I Heart Vampires

by Siona McCabre

  Malcolm broke the silence first. “That. Was. AWESOME.”

  Celia rolled her eyes.

  Malcolm caught the eye roll but was still completely unaware that she had thought this was a date.

  “What?” He turned to Celia.

  “Nothing. Can we go now?” Celia responded a little softer.

  “By all means,” Malcolm replied. But then he didn’t move. He lingered. He leaned over to Celia, who was still glaring at the screen. I, of course, eavesdropped. “Are you okay?” Malcolm whispered, genuinely concerned.

  Celia’s lip quivered, belying her hurt feelings beneath a cold exterior. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she whispered back. She steeled herself before turning to face him. “Let’s just go, please?”

  Malcolm nodded and made eye contact with me to signal that we should leave. Paige and I slowly led the way out of the theater, with the awkward duo following behind.

  None of us said much as we made our way to the parking lot. I asked Paige if she liked the movie and she responded, “Sure.” One-word answers from Paige were never a good sign. I didn’t know how to make her happy and it was driving me crazy.

  Outside in the parking lot, it had begun to rain. The water came down in deceptively thin sheets. For a moment we huddled beneath the old concrete overhang, above which the theater sign glowed weakly through the dark downpour.

  I turned to Paige and embraced her in a firm hug. In that moment I wished for nothing more than the ability to cheer her up, but as much as I held her close to me she only felt the cold penetrating through my layers, the hardness of my unnatural body. I smiled at her apologetically as she shrugged.

  “So, that was fun,” she kidded.

  “Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind.”

  Was it my imagination or did she sound kind of sad when she said that? I glanced over at Malcolm and Celia, waiting quietly and impatiently, for Paige and me to say our goodbyes before making the mad dash to our respective cars. We might have been in earshot if it hadn’t been for the steady splattering of rain on the pavement. I met Paige’s eyes and held them as best I could.

  “You’re always on my mind, you know that, right?” I asked tenderly.

  Paige bit her lip and I thought she was going to nod but instead she said, “I don’t want to get hurt again.” She gave me a smile, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. She’d actually tried to hold my hand in the theater—her very first romantic gesture toward me—and I had flinched. As far as she was concerned, I had rejected her.

  I was furious with myself.

  “See you later,” she murmured. As she strolled over to a clearly miserable Celia, Paige flashed me a look over her shoulder.

  Malcolm and I looked out through the sheets of rain at the drenched parking lot.

  “So,” Malcolm started, “you want to go get the car?”

  “It’s your car!”

  “Yeah, but you’re immortal.”

  Couldn’t argue with that. I held out my hand as he pulled the keys from his pocket and gave them to me. I closed my fingers around them and sprinted into the torrential downpour—afraid of a similar incident to the exploding bathtub, but willing to take the pain. As I made my way over to Malcolm’s Civic, I couldn’t help but notice a car about two hundred yards away making a hasty exit from the parking lot . The driver had astonishingly light hair.

  Chapter 15

  The breakfast table was laid out immaculately, like a buffet at a four-star hotel, minus the silver heating containers. Mom had even picked up a basket from who knows what thrift store to display the fruit. When I came down from my room, intrigued by the sound of sizzling meat and the scent of butter and bacon, I found my mother busy trying not to burn an old-fashioned egg scramble.

  “Wow, Mom, you shouldn’t have,” I joked as I picked up an apple and tossed it casually. “Got any blood oranges in here?”

  She spun around and the slightly embarrassed look on her face caught me somewhat off guard. But before she had the chance to say anything, before I had the chance to process her expression, I heard a voice.

  “No blood oranges, but there are some regular ones here if you like.”

  Rick?

  I slowly turned around to see the face of the man. I was actually slightly taller than he was, which made me feel good for some primal reason. He had a wiry build and jet-black hair that was neatly swept to the side, Don Draper style. Don’t get me wrong though, he was no Don Draper. He had expensive wire-frame glasses and pale gray eyes that looked beady, like a bird’s. His nose was slim and long. He was clean-shaven and wearing a white undershirt beneath a plaid button-up. A casual smile was plastered on his face.

  Overall, Rick was astonishingly normal. Boring, even. It had been a quiet week since they’d first gone out and my mom still hadn’t gotten so much as a phone call from the doctor, so I’d figured he was out of the picture. I didn’t want to encourage whatever form of dating this was, so I was appropriately cold.

