Bad Bloods Read Online Free PDF

impressed
me.
    It was easily the largest room in the
apartment, with enough space for a large oak desk and two
pearl-white chairs. Even though they were old, they looked
brand-new, as if Cal had bought them for someone who never had the
chance to sit in them—and the navy blue threads running along the
armchairs matched the old American flag hanging on the far wall. I
didn’t know where the illegal item came from, but I knew the
military ran in his blood, much like the bad blood gene ran in
mine, and framed photos of his time spent fighting were posted
around the other walls.
    I only tore my eyes from the paraphernalia to
stare at the television Cal had flicked on. I immediately
understood everyone’s panic. The scrolling words at the bottom
caught my—and all of Vendona’s—attention.
    Henderson’s Daughter: A Bad Blood?
    “Henderson doesn’t have a daughter,” I
started, but Cal shushed me into listening to the news
reporters.
    “These sorts of files are private,” the male
reporter began.
    The female reporter spoke over him, “The
public has the right to know if Henderson is running for office
because he believes in his cause or because he has a selfish
agenda.”
    “There is nothing wrong with a president
having personal reasons for what he is fighting for—”
    “A candidate, not a president,” the woman
corrected, “and I think it matters greatly. It shows a level of
ineptitude. A president must be able to remove himself from his
decisions. It’s the only way to represent the people of Vendona
fairly.”
    “And the people of Vendona want this
murderous rampage to end,” the man interrupted for the first time,
but the other reporter wasn’t quieting down.
    “For all we know, Henderson murdered his own
daughter and is only running for freedom out of guilt.”
    Cal shut the TV off.
    I leaned forward, ready to turn it back on,
but Cal grabbed my wrist to stop me. “That’s all you need to see,”
he said and slowly released me.
    I didn’t reach for the TV again. Instead, I
stared at the blank screen, somehow still seeing the images of the
two reporters, side-by-side on a split screen, bantering over the
lives of hundreds of children because one girl might have existed a
long time ago.
    “Henderson has a daughter?” I repeated,
barely able to get it out in a whisper. “Since when?”
    Everything I knew about Henderson was what
I’d heard on the news. He was born to a prominent family in the
Highlands and even served Vendona during the Separation Movement.
He was honorably discharged after a bad blood almost killed him. It
was that bad blood that inspired him to become a politician. In his
first political campaign, he told everyone about the little boy who
attempted to kill him and how another soldier killed the child
before he got a chance to finish what he started. Henderson told
everyone about how—in that moment—he realized why the kid was doing
what he did—because he was forced to—and he wished more than
anything for that child to still be alive instead of himself. He
barely won his seat on the council, but his marriage to Jane
Mackey—the daughter of a powerful councilman—increased his
visibility ten-fold. Now that they supposedly had a daughter in the
mix of it all, they appeared less sincere for their reasons. I
didn’t even know if Henderson’s tale was true anymore, and I knew
all of Vendona was thinking what I was.
    “She’d be eighteen if she was still alive,”
Cal said as if he knew Henderson’s daughter was real—and dead.
    “This can’t be true.” I whipped around to
face him. “It has to be a setup.”
    Cal leaned his lower back against his desk.
“I’m afraid not, kiddo.”
    I stood up only for Cal to tell me to sit
back down. I obeyed, and Cal’s eyes kept me there. Even when I
placed my head in my hands, I felt his stare on me, heavy with
honesty. I bounced my knees up and down as if I could run away.
“This isn’t happening.”
    The repercussions were