So Ms. Tweeter flits and flutters around the room for a while and then settles down to alight upon her desk. Literally. She perches on the end of it like she could take off at any minute. I wonder what Principal Harvey would think if he stepped in the room right now?
“I thought we’d do some reading aloud today,” she says in a high-pitched voice. Trying to sound like a bat, I suppose. “Mina, Nathan, why don’t you two start us off? You can get in some practice for your project.”
You know, I don’t care how batty Ms. Tweeter is. I love that woman.
We both take our books and sit on the stools in the front of the class. Ms. Tweeter doesn’t let people just read from their desk. She thinks it makes people pay more attention if you’re in front of everyone. Sucks to be you if you happen to have stage fright. Luckily, I can make a fool of myself with no problem, though I hopefully won’t do it today in front of Nathan. The key is being committed. If you do it half-assed, then you really look like an idiot. If you’re totally committed, you at least come off looking like you meant to do it and no one’s the wiser.
Ms. Tweeter pops an ancient, dusty hat with a huge feather on top of my head and puts a fedora on Nathan. To get us in the mood, I guess. Whatever. There goes that not-making-a-fool-out-of-yourself thing right out the window. I look like a total dork in hats. I don’t have the right shaped head or something.
“Ok, class,” she says brightly, “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that the book is told primarily through journal entries and correspondence. It’s an epistolary novel. And if you haven’t, then you’re way behind.” She wags her finger at the room in general and a few people laugh. Probably the ones that have no idea what she’s talking about. “So, we’re going to have Mina read out one of Dr. Seward’s journal entries where he’s reporting on Mina Harker’s condition. Nathan will read one of Jonathan’s.”
She hands me Dracula, open to a page fairly late in the game. I sneak a peek at Nathan in his fedora before I start reading. It figures he’d look cute in a dorky hat.
The passage was marked a bit over halfway through Dr. Seward’s entry, right after Van Helsing asks Mina to explain what has happened to her.
I read: “I took the sleeping draught which you had so kindly given me, but for a long time, it did not act. I seemed to become more wakeful, and myriads of horrible fancies began to crowd in upon my mind—all of them connected with death, and vampires; with blood, and pain, and trouble.”
Only people in books ever talk like that. I mean, myriad? Come on. Who says stuff like that?
It continues on through the Count coming into visit Mina in her stupor. Meanwhile, Ms. Tweeter is acting out everything, even the Count entering the room as a spooky mist (which is a total fiction. Like the whole turning into a teeny-tiny bat thing, vampires can’t just disintegrate themselves and show up as, you know, weather). When I get to the part where the Count bites Mina on the neck, I tense up, just waiting for her to make a move at me. Luckily, she doesn’t. I guess it’s got to be against some kind of school regulation. Biting students, that is.
“I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half-swoon. How long this horrible thing lasted I know not, but it seemed that a long time must have passed before he took his foul, awful, sneering mouth away. I saw it drip with fresh blood!”
I know this is a Gothic book and all, but for heaven’s sake. A half-swoon? Is that like being half-pregnant? I don’t think it’s possible.
“Then he spoke to me mockingly, ’And so you, like the others, would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me and frustrate me in my design! You know now, and they know in part already, and will know in full before long, what it is to cross my path. They should have kept their energies closer to home. Whilst they played wits against me—against me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for them, hundreds of years before they were born—I was countermining them. And you, their best beloved one, are now to me, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin; my bountiful winepress for a while; and shall be later on my companion and my helper.”
This is so far from the truth.
a) Vampires have never worked for humans (At least, not in any of the history stuff G.W. told us about, and I’d trust her over some old dead white dude.);
b) They don’t plot against humans (I mean, after all, they couldn’t exist if there were no humans, since they can’t have kids. New vampires have to come from somewhere.);
c) They try to avoid humans ever knowing what they are. (They aren’t going to monologue about it.)
I’m kind of annoyed about the whole passage, especially the foul breath thing. (Everyone in my family brushes their teeth at least twice a day, thank you very much.) But I try to keep it out of my voice. Ms. Tweeter finally signals for me to stop and I do so with relief. I can hardly take this antivampire propaganda. Okay, yeah, I’m sure there are vampires out there who do take advantage of humans sometimes (like that one that turned Uncle Mortie), but we’re not. I mean, they’re not all evil and foul smelling and reeking of blood. Some of them are even cute. Look at Aubrey, he’s going to be one heck of a hot vampire.
Nathan gets to read the part where Jonathan responds to Mina’s attack by the Count. He really gets into it and sounds all torn up and angry by turns. I find myself wishing it really was about me that he was talking about, though I do wish he didn’t have to curse vampires and all that. It kind of hurts to hear him say it. What will he think if I go through with it? Not that I could even tell him.
But, man, he’s just so adorable. Every girl in the class is hanging on his every word. Ms. Tweeter should just have him read everything. That way, at least the girls in the class would always be paying attention.
Maybe there’s a passage in the book where Jonathan and Mina get to declare their love for each other. Hmmmm, that would be a great one for our project.
