I Heart Vampires

by Siona McCabre

  “Um, no. Why?”

  I shrugged and distractedly sorted through more suits in an effort to appear nonchalant. “No reason.” Yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious. Whenever anyone said, “No reason,” it meant, “I most definitely have a reason.” We both knew it.

  “She’s shy about where she lives.”

  “Why—are her parents like hoarders, or something?”

  “No.” He lowered his voice. “She lives in a foster home.”

  Didn’t see that coming. “For real?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are her parents dead or something?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to pry.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I don’t think she tells many people about it.”

  “So why’d she tell you?”

  “I don’t know. Guess I’m just easy to talk to. Good with secrets.” He shot me a knowing look.

  I chose to ignore it.

  “So that said, don’t tell Classie I told you, ’kay?”

  I smiled reassuringly and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. “Of course.”

  A few minutes passed in silence. I could tell Malcolm was itching to say something.

  “Why are you so interested in Classie all of a sudden?”

  Because she’s going to be the next victim of a bloodthirsty psycho. “Because she’s going out with my best friend.”

  “Come on, man, I thought we just went over this?”

  “What? I’m serious, I’m just looking out for you.”

  “No offense, but you need to look out for yourself first.”

  “Fair enough. I was just curious.”

  We went back to sorting through suits, but something was bugging Malcolm and he couldn’t let it go.

  “You’ve been extra curious about her, though. You’ve never cared this much before about someone I’ve gone out with a few times.”

  “This, uh, seems more serious. You know, prom and all.”

  “Are you sure that’s it?”

  “What else would it be?”

  Malcolm scratched his head. “I don’t know, but there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “You need to relax! Prom’s got your brain all mushy. I promise you, my interest in Classie doesn’t go beyond me being your friend.” I could tell Malcolm wasn’t buying my shtick. My ability to lie convincingly still needed a lot of work. To change the subject, I grabbed the nearest tux and held it up. “What do you think?” I asked quickly.

  Malcolm looked me up and down. “I think it’s perfect,” he stated.

  “So it looks like everything else in here?” I clarified.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Perfect.”

  ****

  It was just getting dark when I finally made it home.

  After tux shopping, I’d taken a slight detour through the woods. I’d hoped the cool night air, blended with the scent of pine, would clear my head. As I walked, I started hoping Haley would show up. She made me angry, but I wanted to see her again, to talk to her, to hear her light, silvery voice. I hadn’t heard from her since I’d found the note, which I also had questions about. Now that she’d turned me, why did she need to creep around and follow me? But the woods were silent, aside from the hush of swaying trees and cricket song.

  When I got back, Mom was busy in the kitchen.

  “Hey, honey!” she called, hearing the old door click.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “You and Malcolm have a good time picking out a tux?”

  I sauntered down the hallway to the kitchen. “I don’t know if you could call it a good time, but it was fine.”

  “Find a good one?”

  “Yeah, I even put it on hold.”

  She was making herself a Cobb salad and some chamomile tea. She stopped slicing her avocado to wrap me in a warm bear hug.

  “Uh, love you, too?” I said, my face squished against her arms.

  She released me and smiled in that fuzzy, awkward way mothers do, when you know they’re picturing you as a chubby little drool monster in diapers.

  “My little—”

  “Come on, Mom! Please don’t say it.”

  “All right, fine,” she acquiesced, as she went back to dicing. Then, almost to herself, “But you know you always will be.”

  Always. The kettle on the stove began to wail. “Your tea is ready.”

  “Oh, thanks, sweetie.”

  “Salad, huh?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t been eating well for awhile. I figured it’s time to start eating healthier.”

  “Yes, there’s nothing healthier than iceberg lettuce slathered in bacon bits, blue cheese, and oily dressing.”

  “Hey! It’s a start!” She settled in at the table with her dinner.

  “Speaking of, um, sustenance…I kind of need more soon.”

  “What, right now?”

  “No, just soon. Is that okay?” I bit my lip, anxiously awaiting her response. It was true. I did need more. It was also true that if she was caught, she’d not only lose her job, she’d probably face investigation. We couldn’t keep this up forever. At some point I was going to have to figure out how to get blood without her.

  She sighed but nodded. “Sure, Noah. I’ll get some more.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, hey, do you like my new earrings?”

  I glanced at them briefly. At that moment I could not have cared less about earrings, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  “Yeah, they’re nice.”

  Pleased, she went back to her salad and I went to my room.

  ****

  Flashbacks of that unspeakable event kept raging in my brain, as I swiftly navigated the rural roads of Whitehaven with a hundred dollars, a slip of paper, and a broom.

  Just moments earlier I’d been lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to stop the entire scene from playing out before me yet again. The terror in her eyes. The despair. The murder. The disposal. It was like a bad movie projected straight from my head onto the dull white paint above me. Then an idea hit me. . I immediately set my plan into action.

