She glanced at me, checking to see if I was ready, then started the movie.
To be honest, I was so distracted by the proximity of our bodies that I have no idea what happened in the movie. There was a lot of fancy stuff and wigs. I know this was supposed to be purely research, but I couldn’t focus. I swear, I tried. I realized that Paige was the main source of the honeysuckle scent (either she laid it on heavy or my sense of smell was impossibly good…or both), and I had to hold my breath in intervals to avoid being overwhelmed by it.
Having to shove out thoughts of free-flowing, honeysuckle-flavored blood running down my throat was intensely uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as thoughts of kissing her. I didn’t shove those away though—I let them sit at the front of my mind.
Time had been increasingly difficult to measure since the bathtub incident. I was aware of clocks, the ticking hands, the carefully calculated bells and alarms, those instruments that were meant to break it down in a logical fashion, but they had lost their legitimacy. My sense of time had warped, and I couldn’t tell if this was a psychological thing—a side effect of suddenly being frozen in time for all eternity—or if I was just now realizing something that had been true all along.
Time is flexible.
There are plenty of theories out there about the bendy nature of time, but reading about it as an abstract idea in an anvil-sized textbook is one thing; it is another thing entirely to feel it in your bones.
Thank goodness the digital display on the DVD player showed me exactly how long we’d been sitting next to each other in silence, pretending to absorb useful information from the fanciful drama playing out before us to the beat of indie tracks.
Forty-three minutes. So far, so good.
The flickering glow from the movie cast a cool ghostly light on Paige’s face. But the blue pale of the TV couldn’t hide the pink hue of her cheeks. How could anyone blush that much? She caught me looking at her.
I could have whipped my head back toward the TV and pretended I wasn’t admiring her, but for once in my sad little history with Paige, I didn’t turn away. Surprisingly, neither did she. We locked eyes, and I could feel hers getting lost in mine. Time stopped. The corner of her lip twitched, as though she wanted to smile. She didn’t blink. I didn’t move. We both sat like statues, facing each other, as the light from the movie flickered over our faces.
In that moment I could tell you exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be human again. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to ask her to the dance. I wanted never to have gone to that party, never to have died, never to have missed every opportunity I ever had to tell Paige what I’d always felt. That was what I really wanted, and what I now could never have.
Beyond that, it was all fuzzy and complicated. I wanted so badly just to kiss her for hours, until I had totally forgotten everything about myself and all the time I had squandered. At the same time I knew that if I let go, even just a tiny bit, I would put Paige at risk. To lose any amount of control over my senses would be tantamount to breaking my promise not only to my mom, but also to myself.
Finally, she broke our gaze, turning her attention back to the movie. I swallowed hard and forced myself to look away from her. There it was again—another missed opportunity. I felt holding back had been the right decision, so why did it feel so wrong?
My head and heart were bursting with thoughts of her. I pictured running my fingers through her soft, thick hair. I imagined her perfect pink lips close enough to mine to taste. Whispering sweet nothings in her ear. The feel of her satin cheek. The precious curve of her neck. The fragrance of her warm red blood, pulsing through her veins…
Blood.
I could feel my eyes rapidly dilate and my senses sharpen. Suddenly the noise from the movie was gratingly loud. The light emanating from the TV was cold and digital; the shadows harsh and unforgiving. The darkness in me zeroed in on that thick metallic scent. The honeysuckle and the cinnamon were gone. Overpowered by the one element that captured my lust in spite of myself, I could think only of one thing: Blood. I want her blood.
All of a sudden I violently pulled away and leaped backward across the room. She jumped back on the couch, startled.
Paige gasped. She eyed me curiously as I stood immobile, holding my breath, awkwardly pressed against the wall.
I must have looked ridiculous.
“Are you…are you okay?” she asked. I couldn’t tell if she was insulted, confused, or concerned. It was probably all three.
I had to calm down. I had to get out of there. And then, as if things couldn’t have possibly gotten worse, it started happening again.
The butterflies.
I felt a sudden flutter in my stomach that I knew by now was not excitement or nerves. I felt like I was going to be sick, but I knew that wasn’t the case either. I raced into the nearest bathroom and locked the door. I’d done enough damage in one night, without morphing into a bug before Paige’s very eyes. In the span of ten minutes, I managed finally to start to get close to the girl I couldn’t stop thinking about, and then ruin it all by being a psycho vampire freak of nature! Seriously, that amount of failure takes skill.
A sheen of icy sweat blanketed my white skin, and the fluttering in my stomach expanded into my throat. My muscles began to spasm. My eyes darted around the room in acute panic. I saw that above the toilet was a small, rectangular window. That was my out. It had to be.
When a dizzying whirl reached my head like a tornado inside my body, I knew that I had less than a minute. I leaped onto the toilet and jiggered the window open with a squeak. Fresh air streamed in and ruffled my hair. Once the window was open, I pulled off my jacket and shirt and threw them outside. I heard them land softly in the grass. I then removed my jeans, shoes, and boxers, and tossed them out as well.
