The Dance Of Blood

"Hodge!" I can hear my mother call me from the main floor.

I can only suspect that it is bacon and some kind of fried hashbrowns for breakfast before I go to my last day of work. Tonight is my last shift, as I gave them my two week notice a while ago. I couldn't imagine having no summer to myself at all. I think it is needed to be enjoyed, at least a week or two. I am only turning seventeen in December after all.

"Yeah?!" I shout back.

"Come on and eat! You're going to be late for your shift at Marie's!" She hollers out.

I roll over and take a look at my phone. I slept in by a half an hour. It's 10:30 AM and I start work at 11:45 AM. The bus takes too long. Looks like I'm enjoying a good run again this morning. My mom doesn't have her license yet so, I can't just ask for a car.

I almost instantly am airborne and halfway in my pants before I can even say 'Oh Shit'. I wisk my way down the stairs, sliding across the floor in my socks and half-falling-half-sitting in the chair while I do so.

"Jeez Hodge, You ain't gotta worry that much on your last shift, what are they going to do? Fire you on your last day?" She sighs and shakes her head.

Mom brings me my plate and I begin motor-mouthing my way through my meal in a matter of minutes. My mom, as per usual, shakes her head not understanding how I can eat so much in so little time, but, we don't even bother talking about it anymore. Not since my doctor said I have a healthy appetite for my age.

"I'm gonna have to run to work, my gym bags by the drier right?" I ask quickly.

What a way to start a day. I slept in. I may have even forgotten to ask her to wash my uniform last night. Looks like today won't even be my last shift, before it even begins. Just my luck.

"Actually, it is." She says.

"Thanks!" I say and have a sigh of relief.

As soon as I realize the time, I scurry to grab my gym bag and rush out the front door with a harsh slam. My neighbor Mr. Marie, is actually a very friendly man. He's out watering his lawn. He shouts to me as I run along the sidewalk from my house towards Cassells street by the coffee shop. All I could make out from his old voice was something about a heat wave, but I'm only a twenty minute jog from work. Then after that, I go to Widdifield, my highschool. I'm meeting Jim tonight.

I find myself running and not thinking exactly of where I am looking. I halt from the impact of running face first into a tall man. He glares at me.

"Young Mr. Watson. You should be more careful of where you are going." Mr. James announces.

"Sorry Mr. James." I say. "I am running late for-" I get interrupted.

"Work!" I hear a familiar female call from behind me.

All I can think about is that awful chill the voice sends down my spine. Only three voices can do that, though. It is not my grandma Watson. It's not my mom either. That only makes one woman left who sends those shivers through my spine.

"I am so sorry." I turn to see an angry red haired woman in her mid fifties glaring down upon me with her piercing emerald eyes.

"It's not important anymore Hodge. I was going to come to your house. I was going to pick up your uniform. Oh, and give you this." She shifts through her purse. "I recently got a rebate and I wanted to thank you for all you've done." She adds.

"What do you mean?" I put my bag down to fish out my uniform, all tidily folded in the bag.

"Well, Me, Trisha and Constance all went to school here too, in your very highschool, actually. Also, Trisha and Constance both agreed you deserved something extra." Mrs. Song says. "Tell Tamara we all said hello, when you go home." She smirks.

"Thanks." I say.

Mrs. Song pulls out a yellow envelope that reeks of vanilla extract. It would have definitely come from Marie's. We always made Vanilla Pudding first thing in the morning so it would be ready to serve for the dessert options for the dinner menu. We always did the longest time taking things first. Including slicing all of the fruits and vegetables. If we managed to be ahead of schedule, we would try to get the dishes started for the guy who would start their shift. We never had a designated morning dishwasher, even though the diner opens at 6 AM. I mean, of course there's the older people, coming in for that rediculous early bird special. I know people who work that shift and complain because some of these customers do only pay in pocket change.

"So, go have a good summer break. That was the idea right?" She winks at me.

"So, this kid thought he was going to miss your work?" Mr. His face, weathered and worn, catches my attention as James looks at me.

"Yeah, got an issue with the boy, Tim?" She asks him.

"No, I suppose not. Looks like the boy panics to obey you girls." He chuckles.

I don't feel comfortable anymore and so I back away while they start their own conversation. I think secretly Mrs Song is kind, despite how harsh she seems. I always thought it was odd she cared so much for her kids, that there would be no way she is a cold person through and through. Or, maybe I just give people too much credit. I am either way, glad in this moment as I dart straight Jim's.

As soon as I arrive I feel tense. His house looks kind of like the one from a nightmare on elm street. A bright white painted house that is coated with cobwebs and dust. It only has fallen farther from the new look it had a few years ago. Back before Jim's mom passed away. His mom, my aunt, Jillian, was a school teacher. She died in a wreck with an over tired truck driver. Jim tries to even still convince the police to press charges for man slaughter.

The idea was uncanny, the company that hired the driver, expected him to drive 20 hours a day. The expectations were unrealistic, the court even agreed. So, the company got fined and the driver was imprisoned for only sixty days. That makes Jim boil. I honestly couldn't blame him. We all have reasons to want to protect the people we love. I couldn't imagine what it may do to a young mans mind like his. I take a deep breath in trying to stop thinking about all of this when I approach the faded mahogany coloured door.

I can't stand the knocker on this door. It looks like a snake made out of shuriken. I don't even want to know about this thing. I always am afraid I am going to cut my hands to pieces.