt that. You’re better than all of them
put together
.”

I ducked my head, embarrassed
by his flattery
. “
No I’m not, but t
hanks.”

John stared at me, seemingly amused. “You know, I
woul
d
n’t
have ever pegged you for a cheerleader.”

Now it was my turn to look amused. “I’m not sure whether or not to be insulted.”

John laughed. “You’re not the stereotypical ditz, is all I meant.”

“Gee, thanks.
Olivia dragged me to this cheer clinic when we were in the sixth grade,” I explained as we kept walking. “I didn’t want to do it at first, but she was too scared to go alone. I was more interested in other things back then.”

Every now and then John’s arm grazed mine, and his dark, coarse hairs tickled my smooth skin. “Like what sort of things?”

“Like drawing.
I wanted to be a fashion designer for the longest time. Go to school in New York. Move to Paris one day. The whole bit.” I shrugged my shoulders. “But I found out I was pretty good at cheering and tumbling, and now here I am. Co-captain with Olivia.”

John grinned. “Do you two do everything together?”

I thought about how Zach and I used to double-date with Olivia and Gabe, once upon a time. That wouldn’t be happening anymore.
“We used to
.
” John didn’t ask what I meant, and I didn’t elaborate.

“So what’s up with you and Jill?” I said
to change
subject. “I had no idea you were even dating. Usually she doesn’t keep quiet about those
sorts
of things.
And don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really think you’re her type.
”

John shrugged. “It wasn’t anything serious. And it’s over now.”

We walked in silence for a few moments,
me too busy
wonder
ing
how many girls he’d dated in the past
to say anything
. I’d always taken him for a loner.
Guess I’d been wrong.

“So.
Cheer camp,” I said, when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “We had a really intense clinic the week after school ended, and then there was another week when all we did was learn new routines and tumbling. That was more or less just for fun
, though
. It was supposed to be a team-bonding thing
.
”
I
rubbed
the back of my left thigh in memory of a pulled muscle. “I’m
still
sore!”

“Does that mean you
have some
free
time
until school starts again?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing exactly what he was insinuating.
I couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across my face. “I suppose it does.”

At last we came upon a length of bedrock completely submerged in water from one bank to another—inches deep in some parts, though mid-calf in others, judging by the way a group of girls was squealing and splashing. John and I crossed via an uneven path of rocks jutting slightly out of the water and made our way to drier ground. He pointed to a large boulder, and that’s where we headed to sit down and rest.

John removed the pack he’d slung across his back and set it in his lap. He rummaged inside before handing me a blue aluminum bottle. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

I took the bottle with relief.
“Thanks
.
I’m glad one of us had the foresight to bring drinks.”

He pulled out a red bottle for himself and, unscrewing the top, upended it and took a generous swig. “I don’t know about you, but I really needed that
.
” 

“It’s hot,” I commented, for lack of anything else to say. Strands of hair
stuck
to my face.  I hoped I didn’t stink, and I had to resist the urge to lift up my arm and take a whiff.

John looked at me
, one brow raised in question.
“Hungry?”

I clutched my stomach in response. My meager breakfast had done little to fortify me. “Very.”

“I figured as much
.
”
He pulled
a brown paper sack from his bag and pass
ed
it to me. “It sounded like I woke you up when I called, and I can’t imagine you had much of a chance to eat anything.”

I peeked into the sack, my stomach growling with the anticipation of food, and pulled out a wrapped deli sandwich from the local bagel shop.

“Tomato and mozzarella on rosemary focaccia,” John said. 
“Is that okay?”

“Sounds delicious.”
I
unwrapped
the sandwich and held out half to him.

He waved it away and placed a plastic container of strawberries between us. “I’m good
.
” He picked up one of the small, dark red berries and held it at the level of my mouth. “I had some of these left over from yesterday. Open,” he commanded when he sensed my hesitation.

I opened my mouth obligingly, despite feeling very self-conscious, and he popped the strawberry inside. I bit down, the firm fruit bursting with juicy sweetness.

“So tell me about
yourself
,” I said around a mouthful of berry. “You know more about me than I know about you.”

He put a strawberry into his own mouth and shrugged his shoulders. “What’s there to tell?”

I looked down at the sandwich in my lap and pinched off a bit of the bread.
“Lots of things
.
Like, what do you do in your spare time?”

“I work mostly.
I
sort of
have to.
It’s just me.”

That took me
by surprise
and I coughed, nearly choking on the food. “What do you mean it’s just you?” 

Two young kids—a boy and a girl—ran by us just then, their mother yelling from a short distance away that they’d better stop this instant and wait for her or they were turning around and going home. John watched them for a moment before his gaze came to rest on me again.

“I lost both my parents a long time ago,” he said. 

“Oh. I’m sorry. So you grew up in foster care?” I asked, feeling
a frown pull at my mouth
. 

“Something
like
that,” John said, an unforgotten strawberry pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “I was . . . adopted, but I pretty much live on my own now.”