Drawing Bloodlines by Steve Bevil

Lafonda.”
    “Grandpa,” whined Nathan, while r olling his eyes. “Don’t start.”
    “You don’t have to be family to care, Nathan,” he le ctured.
    “Ugh!” protested Nathan. “I know, gran dpa….”
    “Uh, no you don’t,” interrupted Roy. He had a stern look on his face. “You don’t know.”
    “Really?” griped Nathan.
    “Really,” said Roy, forcibly. “When your father found out that your mother was pregnant, he promised her that he would do everything in his power to make sure that you were born — and to make sure that you were safe.”
    “And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Nathan. He frowned. “To make sure that I was born?”
    “Look, Nathan!” blurted Roy. There was a brief silence. Roy opened his mouth to speak and then paused. “Your f ather,” he choked. “After he died — I took on that promise.”
    The tears in Roy’s eyes began to swell and Nathan found it hard to look at him. “Grandpa,” he said . “Really, you don’t have to….”
    “Now, now, let me finish,” he stuttered. Roy drew silent again and then swallowed hard before speaking. “The Dev aro’s — they have been really good to us. And this has been our home for many years.” He paused, but a look of resolve returned to his face. “I know that it’s been hard for you, growing up without your parents. And I know growing up around those who are more privileged than us hasn’t been easy.”
    “Okay, grandpa,” said Nathan, quietly. “I know.”
    “But Lafonda and her grandmother … and Amelia and Avery … they are like family,” he explained. “And having the same blood doesn’t necessarily make you family. I know Lafonda cares about you, Natha n … we all do.”
    Both Nathan and Roy fell silent; there was only the sound of the sputtering engine. “Okay. Now, get out of here,” said Roy, a bruptly. “Before I hug you or something.”
    Slowly, Nathan nodded and a small grin crept upon his face. “Okay,” he said , putting the truck into gear.
    “And Nathan,” called Roy, “Are you really going to wear that to the concert?”
    “Ugh!” shouted Nathan with a smile. “There’s nothing wrong with my IUCF T-shirt!”
    Nathan’s thoughts continued to whirl as he came to the three-way intersection in town that was Lawrence Road. It was evening, and the lights to Lawrence Hall were quite vi sible now. Lawrence Hall was located at the edge of the IUCF campus and there wasn’t much around it aside from the forest preserve. Nathan always took this route to get to the North Entrance to Lake Charleston, to drive east to Route 7, or to drive west to the Falls.
    So much has changed , he thought. I will never think of summer leadership camp the same, or Lake Charleston . He stared aimlessly at the trees that encircled the road as he drove to Route 7. Before this summer, I was just me, but now I have powers, and somehow I’m possibly an answer to some old Cahokia Legend?
    He shook his head and laughed. “I so hope that the Fir ewalker in the legend is not me, but Malick.”
    It had been weeks since he had been on this road. The last time he was here, he was ru nning down what seemed like an endless road to save his friends. Thank God, that angel appeared , he thought. He shook his head again and sighed. That is so weird; to think that there are angels and they are real! Nathan looked down, his pants’ leg was vibrating from his cell phone, and he decided to ignore it. And what’s even weirder is what he said to me.
    “But I don’t want to think about it,” he said, as he slowly turned the old purple truck unto Route 7. “I have enough to think about now that I know the Falle n Ones will be coming for us.”
    Nathan took a deep breath. I wish I knew where that medallion was, maybe if they had it they would leave the others alone , he wondered. He released a long sigh. But I don’t think that would stop the one with the crescent-shaped scar under his eye from coming after me and