Life as a Teenage Vampire

by Amanda Meuwissen

  “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Connor said. “You could interpret the character as all about sexual empowerment.”

  “Is it still empowerment if it’s exploitative for the sake of others?” Aurora asked, watching Jules saunter across set in a slinky turquoise nighty that accentuated her ample figure. Aurora glanced aside, down Connor’s body none too subtly, then back up to his face. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  Connor’s voice rose to something a little louder than an acceptable stage whisper. “Wait, am I not allowed to like boobs? Who decided that? I’ll have you know that there is a proud tradition of gay men appreciating boobs. It was the one reprieve my dad got when I came out.”

  Aurora snorted, returning her attention to the scene. “Mandy needs that extra set of sardines prepped, Con-Man. And I suppose someone needs to go prep Mavus’ pants. I hope he’s wearing appropriate boxers today.”

  “Ha. Ha. Who’s being exploitative now?” Connor pouted.

  Mandy Lakin was the prop master. She made sure that all props were ready and in their appropriate locations, usually on the prop table for the actors to grab without anything getting misplaced. Connor was in charge of preparing extra sardines, however, since his mother had been the one to create the sludge they used to simulate the real thing. The sardines themselves were grey Styrofoam marked with black sharpies for eyes, but the goo was Chemistry genius. Why Connor hadn’t inherited his mother’s prowess for the subject, he had no idea.

  “And okay, fine, so Brooke is meant to be a dumb blonde, but you can’t tell me some girls don’t look at Jules playing the pants off of that part and find it empowering. You start telling people what they are and aren’t allowed to be empowered by and you totally miss the point.”

  “I’m not saying it shouldn’t be allowed,” Aurora said. “Just sad this kind of thing is so expected.”

  “Fair, but this play was originally written in like, what, the 70s? Isn’t it bad enough we have to change all the ‘damns’ to ‘darns’? If we trade book burning for torching plays—or bonfires made out of TV show boxsets and video games—I will not consider that a victory.” He paused as he was about to walk further into the depths of backstage. “Crazy, huh? I think maybe our grandparents were fighting for the opposite of what so much of our generation is fighting for now.”

  “Crazy?” Aurora said with a smirk tossed over her shoulder. “Sounds more like history.”

  Half the time, Connor wasn’t sure which side of an argument Aurora was on, or if she just liked to see where a discussion might lead. There was good reason he considered her one of his best friends—after Emery.

  As Connor finished preparing the plate of sardines, which needed to have tape on the bottom to stick to Emery’s hand for his next entrance—while Mandy peered over his shoulder, listening for where they were in the script the entire time—Nick walked up and whispered, “Funny, right? The whole play within a play thing? The characters are confused about how many plates of sardines there are and where and when they go on stage. And so are we.” He offered a crooked smirk.

  Connor and Mandy turned to him at the same time, with the same glare.

  “Hilarious,” she deadpanned.

  She and Emery had dated sophomore year, so try as he might, Connor never could get himself to like her. For this, though, he could share a moment of camaraderie.

  Nick held his hands up in defense and lumbered along toward the other side of backstage, passing Emery as he came over to get his plate of sardines. It was one of the few spots in the show when Emery had enough time to collect his own prop. He grinned, holding out his hand for Connor to tape it.

  Their director and school counselor, Mark Olson, had pulled Emery aside when they first arrived at practice; Connor assumed to have a quick talk about recent events and make sure Emery was still good to perform. They had almost a month until opening night, but every practice counted, especially with a show as complicated as this one. Connor knew Emery wanted the distraction more than anything else, and since Mark hadn’t said anything to the cast before practice started, he must have understood that too.

  Connor let his flesh and blood hand linger on Emery’s wrist maybe a moment too long as he finished taping the plate for the next scene, where Emery’s character was meant to have accidentally glued it to his hand. But, despite Emery’s grin, he seemed distracted and didn’t notice the tender caress.

