Team Human

by Justine Larbalestier

  I’d just thought she was interested in them. You know, the way I like basketball. Doesn’t mean I want to date a basketball player. Actually, I don’t want to date anyone. The last time did not go so well.

  No, not Ty. The one after Ty.

  “And this year we have a special treat. Francis Duvarney, a vampire who was turned in London, England, in 1867 and has lived in our fine city since 1901—shortly after the name change to New Whitby—has joined our class.”

  Francis inclined his head very slightly.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Anna said, coming through the door looking pale, and moving as fast as she could to the back of the room. Though Cathy, Ty, and I usually formed a bit of a quartet with Anna, we hadn’t seen her much over the summer.

  Not after what had happened with her dad. I wasn’t surprised she looked pale. I was glad to see her in school at all.

  Of course, it’s harder to skip when your mom is the principal, no matter how much Anna must have wanted to, once she heard there would be a vampire in class. That would have to hurt.

  “Don’t make a habit of it,” Kaplan said before continuing to extol the unique opportunity of a vampire in class, living history, blah blah blah.

  Anna hardly flinched when she saw Francis. She slid into the empty seat by the window and smiled at Ty and me. At Cathy too, who didn’t notice on account of being fixated on the back of Francis’s head.

  I thought Cathy could maybe have spared Anna some attention, given what Anna had been through. But Cathy has a focus like a laser: It’s how she gets such good grades.

  Kaplan seemed pretty focused on Francis himself. Not that he was alone. Everyone seemed to be staring at the vampire.

  “Would you like to tell us why you’ve chosen to continue your education almost one hundred and fifty years after it was prematurely cut off?”

  “No,” Francis said.

  Half the class made that sound that comes from breathing in quickly when you’re surprised. Ty actually snorted. (One of the many reasons we broke up. What’s fine in a best friend can be deeply wrong in a boyfriend.)

  Perhaps Francis isn’t so bad, I thought, watching Kaplan’s face change color.

  “Those reasons are too personal,” Francis continued. “But it would be my utmost pleasure to contribute to this class in any way you may find useful, Mr. Kaplan. I thank you again for allowing me to take part.”

  No, he was just as bad as I’d thought. Was there enough room in this class for Francis Duvarney and his ego? Was it too late for me to switch classes?

  Cathy’s eyes were bigger and shinier than ever.

  There would be no switching classes.

  I was going to have to keep watch over Cathy. I wondered how her mom would feel about me moving in.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Deadly Allure of the Vampire in the Lunchroom

  I’d seen a feeding frenzy in the lunchroom before. It usually happened when there were chicken fingers on the menu, though. Not vampires.

  Classes had been bad enough. For the first time in my life I wished there was a teacher to supervise us at lunch. It seemed to me like there was an urgent need for someone to yell, “Anyone who licks that vampire gets a detention!”

  Not that I was close enough to see if there was any licking being done. The four of us were sitting at a table pretty far away, as we hadn’t been willing to fight our way through the crowd. It seemed like everyone wanted to get as close as possible to Francis.

  “Does anyone else think it’s a bit ridiculous that he came to lunch when he doesn’t eat?” I asked.

  “To be fair, neither does half the cheerleading team,” Ty said.

  Like the rest of the lunchroom crowd, Ty and Cathy were staring transfixed at Francis. I glanced over once or twice. Anna kept her eyes on her lunch.

  It was like a one-vampire zoo. Francis was sitting as if someone had tried to put a stake through his heart but accidentally inserted it where the sun did not shine—which I guess is anywhere for vampires, but in a place where the sun does not shine even for regular people. His hands were folded on the table, in the empty space where his tray should have been.

  I couldn’t see where the head cheerleader Robyn Johnson’s hands were, but she was leaning pretty close to Francis, and for a brief moment his facade of beautiful indifference cracked.

  I’d never seen anyone look scandalized before. It was kind of hilarious.

  Robyn’s boyfriend, Sam Martinson, from whom she was normally inseparable, was at another table surrounded by the rest of the football team. All of them wore identical scowls. That was hilarious too.

