Vampire High

by Douglas Rees

  After lunch—I mean dinner—ended, we all got up and went to class. Ileana and Justin melted into the rest of the kids, and Charon came back. We were surrounded by people who didn't seem to notice us.

  At first, I wondered if they even noticed each other. Then, as I watched them longer, I saw that they did. They were talking in clusters, or even walking hand in hand. But they were so quiet, so turned toward each other, that they were like water flowing around me.

  All of them, except for a few mousy brown-haired ones like Justin, seemed to be tall, pale, and dark-haired. And they almost all wore sunglasses. Whipped them on as soon as they got outside.

  "So what do you think?" I asked the wolf. "Am I going to like it here?"

  Charon stopped. He gave me the kind of look he had given me in the principal's office. Then, slowly, his tail made a small circle.

  What was that about? Yes? No? Anything?

  I decided to ask another question and see what happened.

  "Hey, Charon," I said. "Is this school as hard as it looks?"

  He stopped again and looked back over his shoulder. His tail moved side to side, high up.

  Could be yes, could be no, could be nothing.

  "Is it hot today?" I asked.

  His tail swung back and forth low, brushing the snow. He gave me a disgusted look.

  if that means anything, it means no.

  "Charon, do you like me?"

  The tail didn't move. Then he kind of snorted, jerked his head toward the school, and started walking.

  I followed.

  If Charon was talking to me, I figured I knew four words: yes, no, maybe, and none of your business. But how smart was he, really? Smart, obviously, but that smart?

  Science class was Ms. Vukovitch, a blue-eyed blond giant who looked like all the women in the ancient movies my parents love to watch. She came into the room like a supermodel on parade, looked me over once, flashed us all an electric smile, and talked about the stars for forty-five minutes like she was dishing the dirt on them.

  Then she told us, "You know, guys, that the star Betelgeuse is four hundred, six hundred light-years away. Nobody knows for sure. You probably think that's far enough. But it's a red giant, and it's gonna go supernova one of these eons. Can't help it, it's just what stars like that do. Blow up, collapse, end of story. But let's face it, when that happens, we could get toasted. Anyway, for tomorrow, I want you to calculate how long it will take before Betelgeuse does that, how long after that before

  the first effects are felt on Earth, and how extensive those effects will be. And don't forget to include the Van Allen Belts in your computations. See you tomorrow."

  I flipped through the pages of the science book I'd been given. The chapters on astronomy might as well have been written in Swedish.

  I shook my head.

  "Man," I said to Charon. "I couldn't pass here if I wanted to."

  Then came free period. I went to the student union, where I stood against the wall with Charon and watched a roomful of people ignore me. When it was finally time, the wolf led me to the gym.

  The natatorium took up one wing of the gigantic gym and had its own entrance. When I went in, I noticed there was no connection between it and the rest of the gym complex. It just looked from the outside like it was all one building.

  There was an Olympic-sized pool and bleachers way up near the ceiling, on top of the locker rooms. Six guys were standing around near the diving boards in black trunks with red slashes on the front. They were Brian Blatt and the others he'd walked out with at dinner. They just looked at me from across the water.

  Charon led me to the locker room. There was a sort of office in one corner of it. It had a beaten-up desk, a swivel chair, and a huge lump of suet sitting in it that I guessed must be Coach Underskinker. He was asleep, with a case of beer beside him. It was empty.

  Charon growled. The coach opened one eye.

  "Whaddya want?"

  Charon growled again.

  "Oh. Yeah. They told me you was comin', punk. Okay, wolf, I'll take it from here."

  He swung his feet down, discovered the floor with them, and pushed himself up. "C'mon, punk," he said. "I gotta give yuh yer equipment."

  I followed him into the depths of the locker room. There were hundreds of lockers there, but it looked like most of them had never been used. Only a few at the end had padlocks. The rest hung open, empty.

  Underskinker stared at the lockers as if he was trying to remember why we were there. Then he picked one.

