Vampire High

by Douglas Rees

  I went down that way during free period, hoping to see one of those little frogs, but instead I saw Gregor. He was standing on the bank under a tree, looking at the water but not seeing it. He wasn't seeing the light, or the new green on the trees, or the flowers pushing open their petals. He looked like I felt. That was what did it.

  I sort of went up behind him and said, "I'm sorry, Gregor. What I said was stupid, and I'm really sorry."

  He didn't turn around, or answer me for a long time. Then he said, "It does not matter. You are a gadje. Nothing you say can hurt me."

  I almost walked away. If I'd been feeling better, I would have. But I wasn't, so I said, "Even so, it was wrong. And I'm sorry I tried to hurt you."

  He still didn't turn around. All he said was, "I hate this place. I hate you."

  "That's funny," I said. "I hate it, too. I guess I hate you. I'm not sure."

  "These filthy long winters. These endless summers that never cool off at night. Only Americans would live here by choice."

  "I'm an American, and I wouldn't."

  "Europe is beautiful, especially France," Gregor said.

  "California," I said. "Especially the country south of San Francisco. And the redwoods on the coast. And San Diego. Even Los Angeles can look good when the wind blows the smog out to sea."

  "It is nothing compared to the mountains of Norway, or the quiet of a single village street in Languedoc at twilight," Gregor said.

  "Have you ever seen California?" I asked.

  "I do not need to see it," Gregor said. "I have seen true beauty."

  "I guess-we’re both a long way from home."

  Gregor was silent again. Well, I'd tried to apologize.

  "I'm going . . .," I began.

  "Thank you," Gregor said.

  "But there's something else. Just in case it matters— whatever Ileana and I were, we're not anymore."

  Gregor snickered. Then he said, "I suppose you are not a bad person, gadje. But you are abysmally stupid."

  "Thanks," I said. "I like you, too."

  I started back the way I'd come.

  "We can be too proud," Gregor said. "All of us."

  Whatever that meant.

  But I was glad I'd done it.

  Horvath was twisting in the wind. He got the game postponed another week and tried recruiting out of state, which is, I think, illegal, but this is Horvath we're talking about. Anyway, it didn't work.

  There were rumors all week long that there wouldn't be a game, that the school would be put on probation.

  That it might have to close. I heard the rumors being whispered in the dining hall. One kid even asked Mr. Shadwell if they'd be allowed to finish out the academic year. Shadwell said something about excellent standards, hundred-year history, worldwide reputation, not to worry. But he looked as scared as the kids.

  Carlton and Justin and Helen and Thornton acted like they weren't sitting on the secret that was going to save the place. I really had to admire them. Knowing how fast word gets around among jenti, it was amazing that I never heard a thing about what was going to happen on the day of the next game.

  And finally, the day came.

  STATE STANDARDS

  The day Of the game, Horvath still didn't have a single new gadje for his team. If we couldn't even put enough guys in the water to start, we'd have to forfeit. A couple of dudes from the state's board of education had come out from Boston hoping to see us go down.

  We saw them going up and down the halls all day, looking at everything, looking at us. Horvath was with them, and so was Charon. They wore suits, and they carried briefcases. Even so, they looked like jocks. They walked with the same rolling lurch that Under-skinker did, and their ties were strangling their thick necks. Big and tough as they were, though, they acted as scared as I'd felt my first day. They kept looking back over their shoulders like they were expecting to be

  jumped. And Horvath looked like he was going to be hanged.

  I almost wanted to go over and say to them, "Don't worry. Nobody's putting this school on suspension, or closing it. Enjoy the game." But, of course, I didn't.

  During free period, I went down to the natatorium and got ready. Then I peeked into Underskinker's office. He wasn't there.

  Tracy and Pyrek drifted in, and Falbo a few minutes later, looking sad.

  "No more," Pyrek said sadly, and touched his locker like he was saying good-bye.

  "Homework next week for sure," Tracy said.

  "It's still your fault, Elliot," Falbo said. "Why didn't you do something, like I told you?"

  "I did," I said.

  "What? What'd you do?" Pyrek said, spinning around.