In the brief moment before it happened, I glimpsed myself in the mirror. I was a fake. An imitation of a person. I watched as my body ruptured and imploded into the smallest, most fragile of creatures, and the world grew enormous and hectic around me. Suddenly, there I was, in Paige’s bathroom: Noah the butterfly.
I would have hung my head in eternal shame if I had had a neck. Instead, I flapped my little wings as hard as I could, trying to control my erratic trajectory. Even for a bug, I looked ridiculous as I careened around in circles, first in a downward spiral. Then finally, up, up, and out the window.
As I plotted a rough course back home, I hoped that I had left my bedroom window open a crack. I flew dizzyingly above the dark ground where my clothes lay crumpled over my shoes. I would have to come back for those.
After a nauseating journey that felt like hours, I finally managed to climb the stiff night air up to my window. Mom had left it open to freshen my room, even through the closed blinds. Yes! I made a mental note to make sure it was open in the future. Just in case.
When I made it inside, I settled on my unmade bed and waited. I began to think that hunger was the trigger for the butterfly transformation. I didn’t enjoy being a bug. The thought of being stuck permanently as a bug was enough to make me want to slam my tiny body against the window until I was just a smear. Instead, I waited. And waited. And waited some more.
I knew Mom was downstairs waiting up for me, but there was nothing I could do. I could hear the creak of the wooden floor as her leg bounced nervously in the living room.
Finally, like the deepest of sighs, my body let go of its unnatural form and I was human again. Well, not entirely.
Chapter 8
“DID. YOU. KILL. ANYONE?”
“No, Mom. How many times do I have to say it?”
“As many times as it’s going to take me to believe it.”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you were gone ’til early this morning. I hear nothing from you, and then you suddenly show up at the top of the stairs.”
“So I’m out late and you see me getting ready for school in the morning and you automatically jump to the conclusion that I killed so
meone. Great. Good to know I can’t do anything right.”
“It’s not that you can’t do anything right.”
“Why don’t you just call Paige’s parents?”
“And say what? Hi, have you seen my son lately? I was afraid he might have killed you.”
“You are being so dramatic!”
“Am I? You’re not human anymore, Noah! You can’t pretend like you are!”
“First, thanks for reminding me, and second, I’m not pretending.”
“Yes, you are. I don’t know what happens when you disappear like that. Don’t make me feel guilty for fearing the worst.”
“You’re not fearing the worst, you’re assuming the worst!”
“When you don’t tell me anything I fill in the blanks!”
“Stop doing that!”
“I can’t! Not when you’re not helping me!”
“Me helping you? What do you need help with?”
“Noah, please. This is hard on both of us.”
“Hard. On both of us. Are you kidding me?”
My dark blood coursed rapidly through my veins. I could feel them getting thick beneath my skin. I felt guilty for saying that to my mom. Of course I knew this was hard on her, too. I was just so angry. So hungry.
“Honey, please calm down. I worry about you.”
“You worry for your sake.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. You’re afraid of me.”
She shook her head a little too vigorously. “I didn’t say that.”
The rage inside me boiled over. “You don’t have to! I see it! I see it in your face. You flinch whenever I move. You tiptoe around me. You act like I’m a rabid dog about to attack you! You look at me like I’m a sociopathic serial killer! Like a stranger! You see one thing about me and one thing only. Guess what, Mom? Noah is dead.” I grabbed her hand and pressed it hard against my chest, forcing her to feel the still nothingness that was my core. “DEAD!” I shouted.
She flinched. Her lip quivered.
“You think I don’t know that?” I continued. “You think I don’t know what I am? I know! I know more than you can ever imagine. I will never, NEVER, be alive again. You think I don’t understand that!?” It was pouring out of me, pure and raw. “But that’s not the only thing I am. Just because I don’t have a heartbeat doesn’t mean I don’t feel! It doesn’t mean I’m evil!”
I pressed her hand harder against my still chest. She winced and a tear snuck out the corner of her eye.
“You feel that?! Huh? It doesn’t mean I’m a MONSTER!”
At that point she lost it. She began sobbing and shaking her head.
I stopped. She slowly curled into a crouch, hugging herself and crying. What was I doing? My pale hand ran through my hair and my jaw tensed. I had hurt her. I hurt her feelings and I could have broken her hand. What kind of son was I? “Sorry” was too inadequate, so I didn’t even bother saying it. Instead, I stood there, listening to her cries. That seemed punishment enough. “I’ve got to get to school,” I mumbled.
She nodded, wiped her nose, and carefully stood up. Her eyes were glistening and puffy. I felt terrible for doing that to her, but I didn’t regret saying the things I’d said. They were all true. I felt like my own mother was just waiting for me to slit her throat, and that felt like betrayal.
She grabbed the keys and handed them to me. “Drive yourself,” she said calmly.
I sighed. “Not that you’ll believe me, but last night I turned into a butterfly in the bathroom and flew home. Then I had to go back later to pick up my clothes, which were lying in a pile by the side of her house. There.”
Her head tilted to the side. She seemed confused, understandably, but I didn’t pick up on any doubt in her expression.
I shrugged, and turned to head out the door. “I’m not a monster,” I whispered, under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. Without looking back, I strode out into the stormy expanse of another miserable day.