  "Yer six-ninety-six," he said. "Remember it."

  "Six-ninety-six," I said.

  "Well, open it," Underskinker said. "I ain't gonna do everything for yuh. Geez."

  Inside 696 was a black bag with a red slash on it and everything I needed. Trunks, soap, towels.

  "Getcher trunks on an' go inna pool," Underskinker said. He started back up to his office.

  "Don't I have to try out or anything?" I called after him.

  "Don't bodduh me," he answered without looking back. "I'm busy in duh office."

  I got dressed and went out to the pool.

  The guys I'd seen when I came in were still standing around. Charon was gone.

  For a couple of minutes, we just stood looking at each other. Then I went over to them.

  "Hey," I said.

  No answer.

  " 'S'up?" I tried.

  Nothing.

  "I'm Cody Elliot," I said.

  "So?" This was from Brian Blatt.

  So we all just stood there for a while.

  Finally a scrawny red-haired guy who was obviously part weasel asked me, "What'd Underskinker say?"

  "About what?" I asked.

  "What'd he say after he gave you your locker?" the semiweasel shouted.

  "He said, 'Don't bother me, I'm busy in the office.'"

  The guys started high-fiving each other and shouting.

  "No school today!"

  "We're still skatin', man!"

  "Dry as a bone!"

  "Yeeow!"

  They started down to the locker room, slapping each other on the back. I followed them.

  They all started putting on their clothes, shouting about how they didn't have to swim.

  "So that's it?" I asked Brian.

  "So that's what?" he asked.

  "That's practice?" I said.

  He put his forepaw on my shoulder. "Look. Punk. You want to get in the water, get in the water. You want to go home, go home. You want to go to hell, go to hell. Nobody cares. I don't care. We don't care. Underskinker don't care. You got it?"

  No. I didn't get it. But I got that Brian wasn't going to explain it any better than that.

  I went back out and looked at the pool. It was green and huge and all mine if I wanted it.

  Hell with it. I like swimming.

  I went over to the low board and dived. I swam to the end of the pool and back again. It felt great to be warm, to be floating, to be in control of something, of me, my own body, in water. It was like California. I felt so good I wanted to cry.

  Instead, though, I swam back and forth until I'd swum out the tears and a lot of the fear I'd been feeling all day. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad if I could end every day like this.

  By the time I walked out of the natatorium, I was almost happy.

  HOW TO BECOME

  A MARKED GADJE WITHOUT

  EVEN TRYING

  Was gone, all right. I saw a couple of his big paw prints in the slush a little way away from the gym. He was done with me.

  It was the end of the day now, and kids were everywhere. Some were going in and out of the student union; some were getting picked up.

  I saw a line of black stretch limos with vlad dracul magnet school written on the side and kids lining up to get in.

  I saw plenty of other cars, beautiful cars, cars like I'd never seen before, all driven by chauffeurs. And just one or two kids getting into each of them.

  Wow. Dad's never going to b
e satisfied with his Mercedes again.

  The scream came from behind me.

  It was a boy's scream, but high and wailing. Whoever was making it was really scared.

  I looked back. I saw a big, dark wall of kids looking at something and I went toward them.

  The scream came again.

  When I got to where the other kids were, I saw Justin Warrener. He was about four feet off the ground, twisting in the grip of four huge, pale, dark-haired guys who each had hold of an arm or leg. His glasses were gone, his face was red, and I guess they'd taken his coat.

  But what were they going to do with him?

  There was a small creek trickling a little way behind the student union. I mean, small. I doubt if it was a foot deep at this time of year. It looked like these guys had broken the ice on it and were going to dump Justin in.

  It didn't look dangerous—how could it be? But Justin was screaming like he'd just missed the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

  And every kid watching was doing just that—watching. Nothing else. They were like a wall, a wall with sunglasses.

  Have you ever done something without thinking about it—I mean something you've never done before and maybe would never do again—and had it change everything that happened after that?

