Still Sucks to Be Me: More All-True Confessions of Mina Hamilton, Teen Vampire

by Kimberly Pauley

  A Piggly Wiggly? What kind of a store is that? Don’t they have any normal stores here? It’s a good thing we don’t actually have to eat. But I guess we have to buy food to keep up appearances, especially if Eugenie’s going to be popping by on a regular basis. And somehow, I think she just might.

  Mom is trying to steer Eugenie toward the door when our new neighbor turns her eye on me again. “You gonna be starting up at Cartville High, Mina? You look the right age. Senior?” I nod, but I’m not sure if she even notices. “I’ll be seein’ you there then. My son Grady’s a senior too, and I volunteer over at the front office in the mornings. Great school and great kids! I bet everybody’ll just eat you up, bein’ a California girl and knowin’ models and all!”

  “Oh,” says Dad, totally ignoring the model thing. “Maybe you could tell Mina a bit about the school?”

  “Why, certainly! Go Cougars! There’s eighty-nine seniors this year. Would’ve been ninety, but Bobby Duschamp dropped out to work on an oil rig at the end of last year. Even so, it’s the biggest senior class since I went to school there!” She laughs a big, hearty laugh and pokes Dad in the chest. “I bet you can’t guess when that was!”

  Dad is saved from answering by my jaw dropping to the floor. “Eighty-nine? Seriously?”

  “Yep! Four hundred and thirty-two total in the school. Been gettin’ bigger and bigger every year! Why, the whole town’s grown to 1,255 people.”

  “Are you kidding me? That’s less people than went to my old high school, McA—”

  “Mina!” says Mom. What? Oh, yeah. What was the name of my high school supposed to have been? Not McAdam. Um, crap. I just shut my mouth with a snap, but it doesn’t matter anyway since Eugenie just goes on like I didn’t say anything.

  “I guess I should say 1,258 people now! But enough about Cartville. Why don’t y’all tell me a bit about yourselves?” She plops herself down on the couch (faded, lumpy, and purple) and pats the cushion next to her like she owns the place. “I’m all ears!” Ha, I don’t doubt that!

  Dad catches the sound of a car stopping outside the same time I do. Another visitor? Already? What, is Cartville like Louisiana’s Grand Central or something? Can there be more than one Eugenie in a single tiny town?

  Mom answers the door this time while Dad is stuck sitting next to Eugenie, who has now started in on his hair. (Apparently, she thinks he could use some highlights. Oh my God.) It’s another blonde lady who looks to be around Mom’s age with a huge, toothy smile. She does kind of remind me of Eugenie, but much smaller and more sophisticated (at least as far as her clothes go).

  “Why, Ivetta!” says Eugenie, jumping up in midsentence. “Whatever are you doing out this way?” Is it just me, or does she look a little suspicious? Who is Ivetta, anyway? And what’s up with the names? Seriously, maybe that’s what you do in a small town—sit around and think up unusual names for your kids.

  “Eugenie! And here I thought I’d be the first to greet the Smiths. I suppose I should have known you’d get here before me!” Ivetta smiles wide at Mom. She and Eugenie could probably get walkons in a toothpaste commercial. “Eugenie’s a regular welcoming committee unto herself around here.”

  Eugenie sniffs a little at that, though I don’t know why she’d find that insulting. I guess the truth hurts. She stands up and smoothes some invisible wrinkles out of her dress. Or maybe there actually are wrinkles. Hard to tell with all the flower power going on.

  “Well, I should be gettin’ on anyway. So nice to meet all y’all. Interestin’ to see you again, Ivetta.”

  Ivetta waits until Eugenie’s down the walk before saying anything. “Don’t worry about Eugenie. She’s a huge gossip, but she means well. She’s just not real fond of me since I stopped getting my hair cut at her salon. She was payin’ a little too much attention to my lack of aging.”

  Mom looks her up and down. “You must be …?”

  “Oh, sorry. Forgot the introductions, didn’t I? Ivetta Pierce, regional continuing education coordinator extraordinaire! There aren’t any Council agents stationed up this way, so I kind of act as an all-around greeter and educator. So nice to meet you all! We’ve heard so much about you! Hadn’t had anyone really new move to the area in quite some time. Years, really! Very exciting!”

