The next morning, I awoke to the sun scorching through the cracks between my curtains like a burning torch. I pulled the drapes tightly closed, covered myself with a blanket, and tried to go back to sleep. But I kept thinking about my mission—to save my nemesis from a thirsty vampiress.
I was in my bedroom scrounging for clothes for school when I heard the sound of a honking horn.
“Becky’s here!” my mom called up to me from the kitchen.
“She’s always ten minutes early!” I barked, pulling black-and-white tights over my legs. My best friend had always kept farm hours, but now that she was dating Matt, Trevor’s former silent shadow, she insisted on arriving at school even earlier.
The sound of a horn blasted again. “You’ll see him for the next six hours!” I murmured to myself.
“Raven,” my mom called again. “I can’t take you in today. I have a meeting—”
“I know! I’ll be down in a minute!”
The truth was if Alexander was waiting by the bleachers for me at Dullsville High each day, I’d set my Nightmare Before Christmas alarm clock for five thirty, too. But as I put on a black miniskirt and a torn Donnie Darko T-shirt, all I could think of was handsome Alexander sleeping in his darkened bedroom. I would face the sunny day without him.
As Becky impatiently honked again, I covered my already blackened, tired eyes with charcoal eye shadow and eyeliner. Finally I grabbed my backpack and waved to my mom, and climbed into Becky’s truck.
“I’m disconnecting that horn immediately,” I said in a grumpy tone as I climbed into Becky’s pickup.
“I’m sorry, Raven, it’s just that—”
“I know, I know. ‘I’m meeting Matt by the bleachers before school.’”
“Am I getting annoying?” she asked.
“I’d be the same way if Alexander was waiting for me at school, instead of Trevor Mitchell.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
Becky passed a yellow bus loaded with preteen students heading for Dullsville Middle. Several students gathered at their windows. Some gawked at me, while the others pointed and laughed. I would have been surprised and perturbed, except that they did that every day.
“Well, speaking of Trevor…I have some major dirt on him.”
“What’s the buzz factor?”
“On a scale of one to ten, it’s a nine and a half.”
“Bring it on,” I said, checking my ghoulish makeup in her broken visor mirror.
“Trevor has a girlfriend.”
“You mean Luna?” I said, slamming the visor back.
“Luna?” she asked, confused.
“I mean, luna…tic. She’s got to be a lunatic to date him. Anyway, who told you?”
“Matt said Trevor was seen with a goth at the carnival. I thought he meant you until he said she had ghost white hair.”
“Goth? That’s what people are saying about her?”
She nodded her head. “Yes. And that she’s a major hottie. Matt didn’t say that, of course, but he said that’s what the soccer snobs are saying. You know how guys are, checking out the new girl.”
“But Trevor despises anyone not sporting school colors.”
“Yeah, but she dotes on him like he’s a prince. She and her brother worship him. So it’s like he’s captain of the soccer snobs and the goths. His head is going to explode.
“He probably likes her,” she went on, “but it’s you he really loves. It’s obvious he’s had a crush on you since you were kids. He can’t have you, so he’s trying to get second best.”
I rolled my eyes and pretended to gag. “Thanks for the compliment,” I said sarcastically.
“The good news is maybe Trevor will stop torturing you.”
If Trevor became a vampire, his bite would be worse than his bark.
“Apparently she showed up at their soccer practice last night, cheering for Trevor,” Becky continued.
“She did? I was afraid this would happen.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Uh…,” I began, stalling. “That Trevor would be popular again. After we’ve worked so hard to expose his inner monster.”
“Without Matt by his side, no one cares what he says or does anymore.”
“But who knows what…”
“We have our own lives now,” Becky said proudly. “So who cares if he has one too.”
I looked out the window and reflected on the rivalry Trevor and I had had since childhood. Deep down, I knew Becky was right, but I felt torn. Even though I detested Trevor and I was in love with Alexander, there was still a teeny competitive part of me that didn’t want Trevor to be popular and have a girlfriend—vampire or not.