  “I think it’s nice that he wants to mingle with us,” Cathy said.

  It really didn’t look like Francis wanted to mingle, though. Possibly this was best. You heard stuff about some vampires. A lot of Cathy’s mom’s magazines had cover stories like “Seven Sweet Nights in an Immortal’s Love Den.” I was glad it didn’t seem as if I’d have to worry about Cathy joining Francis’s harem.

  “Yeah, he’s probably on a quest to rediscover his lost humanity,” Ty chimed in. Which was another common trashy magazine headline, but I suspected Ty was serious.

  If Francis did have a harem, it was starting to look like Ty would want in.

  “And it’s nice how he doesn’t want to, you know, take advantage of girls,” Cathy went on.

  “I don’t think he likes girls,” I said. “Or boys. Look at the horror on his face. He doesn’t look like a people person.”

  “He’s probably shy. It’s very overwhelming being the only new person at school.”

  “Or the only vampire.”

  “True!” Cathy said. “He must be overwhelmed. Oh, poor Francis.”

  This wasn’t just Cathy being crazy for a nice pair of fangs. She’s like that all the time, putting the best interpretation on things, thinking the best of people. I heard Cathy say, in all seriousness, “People lose telephone numbers all the time,” when the gorgeous guy I met on our last family vacation at Cape Cod never called me. She believed that one of my exes, Trevor, was going out of town on a “business trip” when we, and Trevor, were fifteen years old.

  “Cathy, please quit talking like you were born in 1867,” I said. “The way he’s looking so pained is kind of gross, if you ask me. Oh mercy, ladies are indicating they might like to tap this. How forward!”

  Cathy grinned and ducked her head, long dark hair falling in front of her face. She gets out of a lot of trouble being able to duck and cover.

  “I wish some ladies would come indicate they’d like to tap this,” said Ty, gesturing at himself.

  “I’d like to tap this,” I said, reaching over to tap his knuckles with my spoon. “Oh. That was so good. I’d like to tap it again!”

  I noticed Anna stayed quiet. I leaned against her. “Hey. You doing all right?”

  Anna blinked at me a few dozen times, as if I’d nudged her awake.

  “Yeah,” she said finally. “Can’t seem to get as excited as everyone else.”

  I couldn’t blame her. Anna’s entitled to have issues with vampires. Her dad is a psychologist who specializes in vampires. You know the type: They try to help the vampires compartmentalize all their lifetimes of memories and the grieving for generations of loved ones.

  He also counsels us humans. Like those considering becoming vampires—he hits them with the scary survival rates, the horrors of zombification. He also helps those who have lost family who did not survive the process of becoming vampires. Dinner at Anna’s always included at least one horror story.

  I always liked Dr. Saunders. We’ve established I’m not the biggest vampire fan—their whole living forever, no pulse, creeps me out a bit—but still, I thought he was a pretty noble guy. Until he ran off with a vampire patient.

  Turns out sitting around holding the hands of tragic glamorous vampire ladies isn’t such a great job for a family man.

  And vampires don’t pay much attention to the whole idea of “till death
do them part.” Trashy undead home wreckers.

  “Francis doesn’t excite me in any way,” I assured Anna.

  Anna blinked again, still not smiling.

  “Hey.” I nudged her. “He isn’t really freaking you out, is he? He’s just some idiot vampire who wants to go to high school. Which makes him even more idiotic than the regular kind.”

  “Yeah,” Anna said, so low I could barely hear her. “Can I—can I talk to you, Mel? Alone.”

  Ty and Cathy were talking about some vampire documentary they’d seen and how accurate it was. They hadn’t noticed us.

  “Of course. C’mon.”

  Even Anna’s walk was slow, hesitating a little, as if she were sleepwalking.

  She and her mom had seemed like they wanted to be left alone after her dad left. I know I have a tendency to stick my nose in, so after a few unanswered calls I’d tried to take the hint.

