Free Tenth Grade Bleeds by Heather Brewer

when were Henry and Chelsea pals? And what was up with his gloomy, party-skipping attitude anyway? And why did the conversation stop just as Vlad approached? He bit his bottom lip and forced the questions to remain hidden in his throat, throwing Henry a casual smile. “What’s up?”
    Henry shrugged. “Not much. What about you?”
    Not much? As if Henry hanging out with cheerleaders and dropping years of partygoing tradition at the last minute were things that could easily be ignored. The questions inched their way up his throat once more, but Vlad swallowed hard, forcing them back down. He parted his lips, and when he spoke, his voice came out in a near whisper. “Not much, I guess.”
    Henry nodded casually.
    Vlad closed his locker and looked him in the eye. It was time to find out what was going on with his best friend. “I think we should talk, Henry.”
    But just then the tardy bell rang out through the halls, cutting Vlad off. Henry offered a relieved shrug, looking very much like he’d literally been saved by the bell.
    Vlad hurried down the hall to geometry. He’d have to deal with Henry later.
    Not that it was really any of his business why Henry had ditched the party, or why he was hanging out with Chelsea. After all, it was Henry’s life, not Vlad’s. But still . . . Vlad couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with his friend. And why they weren’t talking about it.
    Geometry lasted just short of an eternity, and chemistry seemed twice as long. By lunchtime, Vlad was ready to head home and spend the day in front of the television with a bag of potato chips and about five hundred bags of O positive, trying to defend the fate of the Earth against whatever evildoers were currently lurking inside his PlayStation. But unbelievably, he still had half a day of school to trudge through. What was it about Mondays that made them last forever? Vlad wagered it had to do with the space-time continuum or a cruel joke played by Fate.
    He slid in beside Meredith and slumped forward, resting his forehead on the table.
    Meredith rubbed his shoulder gently with one hand and said, “It can’t be that bad.”
    Vlad mumbled, “Is it time to go home yet?”
    â€œ Three more hours to go.”
    â€œThen it’s that bad.” He sat up, offering her a meek smile. “How’s your day?”
    Meredith launched into a long, detailed, enthusiastic account of her day in typical girl fashion. Vlad tried to pay attention, but he was enormously distracted by Henry, who was lingering near the so-called “popular table” a bit too long for Vlad’s taste.
    But then, what business was it of Vlad’s if Henry decided to hang out with the “in” crowd? It’s not like he and Henry had a signed contract of friendship that prohibited Henry from being friends with anyone else. Or that Henry was bound to him at all. . . . Vlad sat up straight. Oh, wait. Actually, that was the case. But still, it didn’t give Vlad the right to pick and choose Henry’s friends.
    Did it?
    Being the vampire who made Henry into a drudge, just what powers did that give Vlad? What rights? Vlad wasn’t sure. He was sure that he didn’t much care for the kinds of friends that Henry seemed to be associating with of late. But did that give him the right to change it, to stop Henry from making that choice?
    Vlad chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. Knowing that his drudge could not disobey a direct order, he called out, “Henry! Come here.”
    Unable to resist, Henry furrowed his brow and crossed the cafeteria toward Vlad, tray in hand. When he got there, Henry stood for a moment, looking almost pained and absolutely angry. Vlad nodded to the empty seat across the table from him, trying hard to keep his tone light and friendly. “Have a seat. Eat your lunch.”
    Henry sat with an air of indignation. Vlad was only slightly