13
George and I are the first ones to arrive at the community center for Tuesday’s vampire lesson. They must have had some old folk’s event on Monday because the whole place reeks of mothballs and other unidentifiable old people smells. It makes me think of Great-Grandma’s nursing home.
That reminds me that poor George has no family to even think about. That’s so sad. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have no family at all. No one to love you no matter what, nobody to celebrate holidays with. Harsh. I wonder if he’s even going to do the ceremony thing when he turns.
“You think you’re going to go through with it?” I ask him.
“With what? The whole vampire thing?” I nod. “Yeah,” he says. “Why not? Explore the world, live forever. You?”
I don’t answer him, but he just continues on without noticing, like he can’t even comprehend that I might be debating the issue. “I guess your situation makes it easier to decide. What with your parents and uncle already being vampires.”
Huh. That’s about the furthest thing from the truth. For me, anyway. I’ve been afraid to even ask myself the question. It’s a big decision. There’s all the good stuff, but there’s the bad stuff too. Like people with torches and pitchforks. Not that I think there’s much danger of that today, but you never know.
“I don’t think they’ll have a problem with my application. But I’d be worried if I were Raven.”
“Why? She looks like a shoe-in. She’s got vampire-wannabe written all over her.” With emphasis on the wannabe, but I keep that part to myself.
“Exactly. I’ve heard old G.W. warning her about that. They don’t want to advertise or perpetuate those kinds of stereotypes. And Raven … I think she just wants to do it for the glamour. Or her idea of glamour, anyway.”
“What do they do to you if The Council doesn’t approve you?”
“I don’t know,” says George. “And I don’t want to find out.”
I’m going to have to corner Uncle Mortie on this one. I need to give him a call. I need to get the scoop on a couple of things from him. I
f I do decide not to do it, I don’t want to end up hamburger or something worse.
“Any idea what’s on the agenda today? Other than the dating rituals of pygmies?”
He laughs. “No idea. But I hope it’s on something actually useful.”
Then he starts in on a story about the time he and another kid ran off to join the circus when he was about ten, not realizing that there aren’t very many circuses anymore. They had to go back after they couldn’t find one.
“And I really wanted to be a clown too.” He finishes. I’m about doubled over with laughter by this time, so I don’t even notice Raven, Aubrey, and a few others coming in.
“Looks like you got your wish,” Raven sneers. Aubrey and some of the other kids laugh. I can’t believe he did that. I shoot a look at all of them. Have I mentioned how I can’t stand rude people? They rate right up there with people who cut in line and those jerks that pretend they have injuries so they can get a handicapped sticker.
“Better to be a clown than look like one,” I retort back. Not my best effort, but hey. Stress of the moment and all that.
“You say something to me?” Raven walks right up to the chair I’m sitting in and glares down at me. Oh, she so did not want to do that. I stand up, effectively making her get out of the way or get stepped on. I’m a good two or three inches taller than she is, so I look down my nose and right into her beady little kohl-lined eyes.
“Yeah,” I say. “And I can think of some other things to say too, but maybe I’ll get you a dictionary first so you can understand what I’m saying.”
Have I mentioned that I took kickboxing and karate for a few years? I’m not exactly grace under fire, but I’ve got a heck of a right hook. Just ask Bethany.
Raven looks like she’s going to go for it, but then Aubrey steps in.
“Girls, girls,” he says. “No need to fight over something so trivial.”
I don’t think it’s trivial. George is a good guy and Raven is a pain in the ass. This isn’t the first time she’s said something rude to him. Or to me, for that matter. But as soon as Aubrey butts in, Raven simmers right down and makes eyes at him. Gag.
“Oh, you’re so right, Aubrey. I don’t know what I was thinking.” And with that, she leads him away to go chat about, I don’t know, the difference between regular eyeliner and kohl.
Aubrey may have the movie-star looks thing going for him, but Nathan is creeping way higher on my list. He’d never act like such a jerk. I sit back down.
“You know,” says George, “I can actually take care of myself.” He doesn’t look mad, though, just more amused than anything else.
I don’t know why, but I blush a little. “I’m sure you can. I just can’t stand people like that.”
“Well, thanks for being willing to beat her up for me. I can’t say that I’ve ever had a girl willing to kick someone’s ass for me before.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You know it,” I say. “Anytime, anywhere. I’m good to go.”
“I had no idea you were such a toughie. I’m going to start calling you K-O.”
“Ha, ha.” That’s just what I need, another nickname. And I just finally got people to stop calling me Mona after they misspelled my name freshman year. No one should ever name their kid Mona. I got so many porn jokes thrown at me it wasn’t even funny. But the worst nickname I had was in first grade when they called me Meeney-Miney-Mina. Parents should really think of these things before naming their kids. But at least my parents didn’t name me Wilhelmina, which was actually the girl’s whole name in Dracula. Now that would have been bad.
Grandma Wolfington comes in followed by three other vampires that I’ve never seen before. The three of them line up against the wall like toy soldiers at attention. The introduction of the newcomers quiets everybody down fast.
