The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(74)

She knocked on Blue’s door. Carter stood behind her. No answer. Patricia whisked her knuckles against it again, listening for any sound that could be a “yeah” or an “uh-huh” or even the rare “what?” and then Carter reached past her and rapped on the door sharply, twisting the handle, pushing it open while still knocking.

“Blue?” he said, stepping past Patricia. “Your mother and I need to talk to you.”

Blue jerked his head up from his desk like he’d been caught in the middle of something. When he’d gone to camp last summer they’d gotten him a blond wood Scandinavian bedroom unit that wrapped around the walls, with cabinets built into the window seat, a desk built into the bookshelves, and a bed built in beside the desk. Blue had decorated it with horror movie ads cut out from the newspaper: Make Them Die Slowly, I Eat Your Skin, I Drink Your Blood. The ceiling fan made the ads pulse and flutter like pinned butterflies. Books lay in piles on the floor, most of them about Nazis, but also something called The Anarchist’s Cookbook on top of one stack, and her copy of The Stranger Beside Me, which she’d been looking for.

On his bed lay a library copy of Nazi Human Experiments and Their Outcomes and on the window seat were the mutilated remains of his Star Wars action figures. She remembered buying those for him years ago and their adventures through the house and in the car had played in the background of her life for years. Now, he’d taken his Boy Scout knife and whittled their faces into pink, multifaceted lumps. He’d melted their hands with the hot glue gun. He’d scorched their bodies with matches.

And it was her fault. He’d found her convulsing on the kitchen floor. He’d dialed 911. He’d live with that memory for the rest of his life. She told herself he was too old for action figures anyway. This was just how teenage boys played.

“What do you want?” Blue asked, and his voice honked a little at the end.

Patricia realized his voice was changing, and her heart gave a small pinch.

“Well,” Carter said, looking around for a place to sit. He hadn’t been in Blue’s room recently enough to know that was impossible. He perched on the edge of the bed. “Can you tell me what happened at school today?”

Blue huffed, throwing himself backward in his desk chair.

“God,” he said. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Blue,” Patricia said. “That is not true. You abused an animal.”

“Let him speak for himself,” Carter said.

“Oh, my God,” Blue said, rolling his eyes. “Is that what you’re going to say? I’m an animal abuser. Lock me up! Look out, Ragtag.”

This last was directed at the dog, who was sleeping on a pile of magazines beneath his bed.

“Let’s all calm down,” Carter said. “Blue, what do you think happened?”

“It was just a dumb joke,” Blue said. “Tiger took some spray paint and said it would be funny to put it on Rufus and then he wouldn’t stop.”

“That is not what you told us in Major’s office,” Patricia said.

“Patty,” Carter warned, not taking his eyes off Blue.

She realized that she was pushing and stopped, hoping it wasn’t too late. She had pushed before and it wound up with Blue having a meltdown on a flight to Philadelphia, with Korey throwing the dish rack and breaking a whole set of plates, with Carter massaging the bridge of his nose, with her taking those pills. She pushed and things always got worse. But it was already too late.

“Why are you always taking everyone’s side except mine?” Blue said, throwing himself forward in his chair.

“Everyone needs to calm down—” Carter began.

“Rufus is a dog,” Blue said. “People die every day. People abort little babies. Six million people died in the Holocaust. No one cares. It’s just a dumb dog. They’ll wash it off.”

“Everyone needs to take a breath,” Carter said, palms out in the calming gesture to Blue. “Next week you and I are going to sit down and I’m going to give you a test called a Conners Scale. It’s just to determine if paying attention is harder for you than it is for other people.”

“So what?” Blue asked.

“If it is,” Carter explained, “then we give you something called Ritalin. I’m sure a lot of your friends take it. It doesn’t change anything about you, it’s just like eyeglasses for your brain.”

“I don’t want eyeglasses for my brain!” Blue screamed. “I’m not taking a test!”

Ragtag lifted his head. Patricia wanted to stop this. Carter hadn’t talked about this with her before. This was the kind of decision they needed to make together.

“That’s why you’re the child and I’m the adult,” Carter said. “I know what you need better than you do.”

“No, you don’t!” Blue screamed again.

“I think we should all take a few minutes,” Carter said. “We can talk again after supper.”

He guided Patricia out of the room by one elbow. She looked back at Blue, hunched over his desk, shoulders shaking, and she wanted to go to him so badly she felt it in her blood, but Carter steered her into the hall and closed the door behind them.

“He’s never—” Carter began.

“Why’s he screaming?” Korey asked, practically leaping out at them from her bedroom door. “What’d he do?”