Drink, Slay, Love

by Sarah Beth Durst

  It would never have worked with a vampire, but these weren’t vampires.

  All three humans nodded their heads.

  The principal spoke first. “Believe me, we are not unsympathetic. We know how difficult transitions can be.”

  “Change can be frightening,” the counselor said. “But you should know that you’re not in this alone. We are, all of us, here to help you. Pearl, I’d like you to start coming to see me, once a week. We’ll look at your schedule and find a free period.”

  Pearl tensed. “See you for what?”

  “To talk,” Ms. Delancey said. “Just talk about whatever is on your mind. That’s my job. That’s what I’m here for. I’m your safe haven.”

  Pearl couldn’t help gawking at her. “Seriously? That’s your job? To listen to me talk?”

  “You and other students who need someone who won’t judge, who won’t play games with you. Don’t mistake me—if I think you’re out of line, I will tell you. But our conversations will be strictly confidential.”

  It was such a bizarre concept that Pearl couldn’t think of a response. This was her punishment? Weekly “talks”?

  “You understand that this sort of behavior—leaving school property without parental permission—is not to be repeated,” the principal said.

  “Do you plan to tell my parents?” Pearl asked.

  Principal Shapiro shook his head. “I think we can overlook it this time. So long as we can expect better of you in the future, and so long as you meet your appointments with Ms. Delancey without fail.”

  This was a genuine miracle. For whatever reason (either stupidity or kindness), these humans were sparing her from facing Mother’s wrath. “It won’t happen again,” she said. “And I’ll make the appointments.” She felt an odd twinge inside her rib cage. Her eyes felt hot, but she didn’t dare let any tears leak out. They couldn’t see her cry blood.

  Coach Enlow spoke up. “One more thing . . .”

  Okay, now the ax would fall.

  “I’d like you to consider joining one of our sports teams.”

  Wait . . . what? Instead of being punished, she was being asked to join a team?

  “It might make your transition easier,” Ms. Delancey said. “Sports are a great way to make friends. You can form bonds with other students by sharing a common experience.”

  “The track team trains after school today,” the coach said. “Join us in the gym, and we’ll assess your skill level.”

  Pearl found herself nodding. Humans, she thought, are certifiably insane.

  The principal said, “We want your high school experience to be as rewarding and successful as possible.”

  Ms. Delancey added, “We want you to be happy here.”

  The coach smiled. “And I would like to win at regionals.”

  Pearl left the office feeling dazed. Mrs. Kerry at the front desk waved at her as she half walked and half stumbled back toward class. Glancing over her shoulder multiple times, she watched for an attack that never came.

  Chapter

  FOURTEEN

  After school, Pearl poked her head into the gym. She saw a collection of girls stretching on the floor. A couple of them she recognized from classes or the cafetorium (like the thin girl with pink-lemonade-colored hair), but most she didn’t, which was perfect—she needed a fresh batch of humans. Maybe now she’d have better luck with securing the king’s dinner.

  Everyone recognized her instantly, of course. As soon as they noticed that she wore gym clothes (with sneakers, this time), the whispers started. She ignored them and walked across the gym to the coach.

  Coach Enlow smiled like a shark. “Pearl! Delighted you could join us. This”—she waved her hands at the girls—“is my varsity track team. Everyone, this is Pearl. She’ll be trying out for us today.”

  The whispers intensified.

  The coach clapped her hands. “Okay, we’re going to start with an easy run around the field. Everyone, out the door! Pearl, show me what you’ve got, but don’t tap yourself out. I already know you can sprint. We’ll be heading off-road shortly to see how you do on long distance.”

  Pearl joined the pack. She stuck to the middle at first. Around her, the girls chattered about their day: quizzes, boys, and the upcoming prom. One of them had picked out her dress already, and the others demanded details, which led to a discussion of how many sequins were too many and a consensus that no girl should risk being mistaken for a disco ball.

  Listening, Pearl studied the hierarchy of the girls around her. There was the opinionated one (at the center of the pack) and the quieter ones (on the edges). The witty ones flanked the center girl, while the focused runners took the lead. Their physical positions mirrored the conversation dynamics. Pearl debated which kind of girl would be the best prey.

