Abigail Rath Versus Bloodsucking Fiends

by Catherine Schaff-Stump

  Coral nodded when I got to the other side. Now, I expect, she knew where her real competition was. Coral horseshoed around the curve of the rink and amped her speed for notch five. She extended her left leg and sat low to the floor, using the right skate’s speed to see her through. I was so thrilled with the technique, I forgot to be annoyed she’d made it.

  Vince’s friend wobbled and stalled out under the bar. He twitched and hit the pole. Mel announced him out. His name turned out to be Hector.

  Sixth notch. Me and Coral. Show down. It had been a while since I had to negotiate the sixth notch. I wasn’t short, but I was shorter than Coral, so I was optimistic about my chances. It was obvious from notch five that she was more flexible.

  I focused. I built up momentum, shot forward, and squatted, tucking my head and hoping that nothing would be in my way. The crowd reacted as I rolled under, the collective exhale signaled that I had made it. Now, if only Coral wouldn’t.

  Coral contortioned. It was like watching the blade of a pocketknife fold into its sheath. Again, the skaters around us gasped.

  “Come on, Abby!” Good old Vince. Marty gave me the thumbs up. Mel lowered the bar another notch on the poles, to notch seven.

  My palms sweated and I rubbed them on my jeans. I chewed on my lower lip and threw my braid over my left shoulder as I rounded for speed. The rink was so quiet that I could hear the rasp of my wheels. Down I went, thinking as small as I could.

  I felt the bar, the slightest bump, and heard the crowd’s collective “aw!”

  It wasn’t quite over. If Coral couldn’t make notch seven, we’d keep working on notch six until one of us failed. I ground my teeth. Coral skated forward.

  I swear, Coral must have sunk half of herself into the concrete to avoid hitting that bar, but she did it. The crowd went wild with applause and hoots. She unfolded herself, becoming her normal willowy height, and I decided that her bones had to be telescoping.

  “That was really something,” I said, skating forward to shake hands.

  “You too,” said Coral.

  “You’ll have to show me how you did that.”

  Coral shook her head. “Can’t give away my secret. You’d win for sure.”

  Big Mel scooted toward us with a gift certificate for Coral. “Rematch next week?”

  Coral studied me. “Yeah. I have to do this for, what, six more weeks?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Rematch next week.”

  I headed to Vince and Marty. William intersected the rink to cut me off.

  “You were great,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Even though I was hard core, I knew that winning wasn’t everything. I had done really well on notch six. “Coral was better.”

  “She’s not all that.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  William smiled. “I can’t say so. She’s my sister.”

  Two insanely good-looking new people on the same night? “That makes sense.”

  “We’re taking off, but I wondered if you’d be here next weekend?”

  “I’m always here.”

  “Cool.” He skated away toward Coral and her gift certificate. I was looking forward to seeing him next week. He was really nice, and I felt a little tingle whenever I looked at him.

  Horror dawned as I realized that the attraction I felt for William was most likely…a crush! Forget vampires. Talk about something really scary.

  On the sidelines, Ned had his arms crossed, body language all hostile. Marty and Vince flanked him on either side. Mrs. Cooper was making a purchase at the snack bar.

  “You so deserved to win,” said Ned.

  Ned on my side? I was at a loss for words.

  “Good job, Abby.” Mrs. Cooper held out a bottle of water and I downed a healthy swig.

  “Can’t win all the time,” I said.

  “Hmph,” said Ned. He retreated behind his counter.

  “Ned likes you,” said Mrs. Cooper.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted Ned to be my little vampire friend. “Maybe,” I said.

  “Another hour,” she said. “Then we’re heading home.”

  “Yes, Mom,” said Vince.

  “Did you make a date with Austin Von Trapp?” Marty asked.

  “Hardly.” I scratched my elbow.

  “Uh-huh.”

  If Marty’d been Vince, I’d have slugged her. I was thinking about it anyway. I finished the water and took the bottle up to Ned for recycling. He threw it in a bin behind the counter. Big Mel was environmental all the way.