  “How’d the test in Psych go?” Connor whispered before Emery could dash away.

  Emery shrugged. “I’ll know tomorrow. Sucks having Liz in the same class, but I think some of my studying managed to sink in.” He flashed another almost believable smile, and his hazel eyes shimmered green in the dim lighting.

  Connor reminded himself that it would be way too obvious if he swooned.

  He wanted to ask if Emery was hungry, or feeling weird at all, or anything else vampire related, but he could only pretend they were talking fiction so many times before someone started asking real questions, especially with Mandy right there and other stagehands about.

  It was quite a few pages later in the script when Emery needed to drop his pants on stage—well, for Act I; it was a recurring theme later too. And someone did need to prep his pants. Emery had the plate of sardines taped to one hand and would have a piece of paper taped to the other, so he wasn’t capable of undoing his slacks himself at that point. When Aurora originally volunteered to do it, Emery had politely asked for Connor instead.

  “It’s at least slightly less awkward if you do it,” Emery had said.

  Connor hadn’t the courage to explain to him how it so, so wasn’t.

  Emery with his pants down totally made up for Jules’ cleavage, though—Connor would have to remember to tell Aurora that later.

  “Gotta go. Don’t forget to help on my next exit,” Emery said with an exaggerated wink that he had no idea made Connor weak in the knees, and headed back to his stage mark for his next cue. He had the taped up piece of paper hidden behind the set. All he had to do was stick his hand to it before he went on.

  During the next scene, Connor finished putting aside the sardine supplies so no one would accidentally step in or knock over any goo, then made his way across set to Emery’s door. After Emery exited, they had a few pages before his pants needed to be mostly undone so that it was easier to drop them when his character realized the poison he was using to eat through the glue on his hands was eating through his pants as well. Connor moved to assist his friend immediately, so no one would be caught with, well…their pants not down.

  Emery’s stomach tensed as Connor’s cold hands—the plastic of his left hand probably colder than his skin—brushed the slight pudge there while undoing his slacks. The pudge was soft, with just the slightest bit of dark hair trailing downward, and Connor used all of his will power not to let his thoughts stray.

  This was his best friend. He felt low as dirt sometimes for the fantasies he had about Emery, without his friend even knowing how he felt.

  “Connor?” Emery whispered, his brow knit when Connor looked up and realized he hadn’t moved away yet.

  “Still ticklish, huh, even as a vampire,” Connor said, poking the favored bit of pudge with his finger.

  Emery tensed again at the obvious tickle, then stifled a laugh—then frowned.

  “Feeling okay?” Connor asked, as someone breezed by behind them and he remembered he was supposed to avoid using the word ‘vampire’.

  “Yeah, it’s nothing like…that,” Emery said. “It’s just everything. Wanna come over for a bit after practice? I know it’ll be late, but—”

  “Of course.”

  Emery’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thanks. I really don’t know how I’d get through this without you.” He mustered a renewed smile, but just as their eyes met and lingered, his attention was ta
ken by a familiar line, signaling it was almost time for him to go back on stage.

  Connor gave a small wave and left his friend to it, moving swiftly to find the spot he always went to for this scene—the one with the best view of Emery when his pants dropped. He told himself it wasn’t for the partial nudity but for the humor and how perfectly Emery played the role of bumbling, adorable idiot.

  A mimbo. Totally fair play to Brooke’s bimbo.

  “You are seriously disturbed,” Aurora said as she slipped up behind him, where he was somewhat hidden between the side curtains and flats.

  Connor didn’t bother turning around. “Yep.”

  “It is a nice view though.”

  “Sexist.”

  Aurora laughed.

  Connor felt more like crying, watching for that magical moment when Emery playing the character of Frederick who in turn was playing the character of Philip stretched out his hands, one with sardines and the other a stuck tax return, losing the hold he had on his pants so that they dropped straight to the floor.

  Cue laugh. Cue Connor’s never-ending downward spiral at the sight of those strong dark legs and Emery’s green and purple plaid boxer shorts.

