Secret Bloodline

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my beta readers. I appreciate the time you all took to read and critique my story.

Thank you to Andrea K. for helping me give this book a title.

Thank you to my family for their support and love through the whole writing process.

Dedicated to Jaedyn

Chapter One

The sun was beating down on me as I sat on the stoop waiting for Mrs. Armstrong to pick me up. I adjusted my hat to keep more of the light from the big, bright ball out of my face. I glared at a penny on the ground, annoyed that the sun was sucking the energy out of me.

A silver car pulled up and the window rolled down. C’mon, Kairi, hop in, a familiar voice called. I stood up, picked up my backpack, and walked to the car. As soon as I was buckled in, Mrs. Armstrong took off down the road. She had cut her long hair and it now bounced off her shoulders. How are you doing? she asked.

Fine, I responded, not really in a sharing mood. Where am I going this time?

She sighed. It’s hard to find a good place for teenagers to go. There aren’t many homes available.

Does that mean I have to go to another group home?

No, I was able to get you in at the Thompsons’. But if this one doesn’t work out, I’m sorry, Kairi, you’ll have to go to a group home. Stopping at a red light, she looked over at me with her kind hazel eyes.

I just nodded. Okay.

Did something specific happen at the last place? She turned back to the road.

No. Foster families never seemed to like me and I could never figure out why. I wasn’t a troublemaker. I just didn’t fit in. The longest I had lasted in one foster home was six months. The shortest, a week. Mrs. Armstrong always got a call that it just isn’t working out and could she please find another place for me to go? Now, after twelve years of being in the system, foster homes were scarce. I had been to almost all of them in the area.

The group homes were harder because there were a lot of kids living there and the kids were meaner than the adults. One even told me I was too pretty to be there. That statement blew my mind. How did one’s beauty or lack thereof determine whether or not they should be in foster care? I didn’t agree with that. I wasn’t ugly, but I’ve never considered myself beautiful.

I remembered it like it was yesterday. It was two years ago and one of my roommates yanked my hair.

Hey! I yelled.

What? she yelled back. You won’t fight me, pretty girl. You wouldn’t want to get dirty. I should punch you. Then you wouldn’t be so pretty, but I’d get in trouble. Can’t have that.

I glared at her, wishing that I had it in me to just knock her out. But she was right. I’d get in trouble for throwing the first punch. I knew that from a previous experience. Just leave me alone.

Look at you, you can’t even look angry at someone. You and those stupid brown, puppy dog eyes of yours. Pathetic! she snapped before she stormed away.

Kairi? Mrs. Armstrong said.

I realized I had missed something. Sorry. What?

I asked if anyone had made you uncomfortable.

No. It was fine.

Hmmm. Somehow I doubt that. She pulled up in front of a faded brownstone. Here we are. I’m afraid you’ll have to switch schools again.

I know. Being the new kid at school wasn’t new to me. I had done it so many times. Sometimes I left a school, went to another, and then went back to the old school. Do I need to go to school? It’ll be out for the summer in a few weeks. Can’t I just…skip?

No, you can’t skip. You need to finish it out.

Bummer, I muttered.

Do you need anything? Mrs. Armstrong asked.

I needed a lot of things. Parents would be nice. Friends. Maybe a boyfriend. A house to call home. Some nice clothes. All things I’d probably never have. No, I answered.

Sighing again, she opened her door. Okay.

I stepped out of the passenger seat and grabbed my bag. We walked up the stairs together. She rang the doorbell and we waited for someone to answer. Who would it be this time? An older couple? An infertile couple? A single person? I could hear footsteps and then the door swung open. A middle-aged couple had won the prize—me! I rolled my eyes at myself. Good evening. The balding man nodded. I’m Mr. Thompson. You must be Kairi.

I sighed. He had said my name like Carrie. It’s Ky-ree, I pronounced it correctly.

Oh. I’m sorry. Ky-ree. That’s pretty.

I smiled. Thank you.

Mrs. Thompson smiled. Welcome, Kairi. Come on in.

I walked in and smelled something mouthwatering. I couldn’t quite place it, but it was sweet and yummy. Mrs. Armstrong and the Thompsons were talking. Here are all the papers needed to register her at school and the medical forms for treatment if she needs it. And then I just need you to sign these papers here and I’ll be out of your hair.

I wandered around their living room. There were some wedding pictures of the Thompsons—they looked much younger, so they must have been taken years ago—and some pictures of a boy and a girl. There was also a table with a bunch of different kids’ pictures on it. Those are all the foster kids that have come to stay with us. Mr. Thompson said. He was standing next to me now.