  “She cheated,” said Ned.

  “Don’t sweat it. I’ll get her next time. I just gotta get more limber.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Give me,” I glanced through the snack selections, “the corn chips, and I’ll assume we’re back to eying each other with suspicion.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  At the Mall,

  No One Can Hear You Scream

  Every Sunday previous to what we were now calling “the incident,” Dad and I always had special monster hunting training in the man cave. At least that’s what I’d thought it was. This Sunday, Mom announced a new plan. “I thought we would all watch a movie together in the family room.”

  “Very good,” said Dad. I had the feeling this conversation had been rehearsed.

  “What’s the movie?” I knew it wasn’t going to be a horror film, but if I were lucky, I might get a fantasy or a science fiction film. A future monster hunter could learn a lot from violent space aliens or even evil, mostly dead wizards.

  “The ladies at the shop assured me girls your age really like this one.”

  “Oh Mom, you didn’t get Dusk?”

  Mom’s lips flatlined. “I could hardly get you Dusk.”

  “Quite right,” Dad said. “That film’s full of worthless rubbish about vampires.”

  “There’s nothing supernatural in this film.” Mom held up the DVD case.

  A young woman in an evening gown held hands with a handsome young man in a sort of military uniform. They were gazing at each other. In elegant loopy writing above them was the title: My Princess Vacation.

  Dad puffed out his cheeks and blew out a breath. “Looks wonderful. Don’t you think so, Abby?”

  “Does she sword fight?”

  “Let’s find out,” said Mom. She fiddled with the tech while Dad moved pillows on the couch so she could join him. I took one of the discarded white pillows and slipped it behind my back, so the edge of the couch would not dig into me as I sat on the floor.

  This room was all wrong for movie watching. Sun streamed in the windows. I could see Mom’s iris bed outside. I felt like I should be wearing something frilly, and we should be drinking tea. At least popcorn was still in. Nothing too sinister about popcorn.

  We watched for a while. This was the plot. American girl goes to Europe with aunt. Aunt is prohibitive, girl is adventurous. She decides she’s going to sneak out at night to go clubbing. Instead, she meets Prince European, slumming at the disco with Duke and Earl, his royal friends. Cue the night of romance!

  Mom paused the DVD. Dad was smothering laughter behind his fist. I was wide-eyed and expectant, looking between one and the other.

  “Defying authority is a common plot device in stories and movies,” said Dad. “It often gets the adventure rolling and incites conflict.”

  Mom tilted her head, considering. “I don’t like the portrayal of the aunt. Why is it that older women are portrayed as shrill and offensive in film?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Dad. “I’m sure she’ll be revealed to be wiser than her years.”

  “Or she will be the joke, all the way through.” Mom appraised my expectant self. “No, I don’t think these are the role models I want my daughter to be exposed to.”

  I love Mom. I have more affinity with Dad, but there are some things about Mom that are very cool. She is the reason I’m at Wolfcroft. When I was going into the fourth grade, Mom and I talked about my educational future. She
cited several statistical studies about how young women excel more when they attend single sex private schools. I had my career to focus on, so it made sense to me.

  “Mom,” I said. “I kind of want to see how this comes out. Let’s watch it.” Did I say that?

  Mom pressed the play button. “Okay. Expect parental guidance.”

  “And Abby?” said Dad, “You would never, ever sneak out to go to a European disco?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  Sure enough, after American Girl falls for Prince European, she tries to sneak back in, but Strict Aunt catches her, and is strict. My expectations are unexcited by Hollywood. The camera tightened to a close up on Strict Aunt.

  “Freeze it, Polly!”

  Whenever there’s a particular point Dad wants to explain to me from a film, he freezes the scene and we talk until the DVD’s screen saver comes on.

  Dad leaned toward the screen. “Yes, I think it is.”

  “Someone you know?”

  “One of the Bathory sisters.”

  “Who?” I had never heard of the Bathory sisters.