  "You better be telling the truth," Tracy said, cocking his fist at me.

  "It'll all be clear in a few minutes," I said. "Let's just say this: If the Impalers don't put a full team in the water to start, it'll be because you clowns don't get in."

  "What do you mean?" Tracy said. "We always start out in the water. We just don't stay there."

  "Anybody seen Underskinker?" I asked, to change the subject.

  "Nope," Tracy and Pyrek said.

  "We ought to see if we can find him," I said. "We've got a game and all."

  Then we heard a huge crash from the back of the locker room.

  When we got back there, Underskinker was lying on the floor with his head propped up against a locker and his feet splayed out. Three empty cases of Old Aroostook were beside him, and he had been working on the fourth.

  "What's he doing back here?" Falbo said.

  "Hiding," I said. I knelt down beside him. "Hey, Coach, we've got a game. Coach? Wake up. We've got a team, Coach. Come on, get out there and lead us the way you always do."

  But Underskinker was gone.

  "Oh, man," I said. "Look, we've got to get him on his feet. If those state guys see him like this, it won't be good. Can you guys bring him around? I've got to go back and meet our new teammates."

  Pyrek and Tracy shrugged and started to shake Underskinker between them. Falbo stood at his feet and shouted, "Coach! Get up, Coach. Coach!" over and over again.

  When I got back to the pool, the other team was arriving. It was our old friends from St. Biddulph's. They filed in quietly and took over some lockers. No one even looked at me.

  Their coach came over to me.

  "Where's Underskinker?" he asked.

  "He's with the rest of the team," I said. "I expect him in a few minutes. Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

  "Yeah. You can tell him Coach Ryan says he's been waiting twenty years to see what's going to happen to him today. I hear you creeps can't even pretend to field a team now. He's gonna get his butt fired, and this whole damn school'll get closed down. And about time."

  I cocked my head. "Maybe you'd rather tell him yourself, sir. After the game."

  "Are you listening, creep?" Coach Ryan said. "There won't be a game."

  "Are you forfeiting, sir?" I asked. "Because I don't know where you heard that we don't have a first string, but we do. And we're going to be ready to play when the whistle blows. Excuse me, sir. My teammates are coming."

  The two "replacements" Horvath had drafted were coming grimly into the natatorium. Behind them came Justin, Helen, Carlton, and Thornton.

  "Excuse me, where is the ladies' dressing room?" Helen asked me.

  I took her over to the opposite side of the pool and left her. I wondered if this was the first time that locker room had ever been used.

  "You bloodsuckers can't even swim," Ryan shouted. "Where's Underskinker?"

  Falbo, Tracy, and Pyrek came out of the locker room shaking their heads.

  "He's out," Pyrek said.

  "We even threw water on him," Tracy added.

  "So where are these guys you said are going to play on our team?" Falbo demanded.

  Justin came out, with Carlton and Thornton behind him, and sat down on the bench.

  "They'll be here when the whistle blows," I said, grinning. />
  The St. Biddulph's team came out and lined up at the far end of the pool. Coach Ryan went over to the half-distance line. A referee was already standing there.

  "Where's Coach Underskinker?" he asked. "It's time to toss for sides." He had a quarter in his hand. "I'm here for the coach," I said. "I'm not tossing with a kid," Ryan said. "Anyway, where's your team?"

  "If tossing's a problem for you, we'll just take the deep end," I said. "It doesn't matter to us."

  "Does that satisfy you, Coach Ryan?" the referee asked.

  "Sure," Ryan said. "Only there won't be a game." I walked back to the deep end of the pool and took a quick look around. Falbo, Pyrek, and Tracy were standing in one corner. The jenti were sitting on their bench. Horvath, Charon, and the two suits had come in and climbed up to the bleachers. Judges and timekeepers were ready. And here came Helen in her new team bathing suit.

  "I feel quite exposed," she said. "Let's get into the water quickly."

  I looked over to Justin and gave him a thumbs-up. He replied with the two fingers that meant "I have feasted." The whistle blew, and the St. Biddulph's Saints got into the shallow end and took position.