  Maybe I’d taken the hint too well, I thought as Anna stopped in the shadowy hallway and turned to face me. Maybe Anna needed a friend, and I hadn’t been there for her.

  “It might be nothing,” Anna said abruptly. “But I thought—you’re good at dealing with things. When stuff goes wrong, you always take care of it.”

  “That’s me. Take Carer of Things. I should become a caretaker. Of … things.”

  Anna didn’t smile. I couldn’t blame her: I was too worried to put forward my best effort.

  “If something’s wrong, Anna, tell me.”

  “My mom’s acting really weird.”

  “I guess that’s normal—” I began, but Anna made an impatient gesture.

  “Not like that. Not just grief. She disappears and she won’t tell me where she’s going. She has nightmares and wakes up screaming. She acts like she’s got a secret.”

  “What kind of secret?”

  Anna hesitated. “I think it’s something to do with the school. She’s been spending a lot of time here.”

  Anna’s mom is our principal, so her spending a lot of time at school isn’t exactly unusual. Anna must’ve seen the doubt on my face.

  “It’s dumb. It’s dumb, I know it is. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No,” I said. “No, it’s—it makes sense that she might want to throw herself into her work, right?”

  “I guess,” Anna said. “Look, forget I said anything. It’s cool.”

  She took a few steps away from me and then back.

  Using my uncanny powers of observation, I could somehow sense it was not cool.

  “Anna.” I put out a hand and stopped her pacing. “It’s not dumb. I’m glad you told me.”

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  Under her thick red curls, she looked white as paper. That hair made sure she got called Annie, as in Little Orphan, for years until two things happened: She got hot, and her dad left.

  “Well, let me make sure,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye out. I’ll see what’s going on.”

  Anna still looked uncomfortable. Being the principal’s kid isn’t the easiest thing. She tends to keep people at a distance.

  “It’s not that big of a deal. I just … I just wanted to let you know what’s going on. That’s all. Sorry I haven’t been in touch lately.”

  “Hey. No problem.” I gave her a quick hug. “You’re my friend. Anything that makes you feel better is a big deal to me.”

  “Yeah?” Anna smiled, a tiny smile. “Thanks.” After a pause, she added: “We’d better be getting back.”

  I nodded. “Something momentous could be happening. The beautiful Francis could have turned his head and given us a view of his amazing profile.”

  “How many days do you give it until someone accidentally on purpose cuts themselves to get his attention?”

  “Ah, spilled blood, the vampire lover’s low-cut top,” I said. “Personally, I’d prefer a guy who wants to see my boobs.”

  “You’re all class, Mel,” said Anna as we went back into the lunchroom to find Francis standing at our table.

  I knew I shouldn’t have left Cathy unguarded in the presence of vampires!

  I hurried over. If a few people got shoved, then they should have got out of my way faster. Couldn’t they see I was on a mission?

  “—just wanted to say welcome to the school and all,” said that treacherous weasel Ty. How dare he welcome Francis! It would only keep the alluring undead presence near Cathy for longer.

  Francis gave him the same sort of weird look he’d given me earlier, but after a tiny pause he said: “Thank you.”

  To my extreme relief, Cathy was clearly too paralyzed with nerves at Ty’s daring to even give Francis an adoring look. She was staring at her plate so intently, it seemed like she was having a soul-bonding moment with the baby carrots.

  “Oh, hello,” said Anna behind me, making an obvious effort to be polite. “My name’s Anna.”

  “You’re welcome to sit with us if you like,” Ty told Francis. It was difficult to resist smacking him.

  “I’m sure F-Francis,” Cathy began in a strangled whisper, which died in her throat. She continued with an effort: “Perhaps he needs to get back to his table.”

  Maybe it was the fact that Cathy was keeping her eyes downcast, or her painful politeness, that suited Francis’s idea of how a lady should behave. Maybe it was clear to him that she was nervous, and he was being kind.

  His icy voice thawed slightly, and he said: “I would be delighted to join you.”