  “Three Brides of Dracula. The Bathory sisters were three actresses who looked a little alike. They all peroxided their hair, their agent helped them pick a suitably horrific name, and they were a hot commodity for a bit.”

  “I haven’t seen any of their movies,” I said.

  “Nor will you,” said Mom. “Not at your age.”

  “Names,” said Dad, trying for recall. “Lacey, Velvet, and… and…”

  Mom smirked. “Butterfly.”

  “Butterfly?”

  “Could’ve been worse. She could’ve chosen Bambi. I think Velvet is the aunt.”

  “Ah,” Mom said. “Not the vampiric one.”

  “It couldn’t be, could it?”

  Now they had my full attention. “Explain.”

  “This isn’t working out,” said Dad.

  My ring tone sounded—Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. Captain Nemo plays it on the Nautilus. Mom and Dad traded a look which said they were grateful for the reprieve.

  “Sorry.” I slipped into the dining room. Vince. Good.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi,” said Vince. “Thought you’d be wondering about whether Ned followed Mom and me home last night.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “Nope. No signs of parents under hypnotic vampire spell either. All clean here.”

  “All that means is Ned could be biding his time because we’re onto him.”

  Silence for a moment. “How’s your reform going? Doing anything?”

  “Oh yeah. Gotta get back to quality family time, also known as reprogramming.”

  “Have fun. See you tomorrow?”

  “No. I’ll be doing hard time at Wolcroft after school.”

  “Right,” said Vince. “I bet I get in-school suspension. Do you want me to say hello to Austin Von Trapp?”

  “And Limbo Sister if you see her. Gotta go.”

  “Bye.”

  “Ciao.”

  Mom snapped the DVD back into its case. “Your father and I wondered if you wanted to go out for ice cream?

  Kaplan Kone?”

  “Not open yet. Next weekend.” Which for those of you who are noting we are in California, and why does an ice cream shop close, I will tell you about the Kaplans and their migrating habits later. “About the vampire?”

  “No vampires today,” said Dad. “And no princesses. Miniature golf.”

  I resigned myself. “Miniature golf.”

  Mom pulled up in front of Wolcroft, a modern facility built with an old-fashioned sensibility, as the brochures outside our main office touted. I pulled my backpack out of the back seat. “I’m done at five. Detention.”

  “Every day this week. I’ll expect you home at 5:30, sharp.”

  “Sharp.”

  I watched our car putter away, hoisted my book bag, and passed through the glass doors.

  Inside the building, lots of girls dressed just like me were milling around in the hallway and the cafeteria. At Wolcroft, we are all about navy. Navy skirts with pleats. Navy blazers with our school crest, and a navy pullover or a navy cardigan, also with the school crest. Also a white shirt, which is pretty standard for school uniforms. And my favorite part, the navy blue, gold and gray striped tie. I was not a slouchy tie wearer. My dad had taught me to tie one properly, so my tie was always crisp.

  “Hey, Abs.”

  Marty was a slouchy tie wearer, her neck gaping at the top instead of tucked away. Her black hair sported two fuzzy braids at the edges. She had switched over to contacts and looked owly when she wore them. Her face was blank where her glasses used to perch.

  “Good morning.”

  “There’s a new girl,” Marty said. “You know her already.”

  I opened my locker. Taped inside was my picture of Frankenstein’s Monster as portrayed by Boris Karloff. Classic film that. It aggravated me that a lot of people called him Frankenstein, because Frankenstein wasn’t Boris Karloff. Frankenstein was really Peter Cushing. Not in the film with Karloff. I mean, Peter Cushing is Dr. Frankenstein in other Frankenstein films, where the monster isn’t anyone to speak of most of the time. If I could have it my way, I’d have Karloff play opposite Cushing. What a film that would be! Who would care if one of them was in black and white?

  My brain is more than capable of multitasking. I did not lose track of Marty’s conversation because of my alternative universe Frankenstein movie. “I know her how?”