  I concentrated hard on recalling every twist in the road the killer had taken to reach Brandie’s unholy grave. Since so much of Whitehaven looks exactly the same, my search took almost an hour, with wrong turns and doubling back before I found the dirt path where he’d pulled off. I’d never gone that long on foot at full speed, and for the first time in a long time, I felt tired. I followed the path until it ended, then I carefully retraced the pattern of trees and landscape I’d so diligently memorized when he’d come through that night. I doubted whether I would be able to find Brandie, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t give up. I’d stay there for days. I’d rip the forest from its soil if I had to. I wasn’t going to let her down.

  Not long after finding the path, I caught the faint, unmistakable scent of rancid meat. . I followed the smell to a patch of ground that, upon close inspection, I could see had been recently disturbed.

  This was it.

  I steeled my nerves and knelt down close to the loose ground. Eyes closed, I lowered my face until it hovered just above the earth. I had to be sure. Without another thought, I took a long, deep whiff of the damp ground.

  The stench was unmistakable. Rancid. Distinctly human. Below the ground on which I knelt was what remained of poor Brandie. I swallowed hard, the sick scent coating my throat. I almost puked.

  Blocking my super-sense of smell, I stood up and got to work. I knew visiting her grave was risky, but I had to confirm her location. So having done that, I gingerly stood up and began the tedious process of sweeping away my footsteps, as I moved backward through the woods. This was about Brandie. This was about justice. This was something that couldn’t wait. I sped to the head of the path, my work complete.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  It was time for the next phase of my plan.

  ****

  Arborville was not a long jaunt from tha
t point in the woods. I pulled my cap low over my face, the hood of my jacket over my head. I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, which in Arborville meant looking like you were up to no good. I assumed a slightly hunched posture and walked briskly through town, avoiding the few streetlights still struggling to work. There was a pay phone on Seventh and Calton, a corner well-known as a derelict hangout.

  When I arrived, I took all of three seconds to scout out someone with the right attitude to carry out my plan. She was leaning against the pay phone, with a jaded look on her face. Shadowing my face, I approached her and spoke with a husky tone to my voice. I wanted to sound like Christian Bale’s Batman, but I probably seemed like a kid with strep. I was a little nervous.

  “Uh, hi,” I said in my deep, raspy voice.

  The woman turned around and gave me a skeptical once-over with her heavy brown eyes. She tucked her thick black curls behind one ear and put her hands on her hips. I guessed she was in her early thirties.

  “Hullo, there. Isn’t it past your bedtime?” she asked.

  I spoke assertively, to ward off any trouble and get to the point.

  “I’m wondering if you would do me favor and call this number.” I handed her the slip of paper. “Ask for the twenty-four hour ranger dispatch, and tell him you nearly got attacked by a bear at this location,” I said, pointing again to the paper.

  She shook her head and tsked, irritated. “You can make your own dumb phone calls, buddy. Quit wasting my time.”

  The money! I fumbled for the hundred dollars as she started walking away. “I’ll pay you a hundred bucks!”

  That got her attention. “Let me see that,” she said, all business.

  I flashed her the bills from my pocket.

  “And all I’ve got to do is tell some ranger a bear, like, attacked me?”

  “At this particular location,” I emphasized, indicating what I’d written on the paper.

  “And you’ll give me a hundred bucks?” she repeated skeptically.

  “Yes.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, then. Let’s get this done with, junior.”

  I dropped some change into the phone and she dialed the number. As it was ringing, I whispered to her.

  “Make it convincing, you know?”

  She shushed me. It seemed to ring for ages. Finally, someone picked up, and she snapped into action.

  “Hullo, is this the ranger dispatch? Yeah, so I was out in the woods and this bear almost freaking attacked me. I don’t know what kind…I didn’t ask its name or nothing. It was just some big, scary bear and it was all growling, angry-like.…Yeah…it was near Lawford Park.” She glanced down at the paper, “about four or so miles east after the second turnoff of Miller Street…yeah, well, I almost got killed, so you guys better do something about it, now. That thing was hungry!” She paused while the ranger said something back to her. “Yeah, you better!” She nodded and wrapped it up. “Good, ’cause you don’t want some kid to get eaten or whatever…Yeah, Lawford Park, four miles east of…right.” She hung up the phone and held out her hand.

  I slipped her the hundred dollars. “Thanks!” I grumbled as she walked away.

  ****

  Phase three of the plan was a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. Having done what I could to tip off the cops to Brandie’s location I sat back and waited until the sun came up.

  Mom knocked on my door before she left for work.

  “Noah? Honey…can I come in?”

  “Not now.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine.”

  “You seem a little…preoccupied lately.”

  “Yeah, it’s called being a vampire.”

  “Something other than that,” she said quietly.

  “I can’t talk about it right now. I have to finish some homework.”

  We both knew it was a blatant lie. We also both knew that I wasn’t going to let her in. There was a long silence before I heard her retreat down the stairs and out the door.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I muttered. Guess I wouldn’t be up for the Son of the Year award. I got ready for school, gathered my backpack, and turned the TV on to the local news. To my great disappointment, they were doing a story on the importance of using sunscreen even on slightly overcast days. Seriously? This is what passed for news?

