I giggled. “Whoo-ee!”
Foam bubbled up the bottle’s neck and spilled over the edges like one of those erupting volcanoes kids made with baking soda and vinegar for the fourth grade science fair. I leaned forward and sucked in a mouthful of foam.
I lifted the bottle in the air. “Happy New Year!”
So I was early. It was midnight somewhere in the world. It was nearly midnight in Massachusetts.
I walked around from room to room drinking straight from the bottle. I paused in front of the framed photos in the family room. I took another swig. “Happy New Year, Dad. Happy New Year, Mom.”
I walked upstairs, turned my stereo on, and danced, bottle in hand. I bowed to my dresser. “So this is where the hottest party of the year is being held. Who knew?”
I drank and danced. I used the bottle as a microphone and discarded it when it was empty. There was more downstairs, but the cellar was a long way down, and I was feeling lightheaded. Bed was looking good, but it wasn’t even midnight yet.
Finally I collapsed on top of the blankets. I hadn’t fallen asleep so heavily since the accident. The moment my head hit the pillow, I was gone. Sweet oblivion until I woke sometime in the middle of the night. My room was shrouded in darkness. I knew I’d left the light on before falling asleep.
What concerned me more was I could hear breathing that wasn’t my own.
Two sick yellow eyes glowed from a twisted face. He wore the same dirty flannel shirt. I sat up in bed. “What are you doing here? I killed you.”
He grinned and approached slowly.
My hands trembled above the covers. “I’m warning you. Get out of here. You’re not real.” I covered my head in my hands and rocked myself. “You’re not real.” I squeezed my eyes shut. When I reopened them his teeth were affixed to my neck. I screamed. I began flailing against the covers all the while screaming to a shattering pitch. “You’re not real!”
“Aurora! Aurora, wake up.” My mother shook me.
Didn’t she get it? I was awake. I’d always been awake. I slapped at her and resumed the fetal position, face in my knees and arms covering my head.
“My God, what’s wrong with her?”
There was an edge to my father’s voice. I didn’t have to look at him to know his jaw bones were clenched around his chin. I listened from the safety of my tight enclosure.
“It’s just a nightmare.”
“It’s more than that. She hasn’t been right since the accident.”
“We have to give her time, Bill. Bill?”
My parents’ voices moved out of my room. They crossed the hall into the master suite, fainter now.
“Bill, what are you doing?”
“I’m packing a bag.”
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere I can get a decent night’s sleep.”
I smiled inside my cocoon, not because I thought it was funny, not because I was glad, but because I couldn’t help it. People reacted so predictably under pressure. Running was the easiest course of action. If only I could run away too.
My father’s footsteps moved in a flurry around the room down the hall. It wasn’t until he’d zipped his bag that my mother attempted to appeal to him one last time. “Bill, please don’t go.”
He didn’t answer. His feet pounded down the stairs. I heard him grab his set of keys from the hall table. He started his car in the garage just below my bedroom. The garage door went up, and the car pulled out with a roar then took off down the street.
I heard my mother walk inside my room. “Your father needed some time alone,” she said weakly.
I kept my head planted in my knees.
Mom rubbed my back. “My poor girl. You need to get better. This needs to stop.”
I lifted my head. “Don’t you get it? This is who I am now. You signed the contract. It can never be undone.”
“You don’t have to act this way. We can go back to the way things were. You’re just not trying hard enough.” She looked at me with pleading eyes.
I sighed. “Get some rest, Mom. I’ll try not to bother you with any more of my demonic dreams.”
As predicted, my mother didn’t ask for details about the aforementioned dreams. She kissed my forehead and shuffled into the empty bed that awaited her. I lay back and stared at the ceiling. I shut my eyes, but he was there looking at me again. He would always be looking at me. No matter what he’d been, I’d killed him. I was a murderer.
8
The Mouseketeers
The throbbing inside my skull woke me the following morning. I dragged myself downstairs and found my mom not looking so hot herself. She wore a light blue robe and fuzzy slippers. Her face was puffy when she looked up from her paper. She eyed the red scarf around my neck warily.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I have a headache.”
“I saw the empty bottle of champagne in your room.”
“Had to celebrate somehow.” I shrugged. “Which reminds me, Happy New Year.”
Mom’s lip quivered. Tears gathered in her eyes.
“Look, sorry about the scene last night. Obviously I was under the influence. Tell Dad I was drunk and that it won’t happen again.”
Mom blinked several times and nodded. “You shouldn’t have had the entire bottle.”
“I learned my lesson.”
The lesson was to lie through my teeth so my mom wouldn’t worry so much.
While I had been off getting my neck chewed open, Denise spent the holiday with her family at Alyeska Resort—skiing by day, hot tubing by night.
She and Erin sipped out of paper espresso cups in front of the lockers the first day of school.
Second semester. The end was near. Literally.
I threw back my shoulders before joining the girls. “Hi, guys! How was your holiday?”
They exchanged looks at my cheerful tone. Mom had advised me to be more peppy. Like if I acted that way, I’d feel that way. Fat chance.