  "Okay, let's get inna wadduh!" I shouted. Pyrek, Tracy, Falbo, and I slid into the deep end. Justin and Carlton stood up and joined Helen.

  "Let me make the introductions," I said. "Gadjes, jenti. Jenti, gadjes. Okay, Impalers, let's play ball."

  Helen, Justin, and Carlton hit the water together, leaping out over the heads of the rest of the team.

  I saw Horvath stand up and shout "No!" Charon was

  on his feet, howling. But when my three friends raised their heads from the water, the howling stopped. In fact, it was dead quiet in the natatorium.

  I looked up again at the bleachers. Charon, Horvath, and the two suits were all standing up with their hands (or paws) on the railing. Even the wolf looked surprised. Three slim, graceful, dark-furred water creatures were hovering at the half-distance line. "What's goin' on?" Ryan bellowed. Then the referee blew his whistle again and tossed out the ball.

  Justin raised his arm and slapped it straight into the St. Biddulph's goal.

  The flags went up and waved for the point. Back came the ball, and Helen sent it into the goal again.

  It was ours now, and I took it, fired it at Carlton, and watched it sail into the goal a third time. "Who are you guys?" Tracy shouted. "Oh, we go here, same as you," Justin said. "I had you in English a couple of years ago," Helen said to Tracy. "Though I don't suppose you'd remember. As I recall, you rarely came to class."

  "Oh, yeah," Pyrek said. "I saw you in social studies one year."

  "I thought you guys couldn't swim," Tracy said. "Some can, some can't," Justin said, shrugging. "What do you say we finish this half now?"

  Falbo said, "I'm not swimming with vamps. I'm getting out of here."

  As soon as he did, Thornton slid in.

  It really wasn't much of a game (but then our games never were). But it was a different kind of not much than we'd ever had before. The four jenti put the ball into the St. Biddulph's goal almost every time they hit it. When St. Bid-dulph's guys did manage to send it back to us, one of the jenti always intercepted it and sent it back at rocket speed. There wasn't anything for the gadje to do but play back and stay out of the way.

  I decided to cover our goal, just in case. When I turned around to swim back to it, I noticed that our backup bench had disappeared. The fake replacements we had were gone. That seemed strange. They'd always stuck it out before.

  Then, in a few minutes, they came back. They were in their street clothes and leading groups of friends into the bleachers.

  The jenti came into the natatorium the way they did everything else—quietly. Even the sound of their feet on the steps was hushed. And nobody talked. They just watched us.

  Every time I looked up, there were more of them. First they filled the seats on one side, then on the other. Word was spreading all over the campus. Even little jenti started to come in from the elementary school. The high school kids took them on their laps. By the end of the first half, it looked like the whole school was there.

  Justin looked up at the packed, silent seats.

  "Makes me kind of nervous," he said. "What if we don't do so well?"

  "The score is two hundred and eleven to nothing," I said.

  "Is that good?" he asked.

  "We couldn't lose now if we stopped playing," I said.

  "Frankly, I thought it would be more difficult," Thornton said. "Is this really all there is to it?"

  "Well, yes," I said.

  "I wonder why the state sets so much importance on it," Thornton said.

  "Something about being well rounded, I imagine," Helen offered.

  "That must be it," Carlton agreed.

  Meanwhile, Ryan was raging up and down the nata-torium.

  "Underskinker. Where is Underskinker? I want Un-derskinker right now!"

  And then our coach appeared. He came out of the locker room and braced himself in the doorway.

  Ryan ran over to him, waving his finger in his face.

  "You got no right to use vampires on your team," he shouted. "Human beings only. It says so in the rules. And if it don't, it should. I'm canceling this game."

  I went over to them.

  "Does that mean you're conceding?" I asked. "By the way, jenti are humans."

  "We're not conceding, punk," Ryan raged. "We're just not playing. You get that, punk?"

  "Hey!" Underskinker said. "Don't call dis punk a punk. Only I call my punks punks." Then he bent his head to me. "What's duh score?"

  "Two hundred and eleven to nothing," I said. "It's the end of the first half."

  Underskinker looked puzzled.