  ~

  Mom and Dad were curled up together on the sofa watching an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 when Connor and I got home. Having had another bomb threat at school meant they were more agreeable about Connor staying over for an hour—at max—before we parted and went to bed. Connor had already gotten permission from his folks, but I suspected the cheesy humor of the “Space Mutiny” episode was what helped sway mine. It was hard being strict while watching a Canadian Space Opera.

  We assured my parents that the bomb threats had nothing to do with anything other than freshmen antics, and headed upstairs with a swiped bag of potato chips for Connor to snack on. I hadn’t decided yet if my lack of an appetite was something to mourn over. At least I could eat, like at lunch so no one questioned me, but it was weird that I didn’t really miss it when I skipped a meal.

  “Truth?” I said as we neared my room. We hadn’t had much opportunity to talk alone all day. “I can’t stop thinking about that person I saw during evacuation. What if the hunters already know who I am?”

  “They’d have to question people for your name first, since it wasn’t in the papers,” Connor said smoothly, “or have some reason to suspect you after watching everyone. Just don’t do anything too vampirey out in the open.” He gave my shoulder a playful nudge.

  “Like wearing sunglasses all day?” I nudged him back. I really liked those sunglasses. I still couldn’t believe he’d given them to me.

  “You took them off in class, right? And tons of people had shades on during the walk to Trinity.”

  “I guess.”

  I pushed my door open without really thinking about it, distracted enough that I didn’t register how weird it was for the door to have been mostly closed…until I walked in on a stranger lying casually on my bed with my Captain America: Man and Wolf comic propped up on his knees.

  My arm shot out on instinct to keep Connor behind me.

  The stranger had somewhat smoothed back, curly brown hair, and a neatly trimmed, reddish brown mustache and beard. He wore dark jeans, a black blazer, blue Converse sneakers, and what I was pretty sure was a navy blue T-shirt with the TARDIS from Doctor Who. Like some goth hipster.

  “Why is there a goth hipster on your bed?” Connor hissed, and my panic was momentarily quelled by how in synch we were.

  The stranger looked up at that. His eyes were such a pale blue they looked silver, his skin fitting of a goth since it was almost white, and he had this smoothness about him that made it impossible to guess his age, though I wanted to say around thirty.

  Like Mr. Leonard…

  “Alec?”

  His neutral expression flipped into an immediate, wide smile as he nodded toward the comic. “Cap Wolf? I preferred Forever Avengers, personally, but I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”

  Chapter 9

  So Alec was who I’d seen by the school. I wanted to feel relief, but this was still a stranger, someone I knew to be a vampire, kicked back on my bed—with Connor behind me and my parents both downstairs.

  Then it struck me just how much I could tell he was a vampire. It came in a rush, like getting hit with a strong scent, only it was more like an invisible shockwave. He had a scent, but it was too clean, like he never perspired, which I suddenly realized might be true. He was a sterile, sleek predator, and I was not nearly as high up on the food chain. The hair on my arms prickled, my vision sharpened, and I noticed for the first time that I could hear Connor’s heartbeat like a metronome doing double time, because Alec’s pulse was slow and steady.

  “How lovely to realize that despite being under duress—which William obviously was to justify his actions—at least he turned someone interesting,” Alec said, with a sharp British accent that sounded like it held another accent underneath, like he’d learned how to speak English in the UK but was originally from somewhere else.

  Alec spun on the bed to drop his feet to the floor and stand in one flawless twirl. As he tossed the comic aside, Connor pushed me the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind us.

  “I can see why William liked you, trusted you,” Alec said, glancing around my room with a look of satisfaction, maybe approval. “He’d never have hired you to be so close around his grounds if he didn’t. He mentioned you once, I think; his gardener, is it? You’d think I’d know, wouldn’t you, but children these days, not calling home as often as their parents would like. Don’t you dare do that when you go off to university, young man,” he pointed a slender finger my way, “it breaks the heart.”