  Lovely. I guess that means I’m the only vampire teen in town. My social life is gonna rock. Not.

  “Except, of course, for Dr. Jonas, but you knew that!” I did? Who the heck is he? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him. But Dad is doing his bashful grin. Ivetta goes over to him and gives him a huge whack on the back, which almost knocks him over. She’s got a lot of oomph for a little lady. “That was quite a coup for you! I heard there was big competition for his internship. Y’all should be very, very proud.”

  Um, wait. “What internship?”

  “Why, honey, your daddy—oops, excuse me—your brother landed himself one of the most coveted jobs in the vampire world! They probably taught you about Dr. Jonas in your intro classes. He’s a legend! We’re very proud to have him here in our little corner of the world. He’s been pretty hush-hush about what he’s researching. Though I’ve heard some things.” She gives a quick wink-wink like I’m supposed to have any clue what she means.

  “Wait, we moved here because Dad got a job with some legendary vampire dude? Not because the VRA decided to drop us in the middle of nowhere?” Ivetta’s smile slips a bit. “No offense, Ivetta.” At least not to her. Mom and Dad can take offense if they want to. I know I’m offended. Did they not think I would figure out that it’s their fault we’re here?

  “None taken, sweetie. This area is a little blip of nothin’, but it’s a nice one.” She starts fumbling around in her purse and backing toward the door. “But it sounds like y’all have a bit of talkin’ to do. How about I just drop off some information for you and be on my way? Lookin’ forward to talkin’ to y’all again!” She drops some brochures (surprise) in Mom’s hands and then takes off, letting the door slap shut behind her. I don’t let Dad out of my sight.

  “When were you planning to tell me that it’s your fault that we’re stuck here? In this hole-in-the-wall?”

  Mom sits next to Dad and puts her arm around his shoulder. “Mina, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for your dad. Even a vampire’s life. You should be happy for him. Dr. Jonas only takes on a new intern every hundred or so years. You know how much your dad loves history. This is his chance to learn from the best.”

  I’m still staring at my traitor dad. “You could have told me. Or given me some input at least.”

  He finally clears his throat. “The VRA thought—”

  “Forget it,” I say and bang out the door after Ivetta. It lets out a loud creak, but I don’t care. Let it break. They can’t blame this fiasco on the VRA anymore. This is all their fault. Dad’s anyway, and Mom’s by association.

  7

  I’ve been running through the countryside (I don’t technically need to exercise, since the muscles are there no matter what I do, but at least it makes me feel like I’m doing something) or camped out in my room for the last three days while Mom and Dad play the Happy Neighbor game. They get all excited and crazy friendly every time someone comes over. Like puppies. It’s absolutely disgusting. Mom has already joined some cooking club (bet she won’t be breaking out the old blood pudding recipe for them) and Dad has been talking about fishing and hunting while wearing a John Deere baseball cap. I think they’re taking this whole fitting in thing a little too seriously.

  Cartville is like a black hole. It’s like being totally cut off from civilization. I haven’t been able to call Serena because there are no cell phone stores here, and I can’t call her on the landline while my parents are home. I haven’t been able to send an e-mail to tell George to rescue me because the “new” laptop Ivetta dropped off is basically a giant solitaire-playing paperweight until we get Internet access.

  I’m on my fifty-third solitaire game of the day when I hear the now-familiar so
und of Eugenie’s pumps clicking up the sidewalk (at least she’s not evil like our old next door neighbor), but this time I can hear that she’s not by herself.

  Great. More company.

  “Mom, do I have to do this? Now? It’s Friday night. I was supposed to go out with the guys. Lonnie’s having a party.” Ah. Must be Eugenie’s son, Grady. I’ve heard her telling Mom all about him.

