Orion
I looked at the outfit Mom had picked out for me: a crisp Ralph Lauren polo and some overpriced Loro Piana jeans.
Classic Mom move. I smiled a little.
She meant well, but her idea of "casual" belonged in a fashion magazine.
I was trying to keep a low profile this year. Her version of subtle was basically shouting.
I folded the clothes neatly and slid them back into the closet.
It wasn't really her fault. Dad had never let her shop anywhere that didn't have valet parking.
That was just how things were in our house.
Still damp from the shower, I yanked the towel from around my waist.
Steam had fogged up the mirror, hiding most of my reflection—except for the bandage on my neck.
I peeled it off slowly, revealing the two small puncture wounds, now blurred