  “Hi.” I made sure my tone of voice let him know that I wasn’t exactly pleased about his surprise midmorning visit.

  Mom introduced us. “Honey, this is Rick. Rick, this is my son, Noah!”

  “Pleasure,” Rick said as he stuck out his hand for me to shake.

  I set the apple back in its basket and shook his hand, quick but firm. I wasn’t too eager for the trained and certified doctor to detect the lack of warmth (or pulse) in my body.

  “So, uh, Rick. What brings you here?”

  He glanced over at my mother with a knowing glint in his eye, then back at me. I heard her stifle a giggle. She was giddy as a middle-schooler.

  “I was in the neighborhood. Your mother said I could come by,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Okay, it was decided. I didn’t like him. I couldn’t say why exactly. Something about his demeanor unsettled me. He acted as though he had everybody figured out. How did I glean this from a thirty-second interaction? Sometimes that’s all you needed.

  “So how do you like your eggs, Noah?” he asked politely.

  I sensed Mom hesitate, but only for a second.

  “Nah, it’s cool, I’m not hungry.”

  “A teenage boy, not hungry? Never heard that one before!”

  “Eggs are ready!” Mom called out enthusiastically.

  Rick took his seat comfortably at the breakfast table. Rather, I should have said, Rick took my seat comfortably at the table. I was just about to walk straight back up to my room, but my mom’s eyes were pleading with me to humor him, for her sake.

  I sighed and took the seat farthest from the harsh morning rays streaming in through the window, while my mother laid hearty plates of food in front of herself and Rick, who delightedly tucked in.

  “Noah,” he started.

  I even hated the way he said my name.

  “What are you into?” he finished.

  Hmm. Paige, blood, squirrels, physics. In that order. “Basketball.” I shrugged.

  “Is that so?” Rick replied.

  I couldn’t tell if he could see right through my sarcasm and was just playing along or if he thought we were having a real conversation.

  “Rick used to play basketball in college,” Mom offered.

  “At UVA,” Rick added.

  “Ah, cool,” I said, putting on my impressed face.

  “Starting point guard,” he stated proudly.

  “Aren’t you kind of short for a basketball player?”

  “Noah!” My mother scolded.

  Rick laughed quietly. “No, it’s fine Suzanne.”

  Something about the way he said Mom’s name threw me off. He said it as if he’d been saying it all his life.

  “What I lack in stature, I made up for with skill,” he responded.

  “How long did you play?” I asked.

  “Three years.”

  I held his gaze until he averted his eyes and continued working on his eggs. He had a very particular pattern: it was one forkful of eggs, two bites of bacon, one b
ite of fruit salad. Then it started again. Pssh. Doctors.

  The table was quiet for a few minutes, aside from the clanking of utensils against ceramic and the sickening wet smack of chewing.

  “These eggs are lovely, Suzanne,” Rick finally said, flashing a charming smile at my mother.

  His smile was wide and seemingly genuine, yet something about it creeped me out. And I was the walking dead.

  ****

  I left halfway through breakfast on Sunday to chat with Malcolm on IM. Malcolm was watching reruns of MythBusters and bidding on a vintage comic book on eBay.

  Rick’s voice and my mother’s giggling echoed through the old Victorian, and it started to drive me crazy, so I turned on some Foo Fighters to drown them out.

  YESORNOAH: I HATE MY MOM’S NEW BF

  KINGDAVIES: SURPRISE SURPRISE

  YESORNOAH: NO REALLY, HE WEIRDS ME OUT

  KINGDAVIES: HE’S SUPPOSED TO, HE’S UR MOMS BF IT’S JUST THE LAWS OF NATURE.

  YESORNOAH: WHATEVS

  KINGDAVIES: HAVE THEY DONE IT YET?

  YESORNOAH: GROSS DUDE! DON’T EVER SAY THAT! I JUST VOMITED IN MY MOUTH!!

  KINGDAVIES: LOL IT WAS TOO EASY

  YESORNOAH: U TALK TO CELIA YET?

  KINGDAVIES: WHAT SINCE THE MOVIE?

  YESORNOAH: YEAH

  KINGDAVIES: NOPE

  YESORNOAH: YOU KNOW SHE THOUGHT U GUYS WERE ON A DATE RIGHT?

