Sucks to Be Me: The All-True Confessions of Mina Hamilton, Teen Vampire (maybe)

by Kimberly Pauley

  I’m not sure what happened to the blond bombshell, but, next thing you know, he’s a fiftysome-year-old balding vampire with a pot belly. So then he winds up biting my dad and infecting him during some kind of argument, even though Dad’s his favorite nephew. Or is that great-nephew? Whatever. Mom followed along on purpose a few months later, after she had me. She loved Dad too much to leave him over something like a little bloodsucking. And that was that, I guess.

  I take a deep breath and go in the front door. Uncle Mortie is lounging on the couch next to an old lady in a flowery dress with her hair all done up in a bun. Mom and Dad are nowhere to be seen.

  “How’s my favorite niece?” booms Uncle Mortie.

  “Your only niece.” I shoot back before I remember to mind my manners in front of the stranger.

  Uncle Mortie just laughs it off. “See, I told you she was a spitfire!” he says to the lady sitting next to him. I assume she’s a vampire. But she’s a very unlikely looking one.

  Actually, I take that back. Every vampire I know is an unlikely looking one. Uncle Mortie looks like a traveling salesman.

  The lady is kind of short and dumpy and very friendly looking. I can picture her with lots of grandkids, baking chocolate chip cookies, things like that.

  “Hello, Mina,” says the lady in this very sweet voice, reinforcing the whole grandmotherly image she has going on. She picks some invisible fuzz off of her old-fashioned dress and smiles at me very sincerely. I don’t really want to like her, but it’s hard not to smile back. I can practically smell the cookies. She pats a spot on the couch right next to her for me to sit down.

  “Mina, meet Josephine Riley. She’s …”

  “I’m the Northwest Regional Vampire Council’s new member indoctrinator.” She smiles again. “I’m in charge of introducing teens like you to the vampire culture and helping you make a responsible decision regarding whether to make the transition from human life to vampire life.”

  Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “That sounds like it’s straight out of a brochure: Vampirism and You.”

  Uncle Mortie shoots me a nasty look this time but Ms. Riley just smiles. “Actually, it is.”—she pulls a pamphlet out of her bag and holds it out to me—“Though it’s called ‘The Vampire Way.’ I wrote it myself.”

  I grab the pamphlet before Uncle Mortie says anything. I really do have to learn to keep my mouth shut.

  “I just wanted to introduce myself as your coordinator and give you the opportunity to ask any questions you might have. I know this must be a really difficult time for you. Finding out your parents are vampires must have been a huge shock.”

  Uncle Mortie is practically having a spasm nodding at me, so I go along with it. Though, seriously, does this Riley lady think I’m a total idiot? How do you not notice your parents are bloodsucking vampires? I mean, we live in the same house. I know some teenagers are oblivious, but please.

  “Yeah, I could hardly believe it.” I hear myself saying. “And Uncle Mortie too! I always knew something was wrong with him, I just didn’t know what.” I smile sweetly at Uncle Mortie.

  Uncle Mortie grimaces at me (I’m sure I’ll hear about that later), and Riley makes some sympathetic noises.

  I thumb through the pamphlet. I have no desire to be some bloodsucking freak, but I can’t deny that I’ve been curious about how it all works. Mom and Dad don’t really talk about specifics too much and Uncle Mortie … Well, let’s just say that my parents don’t like him to talk about anything important in front of me. He tends to let slip some of the more, shall we say, interesting details.

  “Mortimer has kindly agreed to be your sponsor. He’ll be your guide during this decision-making period.” It takes me a minute to figure out that Mortimer must be Uncle Mortie.

  “Yep, kiddo,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye that doesn’t bode well for my Dad’s blood pressure (that is, if he had any). “You can ask me anything.”

  I almost laugh out loud. I can’t believe my parents agreed to this. Then Ms. Riley drops the other shoe on me.

  “And you’ll have to attend my information sessions of course. I’m running a short five-week introductory course that I’ve taken the liberty of signing you up for. You’ve already missed the first week, I’m afraid.” She looks a little miffed at that. “I’d put you in the next course starting up, but that one is for adults only. Given your unique situation and the recommendation of The Council, I thought it best to get you started in the classes right away.”