  Eugenie clucks at him. “You be a good boy and be neighborly. Mari said Mina’s having a hard time adjusting to things around here. She don’t know anybody her own age and it’d be nice if she met a few of you young folks before school starts. I know you’ll just love her to death. Mari says she has a really nice personality.” Gah. Thanks a lot, Mom. Not. It’s no wonder he’s dragging his feet up the walk. That’s a death sentence if I ever heard one.

  “But, Mom—”

  “No ifs, ands, or buts,” she says firmly. “Get going. Here’s the keys to the truck. Just make sure you put gas back in it if you spend all night going up and down the Loop. I’m going across the street to visit with Mabel for a while.” I hear her footsteps go back down the path and across the street. Then a few more slow steps up the walk from Grady.

  Lucky for him, I’m planning on helping him out.

  I wait at the door and answer on the first knock. Might as well get this over with.

  “Hey! Whoa—I … uh …” Guess I surprised him with the preemptive door opening. Grady is pretty cute, in a healthy-jock-farm-boy kind of way. Not like the whole Wesley farm boy thing in The Princess Bride or anything, but attractive. He’s got wavy light brown hair with some natural sun streaks in it, some pretty beefy biceps under his slightly too tight T-shirt and a totally confused expression on his face.

  “Hey, you must be Grady, right?” Might as well get right to it so we can both get on with the rest of our lives. “Look, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do tonight than show me around town.” I grit my teeth and smile at him as best I can. “And honestly, I’ve seen pretty much all of it already. So I’m good to go. I mean, stay. Stay at home.” Smooth, Mina, real smooth. Showing off my nice personality all right.

  He blushes, clears his throat a couple of times and then runs a hand through his hair, which causes his bicep to actually ripple. Does he have to practice that? Is that natural? Where’re my friends when I need them? Lorelai would totally love him, George would be cracking on his obvious überness and I bet Serena would freak him out.

  “Oh, no, I told my—I mean, it’s no trouble at all,” Grady says. “I didn’t have anything else planned. I’d love to show you around and introduce you to everybody.”

  Um, okay. That’s a total lie. Didn’t he just tell Eugenie a totally different story?

  “Don’t worry about your mom.” I wink at him before I think better of it. Crap. Don’t want to give him the wrong idea. “I’ll tell her you took me around and showed me a good time and all that. You can go hang out with your guy friends or your girlfriend or whatever.” I start to ease the door shut.

  He blushes a little darker but puts his hand on the door over the top of mine. “Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend. Really, I’d love to take you out. There’s a party over at Lonnie Pratt’s tonight.”

  Um … what?

  I’m trying to think of some other polite way to tell him “no, thanks” when Mom takes it out of my hands. “Mina would love to go!” she calls out from the kitchen. She comes out to stand behind me in the doorway and I give her a glare over my shoulder.

  Grady quickly takes his hand off mine and leans against the rickety door frame. Mom gives me a push in the back and I almost trip out the door. “Thanks so much for offering to show Mina around. I think it will be great for her to get a chance to meet some other kids her age instead of hanging around here with me and her brother.”

  Oh, so that’s the story. I bet they want a little alone time together. It is a small house and with me having hearing just as good as theirs and the whole no-sleeping thing … yeah, I bet they’re just dying to get rid of me for awhile. Well, if that’s the case, I’d rather not be here. I mean, I know where I came from and everything, but that doesn’t mean I want to really know-know, you know?

  “Fine,” I say. “Mo—uh, Mari. I’ll just be gone a couple of hours. I’m sure I don’t want to take up too much of Grady’s time.”

  He smiles real big and friendly at me. Now I can see that he really is related to Eugenie. “You can take up as much of my time as you’d like,” he says and takes my hand as I go down the stairs.

  Seriously, this whole Southern hospitality thing is hard to get used to.

  8

  We get to Lonnie’s and I start to get out of the truck under my own power. This obviously goes against all Southern protocol because Grady comes running around the truck. I guess it’s kind of nice, but at the same time it’s kind of annoying. I mean, what, does he think I’m some delicate flower who can’t handle getting out of a big old truck by herself? Cheese.