  KINGDAVIES: YEAH I FIGURED IT OUT A LITTLE LATE BUT HONESTLY I NEVER LED HER ON OR ANYTHING.

  YESORNOAH: I KNOW

  KINGDAVIES: ACTUALLY I LIKE CLASSIE

  YESORNOAH: SERIOUSLY?

  KINGDAVIES: YEAH SHE’S PRETTY COOL. WE WENT TO THE BAGEL PLACE AFTER SCHOOL THE OTHER DAY, I THINK SHE’S INTO ME TOO.

  YESORNOAH: NICE!

  KINGDAVIES: HEY I LOOKED UP MORE OF THAT VAMP HUNTER STUFF.

  YESORNOAH: AND I NEED MORE EVIDENCE THAT UR A DORK BECAUSE?

  KINGDAVIES: NO IT’S FUNNY, I FOUND THIS ONE THING THAT SAID BECAUSE I WAS BORN ON THE SEVENTH DAY OF THE EIGHTH MONTH WHEN MARS WAS IN RETROGRADE OR SOMETHING, I’VE GOT SPECIAL VAMPIRE HUNTING SKILLS.

  YESORNOAH: AND U BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU READ ONLINE?

  KINGDAVIES: HEY IT HAD THAT THING ABOUT YOU BEING A BUTTERFLY RIGHT

  YESORNOAH: YEAH BUT THAT’S ABOUT IT. WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO BE A VAMPIRE HUNTER ANYWAY WHEN YOUR BEST FRIEND IS A VAMPIRE?

  KINGDAVIES: IT WOULD BE COOL! PLUS I WOULDN’T HAVE TO KILL YOU OR ANYTHING, MAYBE I COULD HELP YOU FIND DOUBLEHELIX.

  YESORNOAH: MALCOLM, UR NOT A VAMPIRE HUNTER.

  KINGDAVIES: I KNOW, BUT YOU COULD AT LEAST HUMOR ME FOR A MINUTE. YOU’RE NO FUN

  YESORNOAH: SORRY.

  KINGDAVIES: SO U AND PAIGE TALK ABOUT PROM PLANS LIKE TRANSPORT AND STUFF?

  YESORNOAH: NAH NOT YET.

  KINGDAVIES: GOTTA GET ON THAT! AND COUNT ME IN! GTG, BYE

  It was just like Malcolm to make any actual planning my responsibility, but it didn’t bother me much this time. I had bigger things to think about…namely blond strands of hair, whispery voices, and double helixes. The more I thought about it, the more these paltry games and mysterious encounters simply infuriated me—I felt I was the butt of some morbid joke.

  With a few quick clicks, I was back on the vampire chat where I’d had my one and only encounter with DOUBLEHELIX1178. I logged in and scanned the list of names. No DoubleHelix. I was relieved at first—I didn’t know what I was planning to say to her. I was confident she’d show up though, so I took the time to formulate a scathing, vitriolic diatribe against her and whatever scheming of hers that had brought me to this hideous world. Once I got it perfect in my head, I waited. And waited. And waited.

  Nothing.

  An hour and a half later, I was still staring at a mostly empty chat room. Three people were arguing about Anne Rice, and one person was looking for a good death metal club recommendation. Once again, I was left feeling one step behind.

  ****

  When Rick finally left, I felt free to get on with my day. I did some homework, cleaned my room, and gathered the laundry that Mom had done earlier in the morning. As I was sorting through my clothes, I noticed a couple unfamiliar items: an old sweater and track pants. Kyle James Tanaka’s sweater and track pants, to be exact.

  I’d forgotten to return them after that rather uncomfortable naked incident in the park. Well, at least they were clean. I texted K.J. to get his address. When he responded ten minutes later, I stuffed the clothes in a plastic bag and headed over to his place. He lived nearby in a slightly run-down brick building. Granted, everything in this town was nearby.

  I arrived pretty quickly. There was a white wooden awning over the entryway, and intricate floral carvings etched into the outward facing side of the beams indicated a level of care about the appearance of the place. However, the chipped paint and rain-stained streaks indicated that whoever had cared about the place was long gone.

  KNOCK-KNOCK.

  The scent of patchouli hit me like a truck when K.J. swung the door open, crawling straight up my nostrils and boxing my tear glands. I must have made the weirdest face, because K.J. just shook his head and laughed. Apparently, he was destined to think I was a total freak.