  “All right, ladies,” the coach shouted. “Let’s take it off campus!” Jogging, she led the way through a break in the fence (rather than over it, as Pearl had done the day before). They crossed the parking lot in a pack. “Three miles today, ladies! Stay together, and don’t let the cars smush you.”

  They jogged across a crosswalk that someone had overenthusiastically marked with yellow Xs bright enough to be seen from an airplane, and then they spread out over an uneven sidewalk. Their run involved multiple streets in the wooded section of Greenbridge, aka the dull half of town.

  On the second mile Pearl spotted the unicorn.

  He was a white shadow that flitted between the pine trees. At first the flashes of white were so fast that she thought she was seeing reflections from the cars that zoomed past them. But then she saw the horn, sparkling in the sun.

  A second later it was gone.

  Searching for another glimpse of the unicorn, she didn’t realize she was pulling into the lead. She’d meant to stay in the middle of the main pack, perhaps start up a conversation and become one of the girls.

  “Nice stride,” the girl in the front said.

  Pearl kept her eyes on the woods, watching for more flashes of silvery white. “Thanks.”

  “You holding back?” the girl asked.

  She heard the challenge in the girl’s voice, and she looked away from the woods to fix her eyes on the girl. She was taller than Pearl, mostly legs, and she ran like a loping gazelle. Her coffee-colored skin had a sheen of sweat on it, but she talked as evenly as if they’d been walking. “Clearly,” Pearl said. “You?”

  “Obviously,” the girl said.

  Side by side, they reached the stop sign at the end of the street. Over her shoulder, the girl called, “Coach? Can me and the Goth chick stretch our legs?”

  “Go for it, Sana,” the coach said. “Just don’t lose her.”

  Smiling fiercely, Sana put on a burst of speed. Pearl lengthened her stride and matched her. Together, they ran through a neighborhood. The girl’s ponytail flapped on her back, and her breathing stayed even. Her breath control was impressive, for a human.

  In minutes, they’d left the pack behind.

  Pearl wished she could run like this for hours. It felt lovely to simply move, even better than it had felt in gym class since she wasn’t confined to a fenced-in field. But she was here to do a job. This was an opportunity: She had alone time with one of the runners. She needed to chat her up, befriend her, and then figure out the best trap to lay. It would be good if she could learn about how the practices worked, if the team normally left the campus, if they ever varied their route, if they ever ran at dusk. Jogging at the same pace as Sana, Pearl tried to think of a casual opening. “So . . . do you like track?” Pearl asked.

  “Running time,” the girl said in a perfect imitation of the coach, “not chatting time.” She increased her speed, and Pearl matched her. They ran silently past yards and fences, as well as thick swaths of trees. Pearl felt the sun warm her shoulders, and she relaxed into her stride.

  “Yes, I like it,” Sana said. It took Pearl a second to remember what question she’d asked. “It’s just you in track, you know? Just yo
ur muscles and the ground. You can forget everything else.”

  Pearl wished that were true.

  She saw another flash of white between the trees. She was certain that the dratted beast was following her. She gritted her teeth and told herself to ignore it. Her parents needed her to complete this hunt. If she could make herself part of this team, perhaps she could deliver the whole pack of joggers for the ceremony. That was a lovely idea: nine girls plus a coach.

  Liking that plan, she ran a little faster, just fast enough so that Sana fell behind her as they raced by the school sign, through the parking lot, and to the field by the gym.

  “Nice,” Sana said, panting as they reached the bleachers.

  “Think Coach will let me in?”

  “Definitely,” Sana said. “She wants to win regionals this year. Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but is it true you bashed all the cars in the parking lot?”

  “Not exactly all,” Pearl said. “Is that a problem?”

  “Do you plan to do it again?”

  “I didn’t plan it the first time,” Pearl said. “The cars were just in my way.”

  Sana stared at her for a second, and then she burst out laughing. She doubled over, hands on her knees. She had one of those half-silent, half-donkey-bray sorts of laugh.

