Bloodthirsty - By Flynn Meaney Page 0,43

forward faster than I could think or breathe. I know that I’m not a superhero. I know that I don’t have special powers. But in that moment, I felt like I did.

Chris Perez was running on one side, along the lockers, and I was running on the other side, along the classroom doors. But I ran at an angle. I cut across. When I caught up, I caught up at Chris’s left shoulder. I dug the palm of my right hand into his shoulder and turned him so he was facing me. Then, with both palms, I slammed him into the lockers.

As a child, when I caught up with Luke when he got lost, I’d always pull him back. I would grab him and pull him back toward me, toward home, toward safety.

But with Chris Perez, I pushed. I pushed him away from me and into the wall. The back of his skull cracked against the wooden beam above the lockers. The chains of his jeans clanged against one of the combination locks.

Perez was surprised I’d caught up so fast, but he was still quick and feisty. He shoved me off him, but I plunged immediately back, forcing my fists into his neck. To hold the rest of his body back, I raised my knee to pin his left hip into the lockers. With the fist not holding the cell phone, he swung at me, but my arms were longer than his and kept me at a safe enough distance. I was taller than Perez, too, by at least four inches, and I emphasized this by looking down on him.

“Drop Cho’s phone,” I ordered.

“Fuck you, Frame,” he choked out hoarsely.

I was briefly flattered that he knew who I was. It actually gave me confidence.

“Feel dizzy?” I asked him. “I’ve got your jugular. And since you’re a dumbass, I’ll tell you what your jugular is. It’s the thing that takes blood from your brain.”

Thank you, Mr. Muncher. Our ninth-grade biology teacher at St. Luke’s had taught us the location of the jugular vein, and also how to use the veins and arteries of the neck in a fight. My life was hell for three weeks after, as I was daily slammed against lockers while some jerk like Johnny Frackas dug his hands into my throat. I remembered the sensation, pinned up and back, trying to jerk forward but feeling first light-headed, then powerless as numbness tingled its way down my arms….

Perez’s fingers ungripped. I felt them go loose next to my knee. Cho’s phone dropped next to Perez’s wide-legged jeans.

Then Perez struggled suddenly, forcing his body forward. He was really strong, and he was kind of banging me around. No longer holding the phone, he had both hands free to grab at my arms, my hands. I made sure my body was far enough back that he couldn’t get at my stomach. But I focused on keeping my hands on his neck.

“Give back his other shit, too,” I said.

“Who gives a shit,” Perez wheezed.

His instinct was to be a smartass. His reflex was to refuse. But then he shut up, and his face changed. His jaw slacked. His eyelids got heavy. He was feeling dizzy, I could tell. And scared—he was scared.

I had Chris Perez exactly where I wanted him. I felt adrenaline throbbing through me, heating my skin. I was focused and fearless. I was dangerous. I was powerful. I was bloodthirsty. This is the moment when my fangs would have come out. They didn’t, but I was still full of conviction.

I was a vampire.

chapter 12

At home that night, assuming that chasing and choking a guy in the hallway would eventually elicit punishment, I decided to jump the gun and tell my parents.

“I kind of got into a fight today,” I said at dinner.

It’s hard to say that casually. Even though my voice was calm, my mom dropped a full bowl of salad. She had read an article on eating local, so she’d stolen a bunch of greens from our neighbor’s garden.

“What happened?” she asked, frantically rushing over to examine me. “Where did he hit you? Do you have a concussion? You’re not going to sleep tonight. Paul, keep him awake tonight.”

“He didn’t get your face, Finn,” my dad said enthusiastically, inspecting me for black eyes. “That’s the important thing. At least he didn’t hit your face.”

“He didn’t hit me at all,” I said.

“Did someone stop him?” my mother asked. “Did a teacher stop him?”

“I stopped him!” I yelled in