  “I have to attend classes? Like vampire lessons or something?”

  “Oh yes,” she says, getting up and taking my hand in a firm grip. She looks deep in my eyes. “I’m sure you’ll find them very enlightening.”

  I’ve got a smart comment right on the tip of my tongue, but there’s something about her gaze that holds me there like a trapped animal. She may look like a grandmother and sound like one, but there’s something much harder underneath. Like the wolf in grandma’s dress from that old fairy tale. It feels like her eyes are boring right through my skull. Am I not acting shocked enough? Can she tell how long I’ve known about my parents?

  Uncle Mortie clears his throat and stands up too. That’s enough to tear my gaze away from Grandma Wolfington and gather my scattered brains back together. She is one wickedly weird woman.

  “How many sessions are there?” I ask in what I hope is a polite tone. I turn my eyes back to the pamphlet and flip through it some more. I don’t want to get stuck in Grandma Wolfington’s gaze again. Who knows what she can see with those freaky eyes.

  “Two sessions a week—Tuesdays and Thursdays—for the next four weeks. It’s unfortunate that you’ve missed two already, but your uncle Mortimer assures me that he can cover some aspects of your training.” Grandma Wolfington doesn’t even glance in Uncle Mortie’s direction when she says his name. I’m starting to get the feeling that she doesn’t like him very much. Maybe he brings out the worst in her, just like he does in me. (Oh man, the time he got me that water gun for my fourth birthday and taught me how to aim low. Everyone walked around for a week looking like they’d peed their pants until Dad got the gun away from me.)

  “We’ll get started with your training tonight.” Uncle Mortie puts in. “I’m staying for dinner. I understand your mom’s making fried chicken and mashed potatoes.” He rubs his hands together and practically jumps up and down in glee. I catch Wolfington rolling her eyes at him, but she smiles politely enough, shakes my hand one more time, and takes her leave with just one more parting shot.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mina. Don’t be late. And don’t forget to fill out and bring Form 1063-A with you. I left a copy with your uncle.” She holds the door ajar and turns back to pierce me with another look. “And Mina? We’ll be watching you.” With that, she leaves.

  I gotta say, the lady knows how to make a dramatic exit.

  3

  Here’s lesson one, Mina my dear,” says Uncle Mortie around a mouthful of fried chicken. I swear he has an entire drumstick shoved in there. He’s not exactly long on couth, if you know what I mean. “Vampires don’t have to eat. Well, other than blood that is.” I can’t quite keep myself from cringing a little. I mean, we’re at the dinner table and the first thing he wants to talk about is blood? “But we can eat. And when the cooking is as good as your mother’s, why wouldn’t we?” He lets out a hearty laugh and a little bit of chicken sprays out of his mouth and lands on the tablecloth.

  “Duh, Uncle Mortie.” Sheesh. Not like I haven’t been living with my parents all this time or anything.

  Mom gives me a be-polite glare and then stares a little pointedly at the piece of chicken lying on the table. Dad notices and very quietly picks it up with his napkin. Uncle Mortie, of course, just keeps on eating. Mom’s not a huge fan of Uncle Mortie or his table manners. I really can’t believe that they agreed to let him sponsor me. In fact, why did they?

  “So how come Uncle Mortie’s my sponsor and not you guys?” I ask M
om.

  She looks a little pained. “The Council isn’t exactly happy with us. And they thought your father and I might be a little too close to the situation to be objective.”

  “Yeah,” Uncle Mortie chimes in, “I’m both objective and objectionable.” He’s still chewing on the chicken like there’s no tomorrow.

  Mom just ignores him. “This is a big decision, honey, and we want you to make the right choice for you. Don’t let our feelings get in the way of things.”

  Well, hello, like they even could. It is my life, after all. Not that they’ve exactly said what their thoughts on the subject are. Do they actually want their only daughter to be a bloodsucking vampire or what? “So, what do you feel about it?” I look back and forth from Mom to Dad. Neither one of them says a word. They don’t even look at each other, so it’s obvious that they worked this out ahead of time. Dad doesn’t have that great of a poker face normally. Perfect. “You can’t even give me a clue?”