  “You want to come in?” he asked graciously.

  “No thanks, I just came by to give you these.” I handed him the bag containing his clothes. “And, uh, thanks again.”

  “Sure.”

  He took the bag and headed into his apartment to put it down. The door swung open farther to reveal a cool artist’s den; the walls were a deep forest green, punctuated by brightly colored cartoon-like characters of what I assumed were his own design. His couch was low, and covered with a crazy, pixilated pattern. There were art projects in all stages of formation: a sketch of a twisted cat creature sat idly in a drawing book, an abstract sculpture stood half-formed on his kitchen table. Empty ramen noodle cups were everywhere. K.J. caught me peeking.

  “You sure you don’t want to come in?”

  My feet had already decided for me—I realized I was standing in the foyer. “Your place is really cool.”

  “Thanks.”

  As I scanned the room, I caught sight of a painting resting on its easel—a watercolor of a girl’s bare back as she was glancing over her shoulder. Champagnecolored hair draped gracefully across her back. She was reaching for something with her right arm. Enveloping her arm was a beautiful blue and green tree-themed tattoo.

  “No way,” I muttered under my breath.

  “You like it?” he asked proudly.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Who is it?”

  “The girl?”

  “Yeah, do you know her? What’s her name? Where does she live?”

  K.J. shrugged. “No idea. I was delivering pizzas to this party one night—”

  “Was it 1675 Karen Avenue?”

  “Um. Yeah, I think. How did you know that?”

  “I was at that party.”

  “Right on, man.”

  “So did you talk to her?”

  “No, I just saw her from a distance. She kind of caught my eye, you know?”

  Did I ever.

  “What struck me the most, though, is this: here’s this gorgeous girl, right? She’s young. Hot. She’s at this typical party where everyone’s having a good time. And yet her eyes look so sad. Like, there’s no life in them. Like, she’s totally alone in the world. It was the weirdest thing. It almost looked like she was searching for something. That’s really what got me.”

  ****

  Later that night Paige and I took a walk. It was her idea. She wanted to “wander around beneath the stars.” I didn’t have to tell her that there probably wouldn’t be any stars out because of the heavy collection of overcast clouds that had been gathering all day. So we took a walk beneath a dark sky, devoid of any twinkling. She didn’t seem to mind.

  “I’m surprised your parents let you walk around at nigh
t, considering the whole girls-gone-missing thing lately.”

  Paige shrugged. “They’re okay with it as long as I’m with you or Malcolm.”

  “You go on walks with Malcolm?”

  “Sometimes, especially if we’re bored out of our minds or something.”

  “If you’re bored out of your mind you should call me.”

  “I did.” She smiled at me and within seconds I was at ease.

  “My parents trust you to make sure I don’t get kidnapped.”

  “No promises,” I joked.

  “So, I’ve decided to forgive you for your shameful performance in history.”

  “I really am so sorry about that.”

  Paige shrugged. “We got a B-plus. Not terrible. There are worse things.”

  Much worse.

  We meandered toward the local playground, a popular destination for young lovers, something I still hoped we could be. We talked about school and teachers, swapped details on the complications of Malcolm and Celia’s non-relationship, and briefly discussed prom plans.

  “So have you heard of any after-parties?” Paige asked me.

  “No. You?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you want to do something afterward?”

  Paige smiled at me coyly and darted off ahead of me to the swings. So…was that a yes? I walked up to her as she began to twist around in the seat of a swing, chains grinding and grating as she wound herself more and more. She giggled when I gave her a couple small pushes to finish off the twist. I held her in place at the base of the chains and gazed into her autumn eyes.

  “Ready?” I asked her.

  “Ready.”

  I let go of the seat and gave her a nudge. Her legs flailed out and she closed her eyes as she spun rapidly around, the chains forcing to unwind themselves. She squealed with glee as the swing spun her round and round, faster and faster, until coming to a sudden and complete stop, the chains finally at rest. I couldn’t help chuckling. I’d always admired the childlike way in which she enjoyed the finer things in life, such as swing-spinning. I watched in silent reverence as she proceeded to wind herself up again. In the moment before she lifted her tennis shoes from the trampled beauty bark, she sucked in the chilly night air through her teeth. Then she went dizzyingly around in the worn rubber seat.