  That's what I did then. Without thinking about it, I bent over and made a quick snowball and threw it at the tallest guy.

  "Hey!" I said. "Put him down."

  The big guy turned around.

  "Who did that?" he asked. He didn't even sound angry.

  "Let me give you a hint," I shouted, and put the next snowball right in his face.

  He let go of Justin's leg and gave it to his buddy. Then he came over to me.

  "Do you know who I am?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I said. "You're the jerk who needs help to beat up Justin Warrener."

  In the crowd behind me I heard a soft laugh. Just one.

  The guy was head and shoulders taller than I was. He looked like he was made of muscle, and he already had a beard.

  I was beginning to feel nervous.

  "Put him down," the guy said.

  The other three guys dropped Justin into the snow. He got up and scampered off.

  Then the big guy, the one who looked like he was considering whether or not to eat me, grabbed me with one hand and lifted me off the ground.

  "You do not know me, gudgy," he said. "And for that reason, I may be merciful. Permit me; I am Gregor Di-mitru." He cocked his head and held me out at arm's length. "No, actually, I do not think I will be merciful."

  And he threw me, I mean, actually threw me, to the next guy, who caught me one-handed and pulled my face next to his.

  "Vladimir Bratianu," he shouted, and tossed me to the third guy.

  "Constantin Trifa," he shouted, and tossed me to the fourth.

  "Hie Nitzu." This guy grinned and threw me back to Gregor.

  "And what is your name, gudgy?" he asked, holding me over his head now.

  "Put me down," I managed to say.

  This was hell and nightmares come to life. These guys were handling me like I was nothing. I was nothing to them. I could feel it.

  "Putmedown?" Gregor said. "I don't think I ever met anyone named Putmedown before. Where are you from, Putmedown?"

  "I think he means he wants you to put him down," the one named Vladimir said.

  'Ah. Perhaps so, Vladimir," Gregor said, like he was thinking it over. "What do you say, Putmedown? Is he right?"

  He shook me.

  "Yes," I said with my teeth rattling.

  The next second I was flying through the air. I landed hard at Ilie's feet. He used one of them to kick me. I bounced like a soccer ball.

  I couldn't believe this was happening. Why had I ever thrown those snowballs? Why wasn't anybody helping me? Where was that damn wolf? Could I even escape?

  I got to my feet. Someone shoved me from behind, right into Gregor, who held me off the ground again and slapped me on both cheeks while I squirmed and twisted.

  Then my left foot connected with his crotch and he suddenly went even whiter than he already was.

  "Agh," he said, and dropped me.

  I was still scared, but I'd hurt the guy. Something fierce carried me forward, and I pitched into him with everything I had.

  This worked for about one second, until one of the others pulled me off.

  "Kill—kill him," Gregor gasped.

  I think they might have, too, but suddenly there was someone standing beside me. Someone shorter than I was. I felt a firm hand on my arm, and then a sharp fingernail marking an X on my cheek.

  "I mark this gudgy," Ileana Antonescu said in a quiet voice.

  All four guys stopped moving like someone had pulled their plugs. They looked at Ileana like they didn't believe what she had just done. But they also looked like there was nothing they could do about it.

  Gregor straightened up.

  "As you will, princess," he said. And he gave her a little bow.

  Gregor turned away and went back toward the student union. Vladimir and Constantin put their hands on his shoulders, and Hie fell in beside them.

  The wall of watching kids began to break up with hardly a sound.

  Ileana took her hand off my arm.

  "You will be all right now," she said. "You will be safe."

  Then she was gone, too.

  I didn't know what to say to her. I didn't even know what to think. The whole thing felt like it had happened in a movie, a bad movie.

  What had made those guys so strong? What had Ileana meant when she'd said she marked me? And what was a gudgy? In fact, what the hell was a gudgy?

  My shoulder hurt where I had landed on it, and my spine hurt where Hie had kicked it. At least I hadn't screamed for help. And I'd hurt Gregor. For one second I'd been winning.