“Fine,” Denise said. “How was yours?”
“Wild!” My mouth expanded on the word.
“That’s nice,” Denise said, turning back to Erin. “So anyway, like I was saying, Alan Baxter called me yesterday to invite me to the winter ball.”
Once upon a time, in a world without vampires, Denise would have tracked me down to share that news.
“When’s winter ball?” I asked.
“At the end of the week.”
“What did you tell him?” Erin asked.
“I told him yes.”
“Who do I want to go to winter ball with?” I pondered aloud.
This was enough to pull Denise’s attention away from Erin. “Aurora, you’ve been acting like a complete freak lately. Who’s going to want to go take you to winter ball?”
I never realized how little I cared for Denise until now.
I straightened to my full height and took a step toward her. “You mean I haven’t quite been myself since I nearly DIED?”
She glared at me, keeping her ground even though I was practically in her face.
“Um, I should get going to class,” Erin said.
Denise shot me a nasty look before turning to Erin. “I’ll come with you.”
Good. Denise should be friends with someone whose mission in life was something other than killing vampires.
I could make new friends, too. Maybe even ones who were aware of ‘demonic beings’, as Melcher called them. I thought about the hickey I’d seen on the black-haired girl’s neck. Only I no longer believed it was a hickey.
It was just a hunch, but there was only one way to find out.
I made my way to the girl’s bathroom in C Hall and, sure enough, I noticed three familiar forms: the juniors with their varying shades of highlights. I followed them inside the girls’ bathroom.
They were all short, like they’d formed a club—the Three Mouseketeers.
I set my backpack on the counter in front of the mirror and made a show of dig
ging through my bag. A toilet flushed behind me. There was a spray of water at my side. The warning bell rang, and several girls rushed out. The Mouseketeers kept their places at the mirror, applying liner and rouging their lips. At least they didn’t chatter.
When the final bell rang and it was just the four of us in the ladies’ room, I unwrapped my scarf, folded it, set it on the counter in a corner clear of water drops, and turned my exposed neck to the mirror, reflecting the fading wound. I dug around in my pack again.
The hooded girl looked over and nodded at my neck. “What is that?”
I pulled out a tube of pink lipstick, puckering my lips after I applied pale pink shimmer. “What does it look like?”
The girl with the red streaks in her hair laughed. “It looks like you and your boyfriend had a heavy make-out session.”
“Oh, please,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Like I need a boyfriend. What I’ve got is so much better.”
“And what’s that?”
“None of your biz.”
All three girls turned toward me and folded their arms.
“Wait a minute,” Red said. She lowered her arms. “Are you the girl who was in a coma?”
“Yep.” My lips puckered as I formed the word.
The two other Mouseketeers lowered their arms. They looked me up and down. “I heard they had to reattach your body parts.”
“Nope, just replace my organs.”
“Wicked.”
Red took a step toward me. For someone so short, she did a good job of giving me the once-over. “So are you looking to party?”
I tossed my lipstick inside my pack and picked up my scarf. “I’m not looking to party. I party.”
“I’m Whitney,” Red said. “This is Noel and Hope.”
“Noel,” I repeated, looking at the girl in the hoodie. “Don’t tell me your parents wanted to give you an ‘Alaskan’ name, too?”
“I was born on Christmas.”
“Then I guess you’re in the right place.”
Whitney lifted her chin as I threw my scarf over my shoulder. “Where’d you get it?”
“The mall.”
She smiled slightly and waited.
“Crashed a party across town during the holiday.”
“It wasn’t one of Marcus’s, was it?” Noel asked. “Marcus throws the best parties.”
Crap. I hadn’t thought this through enough.
I rolled one of the red fringes at the end of my scarf between my fingers as I reached for an answer. “I didn’t get a name. I didn’t really care, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure,” Whitney said, though her expression said otherwise.
“Want to hang with us in the library?” Noel asked.
I hesitated. This badass group hung out at the library?
As though reading my thoughts, Whitney laughed. “Hall monitors don’t bother us in the library. They think our teachers sent us there to study.”
“Oh, clever.”
The four of us started out the door.
“I like your scarf,” Hope said.
“Thanks, I’m ironic like that.”
The juniors, it turned out, had some tricks to teach me. The library, for instance, was a sanctuary from the humdrum boredom of the classroom, and no one bothered us there. Believe it or not, the lounge inside the front office was another safe haven where a student could sit undisturbed, and if the secretary happened to get off her lethargic ass, you just said you were there to see your counselor or waiting for a parent to pick you up for a doctor’s appointment. During third period, the music room was unoccupied, and we could mess around by creating our own out-of-tune masterpieces or let Whitney play real music.
“Are you guys going to winter ball?” I asked as Noel made her way down her keyboard, pressing each key from left to right.
“We don’t go to school dances,” Hope said.
No, of course not.
Fane Donado didn’t go to school dances, either.
His loss, ’cause I’d made up my mind to attend winter ball even if I had to go stag. If he bothered to show up I might have asked him to dance.
On the walk home he’d proved he had a sensitive side. And if Fane could dance half as well as he played badminton it could be fun.