  “I’ll show you,” said Marty. She pushed her glasses up, and discovered they weren’t there.

  “Hunh,” I said, “just like when someone gets their leg cut off.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You are weird, Abby.”

  “Yup.” I smiled, showing all my teeth. “You too, though.”

  Marty giggled a little. Good. Vince is so easy going I want to prod him with an electric rod to see if I can get anything out of him. Marty needs to relax. Dr. Frankenstein could take Marty and Vince and put them together into a really cool best friend. Abigail Rath’s monster? It was a Franken-kind of morning.

  The new girl was the eye of a hurricane of navy uniforms, a little unusual for the new student experience. Usually, no one wants to talk to you, people cut you off, and you can’t make new friends. Not that this would bother me, because I am a rugged individualist who doesn’t care at all what people think.

  This girl was a magnet, and she was Coral, my limbo nemesis. “Marty, what kind of name is Coral anyway?”

  “A nice one.”

  “If you’re from under the sea. Come on. We don’t need to be part of the groupie experience.”

  We passed the principal’s office. “I have to stop in here,” I said.

  “Why?”

  I winced. Marty was going to think less of me, which was bad. “I wasn’t sick on Friday. I...skipped school.” There was a lump in my throat when I said that, a pressure in my chest which made me feel like I was having the junior high version of cardiac arrest. This feeling is also familiar in situations where you momentarily forget the answers on a test, or you discover spinach has been in your teeth for longer than an hour.

  Marty’s demeanor changed. “Why would you do that?”

  “Well, Vince asked me to help him with a problem…” I scratched my head.

  “Oh, Abby. Unwise. That’s a week of detention…”

  “Which I am going to go set up now. I will see you in class.”

  “You are aware that this school has an honor code?”

  “Yes, I am aware of the honor code.” Cockroaches in the basement at Wolcroft were aware of the honor code.

  “Bev isn’t going to like this.”

  Marty was right. Detention would keep me out of field hockey this week, which was probably something I should have thought about before the Ned excursion too.

  My interview with Ms. Cheever confirmed that hockey was out. Every day, detention i
n the library until five. Reflection essays on the nature of my crime. Zeros for all homework this week, although I had to do it. While I wasn’t going to write anything about the real reason I skipped, I was expected to show on paper my reform from a juvenile delinquent to an academic go getter, even though I hadn’t been a hoodlum on Thursday before my adventure. Life was funny. I hadn’t realized that detention would be so punitive.

  My first class of the day was science. I love science, because there are always ways to subvert the purposes of legitimate science to monster-hunting techniques. Science teachers liked me. My labs and tests were covered with comments like “Very good, Abby!” and “Exemplary work!” I credit my mom interesting me in science at an early age.

  I plopped down by Marty and pulled out my notebook. The curves of the metal spiral were bent at the top and the bottoms, the wear of a tough year. At the back of the room, several girls were still attached to the super popular Coral. She waggled some fingers at me in a gesture of greeting. I waved fingers back and remembered to be aggravated at her again.

  Honestly, she could win at limbo, but to threaten my record like that? I had to win next week and have a victory Coke with William, provided Mom wasn’t at the rink. Not that a Coke would be a date.

  At the front of the room, Mrs. Lester in a white lab coat tapped the computer screen to record attendance. The smart board behind her broadcasted the Wolcroft crest, shining navy against white. She peered at me over the tops of her glasses. “Abby?”

  “Yes?”

  “Unexcused absence?”

  “Yes.”

  There was some murmuring. “Okay. See me about making up Friday’s homework, and keep up.”

  That would be all I would get from Mrs. Lester in way of reprimand. She was super cool and quirky. She didn’t hunt monsters, but she could have.

  The last bell rang. Students took their seats, models of attentiveness. “Settle down.” Mrs. Lester went for the classic get busy as soon as you entered the room technique. I opened my notebook, wrote the date at the top of the page, positioned my Monster High eraser up in the left corner of my desk, and poised my Hello Kitty pencil.