  But as I looked at the messed-up snow and the backs moving away from me, I felt completely lost, homeless, and alone.

  "Oh, God. God," I said to myself.

  "Thank you," a voice behind me said.

  It was Justin. He had his jacket and glasses back. He had a sort of smile on his face, as if he was trying it out to see if he liked doing it.

  "That was the nicest thing anybody's ever done for me," he said. "I hope you're all right."

  No, I am not all right. I am about as far from all right as I have ever been.

  "I'll live, I think," I said.

  "Oh, you'll live all right," Justin assured me. "Now Ileana's marked you, you're safe, even from them."

  "What do you mean, marked me?" I said. "What the hell is going on at this school?"

  Justin gave me a funny look. "You mean you really don't know, gudgy?"

  "Don't call me gudgy," I said. "I don't even know what it means, but I know I don't like it."

  Justin shook his head. "Gadje, not gudgy," he said. "It just means—it means you're not one of us."

  "One of who?"

  He took a deep breath. "It means you're not what some folks call a vampire."

  "Is that supposed to be a joke?" I said. "Because it's about as funny as a busted crutch."

  "It's not a joke," Justin said. "It's just what we are."

  "Oh, give me a break," I said. "You want me to believe that you and Gregor and those guys are a bunch of bloodsucking bats?"

  Justin flinched. "It's a lot more complicated than that."

  "But you want me to believe it."

  "Got something to show you," Justin said. He came close to me and opened his mouth. "See my teeth? Nothing special about them, right? Now watch."

  His canines began to grow. They just came out of his upper jaw and hung there in his mouth, like stalactites. Then, slowly, they went back in again.

  "Don't be scared," he said. "I'd never hurt you. Besides, you're marked. By tomorrow the whole school will know."

  "I have to go," I said.

  Vampires! Vampires were real, and one was talking to me. Telling me not to worry because another vampire had ma
rked me. The only reason I didn't run away right then was that I couldn't move. Justin went on and on, telling me there was nothing to worry about, I was safe, I was set, but I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to stand there in the snow in the fading dirty light anymore. I wanted to be someplace safe and warm and far away.

  Finally, when I thought I could do it, I tried moving my legs. They worked.

  "I'll walk with you to your coach," Justin said.

  I'd have as soon strolled with a sidewinder, but I wasn't going to say so. I'd do anything he said just to get out of there alive. So I walked along beside him with my hand sort of up by my throat. I couldn't help it.

  As we crossed the campus, Justin said, "You can ask me some questions if you want. I figure I owe you."

  "Is everyone here a—vampire?" I said. "All of you?"

  "We don't call ourselves that," Justin said. "We think it's kind of an insult. We call ourselves jenti. Always have. It means 'people.' We're mostly v—jenti here. But there's always a few gadje, anyway. We need 'em to keep the water sports going."

  "But why do you just want us for water sports?" I said. "That doesn't make any sense."

  Justin looked down. "It's complicated. Basically, jenti don't like to be in water much. You could say we hate it. But water sports are part of the state curriculum."

  "So the other guys on the team are all gadje?" I asked.

  Justin nodded.

  "And Coach Underskinker?"

  "Him too."

  "But they don't even get in the water," I said. "And Underskinker is a drunk."

  "Doesn't matter as far as the state's concerned," Justin said. "All you guys have to do is lose a few games during the season, and the rest of your lives are taken care of."

  "Taken care of how?" I asked.

  Justin snorted. "I mean you don't have to do homework ever again. You don't even have to try. You're going to pass with straight As. When you graduate, you'll go to

  a good college, one we control. You'll graduate from that, playing water polo on scholarship, maybe. Then we'll see you get a good job. In Hollywood, or with some big law firm. And there's always politics."

  I could feel the hard, frozen ground falling away under my feet. None of this was real. It couldn't be. Vampires were for movies or Halloween. But everything Justin said made sense of this weird day, even if none of it made sense at all.