  Frowning, Pearl said, “What’s so funny?”

  “The cars . . . ,” Sana sputtered, “ . . . just in your way . . .” She kept laughing. Oddly, Pearl felt a laugh bubble up inside her, too. Her mouth tipped into a smile. “ . . . so you just . . .” Sana mimed with her fingers the act of hopping over them, and Pearl couldn’t help it: She started laughing too.

  By the time the coach and the other runners panted their way onto the field, both Sana and Pearl had recovered from laughing and were stretching side by side.

  Sana pointed at Pearl. “You need to let this girl on the team, Coach.”

  The coach flashed a smile. “Done. You’re in.”

  Pearl smiled back, but she couldn’t look at Sana. Hunting was so much easier when she hadn’t heard her prey laugh.

  The other morning in the library reading room, the light had pierced through the colors and played over the wood. Now, in late afternoon, the light was a rich amber that danced with the blue, green, and red stained glass in a subdued waltz. It spread across the wood panels, chairs, and tables, warming them with jeweled colors. Pearl couldn’t blame Bethany for wanting to meet here. Standing in the middle of the room, she let the light fall over her skin.

  “You’re here!” Bethany said behind her.

  “Anxious to fulfill my academic potential,” Pearl said without turning from the sun.

  “I thought you’d decide I’m too much of a nerd to be seen with,” Bethany said. “I’m not. I mean, I kind of am. But it’s not all of me.”

  “I know,” Pearl said. She looked over her shoulder at Bethany. “You’re also the human equivalent of a puppy: eager, trusting, and overly friendly.”

  Bethany’s face fell.

  “Believe it or not, that wasn’t an insult.”

  “I can identify a gerund, a dangling participle, and an insult at a hundred paces.” Bethany dropped her backpack on one of the tables and unloaded a stack of textbooks.

  “Shakespeare has the best insults,” Pearl said. She laid her one notebook on the table. “‘Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.’”

  Both of Bethany’s eyebrows shot up. “You read Shakespeare?”

  “I think I’m insulted that you’re so surprised.” Pearl picked a chair and sat. “I have an uncle who loves him. I had to read to participate in dinner conversations. My other favorite: ‘Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, to signify thou camest to bite the world.’” In actual conversation, that quote had been used as a compliment, but Bethany didn’t need to know that detail.

  “What’s your favorite?” Bethany asked.

  “Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  Bethany again looked surprised. On her, the expression was a bit like one of those anime characters with the enormous eyes and mouth in a perfect O. “Really?” She sank into the chair opposite Pearl.

  “Puck is kind of badass,” Pearl said.

  “Huh,” Bethany said. “I would have picked you more for Hamlet.”

  Pearl shook her head vehemently. “Too whiny. Just get on with it. Though I do appreciate the body count at the end. Old Will was quite thorough.”

  “So what exactly do you need help with?” Bethany asked.

  Pearl’s eyes fixed on Bethany’s neck. She forced herself to look up at the girl’s face. She couldn’t snack with the librarians and patrons wandering in and out of the reading room. Might as well do what I came here to do, she thought. She went with the truth again: “I can’t flunk out. My parents would be very, very displeased. So I need you to bring me up to speed. My education has been . . . nontraditional.”

  “You honestly want to be tutored?” Bethany asked.

  “Um, yes,” Pearl said. “Did you think I came to dance?”

  “I didn’t think you’d show at all.”

  Pearl shook her head. “You have a serious confidence issue, do you know that? If you were in my family, you’d be eaten alive.”

  “How do you do it?” Bethany asked. “You walk through the school halls as if you own the place, even though you upset half the student body so that they’re not sure if you’re stable enough to be near. . . No offense meant. I mean, I know you’re totally cool and stuff, but . . .” She began to dither as she backtracked over her words.

  Pearl held up her hand. “Can we just do some tutoring?”

  “Oh. Right.” Bethany selected a textbook. She flipped to the middle. “Let’s start with history.” Bethany switched to sit next to her. Pearl focused on the book and tried to ignore her tutor’s neck.

