Today I had company, which was unexpected. Jules was sitting a few rows away, burying his face in his math textbook.
"What're you in for?" I asked him, pretending not to know.
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. How about for being queer, because this town is full of narrow-minded hicks?"
I nodded. "Yeah, same as me, then."
He put his pen down. "Can you please just focus on your work? I'm trying to make the most of this."
"Alright." I yawned and sat facing him, unmoving.
"Well?" he insisted.
"I'm done," I told him.
"Well, I'm not. I'm doing calculus, and it's the worst."
"I've done calculus."
"Oh my god." Jules sighed as his head slid down into his arms.
"So... see any good movies lately? Horror? Vampire flicks, maybe?" I asked, eyebrows raised.
"Uh, no. Do you mean Darek?" He clued in. "No. Twice, maybe. I was getting tired of losing blood, and I'm quitting the junk food now. Trying to, anyway. The ice cream... it's good at first, but the more I have, the less I like it. I've been trying milk, but it's expensive, so I just freeze all my yogurt now. I hate being this hungry all the time."
"Did you get caught eating in class?" I asked.
"No, I... got mad," he answered, solemnly.
"What about?"
"Mr. Fly didn't stop me before class to put me in detention. He interrupted the whole class just to tell them all I like men, and that I'm a 'threat to society'. Now everyone thinks that's all I am, and they're gonna hate me, and I'll have to move to another town if I ever want a job. Everyone here is the same kind of retarded."
I paused for a long time, trying to soak in the emotion of the moment. I knew we weren't supposed to say 'retarded', but kids used it a lot to describe me in particular, so I figured I was probably allowed to hear it. I knew I was subject to all of the same problems, but for some reason, I just didn't care as much. I wasn't afraid to be an outcast, because I knew my parents would support me no matter what.
He sighed. "What can you do? My dad's a tiger parent, he only cares about success and good grades. My mom, too. The worst part is, I'm the same way. I know exactly why I'm letting them down. This is gonna break his heart."
"I'm sorry. I know it's not my fault, but I feel responsible."
"It is what it is." He pulled out a frozen yogurt and devoured it in two bites. Then another. "I have, uh. Ice packs in here. To keep stuff cold."
"Hey," I thought, deciding it might be time to change the subject, "Why do you think Darek really drinks blood?"
"My guess..." Jules thought, "he wants to break rules, to satisfy some... aggressive compulsion. It's not dietary, and he's only using romance to lure them in. He barely lets me hold his hand, he just seems more interested in... dominating."
I stared. "Whoah. He likes to be on top, huh?"
"Not like that!" he said, just as red. "Like, wrestling. King of the hill, playground tag. Kid stuff. He wants to WIN, at every game. I don't think he understands the difference. He's just trying to get on people's nerves; if everyone bit necks and drank blood, he'd do something else that bothered them, like sucking their toes."
"Hahaha!" I almost cried laughing.
He laughed too, like he couldn't wait to stop.
After a long sigh, I leaned back. "Hmmm... you read my journal, right? The part about adrenaline?"
"Yeah, and the parts about Lana. Not gonna happen, buddy."
My face flushed red. "Yeah, we'll see. I'm just saying, what if he's like... exploiting the adrenaline rush that you get when you do something bad, so he can wake himself up? From always being so drunk? Chemical dependency can alter the brain in more ways than one... not just the way it works, but also the behavior you have to use... to get around the problems that substances can cause. Like maybe he's acting in a way that doesn't disturb the core issues he's having, so he doesn't have to address any of them. He can make it about something else, in a flash."
"You mean like his constant lying? I don't know. it's possible. I don't really care anymore." Jules returned to his work once more, and remained quiet.
"So who do you think he's been feeding on?" I sat up in my chair.
"Probably nobody. He's back to living with his parents, anyway."
"Where do they live?!" I asked excitedly.
"You want to VISIT the COACH of the school where you're serving an INDEFINITE DETENTION for targeting and ASSAULTING more than TWENTY STUDENTS?!" he gaped.
"Yes," I replied.
"You're crazy," he said, shaking his head.

I grabbed my jacket and my gloves, and headed to Richard's. He lived behind the woods, in a white and grey duplex. I knocked on the front door, and Coach answered it (wearing a t-shirt and jogging pants).
"Yes, Grim child. Why are you not in school?"
"Mr. Fly sent me out for a walk, to apologize to Darek in-person. He figured he'd be here," I said.
"Well, he is not home yet. You walked from the school?" he asked. I nodded. He said, "Okay. Shallom, you come in."
I walked inside – I was expecting a gloomy cathedral, full of cobwebs and rats. Instead, it was a modest home with nice furniture, plenty of light, and some religious decorations.
"They are Israeli, and Islamic – we are Jewish and Muslim here," Richard explained. "I'm Jewish, my wife is Muslim. We decorate our place, from time to time. No pictures of Mohammed, though, haha." He side-eyed me with a laugh. "That would be very bad."
I tried to laugh, but I had no idea what he meant by that.
He led me to the kitchen, where a woman was eating lunch. She was messy, but peaceful, and beautiful in a 'mom' kinda way. Red hair, blue eyes, and thick bones. She looked up from her food, and waved for us to come closer, mouth still too full to speak.