Becky and I arrived late at the soccer field and spotted Matt walking down the bleachers, listening to his iPod. Becky raced over to him as if he had just disembarked off a military vessel.
I reached the slobbering pair. “Eh hem!” I said, coughing, and tapped Becky on the shoulder.
They broke apart their superglued embrace.
“Becky tells me Trevor has a girlfriend,” I blurted out.
“I didn’t say that,” Matt said, looking strangely at Becky.
“But Becky said a girl was at practice rooting for Trevor.”
“I guess. I thought you were done with him.”
“I am, but gossip is gossip. Did Trevor leave with her?” I asked.
“She was with a creepy guy in a black knit hat. I think you’d like him. Pale with a lot of tattoos. When the team came out of the locker room, they had already gone.”
Matt adjusted his backpack, grabbed Becky’s hand, and started heading for school.
“Wait—did Trevor look different?” I interrogated.
“He wasn’t wearing any tattoos,” Matt said with a laugh.
“No, I mean unusually pale. Really thirsty. Redder eyes.”
He thought for a moment. “He said he wasn’t feeling well,” he remembered. “Why all this interest in Trevor?”
The smitten couple looked at me curiously, waiting for an answer.
Suddenly the bell rang.
“I’d love to stay and chat, but you know how I like to be punctual,” I lied, and took off.
During my first three classes I was preoccupied with confronting Trevor, so to distract myself I daydreamed about Alexander. I wrote our names in my journal—Raven Madison x Alexander Sterling, TRUE LOVE ALWAYS—surrounded by black roses.
When the lunch bell finally rang, I skipped meeting Becky and Matt at the bleachers. Instead I combed the campus searching for Trevor.
I couldn’t find my nemesis on the soccer field, the gym, or the steps where all the soccer snobs ate their filet mignon baguettes.
“Where’s Trevor?” I asked a cheerleader who was tying her sneaker.
She eyeballed my outfit with contempt. She glared at me as if she were a queen and I were a serf who had dared to stumble upon her castle. She picked up her red and white pom-poms and turned away as if she had already wasted too much time.
“Have you seen Trevor?” I repeated.
“He’s home,” she snarled.
“You mean I could have stayed home too?” I mumbled. The only reason I came to school today was to find him.
She rolled her eyes at me.
I glared back, imagining what it would be like if I was a real vampire. I’d transform into a spooky bat, swoop around her as she let out a bloodcurdling scream, and tangle myself in her perfectly combed blond hair.
“Duh. He’s sick,” she finally said, scrutinizing me as if I, too, were spreading contagions.
Sick? Matt said that last night Trevor was pale and wasn’t feeling well. My mind raced. Sick from what? The sunlight? Garlic? Maybe Luna and Jagger had already managed to lure him to Dullsville’s cemetery. Right now Trevor could be sleeping in a red and white coffin.
I had to act fast.
I’d spent most of my life sneaking in and out of places—my house, the Mansion, Dullsville’s elementary and middl
e schools. But since I was still a mere mortal and did not yet possess the powers of a shapeshifting bat, Dullsville High was getting harder to just walk, climb, or tunnel out of.
Principal Reed hired security guards to patrol both entrances of the campus, cutting down on kids leaving for lunch and not returning to school. Dullsville High was becoming like Alcatraz. All that remained was for the school board to encircle the campus with frigid water and killer sharks.
Instead of sneaking out, I’d have to make my exit known.
I opened Nurse William’s office door to find three other kids wheezing, coughing, and sneezing in the waiting room, glaring at me as if I were the one who was ill.
I realized this might take longer than waiting until school let out.
I jotted down notes in my Olivia Outcast journal when Nurse William, the poster woman for health, bounced out. Exposed to seasonal colds, allergies, and excuses, Nurse William was impervious to dripping noses. Looking more like she stepped out of a gym than an examination room, she could probably snap off her own blood pressure band with a single bicep curl.