I nodded. Cool. How many do you have now?

Two girls. Eleven and fourteen. You’re fifteen?

I’ll be sixteen in a month. When I was found, I knew two things, my first name and my birthday.

Cool, he said. Mrs. Thompson loves an excuse to eat cake.

I laughed. Me too.

Kairi, Mrs. Armstrong called. I’ll be going now. You call if you need anything.

I will.

She lingered for a minute, giving me a look I had come to know as her please-try-to-fit-in-this-time look. I understood. I was out of options if it didn’t work out here. When she was gone, the Thompsons called down the other kids for dinner.

When they entered the living room, they stopped short when they saw me. Ivy, Lara, this is Kairi Smith. She’ll be living here, Mrs. Thompson said.

Ivy was the smaller of the two and her jet-black hair hung to her shoulders and swayed when she walked. Lara was taller and bigger, not fat, but looked like she was heading there. Her green eyes narrowed as she looked at me.

Ivy shifted her bright blue eyes to Lara, almost like she was asking for permission. When Lara didn’t respond, she forced a smile and said, Hi.

Hi. I smiled and looked from Ivy to Lara and back again, hoping that maybe this time would be different. By the look on Lara’s face, I doubted it would be.

We walked into a well-kept, but out of date, yellow kitchen where Mrs. Thompson was pulling a ham out of the oven. Try, really try, to get them to like you. That smells delicious, I complimented.

Thank you. It’s ham with a maple syrup and brown sugar glaze on it.

Ooh. No wonder it smelled so good. Can I help? I asked.

Lara, can you show Kairi where the plates are so she can help you set the table?

Lara shot me a look and then said, Sure. She pointed to the cabinet near the sink. They’re in there. Get five…I guess.

I nodded and grabbed five plates out of the cabinet and put them on the table. I did the same with the glasses and silverware. We sat down and had ham, potatoes, and vegetables. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson did their best to keep a conversation going, but neither of the girls said a word to me. Dinner was very good, I said later as I helped to clean up.

Thank you, Mrs. Thompson replied.

She led me upstairs when we were finished with the kitchen and showed me to my room. Against the walls were two twin beds with matching blue comforters. The lack of decoration told me that I was the only occupant of the room—until another foster kid showed up.

I’ll take you to school tomorrow and get you registered. Lights out at ten. There’s a TV in the family room or books if you prefer to read. If you and the girls want to play a game, we have a bunch of board games too.

Okay. Thank you. I started unpacking and when I turned back around, I found her still in the doorway watching me. Was there something else? I asked.

No. Sorry. She quickly went back downstairs.

Weird.

When I was done unpacking, I went to the family room and stared at the TV, not really paying attention to the sitcom that was playing. Lara and Ivy stayed upstairs. Half an hour before lights out, I turned the TV off and went to the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I had to pass Ivy and Lara’s room to get to mine from the bathroom. Ivy and Lara were already in bed, so I crept by quietly. I overheard Lara talking to Ivy. I don’t know. She’s just weird.

No, she’s not, Ivy said. She’s nice.

Lara scoffed. Whatever. Something’s off about her.

I sighed and kept walking to my room. Only here for a few hours and already someone didn’t like me. Hanging my head, I entered my room and climbed in bed.

Sleep came quickly, but so did the nightmares. I could never make sense of them, but they had to do with being chased by monsters. I often woke up with my heart pounding. What was wrong with me that I had so many nightmares? They shook me to the core. The last time was so bad that I was trembling and had tears running down my face.

In the morning, I stood in front of the mirror getting ready for school. I had brushed my hair and pulled it into a ponytail. I had a little bit of makeup and was trying to decide how much to put on.

You’re so white, Ivy said, scaring me from the doorway.

You’re white too. I laughed.

Yeah, but you’re really white.

True. I was pale. I never used powder or foundation because there wasn’t any for someone with skin as pale as mine. I put on some blush and eyeliner. Then I rummaged through my bag for my lipstick and found a bright red one. That would work. I was wearing jeans and a black shirt. The red would stand out.

Lastly, I examined a brown freckle of mine near my left ear. It was bigger and darker than a normal freckle, but it wasn’t a mole and certainly didn’t have a hair sticking out from it. No amount of makeup could ever cover it up either. It was just there.

Time to go! Mrs. Thompson called. I walked slowly down the stairs, dreading the day in store for me.

Before going outside, I put on my hat and sunglasses. Ivy shot me a strange look.

I shrugged and said, I burn easily…because I’m so white.