  “Afraid not,” says Dad. “That’s just not the way it works. It really needs to be your decision.”

  “With only Uncle Mortie to help me decide?”

  Are they kidding me? I might get the scoop on the best places to pick up blond vampire chicks from him or where you can buy the best rare burger in town, but I don’t know that I want to have the biggest decision of my life hinge on stuff like that.

  “Hey,” says Uncle Mortie, looking a little hurt. He uses his napkin to wipe some bits of mashed potato off his face. “I promise I’ll be good,” he says. “I know this is a big decision for you, kiddo.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say. But I can’t help but notice the worried look on Mom’s face. I can’t tell though … is she worried that Uncle Mortie will talk me out of it or into it?

  “But what’s the deal with these classes anyway? For vampires trying to keep it on the down-low, they sure do seem to be awfully public about it.”

  Uncle Mortie and Dad get twin sour looks on their face. Uncle Mortie mutters something about “blasted paper-pushing” something-or-others. Mom passes him some biscuits.

  “Why can’t you guys just tell me everything I need to know? I mean, you are vampires. What are they going to tell me that you couldn’t?”

  “Mina, please just try and keep an open mind.” Dad sighs. “The Council has put this process in place and everyone has to go through it. They … we … we really need you to just get through this, okay?” He looks to Mom for some backup.

  “They just want to make sure that anyone turning nowadays knows what they are getting into. They believe that a formal class setting helps get the information across,” she says diplomatically.

  Yeah. I bet. I’m sure that’s why. That probably came right out of one of Wolfington’s brochures.

  “And it’s just a month. That’s not too long, right? Then it will all be over.”

  Maybe Dad was trying to make me feel better but it also makes me put two and two together. “Does that mean I have to actually make my decision in a month? In just four weeks?”

  Dad looks at Mom again. He’s definitely not batting a thousand today. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But I’m sure the sessions will—”

  “Fine.” I interrupt and get up from the dinner table. I normally wouldn’t be so rude, but this isn’t exactly a normal situation. “Fine. I’ll go to the stupid vampire classes for you guys. And make my decision or whatever.”

  But I don’t tell them what I’m really thinking. I’ll sit through the stupid classes or whatever The Council pushes on me, but I’ve got no plans to sprout fangs anytime soon. What’s the point?

  I skip dessert and go up to my room. I’m sure Uncle Mortie will have no problem eating my share anyway.

  4

  Okay, in case you hadn’t gathered this already, vampires, in general, look absolutely nothing like Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise or David Boreanaz or any actor at all, for that matter. Which is why I am not at all surprised to walk into my first vampire lesson and see a couple of Average Joe kids wandering around reading the posters on the rec room walls.

  I’m starting to think The Council must be short on funds or something. Couldn’t they have found someplace a little better than a local community center? Maybe somewhere with just a little bit of atmosphere and a little less B.O.? The sign on the door actually says Teen Phlebotomy Group. I mean, you’ve got to be kidding me. Someone has a strange sense of humor.

  I’m here early because …

  a) Dad drove me and he’s really anal (that accountant thing), besides being a horrible driver,

  b) I had to get out of the house before Mom started snapping pictures like I was going to the prom or something, and

  c) I totally hate to be the last one walking into a room full of strangers. I’d much rather be the person safely gawking at the new guy from somewhere in the back of the room than the sucker who walks in last. First isn’t really good either, since then you’re stuck there waiting until other people come in, but third or fourth is perfect. It’s bad enough I’m the new girl, which means everyone will be staring at me anyway.

  I’ve timed it about right since there are two girls and one guy in the room already. I don’t recognize any of them from my school, which I guess is a good thing. One of the girls is on the Goth side (figures there’d be at least one), but the other one could pass for, you know, a girl from the chess club or something. The guy is just normal-looking (pretty good hair, a little taller than me, but definitely not an A-lister—he looks too friendly), another vampire-unlikely.