But I’d never seen Fane at a school dance.
Not once.
Not ever.
At least we had gym together. I couldn’t wait to say ‘hi’ now that we were on speaking terms.
I changed into my gym clothes quickly with the other girls in the locker room, pulling stray strands of hair out of my scarf into a ponytail.
Inside the gymnasium, Mr. Mooney rolled out a cart filled with basketballs. The eager beavers were already dribbling balls down the court, warming up.
I paced the floor, keeping my eyes peeled for Fane. Seconds before the warning bell rang, he pushed through the double doors, Valerie by his side. I tried to catch his eye, but Fane ignored me completely. It was as though I had dreamed the entire encounter of him walking me home in the snow.
How stupid of me to believe someone at this school might actually notice what I was going through. Not Fane. Not anyone.
Fane took a seat behind Valerie and began massaging her shoulders. Valerie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. I felt like chucking a basketball at them.
I grabbed a ball and beat it to the ground with my fist. Over and over it bounced back for further abuse.
Mr. Mooney blew his whistle. “All right, everyone, as you can see, we’re playing basketball this month. Let’s break into teams. AJ, Brook, I’m making you team captains. Start picking your teammates.”
AJ and Brook walked to the middle of the gym and faced the rest of us. AJ poised his ball under an arm at his side. Brook hugged hers to her stomach.
“Paul,” AJ said.
“Tyler.”
“Mike.”
“Angie.”
What bullshit. Low and behold, I was one of the last to be called onto Brook’s team. I didn’t play in the first game. In the next, I raced up and down the court, capable of matching anyone’s speed with energy to spare. No one passed me the ball, so I snatched it when the opposing team failed to catch a pass. I pounded down the court to the awaiting hoop. Clayton came at me with a cocksure grin on his lips. I slammed my shoulder into him and shoved him to the ground. Clayton landed on his ass with a thud.
The blast of Mr. Mooney’s whistle pierced every ear in the gym. “Sky, what was that?”
Everyone looked at me. That much attention might have mortified me before. Now I lifted my chin. “He was in my way.”
“Then go around him.”
Mr. Mooney gave three blasts of his whistle. “All right, back to the game, everyone. Sky, you’re out.”
I shrugged and walked over to the bleachers, sitting at the bottom, several rows in front of Fane and Valerie.
Valerie’s voice drifted down. “Someone doesn’t know how to play nice.”
I faced forward as I replied, “I guess comas aren’t enough to get a girl out of gym class. What does it take these days? Herpes?”
I felt the bleachers shift and creak. “You better watch your mouth or I’ll put you back in a coma.”
“Oh please, save that line for a freshman.”
The bleachers shuddered when she stood.
I stood, too, and whipped around. There was no longer a smile on my lips. “You want to do this now or after class?”
I wanted to see Fane’s expression, but I couldn’t break eye contact with Valerie.
“God,” Valerie said in mock pity. “That accident must have really messed up your brain. I could kick your ass, little girl, but I don’t fight handicaps.”
I had to say something. Fane was watching.
I narrowed my eyes. “And I don’t fight cowards.”
With that, I leapt off the bleachers and headed for the locker room.
9
Winter Ball
The next day, I added gym
to the skip list. Hope and I hung out in the library. Apparently, Whitney never missed keyboarding, and Noel had a crush on her second-period Psych teacher.
I’d worked out a routine where I could avoid Denise almost entirely. In the morning, I went straight from the bus to English. I skipped math altogether, avoiding Denise and the numeric hell that was Algebra II.
No need to worry about keeping my place with Notre Dame. I wasn’t going anywhere so to fuck with it.
The Mouseketeers treated me with a certain respect I was becoming accustomed to.
“Was that your first bite?” Whitney asked one day in the library when the four of us were seated together at a table by the back wall.
I tightened my scarf. “Yeah.”
“How was it?”
“How was it?” I repeated. Those sick yellow eyes returned to me—like a smoker whose whites have discolored. I shuddered.
Noel propped a hand under her chin. Her hood was pulled back and her hair fell over her shoulders. “I’ll never forget my first bite.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“His name was Henry, and when he sunk his teeth into my neck I could feel him break through each layer of skin right down to my vein. It was agonizing, but then there was this sudden rush and release of blood, as though my body wanted to give him as much as he wanted to take. My heart was all over the place. I was like a deer in the headlights. You know—stunned.”
I was momentarily speechless. “And you, Hope? What was your first time like?”
Hope twirled a strand of red hair. “Well, I’m not a poet like Noel, but it was unforgettable. I guess that much is obvious. And it was with Henry’s friend, Gavin.”
I looked at Whitney. “And you, Whit?”
“Henry was my first, as well.” Whitney laughed. “He likes to whisper sweet nothings inside your ear. He likes to compare your skin to the finest porcelain and say his heart won’t go on if he can’t have one taste of your sweet blood.”
“Gavin wasn’t much for words—just biting,” Hope said.
Noel laughed. “And sucking.”
Hope smacked Noel on the shoulder.
“So what was the name of your first?” Whitney asked.
Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter Page 6