Young Blood

Chapter One

It was Tuesday when I got the letter.

My dad had made me to apply to a fancy boarding school all the way in New York. I didn't want to, of course, I had a nice life in Pennsylvania with my friends, but he said that when I went to middle school I should "explore new opportunities" and "gain traveling experience". He also said it would "be good for my character". It didn't help that Francesca was pawing through my closet looking for the "perfect outfit".

Don't get me wrong, I love Francesca, but sometimes – no, all the times – her clotheshorse-ness can be annoying. Oh well. There's no such thing as a perfect best friend, I guess.

"Halle, what about this?" She held up a cream sweater and black leggings.

I sighed. It wasn't the worst outfit I could think of, and I really didn't want to have to continue to listen to Francesca rambling. "Sure, whatever."

She squealed, and I wondered how I ended up with a total white girl for a friend. "Perfect! Now, where are those converse...?"

I pointed to the bottom of my closet. She dove down and set them on my bed. "You're going to look fabulous for your first day in New York."

I hugged my pillow. It was fuzzy, round shaped, and I named it Ball (because children are terrible at naming toys). Just another memory I'd have to leave behind. "I don't want to go."

She sighed. "I know, but hey, NYC! Where all great books and movies take place! History! Fame! Stuff like that! It doesn't get you the least bit excited?"

"You know what gets me excited? Coming home from school when I have the house to myself and watching TV for three hours and eating buttery popcorn."

She shook her head. "You're hopeless."

"I've noticed."

"Halle?" my dad called. "Francesca's parents are here!"

Francesca gave me a weak smile. "Bye, Halle."

I buried my face further into Ball.

…

The car was a depressing sight on a Wednesday morning.

Most Wednesday mornings are depressing. The car only made it worse.

I was wearing the outfit Francesca had picked out for me. It's not like she could come and say goodbye, the school year started today for South Middle School. The school I would've gone to, but no, I just had to go to "Vinland Charter School".

My dad was already in there, tapping the wheel. I opened the door, putting my backpack, along with the rest of my luggage, in the backseat. "Sitting up front, Hal?" he asked.

I shook my head, not wanting to talk to him.

He sighed, a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, Hal, but-" He glanced over his shoulder for a fraction of a second. It could've been my imagination. "It's for the best."

Sure. Sending your kid to some fancy private school they've never heard of nor want to hear of is "for the best".

I "hmphed" in response.

It went like this for most of the car ride. Dad would try to make small talk, and I'd "hmph" or say the minimal answer. I didn't want to talk to Dad right now.

Dad had always been a good dad, even when Mom left us when I was born. He didn't seem bitter over it. He just...accepted it. And I did too.

We were going over a bridge when the bridge started vibrating. Almost like it was twitching. I dismissed it at first, thinking it was just the cars whizzing past us, but I looked over my shoulder.

A...giant? At the end of the bridge? Was I hallucinating?

"Dad?" I asked, not caring if I sounded scared. I was. "Look behind you."

He did, and swore under his breath. "I thought we'd have more time..."

"Time for what?"

"To explain." He accelerated.

"EXPLAIN WHAT?"

"Halle, I'm not actually your father."

"WHAT?!"

"My brother. Austin. He had an affair with...well, there's no time now. When I say so, get out of the car and run. There'll be a black SUV with some people in it at the end of the bridge. If one of them is named Sigrid, a woman, then you're safe. If they aren't, then keep running until you reach Vinland. You'll be safe there, no matter what."

What?

My mouth opened, and closed. I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything.

The bridge shook more. People were beginning to panic, I could tell, speeding their cars up. The giant – if that's even what it was – roared, flipped a car off the bridge, and screaming began.

Dad – no, uncle, I suppose – grimaced as the giant neared us. It seemed like the car wasn't even moving compared to how close the giant was getting.

When the giant was about fifty yards away from us, Dad – uncle – whatever, slammed the brakes. The car skidded to a stop as I was jerked back and forth. "GO!" he screamed.

I slung my backpack over my shoulders, unbuckled my seatbelt, and ran for my life.