  After about two hours, Pearl’s stomach began to roll, and her notes became erratic. Oblivious, Bethany continued through the textbooks, switching from history to English to bio.

  Finally, she paused.

  “Can you excuse me for a second?” Bethany said. “Just have to run to the ladies’ room.” She darted out of the reading room.

  Pearl rose to follow. At last, she could snack! Bathrooms were (mostly) private. She could easily gulp down a pint and then . . . she pictured the bubbliness draining out of Bethany’s eyes.

  For an instant the image stopped her.

  She shook herself. So what if Bethany lost her perkiness? Carbonated sodas lost their fizz too, but that didn’t stop humans from popping them open and slurping them down. Leaving her notebook behind, Pearl strode toward the restrooms.

  As she entered, Bethany was stuffing her cell phone back into her pocket. “Oh, hi! You, too? Power of suggestion, I guess,” Bethany said. Her voice jumped as she spoke, as if she was nervous. Pearl wondered whom she’d called and then decided she didn’t care.

  “Guess so.” Pearl smiled tightly. She listened for any sounds from the toilet stalls. No flushes. No visible feet below the stalls. If she pulled Bethany into a stall . . . it would be quick and easy.

  “You’re doing better with the bio,” Bethany said.

  Of course, it would also end the tutoring session. It would be a shame if that smart leached out of her before Pearl was finished with it. Then again, she did have other volunteers to tutor her, such as Evan. Pearl stepped closer to Bethany.

  For an instant Pearl thought she saw a flicker of fear, as if Bethany had somehow sensed the predator in Pearl. But then the expression vanished, and Pearl decided she must have imagined the skittish-rabbit look.

  “I wish I could make my hair behave like yours,” Bethany said as she lifted her strawberry-blonde waves up. They bounced back down. “Yours looks all sleek and not tangled. You practically shine.”

  Pearl realized that they stood in front of a mirror. Any second, Bethany would notice that Pearl had a ghostly reflection (at best) or no reflection at all (at worst). Inching backward, Pearl glanced at
the mirror.

  She froze.

  Reflected in the mirror beside Bethany was a tall, thin girl with sleek black hair. Her face was pale, and her eyes were bright blue black, like a fresh bruise, brilliant against the paleness of her skin. In a detached way, Pearl noted that she was quite beautiful, though she’d never pass for “cute” in the way that Bethany did. She also noted that she didn’t look as much like Mother as she’d always imagined.

  “Ever try wearing your hair up?” Bethany asked. “If I had yours, I think I’d try a new twist every day if my hair would cooperate. I know, I know, call me shallow, but I’m a girly-girl when it comes to hair.”

  Pearl shook her head, and the girl in the mirror mimicked her. She had never tried a different hairstyle because she’d never seen her hair to style it. She touched her hair and then her face.

  After a moment of silence, Bethany smiled brightly and then said, “Okay then, meet you back in the reading room.”

  Pearl barely heard her exit.

  She had a full, solid reflection, not the hint of one that she’d seen at the Dairy Hut. Whatever that unicorn had done to her . . . What had he done? And why? She had to catch him. Even if he couldn’t talk, he could pound his hoof yes or no. She’d throttle the answers out of him, if necessary.

  She wished she knew more about unicorns. It was impossible to hunt something when she didn’t know its habits or habitats. She wondered if anyone did. If so . . . well, she was in a library.

  New goal in mind, Pearl strode out of the bathroom without a backward glance at the mirror. She crossed to the computer, brought up a search on the keyword “unicorn,” and then headed to the folklore section. She immediately began pulling out book after book. Dropping down to sit cross-legged in the aisle, she flipped through them.

  After fifteen minutes of this, she decided it was pointless. No book was going to conveniently fall open to just the page she needed. After all, unicorns were supposed to be mythical. Like vampires.

  Feeling like an idiot, she left the pile of books on the floor. All she’d learned was that unicorns had a thing for virgin girls. Also, judging by the plethora of tapestries, medieval people had a lot of spare time on their hands.