I was a monster.
****
It was nearly impossible to sneak into homeroom. The door was not only right up front by the board, but it made an excruciating squeaking sound, like a rusty car door. This time I was lucky though. The teacher was preoccupied with Jillian Miller, a renowned gossip. While he was busy telling her off about texting during class and about using the word “slut,” I managed to slide along the wall to the back, where a pair of empty desk chairs sat indifferent, like old men watching the tide.
Where was Malcolm? I settled quietly into my seat and slipped off my hat. I ran my hand through my messy hair, its dark strands perfectly silky and dry, and came to an odd realization. I couldn’t remember the last time I had showered.
I ran my fingers through my hair again, expecting to feel a sickeningly slick collection of oil and grit. It was soft and dry. Clean. As though not a single day had passed. It felt nicer than it ever had. And although I knew I was frozen in time, this was the first time it occurred to me that I would never need a haircut again. Or a shower, I guess, for that matter.
But Malcolm. Where was he? I sent him a quick text.
WHERE R U?
I tucked my ancient phone away in my jeans quickly to avoid getting caught. The phone I had made a relatively loud clicking noise whenever I texted, which Malcolm referred to as gerbil-ing. “Who are you gerbil-ing now?” he’d say. Only right now he wasn’t around to say it and it wasn’t like him at all to miss homeroom, as dorky as that sounds.
I waited out roll call and the Pledge of Allegiance and the rest of that boring stuff, figuring he’d text me back. Nothing. Finally the first period bell rang. I gathered my bag and made my way through the crowded halls toward my locker.
As the surge of people began to part, I saw Malcolm standing at his locker right near mine. I smiled to myself, trying to decide which witty comment I’d make after (gently) checking him into his locker. I continued walking toward him until the wave of hurried classmates parted. That’s when I saw her.
Paige.
I stopped in my tracks. I had been so caught up in the fight with my mom this morning, I’d completely forgotten that I’d have to face up to what I did to Paige last night.
She was standing right in front of Malcolm, leaning against the locker. Her arms were wrapped defensively around herself, and her head was tucked low, but they were both definitely talking. It looked serious.
I didn’t know if they were talking about me or something else entirely, but I hadn’t exactly formulated what I was going to say to her after last night. And so, naturally, I panicked and decided that instead of confronting this awkward situation, I would hide behind the nearest wall and eavesdrop. I ducked around the corner, peeking occasionally, trying my best to look nonchalant. There were enough people passing between us that I didn’t think they’d seen me. Now all I had to do was focus, to single out their two voices over the general din of the student body.
“I’m just really confused.” Paige’s voice rose above the noisy hum.
“Yeah, I know,” Malcolm sympathized. “I’m a little confused too. That just doesn’t sound like him.”
“That’s what I’m saying, it was the weirdest thing. I mean, one second we’re having a good time watching the movie, and the next he literally jumped across the room away from me.”
“Something’s been up with him lately. I’m sure it’s not you. Seriously, you’re awesome,” Malcolm tried.
Paige was hesitant. “Yeah, well, that’s nice of you to say, but it’s not like there was anyone else in the room he was reacting to.”
“Try not to take it to heart. Like I said, he’s been acting weird, even with me. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything. I know he thinks you’re really cool.”
“You think?”
Malcolm shifted his weight and ran his hand through his hair. He only did that when he was anxious about something. What did he have to be anxious about? Did he think I’d be mad if he told Paige I liked her? “Yeah. He came ove
r in the first place, right?” he murmured.
I heard Paige pause and draw in a quick breath. I pictured her cheeks glowing their signature blush and her gently biting the corner of her lip in that way that drove me absolutely crazy. I almost rushed up right then to apologize.
“He also bolted through the bathroom window, so what does that tell me?”
Hearing it said out loud, neither Malcolm nor Paige could hold back. They both chuckled, and Malcolm just shook his head.
“That he’s stupid?” he tried, smiling.
At that point I peeked around the corner. There was a hint of shyness in his smile. It was ever so slight, but I’d known Malcolm forever. I knew that before he kissed his ninth-grade crush, Alice, during a pool party, he’d smiled at her the same way he just smiled at Paige.
I felt my stomach turn involuntarily. If Malcolm liked Paige, he would have told me. I would have known. I could read him like a book. We’re best friends. He couldn’t like Paige. Even if he did, I loved her, and that counted more, right? I decided I was reading into that one little expression far too much and that I should just let it go. Besides, I had plenty of other things to spend my mental energy on. Like how in the world I was going to explain myself, for one.
As I refocused on what seemed to be the end of Malcolm and Paige’s interaction, I saw her go in for a friendly hug, which Malcolm readily accepted.
Paige then walked away, leaving Malcolm to mull the odd details of the conversation around in his head, like a hard candy that refused to melt. In the most casual, innocent manner I could muster, I approached him at his locker.
“Hey, man, where’ve you been?” I asked nonchalantly. I thought I saw him jump a little as he looked back over his shoulder at me. If he had, he quickly composed himself.
“Noah, hey.”
I Heart Vampires Page 9