“Teddy Lerner,” she called, reading from a chart. “It’s your turn,” she said, flashing a Colgate smile.
“I need to see you immediately,” I interjected, standing up and holding my stomach. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
Teddy stared at me, his nose as red as Rudolph’s, and sneezed. I almost felt bad, but I knew all Teddy needed was a big Kleenex and a bowl of chicken soup. If I didn’t get to Trevor Mitchell soon, there might not be any blood left to draw in town.
“All right, Raven.”
Nurse William, like Principal Reed, knew me on a first-name basis, since I’d been to each of their offices on numerous occasions.
I followed her into her office—a small, sterile room with the usual jars of tongue depressors, Band-Aids, extra long Q-tips, and a blue cot.
I sat on a metal chair next to Nurse William’s desk.
“I’ve had the chills since I woke up,” I fibbed.
She examined my eyes with a small pen light.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
She held up her stethoscope.
“Take a deep breath,” she said, putting her instrument on my chest.
I slowly breathed in and then fake sneezed and coughed so wildly, I thought I’d pulled a lung.
She quickly drew back the stethoscope.
“Interesting.”
Nurse William opened her glass cabinet and pulled out an ear thermometer and sterile cover and took my temperature.
After a minute, she read the results.
“Just what I thought.”
“I’m sick?”
“I think you have a case of either ‘testitis’ or ‘I Didn’t Do My Homework Syndrome.’ It’s common in the spring.”
“But I feel awful!”
“You probably just need a good night’s rest.”
“I think I need to go home,” I choked out. “You are keeping me against my will. I have a stomachache and headache, and my throat hurts,” I said, talking through my nose.
“We can’t release you unless you have a fever,” she said, returning the thermometer to the glass cabinet.
“Haven’t you heard of preventive medicine?”
“You do look like you haven’t slept. Well, you’ll have to get approval from Principal Reed,” she said with a sigh, exhausted.
Great. New rules to be broken.
I stepped into Principal Reed’s office with a note from Nurse William.
I fake sneezed and coughed.
“You’ve used up all your school sick days,” he said, perusing my file. “You’ve requested to leave school one hundred and thirty days out of the one hundred and forty days of school so far.”
“So thirty-one might be the magic number?”
“Well, you do look awful,” he finally said, and signed my school release form.
“Thanks!” I said sarcastically.
I wasn’t planning on appearing so convincing.
“I’m sorry, Raven,” my mom said as she pulled our SUV into the driveway. “I feel terrible leaving you alone, but I have an off-site meeting that’s been scheduled for months.”
She walked me to the front door and gave me a quick hug as I stepped inside.
“Funny,” I began. “I’m feeling better already.”
I closed the door, and as soon as I saw my mom drive down the street, I grabbed my usual vampire detectors—garlic powder and a compact mirror belonging to Ruby White of Armstrong Travel—and headed straight for Trevor’s.
No wonder vampires didn’t venture out in daylight. I hungered for the safe haven of shade from trees and hovering clouds and thirsted for the warm blanket of nightfall. The hot sun began to bake my pale skin as I rode my bike up the Mitchells’ driveway and passed a Ferguson and Son’s Painting pickup parked in front of their four-car garage. I laid the bike against the side of the screened-in porch and rang the Mitchells’ bell. Their dog began to bark from the backyard.
When no one answered, I rang the bell again.
Suddenly a small, elderly white-haired man carrying a ladder came out of the garage.
“Hi, Mr. Ferguson,” I said, running over to the familiar painter. “Is Trevor home?”
The elderly worker looked at me oddly.
“It’s me, Raven,” I said, pulling down my shades.
“Hi, Raven. Shouldn’t you be at school?” he wondered.
“I’m on lunch break,” I replied.