  I saunter as casually as I can over toward the ring of chairs in the middle of the room. Great, looks like it’s going to be one of those feel-goody type of classes where we have to share. I don’t make it halfway before Ms. Chess Club scampers over to me and grabs my hand. So much for being inconspicuous.

  “Hi! I’m Linda!” She’s pumping my hand up and down like she’s trying out for world’s most annoying handshake.

  “Uh, hi, Linda. I’m Mina.”

  She’s still going for the record like there’s no tomorrow with a huge grin on her face. I smile back but I can feel my hand going numb.

  “Let the poor girl go, Linda,” says the Goth girl. “You don’t have to kill everyone with kindness.” She practically spits the words out. I’m not sure which thing she thinks is the bad thing.

  Linda drops my hand like it caught on fire. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I always do that!”

  “It’s okay,” I say, totally confused. Now she looks like she’s about to cry.

  “I’m Raven,” says Goth girl. I nod at her. Of course she is. Aren’t all good Goth girls named Raven? Except Serena, but that’s how I know she’s just temporary-Goth. She’d never call herself something cheesy like “Raven.” Because you know that’s not her real name, not unless her parents are even freakier than mine.

  “You’re new.” I nod again. I am amazed at the mystical powers of Raven the Goth Girl. Okay, I know I’m laying it on a little thick, but there’s something about this girl I just don’t like. I don’t like it when people are rude to other people for no reason. Ms. Chess Club wasn’t bothering me that much, but she’s wandered off to another corner of the room to read a safety poster, so I guess she’s recovering okay from Ms. Goth Girl’s insult.

  Goth Girl stares me up and down. “Just stay away from Aubrey, and we’ll be fine,” she says and walks away.

  I have no clue who or what an Aubrey is. But whoever or whatever Aubrey is, I am determined to not stay away from him. Or her. Or it. Agh! Bossy Goth Girls really tick me off.

  I take a seat as far as I can across the circle from Goth Girl. Linda, interestingly enough, sits down right next to her. Figures. The black-hearted leading the weak. Mr. Quiet sits somewhere in between, still not having said a single word or having even looked in my direction as far as I can tell. Oh yeah, this’ll be a fun group. I’m bonding already.

  Ms. Riley, aka Grandma Wolfington, comes in next carrying a stack of visual aids. She nods and smiles at me and ever
yone else and putters around getting everything ready, exuding even more grandmotherliness. But I know better.

  A few more people trickle in and take seats. A girl wearing a cheerleading outfit—a cheerleading outfit!—sits down next to me.

  “Hey,” she says with a big shiny smile. “You must be new! My name is Lorelai. I go to West Haven. Home of the Flying Eagles! How about you?”

  I force myself to look away from her shiny white teeth. Cheerleaders aren’t high up on my list usually, but she seems decent, especially compared to Goth Girl.

  “Uh, I go to McAdam. And I’m Mina.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she says, smiling even wider. What is it with wannabe-vampires and smiles a mile wide anyway? A mouth fixation or something?

  “I’m so excited,” Lorelai gushes. “I think we’re going to talk about some of the physical changes today. You know, like what happens with your muscles and things. My body is really important to me”—I swear she flexes a bicep at me—“ ’cause I cheer now and I’d really love to be a professional cheerleader once I get out of high school. Being a vampire could really help me with that.”

  A professional cheerleader vampire? Oh man, hold Uncle Mortie back. I’ve officially heard everything now.

  “What about the whole drinking blood thing?” I ask. Based on my limited experience with cheerleaders, I’d guess that she’d be more of a vodka girl.

  She just giggles, not exactly the reaction I was expecting. “Hey, if I can drink a protein shake, I can drink anything.”

  “Ah,” I say since she’s looking at me expectantly. “Hey, who or what is an Aubrey anyway?”

  Lorelai gets a moony look on her face and sighs. “Raven must have said something to you, right?” I nod. “She’s got a total crush on him. You’ll just have to see for yourself why. Actually … here he comes now.”

  I turn halfway around to see whoever’s coming through the door, in order to be as inconspicuous as I can. No need to let Goth Girl know what I’m up to yet.