She giggled. Lara sent her an evil look and she shut up. I wondered why Ivy needed Lara’s approval for everything. Did Ivy do something wrong and Lara was hanging it over her head? Was Lara just a bully?

In the car, Mrs. Thompson gestured I should sit in the front passenger seat. I fiddled with the necklace that hung around my neck. That’s pretty, Mrs. Thompson said.

I looked down at the necklace. It was a big, gold heart on a gold chain. It looked really old, antique-like. I only took it off to shower, and that was only because I was afraid that the water might ruin it. I was told that I had been found with it. A small, petite, blonde girl with a big necklace around her neck. It was the only thing I had of my parents, or what I assumed had been my parents. At the very least, it was the only thing that might someday lead me to my family.

The one time I started a fight was when some girl in a group foster home tried to take it from me. I punched her so hard she hit the ground. I was immediately removed from that home. It was totally worth it.

Thanks, I muttered.

We arrived at the high school, and Lara and Ivy took off for the middle school next door. Mrs. Thompson led me into the office where she sat down and filled out paperwork. We met with the principal, who looked it all over. Seems like everything is in order. I don’t see any problems from your previous school. I hope you’ll like it here.

We were then sent to the guidance office so they could work up a schedule for me. We talked as they flipped through my transcript. I was in tenth grade, but certainly nowhere near the top of my class. I was average—C’s were what I did best. I didn’t really care. I wasn’t sure there was anything out there for me after high school.

You can start tomorrow, the counselor said. Pick up a copy of your schedule as you head out.

Back in the car, Mrs. Thompson asked more about my necklace. Was that necklace from your family?

I guess. I shrugged. I’ve always had it.

It looks very old. Does it open?

I don’t think so. I fiddled with it a little bit, dragging it back and forth, wondering why she was so interested in it.

When we got back to the house, I plopped myself down in front of the TV and watched it for the rest of the day. Mrs. Thompson checked on me a few times. We have books, she reminded me.

I’m not a big reader.

Okay. Let me know if you need anything.

I nodded and went back to watching TV. I realized I was playing with my necklace again. I took it off and looked at it, wondering for the hundredth time where it came from. Was it from my parents? Why did they leave it with me? If they didn’t want me, why leave anything at all? I wondered what it was they didn’t like about me. Did they just not want children? Or was it me in particular? Maybe I just didn’t fit in at home either?

A few tears fell down my cheeks. All my life I had felt like I didn’t belong. My parents ditched me. Every foster home got rid of me. Every friend I thought I had turned out not to be a friend. I was truly alone and it sucked in every way.

Chapter Two

School went the same way it always did. Most of the girls stared at me, whispered about me, and even pointed. Some of the guys smiled and nodded my way, but none of them approached me. By the end of the day, I had a pile of homework and a big headache.

Mrs. Thompson set out a snack. How was your first day?

I took a bite of the apple. It was…okay.

Just okay?

Yup. I took another bite. It looked like she was waiting for more information. I have a lot of homework. She accepted that and let me get to it. I completed my science homework fairly quickly. Math was harder. I had to study from the book for a while before I could finish it. Then I got to language arts, my worst subject.

The homework was to write an essay. The topic was Write about your earliest memory. Great. My earliest memory. I wasn’t sure I had one. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. Earliest memory. A foster home? The Wrights’ house. That was the first house I remembered. I was four, maybe? The mom had been mean to me. She spanked me for no reason at all. I was only there a few weeks.

There must be some memory of my life before that. The lady. She sprung to the front of my mind. I often wondered if she was real or a dream. She was tall and had long, blonde hair like mine. Her eyes were deeper brown than mine. She was so beautiful, perfect in my eyes. Could she be my mother?

In my memory—or dream—she reached down and touched my face, gently, lovingly, like a mother would. She was talking to me, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. She started crying and then she was gone. When I opened my eyes, I realized tears were running down my face. I wiped them away. It felt like a real memory. I had seen her before—that lady—in my mind.

I wrote about her. I fibbed a little to fill in some blanks. After finishing the one-page essay, I moved on to my social studies homework. That was the last subject, and I was relieved when I was finished. I hated homework. Most of the stuff they teach you in school doesn’t apply to real life. I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t need algebra or chemistry. I mean what was I going to be that would require me to know that stuff? I was pretty sure I’d spend my life working at a store or restaurant. If I were lucky, maybe I’d land an office-type job. But algebra and chemistry? No. I stuffed all the papers and books back in my bag just in time for dinner.