Richard introduced me. "This is Garcia Romero, The Grim Dragon." Richard made a skull face, and pretended to hold a scythe. At that moment, I realized I probably could have leaned into the name using my scythe-staff, and made them stop wanting to use it. Or I could have found a blade, and put the thing together for Halloween. Oh, well. Missed opportunity. "He is here to speak with Darek. Garcia, this is my wife, Marya. She is Darek's mother."
"Darek told me his mother was gone," I said, uncertain how to handle the news that she... was alive and well. Obviously, there was some relief, but also the sting of betrayal – I'd been lied to, again. For years. Behind one act was just another, better one.
Marya only laughed. "Our boy sure tells some tall tales. One time, he told me he was a blood-drinking ghoul, and he was going to school to kidnap a princess! Honestly, the way he told it, I nearly believed him."
Ironically, she probably should have. The smell was both familiar and indescribable, not counting the vodka layer on everything. I noticed a glass half-sad on the table, among the happy feast.
"You want some? It is manti, my cooking." Richard said, and returned to the stove to serve himself via spatula. "They are spicy beef dumplings with yogurt sauce, very good."
"That does sound good, thank you!"
Richard pulled a chair for me, and I sat down. He put a plate in front of me, and I got eating. I was pretty hungry, and it looked amazing. It tasted even better – spicy, bitter, and sooo savoury. You wouldn't think yogurt could taste good with meat, but the way the beef juices flowed, it was like they belonged together. The dough was so soft, I thought it was going to melt in my mouth.
"You like it? It's his favourite recipe," said Marya.
Richard grinned. "It's not the only trick I have up my sleeve. My special ingredient: a bit of red wine, in the meat. Nothing brings meat to life like some good booze. That's why I buy so much! You must think I'm a drunk, uh? Hahaha!"
"Urp-" I choked, then swallowed. "No way, not at all. You were just... going through something, right?"
"Through what?" Marya asked Richard.
Richard closed his eyes for a moment, and shrugged. "Ah, he means old Reff. Poor old man, got the flu. He just couldn't take it at his age. I do miss him, sometimes."
Marya added, "Darek adored his grandfather. He's so much like him."
"Oh, that boy. Always so stubborn. About his lunch, his faith, when he's home..." Richard growled, through a mouthful of manti. "I know he doesn't like the Torah, he won't let me read a word. Nor will he hear from his mother. As if the Quran does not include Jesus Christ for him. It does! He is there, they call him 'Isa'! Darek likes the sequel, but he does not like the whole trilogy. I say, he is a snob."
"He said, uh..." I paused. "Forgive me, he said you dunked him in water and made him write lines until his nails fell out."
"He DID?! HAHAHA!" Richard laughed heartily. "Yes, I did do that. He would not shower, when we brought him back from Romania, so both of us had to dunk him in the bathtub. It was hilarious! Maybe not for him, I suppose, but he was covered in soot. His head, it left black marks on his pillow. His poor mother had to wash it three times in a week!" He laughed again, tears in his eyes. Marya was giggling along. He continued, "The lines, he was grounded, you see, for bad-mouthing his parents. He was upset with us for sending him off – I worry he does not like me much anymore. I only wanted to give him the experience of a life-time, you know? An adventure." He ate another dumpling, slowly. "I asked him to copy from the Torah, I thought he might learn something. He got a couple hang-nails, I suppose..." he trailed off.
Marya finished, "the paper was dry, he said."
"Yes, thank you. So he got these bloody fingers, he had to suck them dry. He was so mad he forgot to spit out the blood!"
Marya chimed, "We kept telling him..."
Richard nodded. "Yes, he got very sick. Was in his room for days."
"So you've never, like, beaten him...?" I asked cautiously.
Richard shook his head. "I have a temper, when I drink too much. He has received some of it. I want to apologize, but he ignores me... I thought, 'I can make him tough'. But maybe he is too tough already." He looked up at me, sad. "If you see him, and you get the chance, please tell him I am sorry. It is not his fault. Okay?"
I nodded, suddenly very alarmed by the level of honesty I'd been made available to after ten minutes in this family's home.
Marya grabbed my empty plate. I'd been so busy listening, I didn't realize I'd already licked it clean.
"Go wash up."

I finished using the bathroom, and went back to the kitchen. Richard and Marya were sharing a kiss, and doing dishes together. This family wasn't evil, like Darek said they were. They were doing their best, just like mine! Richard isn't some mean Muslim bully, like Darek said he was – he's a Jew, for frick's sake! Granted, a homophobic one, but still. The only person in the house who's Muslim is his sweet old mom! Darek had made up everything, all of his big problems, out of thin air! Because he wanted attention, he WANTED people in his space! And when they didn't attach themselves to him fast enough, he decided to breach theirs! I knew now that what I was dealing with wasn't some unfortunate victim of abuse; Darek was a disturbed kid, with problems like anyone else's, and a pathological tendency to LIE.
Then, I felt a chill crawling down my spine.
Darek tapped me on the shoulder. "You've let yourself in, have you?"