I knew Mom had been going out of her way to trust me, but I was still surprised she didn't ask any questions when I got home. It was becoming increasingly clear that Mom had decided to be in the 'there are things I don't want to know' camp. It had to be hard on her.
"You certainly are thirsty." Mom said as I poured my fourth glass of milk at dinner.
"I'll stop and get another gallon on the way home from school."
"You mean practice?"
"Yeah, right, practice. It's going to be alright Mom—Izzy's going to be alright. The Faulkner's and I have got this—trust me."
"I'm doing my best—I still think we should call the police—"
"Mom."
"I know, I swore. I'm just afraid for you—for Izzy—for all of you."
"Thanks, Mom. Listen, if it's okay with you I'm going to hit the hay early—big day tomorrow."
"That's fine, I can clean up down here." She turned toward the sink, but then turned back to me. "Please be careful, Jason."
"We will, I promise you. And just so you know, the Faulkner's are even more protective of me than you are."
"Yet they're letting you help."
"There's no other choice, Mom. Well, goodnight." I grabbed my laptop and headed up the steps.
It didn't take me long to find the procedure for drawing blood, and Elizabeth wasn't kidding about avoiding getting air into your bloodstream. It was only maybe an hour after dark when a pebble hit my window. I went to the window and then opened it.
"That you Tink?"
Tink stepped out from the edge of the woods. "Catch." He tossed me a bag.
"Thanks. I already found the procedure. See you Tuesday night."
Tink ducked back into the woods. The rest was up to me.
After some of the things I'd been through poking a needle into the vein in the crease of my arm wasn't that big a deal. I'd thought about doing it in the back of my hand like they'd done when I was in the hospital, but I decided someone in school might see the needle mark, so I opted for the crease of my left arm. After what I'd read on the Internet and Elizabeth's warning about avoiding air bubbles I put the needle in with the saline solution still in the bag. Once I had the needle in—on the third try mind you—not bad for a rookie, I closed the tube with the little clip, unplugged the bag, squeezed the saline out, reattached the bag and then let my blood flow. I squeezed a tennis ball to speed up the process. The last thing I needed was Mom walking in on me, although she had always respected my privacy, especially since I became a teenager.
"Now what?" I bent my elbow to hold the small piece of cotton against where I'd pulled out the needle. You had to keep blood refrigerated or it went bad. I wasn't sure if that was true for a vampire's taste, but I wasn't going to take any chances.
"Hey Mom," I said as I raced down the steps and grabbed my lunch cooler from the end of the counter. I stopped at the frig and emptied two ice trays into it. I caught Mom's stare as I turned to go back upstairs with the cooler. "Don't ask?"