Mr. and Mrs. Thompson asked each of us about our day. I listened as Ivy went on and on about her classes and her friends. Lara spoke a little, in between shooting me evil glances and playing with her brown, frizzy hair that I wanted to run a brush through.

I wasn’t sure what was up her butt. I didn’t do anything to her. This was the way most people reacted to me though. It wasn’t anything new. The way I seemed to repel people often had me guessing as to why. Did I smell? Was the mole by my ear disgusting? Did I give off bad energy?

I was relieved I didn’t have to go through details about my day. I was sure they wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. After dinner, I helped clean up and went to watch TV. Lara came in shortly after with Ivy on her heels. Why do you get to choose what we watch? she asked angrily.

I was here first.

You watched yesterday. Her lips formed a thin line and her eyebrows were furrowed.

I didn’t know there were rules.

There aren’t, Ivy spoke up.

Shut up, Squirt.

Ivy cast her eyes down and backed away a little bit.

Don’t treat her like that, I said to Lara.

What are you going to do about it?

What was I going to do about it indeed? I could punch her, but then I’d get kicked out of here. I could go to the Thompsons and tell, but then she’d really hate me. I stood up, leaving the remote on the couch. You want to watch TV so bad, go ahead. C’mon, Ivy, we’ll go play a game. I grabbed the deck of Uno cards and walked out of the family room. Thankfully, Ivy followed.

We sat on the floor in my room and played Uno. Ivy put down a card and spoke hesitantly. Thanks…for sticking up for me.

I nodded. Sure. I put down a card. Is she always like that?

Not always.

Probably just me. How long have you been here?

Eight months, she answered. They’re nice.

Good.

Where are you from? she asked.

I shook my head. I don’t know. I’ve lived around here for as long as I can remember.

I’m from the south. Georgia. After my parents died, I was sent here to live with my aunt, but she didn’t want me.

Oh. I felt bad for her. I put down another card. Do you like it here?

She thought about that for a minute. Boston is okay. I like the south better though.

I nodded. I had never been south…well, as far as I knew. But by the way the sun made me feel, I highly doubted the south and I would get along. The sun and heat together would be brutal. I didn’t hate sunlight. Sometimes it felt good and warm, but mainly it just tired me out.

I slept a little better that night. I dreamt about the lady. She was wearing a long, white dress. Her hair shone in the moonlight and she held her arms wide open like she wanted me to run to them. Of course, it was a dream and my legs wouldn’t work, so I couldn’t go to her.

After the TV outburst, Lara ignored me like I didn’t even exist. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, I just wished I knew why. What did I do to her that caused her to treat me badly? She didn’t even give me a chance. It was like she decided the first time she looked at me that she hated me.

School ended in late June. I passed tenth grade with a C average. Nothing special. I was proud of myself for passing. It could have been worse.

I was watching TV one night the next week and heard a cough. When I looked behind me, Mr. Thompson was standing there. He was watching me. Not in a weird way, more like he was curious. But it sent a shiver down my spine. Do you need me to do something? I asked.

What? Oh, no. Sorry. He walked away.

Hmmm. Okay.

I finished watching the program and then went to the bathroom. I washed my face and stared in the mirror. My eyes looked different. I couldn’t explain how, just different. A deeper brown, if that was possible? Weird. Did eye color change this late in life? I shrugged and brushed my teeth. Then I said goodnight to everyone—except Lara, I couldn’t care less about saying goodnight to her—and went to bed.

Your birthday is next week. Mrs. Thompson sat down at the kitchen table with a pad and pen. What kind of desserts do you like?

I played with my necklace and thought for a moment. Chocolate cake. Brownie ice cream.

Sounds yummy. What about dinner? Any requests?

I like chicken. And spaghetti.

Ever had chicken parmigiana?

No, what’s that?

You’ll see. She smiled like she had a secret.

Two days before my birthday, I had a dream about the lady again. It was the same dream as last time. She stood there with her arms open, but I still couldn’t go to her. I couldn’t sleep well after that. I walked to the window and looked up at the moon; it was high in the sky and looked like it was almost full. It was pretty. I wished I could go outside and feel the moon. That was an odd thought…you don’t feel rays of moonshine. Yet, it seemed to pull at me. I resisted and crawled back in bed.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror again the next morning, my toothbrush still in my hand, when I noticed my teeth looked straighter. I wondered if any of this was noticeable to anyone but me. First my eyes seemed darker, now my teeth seemed straighter. Odd, just odd.

The night before my birthday, I had another dream about the lady. This time it was like the memory I had when writing that essay. She was close to me, touching me, saying something that I could tell was important, but I couldn’t make out the words. Suddenly, she was gone