“I didn’t think they let kids go home for lunch anymore. In my day, there was no such thing as school lunch,” he began. “We had to—”
“Really, I’d love to hear all about it, but I don’t have much time—”
“I just dispatched my sons for takeout. If I’d known you were coming…,” he began politely.
“That’s very sweet of you, but I just need to see Trevor.”
“It’s probably not a good day for a visit. He’s been in his room since sunrise.”
Sunrise? I wondered.
“Well, I’ll just be a minute,” I said, walking past him toward the garage.
Mr. Ferguson put down the ladder.
“Raven, I can’t let you in.”
“But why? It’s only me—,” I whined.
Didn’t he know I was on a mission to save Dullsville?
“Not when I’m on a job. It could cost me my contract.”
More rules to be broken.
I plastered on my best puppy-dog face, the one I used with my dad when I wanted to stay out late. But the old man was steadfast. “The Mitchells should be home after five.”
“I’ll come back later then,” I responded. “It was nice seeing you.”
I walked over to my bike as Mr. Ferguson awkwardly carried the ladder to his truck. With his back to me, I knew I had only seconds. I dashed into the garage, snuck past a vintage Bentley, and opened the door to the laundry room. The smell of fresh paint wafted through the house as I raced over the plastic drop cloth, past the newly painted sunflower yellow kitchen. I would have complimented Mr. Ferguson on his paint job if it wouldn’t have given away my dubious location.
I ran toward the front hall.
I’d been to Trevor’s house only once, for his fifth birthday party, and that was only because he had invited everyone in our kindergarten class. My parents always told me that when they grew up and returned to their childhood homes, the houses looked smaller. Well, if Trevor’s house seemed like a castle when I was in kindergarten, then as a sophomore, it had only downsized to a mansion. Mr. Mitchell owned half of Dullsville, and Mrs. Mitchell made her living by serial shopping. And it showed.
The entranceway alone seemed three stories high. A marble balcony was accentuated with two descending bleach white wooden staircases forming a semicircle around an indoor fountain. A grand dining room sat off to the left with a white diamond teardrop chandelier and a glass table with twelve beige linen-covered chairs. It was almost the
same style as the living room at the Mansion—but without the cobwebs. On the right, a sitting room the size of my house was decorated in African art and adorned with enough fertility statues to impregnate an entire country.
I remembered standing in this exact spot when I was five, just after my mom dropped me off. For what seemed like hours, my classmates were running past me, giggling as if I weren’t even there.
Finally we were called outside to the Mitchells’ football-size backyard where a clown, a merry-go-round, and a pony were awaiting us. Watching my classmates dance, sing, and ride, I sat alone on the patio until Trevor opened one perfectly wrapped present after another containing Hot Wheels, LEGOs, or Nerf footballs. Then Mrs. Mitchell handed him a black box complete with a black bow, wrapped by yours truly.
Trevor ripped the package open and pulled out a brand-new mint-condition Dracula action figure. His eyes lit up and he exclaimed, “Wow!”
Mrs. Mitchell cued him to “show and share.”
Wide-eyed, he proudly passed it to the pigtailed partygoer sitting next to him.
“That looks like Raven!” the girl shouted.
“Gross. It probably has cooties,” another warned, returning it to him.
Trevor’s gorgeous smile turned into a hideous frown. He glared at me and threw my gift back in the box.
I remained alone on the patio steps for the rest of the party while the other kids ate cake and ice cream.
My stomach turned as I remembered that day. I paused for a moment and wondered if instead of running up to Trevor’s room and warning him about Luna’s intentions, I should sneak back out the way I came in.
I heard the laundry room doorknob turn.
I quietly raced up the pristine staircase and past more doors than were in the MGM Grand Hotel. After peeking in a million guest bedrooms and bathrooms down a hallway the length of an international runway, one final door awaited.
I’m not sure what I expected to find—Trevor had been sleeping since sunrise. It had been confirmed by several sources that he was sick and pale. If Trevor had already been bitten, I was putting myself in danger.