  “Unreal.” I was grabbing the remote to switch the TV off when I heard:

  “Breaking news. A possible development in the Brandie Masterson case.”

  Jackpot!

  “Authorities are declining to comment, but it is believed that a body found in these woods late last night is that of a female. Police will not speculate on whether or not these could be the remains of missing person Brandie Masterson or Esther Jones.”

  I could hardly believe my plan had worked. Now all I could do was cross my fingers that the investigation would turn up some evidence on Brandie that would lead them to the lunatic who had killed her, and land him in jail forever. I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself when it occurred to me: What if the police didn’t find any evidence? What if they were too slow to get the job done in time? What if the killer was too clever? I ran to the bus feeling defeated.

  At school, word had gotten around about the body. Naturally everyone had a theory on who had killed her.

  I caught up with Paige by her locker before history class. She was taping up a picture of her, Celia, Malcolm, and me from a pool party we all had gone to a couple of years ago. I came up behind her.

  “We look good, don’t you think?” I commented.

  She giggled as she smoothed the tape to secure photo to the inside of her locker. “Well, I don’t know about that guy next to me. He looks kind of shady.”

  “Super shady.”

  Paige shut her locker and spun around. “You ready for class?”

  “Almost. Hey, could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  “So you know Classie, right?”

  “Yeah, I think we had statistics together last year.”

  “You know she’s going to prom in our group, right?”

  “Of course. How could I forget? Celia wouldn’t let me even if I wanted to!”

  “Well, I don’t know how many girlfriends she has. I don’t know if she has any friends at all, which is weird because she’s really nice and pretty, but I never see her hanging out with the same people, you know? Yeah, anyway, I know you already went dress shopping and all, but maybe you could take her?”

  “What makes you think she doesn’t have a dress already?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Or that she would want to go with me?”

  “Anyone would want to go with you.”

  “Aren’t you sweet today!”

  “I just think it would be nice if she felt included.”

  “You’re right. I’ll ask her.”

  “Cool. So I think you guys should go on Wednesday, you know, after school.”

  There was no suave way to fit that one in.

  “Why Wednesday?”

  “Because…sooner’s better than later? And it’s hump day. What’s better than dress shopping on hump day?”

  “Um, okay, weirdo. I’ll ask about Wednesday.”

  “I think you should.”

  “I think I will.”

  She gave me a “What is up with you today?” look before we headed into class. At least if Classie was shopping on Wednesday, it would break her routine and maybe throw off her stalker. Plus, strength in numbers, right? If that bloodthirsty psychopath happened to follow the girls to the mall, he might be less likely to nab Classie if she was with a friend. I hoped this would buy more time for the cops to figure out who he was.

  ****

  The weekend that followed was the longest of my life. My plan to get the murderer caught now drawn to a close, I moved to quiet my angst-ridden conscience and return to a degree of normalcy.

  On Friday night, Malcolm and I watched the first two Terminator movies (the onl
y Terminator movies in my book). There was still an awkward undercurrent to our friendship, but we were both trying to ignore it. When he fell asleep, I proceeded to watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy.

  Saturday morning, Malcolm went home and I made Mom breakfast in bed. I’d heard her crying in her room again lately. I knew it was because of me.

  I finally forced myself to take a shower. It was a brief and excruciating experience. Then again I was growing more accustomed to the bizarre effects that come along with being undead.

  I spent most of the day playing Red Dead Redemption, and flirting with Paige via text.

  Sunday arrived with a flurry of anticipation. That night I was going to have my first official date with Paige Martin. I tried to stay cool, but every now and then I’d get giddy and play out a huge, sweeping, romantic scenario in my head that began at Il Trattoria and ended in a Parisian courtyard with a string quartet, dancing by the light of the moon.

  The only damper on the day was there had been no follow-up news reports of any consequence—oh, and the thought that I might transform spontaneously into a butterfly mid-date. But back to the murder. No suspects had been announced; no arrests made. It was starting to look like a possibility that my plan had not been enough.

  I was relieved when six-thirty finally rolled around and I could put all of my energy into looking my absolute best for dinner with Paige. Il Trattoria was kind of a fancy restaurant and upon making the reservation, I was informed that there was a dress code. I wanted to look the part of dashing gentleman, so I pulled out all the stops (and pieces of my father’s clothing that my mother hadn’t thrown away). I decided on black dress pants, an off-white dress shirt, and a black sports jacket. The jacket was my father’s. It was almost too tight on me, but I decided it wasn’t a bad idea to show off my physical assets. Add a bit of hair gel, a splash of cologne, and I looked every bit the part. I admired my reflection in the mirror for a moment. In my opinion, I looked like a man. Not a freak, not an evil monster, just a man. In love. With a quick nod, I was ready.

  Mom was waiting for me downstairs with the keys. She’d agreed to let me take the car tonight. She gave me a peck on the cheek when she handed them to me. “You look wonderful, Noah.”

  “Thanks.”

  She ran her hands gently down the sleeve of the jacket.