  “Uhh…” I was sure there was an eloquent sentence in me somewhere, but I was too floored. Sure, I was a vampire, but I’d never met another one before—at least not knowingly. He was probably hundreds of years old.

  “Do you think I could borrow that, actually,” he said, gesturing back at the comic on the bed. “I didn’t get to finish it, and I missed that run.”

  Okay, maybe he was a newer vampire? But Mr. and Mrs. Leonard had always seemed wise beyond their years—more so now when I thought back on it—and Alec was their maker; he had to be older than them. Their love of comics and pop culture had probably come from him. He certainly didn’t conjure up any dark, broody images of Dracula or the vampire Lestat.

  “I thought you said you preferred when Cap was a vampire in Forever Avengers,” Connor said, moving around me toward Alec, which had felt like certain doom a moment ago, but I didn’t get the impression he needed my protection anymore. “Which is seriously cliché, dude. Branch out beyond your species, why doncha?”

  “Well. At least someone’s paying attention,” Alec said with an appraising look at Connor, the same way he’d appraised my bedroom. “And I am branching out. Why do you think I want to finish the werewolf story? As my young protégé said, I’m Alec. And you are…?” He held out a hand, and when they shook, I marveled at how Alec’s skin was whiter than Connor’s.

  “Connor,” he introduced himself. “I’m this sorry excuse for a vampire’s best friend.”

  “Ah. I take it William didn’t get to give any lessons on discretion, then.”

  “He didn’t get to any lessons period, way I heard it.”

  They turned to me as their hands dropped, and I realized I should probably join in on the conversation. “He didn’t tell me anything. He turned me, shoved me into a closet, and died.” I winced at how blunt I’d just been, or maybe it was because I saw Alec wince, ever so slightly, like an eye twitch.

  “Yes…” Alec said, his recently wide-smiling face reset to neutral. “When he called, I knew he’d do something foolish. I didn’t think he’d actually turn someone, but I smelled you
the moment I set foot in their house. Didn’t take me long to track you here. It’s…”

  He trailed and for the briefest moment he looked ancient, like a thousand lifetimes were replaying behind his eyes, before he perked back up and stretched a Joker-like grin at me.

  “It’s your lucky day!” He tapped a finger to his lips and his eyes lit up like he’d just remembered he had a package coming in the mail. “My, I haven’t trained a newly turned vampire since William and Mallory, and that was ages ago. A pity they aren’t here to share all of their embarrassing stories about me, but you’ll just have to use your imagination. Shall we get started on any basics you’re curious about?” He rubbed his palms together, then glanced at Connor and winked. “Revealing your secret to a mortal would normally cost you a demerit, but given you had a few days without proper instruction, I suppose I can let him live.”

  I wanted to be horrified, but Connor huffed like he thought it was a joke.

  Was it a joke?

  “Wait, you’re here to train me?” I asked, fully aware that Alec’s glowing impression of me was probably being overshadowed by reality. “What about the hunters?”

  Alec waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, we’ll have to deal with them as well. I very much intend to discover why they thought it necessary to slaughter my children without probable cause.” A swift edge of darkness clouded his expression before his smile once again returned. “But! All in good time. I can’t very well have you running about unchecked and drawing attention to yourself. I’m a professional.”

  “A professional what?” Connor snorted. Apparently, he wasn’t taking this—or Alec—very seriously, and it made me a little annoyed because I was still pretty freaked.

  “The hunters—”

  “Have no idea where you are,” Alec interrupted me. “If they did, I would have noticed disturbances around your home. Actually, if they did, you’d probably be dead,” he said thoughtfully—thoughtfully, like it was fascinating instead of horrifying. “They’re good, whoever they are. Barely any traces of them left behind at the house, nothing concrete to follow. It’s likely they’re still in town because of you, but it could be days, weeks before they show their hand or leave me a good enough trail to follow. We’ll just have to be patient.”