  "Ryan, why you wanna quit with a lead like that?"

  Ryan made a disgusted sound.

  "Coach, it's our lead," I explained. "We're winning the game."

  "Huh? How did dat happen?" Underskinker asked.

  "I'll tell you later," I said.

  "Okay," Underskinker agreed.

  "I beg your pardon," Carlton, said coming over. "But we're beginning to dry off. Perhaps we ought to get back in the water."

  "Nothing doing! We're out of here." Ryan stalked down toward his team, blowing his whistle and waving his arms. "C'mon, we're leaving!" he bellowed. "Move!"

  "Do you concede, Coach?" one of the suits called down from the bleachers.

  "You got to concede if you're leaving, Coach," the other suit said.

  "Yeah!" Coach Ryan snapped, tearing off his baseball cap and throwing it into the pool.

  As he stalked off with his team behind him, the jenti started to stand up. From somewhere high in the back of the bleachers the clapping started. It wasn't American-style clapping. It was European, everyone starting off slowly, keeping time, building up faster and faster until it exploded at the end, and it felt like the whole place was shaking.

  There in the front row near Horvath was Gregor. He looked grim as always, but he was pounding away. So were his friends. So was Horvath.

  "Hey, this is all right," said Pyrek.

  "I could get used to this," said Tracy.

  Justin, Helen, Carlton, and Thornton all lined up at the far end of the pool and bowed. As they did, the jenti cheered.

  While they were doing that, Justin came over and got me. He walked me back with the others and raised my arm over my head.

  Then the chant started, and it was Gregor who started it.

  "Gad-je, gad-je, gad-je, gad-je."

  The whole crowd was doing it.

  The jenti swarmed over Justin, Carlton, Helen, and Thornton. It was like the dance at Ileana's party. All their cool was gone, and they flowed down from the bleachers like panthers. In a minute, each one of the selkies was the center of a circle of tall, dark, excited admirers.

  I heard Helen saying, "It was all Justin's doing, you see. And Cody Elliot taught Justin. He taught all of us, really."

  "He's our leader
," I heard Thornton say.

  "I believe the term is captain," Carlton said. "Though I'm not sure. I've never been on a team before."

  Then more jenti crowded in between us and I couldn't hear anything else they said.

  Horvath and Charon and the suits came down from the bleachers. Horvath was all over Underskinker, shaking his hand, slapping him on the back, congratulating him.

  "Come on," I said to Justin. "We've got to hear what happens next."

  "As you can see, gentlemen," Horvath was saying to the suits, "Vlad Dracul's water polo team is up to

  strength, and I daresay up to par. I trust your report to the state will reflect these realities."

  "I don't know about that," the first suit said. "There were some irregularities here."

  "Yeah," said the second suit. "Like, what are those things on your team?"

  "Children, gentlemen. Students at Vlad Dracul. Am I right, son?" said my dad's voice behind me.

  I turned around. Where had he come from?

  "Son, are these your fellow students or not?" Dad asked again.

  "Uh . . . yes," I said.

  "Then what 'irregularities' can you possibly be referring to, gentlemen?" Dad said.

  "You got to be a human being to play," said the second suit.

  "Gentlemen, the law has yet to come to a final definition of what is and is not a human being," Dad said. "On the other hand, the civil rights laws are very precise on the matter of discrimination, and on the penalties for it. Permit me to introduce myself; I am Jack Elliot, a local attorney. I am here to tell you now that if there is any difficulty made by the state board on account of the way Vlad Dracul Magnet School chooses the particpants in its water sports, I will represent the school pro bono publico— that means at my own expense, in case you're not familiar with the term—in a class-action suit on behalf of these students. I can confidently predict that we will eventually win, and that the settlement we receive will bankrupt Massachusetts for the next hundred years. Now, we don't want that, do we?"

  "Big-shot lawyer," said the first suit. "We got our own attorney."

  "Did I neglect to mention that I am an associate at Leach, Swindol and Twist?" Dad said. "Perhaps you've heard of us?"

  "Uh-oh," said the second suit.

  Charon eyed them.

  "Great game," said the first suit.