  He holds open the door of his truck for me and takes my hand to help me out, which feels kind of ridiculous since technically I could pick up the entire truck with one hand. But not like he knows that. I guess it’s more of the whole Southern charm thing. George opens doors for me, but he doesn’t try to help me in or out or anything. He knows me better than that. I just hope he’s not busy opening up a cabana door for some bikini babe right now.

  Grady leads me to the door of the house like I couldn’t find it on my own. I can already hear unidentifiable country music turned up way too loud (actually, as far as I’m concerned, any country music that is actually audible is way too loud) and a crowd of people. “Now, Mina,” he says, leaning close to my ear, “if anyone in there gets fresh with you or gets a little too close, you just let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

  “I think I can take care of myself,” I say. Then the door flies open and nearly hits me in the face. A couple of guys come pouring out.

  “Grady!” yells one and pounds my knight in denim jeans on the back a couple of times hard enough that Grady has to let go of my hand. “I haven’t seen you practically all summer! How you been, man? How’s Baby? Lookin’ good this year?” He’s a big, beefy guy with close-cropped blond hair and hands that look large enough to palm a pumpkin.

  “Good, Lonnie. And Baby’s great. Fat as ever. How ’bout you?” Man, I hope Baby isn’t what he calls his girlfriend. How rude.

  That’s when Lonnie notices me. “And who do we have here?” He whistles and gives me a huge smile. “You’re definitely not from around here!”

  I guess it must be pretty obvious, since everyone keeps telling me that. Maybe I should just get a T-shirt that says, “That’s right, I’m not from around here” on it. It’d save time.

  “This is Mina,” Grady says, and plops his arm around my shoulders. “She just moved to town from California.”

  I step forward to shake Lonnie’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” I say. “Hope you don’t mind that I’m crashing your party.”

  “Not at all,” he laughs. His hand completely engulfs mine. This dude is HUGE. “You can crash at my house any time you want. Any time at all.” He throws an arm around both me and Grady at the same time and pulls us into the house. I feel a little bit like Goldilocks being hugged by Papa Bear. I’d be surprised if Lonnie’s not on the football team. Shoot, he could be the entire defensive line all by himself.

  “Grab yourself somethin’ to drink. You know where everything is, Grady.” Then Lonnie leans his head over to whisper in Grady’s ear. “Kacie’s not here yet, but you better watch out, man. I heard she’s coming.” I pretend I can’t hear anything, since I technically shouldn’t be able to. But I can’t help but wonder who Kacie is. Unless she’s Baby?

  The house is completely packed with kids. Some are drinking beer, which smells even grosser to me now than it did before. (A bonus for my parents, I guess, since there’s no way I’ll ever drink the stuff. Not that I did before, but now … ew. Let’s just say
that when you get right down to it, dog piss actually does smell better than beer.) The music is blaring some whiny country song about somebody doing somebody wrong or something like that.

  I haven’t been to a lot of parties and only one that you could call an A-list party, but this is definitely nothing like that one at all. No fancy designer clothes, no catering, no expensive cars parked out front. (In fact, hardly any cars at all. Does everyone around here drive a pickup truck?)

  It’s actually kind of nice. I’m totally not grooving to the lame music, but at least I don’t feel completely out of place either.

  Grady waves his free hand and yells to me over the music, “If you wanted to meet people, this is the place for it! Lonnie throws the best parties. This is pretty much everybody, right here!”

  “You know it!” Lonnie yells back and releases us from his bear hug to go hug a new girl who came in right behind us.

  Grady parades me around the room and introduces me to a bunch of people, most of whose names I forget as soon as they say them. Too bad supermemory isn’t one of the things you get when you turn. Now that would be handy. He finally parks me on a couch and tells me to save him a seat and he’ll get us some drinks. I tell him soda and he nods, though he looks a little surprised. I guess people from California are supposed to be serious partiers or something.

  I’m kind of having fun just sitting there and watching the people ebb and flow around me. Everyone who walks by the couch actually stops to at least nod or say hello to me. They really are friendly here, though a bit, um, excitable. I can hear a group of guys in the backyard holding some kind of drinking-wrestling contest. From here, they all sound like they’re losing. Or winning, I guess, depending on your viewpoint.