  “That’s awesome, Frank,” I told him, and slid firmly between him and Cathy.

  Francis regarded me coolly.

  “So you vampires living forever,” I said. “You must need a lot of hobbies to keep from going completely mad. My grandma swears by knitting. Do you knit, Francis?”

  “I do not,” said Francis.

  “Ah,” I said. “Do you crochet?”

  This time he didn’t bother to answer.

  First day of school, and on top of college applications, community service to pad said applications, fencing for ditto (oh, okay, and because I love it), I had extra toppings on my already overloaded plate: putting Anna’s mind at rest about her mom and keeping Cathy away from fanged temptation.

  I like to keep busy. I was sure I could handle it.

  My chair was so close to Francis’s that I was practically pressed up against him. As far as I could tell—and I knew that Cathy would have questions later—he was leanly muscled all over. Not that I would tell her that. I was planning on reporting arms like undead spaghetti.

  He was also cold. Not ice cold, but cool like water is at room temperature. It was wrong. People should be 98.6 degrees, not 72.

  I gave creepy, cold Francis a bright smile, clapped my hands together, and said: “Can you believe summer is over? Hands up, who’s going to miss the sunshine?”

  I don’t spend all my time being obnoxious to vampires. Mostly what I’m good at is what Anna said I was: taking care of my friends. Anna and Cathy are both a lot smarter than I am, but both are really bad with people. Even Ty has confidence issues, though he tries to hide them. I’m the least brilliant one, but I’ve always been good at solving my friends’ problems. One of Dad’s proverbs is “If you want happiness for a lifetime, help somebody.”

  That sounds about right to me.

  Only none of my friends had ever had a problem as serious as Anna’s before. I didn’t know how to help her.

  I figured a good first step would be to spend more time with her. So that day after school I left Ty and Cathy to talk with the rest of the class about the unexpected dreaminess of the undead, and I took my bike—I’ll probably be able to afford a car when I’m oh, say, twenty-five—and cycled over to Anna’s house.

  There was a big black new SUV in Anna’s driveway. I didn’t recognize the car and wondered who was there.

  When I rang the doorbell, it turned out the answer was Principal Saunders.

  I blinked up at her, startled to find her home this early on the first day of school, and she blink
ed at me as if she’d been sleeping and I’d woken her.

  She was usually really well put together, but now she looked thin and pale, her hair straggling. I guessed that was normal, given her husband had left her for an undead floozy. I couldn’t let what Anna had said influence me too much.

  “Mel,” said Principal Saunders slowly. She still sounded half asleep, but her eyes were too sharp for someone who’d been dozing.

  “Uh,” I said. “Hi! I was wondering if Anna could come out?”

  I mercifully stopped myself from adding the words to play at the end of that sentence. Apparently all I have to do is feel a little uneasy, and I revert to kindergarten.

  “She’s doing her homework,” Principal Saunders said. “She can’t be disturbed.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Oh, okay. I’ll call her later.”

  Principal Saunders didn’t respond. I gave an uncomfortable laugh. She didn’t even smile.

  Principal Saunders had always been distant and principal-like, but that was the thing: She was principal-like. She always smiled faintly at jokes and gave the appropriate responses.

  She’d always been a pretty normal parent. She never acted strange. Not until now. (Not like Cathy’s mom, who so disliked conflict, she’d decided it didn’t exist and would answer all questions with yes even when she meant no.)

  “Lots of excitement at school today,” I remarked brilliantly. “What with the new student and everything. Francis the fabulous.”

  She looked pained. I was about to apologize for bringing up vampires when she spoke.

  “Don’t speak to him,” she said. “Don’t let Anna speak to him either.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because vampires destroy people,” she said so fiercely I took a step back.

  Then she gave me a brief nod and closed the door.

  Anna was right: Her mom was acting weird.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Of Vampires and Humans

  A week later and not only had I discovered nothing new on the Anna front, but the Cathy situation was even worse. I called my sister, Kristin. Then I called her again. A billion messages later, she still hadn’t called me back.