“Good evening, everyone,” says G.W. “Tonight we’re going to talk about some of the new careers open to you as a vampire. While you can, of course, work in any job a human can, there are also some new options open to you once you turn. I’ve brought along some guest speakers tonight and I trust you will give them a good reception.” She pauses to give us the look of death, a silent warning that we’d better behave or she’ll be eating us for breakfast. Perhaps literally.
“Professor McHenry is a historian.” The first of the three vampires steps forward and nods to us all. He seems more like an accountant than an Indiana Jones-type, but looks can be deceiving when you’re talking about vampires. I’m definitely starting to learn that.
“Vampires have a distinct advantage when compiling histories,” he says in a soft voice. “Humans can’t interview subjects that were around during the time of the crusades or when the pyramids were built, but we can. But don’t let that fool you into thinking this job is easy. A good part of it is tracking down the vampires we need to talk to in exotic and sometimes dangerous locations. Most of what we discover we keep to ourselves—after all, how would we prove the knowledge that we come by to humans?”
Sounds interesting, except for the whole dates and places thing.
History has always bored me to tears. But the traveling thing sounds kind of cool.
Professor McHenry goes on for a while longer about the exciting aspects of history (yeah, right) and a recent trip he took to Borneo to find someone who knew Julius Caesar (okay, that’s cool) and then Grandma Wolfington introduces the next vampire.
“Wynnette Samson has a special position, but I’ll let her tell you about it.”
The second vampire steps smartly forward. A tall, thin woman with slicked back hair and an almost-but-not-quite military-style outfit. She strikes me as someone you wouldn’t want to mess with. She strides out to the very middle of the room. She doesn’t look at all like a Wynnette.
“You do something wrong”—she booms out—“you deal with me.” Everyone shrinks back a little and poor Linda, directly in front of Herr General Samson, looks like she’s going to faint.
Herr General proceeds to stomp back and forth across the room. “I am one of a select few elite specialists in vampire law enforcement. I make sure that the laws are followed and if they are not … I take care of it.” There’s no doubt in any of our minds that she would. Painfully. Maybe she’s the answer to that question about what happens to new recruits that don’t make it. Ouch.
“To become a member of the Vampire Corps, you must be dedicated, responsible, knowledgeable, trustworthy, and above all honorable. You must also go through a rigorous training course designed to weed out the weak among us.”
Okay, and obviously, you must also be stark, raving insane. Looking around, I don’t think anyone in the room is feeling the love for joining the Corps, except maybe Raven. But I have a sneaking suspicion she might be one of the “weeds” Herr General was talking about.
General Samson goes on barking out information at us for a while longer until Grandma Wolfington interrupts her (I wouldn’t have dared) and introduces the last guy.
“Johann Gutter is a member of the Vampire Relocation Agency, or VRA.”
This guy steps forward and smiles at us kindly, perhaps to make up for the last speaker. He’s an average-looking vampire, probably Swedish or Dutch or something like that.
“Hello everyone,” he says in a friendly voice with almost no accent. I suppose even tough accents would disappear after a hundred years or so. Everyone relaxes a little. “I am a vampire relocation specialist. As a VRA agent, my job is to help vampires relocate to a new location with a new identity. We recommend relocation at least every ten years to keep everyone safe, both vampires and humans. Not every move requires a new identity, but we can provide you with everything from a fake death to an entire new life history from scratch.”
Interesting. I just figured the disappearing act was something you had to do on your own. This must have been what Mom was talking about. We’ve been living in our house about ten years now, but we’ve actually been in town since I was about two or three. So we’re officially way o
verdue for moving. They can’t actually make us move, can they? I mean, he did just say that they “recommend” moving every ten years. But do they actually “recommend” it a la General Samson?
He goes on for a while about all of the services they offer and the types of specializations that agents can get into, like counterfeiting or subterfuge. He explains that each vampire’s situation is treated as unique and that the service is paid for by a relocation tax.
Oh, yeah. Stupid tax collectors. They’re the reason I’m here. Now I understand why adults are always talking about how they hate the tax man.
Grandma Wolfington tells us about a few other careers vampires can look forward to, like being on the Council (blech), teaching at a vampire college (they have their own colleges?), being a human liaison (some kind of human-vampire political thing, something I have way too big a mouth for), and performing scientific research into vampirism (also probably not for me, since I almost set my lab partner on fire once).
I wonder why in the world my dad is still an accountant. You’d think he’d have tried something else. He’s a big history buff, always watching The History Channel. Or shoot, Mom. Being a middle-school teacher is at least as hazardous as being in the Corps. But I guess all those things take a lot of travel. No wonder most vampires never try to have a family. I bet I’ve been holding them back all these years.
After the session, George is all excited. “Isn’t this cool?”
“What, you going to join the Corps?”
He gives me a look before he figures out I’m joking. “Goof,” he says. “I mean some of the other jobs. They all sound pretty cool.”
I kind of agree. For once, I feel like I really learned something useful in a session. The new career options do sound more interesting than being an accountant or sitting in a cubicle all day. Especially the ones that involve traveling. I’ve always wanted to travel. But no way would I want to be in the Corps. That woman was seriously scary.
Sucks to Be Me: The All-True Confessions of Mina Hamilton, Teen Vampire (maybe) Page 10