I can give up everything else, I guess, but I don’t know how I can give up her.
I dig through my desk trying to find one of my favorite pictures from the time we went to the beach, just the two of us, for Spring Break. That was pretty much the best time ever, and we got one perfect picture of the two of us out of it. A once-in-a-lifetime picture where neither of us look fat, our hair is behaving, we’re both smiling, and our eyes are open. I love that picture. So, of course, it’s nowhere to be found. I think my old Mina-luck is back, if I ever even had any new-Mina-luck at all.
Then I remember that I’d e-mailed Serena a copy a couple of months ago. And since she never bothers to clean out her inbox, since the free storage limit is like ten giga-somethings, I’m pretty sure it will still be there. I sign into her e-mail account (seeing as we know everything about each other that includes things like passwords) and start looking for the message.
But the first message that catches my eye isn’t from me to Serena. It’s from Nathan. To Serena. Why would he have e-mailed her? Maybe he’s wondering how to ask me to the prom? Trying to find out what my favorite color is?
I know I probably shouldn’t open it, but I could really use some good news to cheer me up. So I click on it.
hey S!
what’s up? had a rlly great time w/ you the other night. we have 2 do tht again. i never knew u were such a donnie darko fan, but i shld have known. :) tht movie is just as weird as u r! j/k.
anywy, i never get a chance to tlk to u alone. so i thought i’d e-mail u. ok, i cld have called but…i’m chicken… so, will u go to prom w/ me? pls say yes & i’ll make sure u have an *awesome* time.
love, nate
Well.
Maybe it really wasn’t such a good idea to read someone else’s mail.
I can’t believe Serena would do this to me! Why didn’t she tell me that Nathan wanted to go to the prom with her? I click on her Sent Mail folder to see if I can find her response, and there it is, right on top.
Hi Nate,
i’d really, really love to go w/ you to the prom, but i just can’t. but thanks so much for asking me. i’ll always remember that.
sorry, serena
Oh ugh. Now I don’t know whether I feel better or worse. So, let’s recap, shall we?
a) Nathan doesn’t like me the way I thought he did. Hoped he did. Whatever.
b) Nathan does like Serena.
c) Serena likes Nathan too. (Did you see that bit about “I’ll always remember that”’? Cheese.)
d) I am not going to the prom with Nathan.
e) Serena’s not going to the prom with Nathan.
f) Oh crap! George is going to ask Serena to the prom because I am making him.
g) And in less than two weeks I have to decide what to do with the entire rest of my life.
I briefly debate just climbing back in bed and never getting out again, but now I’ve got at least two messes to clean up. One, I need to stop George from asking Serena to the prom. I do a quick check but he’s not online. Shoot. That means I have to find him at school first. Hopefully he’ll be all guy-like and put off asking her until late in the day. What in the world am I going to tell him? Ugh. Worry about that later.
Two, I need to find Nathan and tell him he’s taking Serena to the prom. Yeah, I’ve been crushing on him forever and he is incredibly hot, but he obviously doesn’t like me that way. And if anyone’s going to have him, I’d rather it was Serena. And besides she was willing to give him up just for me? I feel like such sludge. How can I ever give up a best friend like that?
God, what if he asks someone like Bethany now? That would be a crime. I try to tell myself he wouldn’t do that, he has too much taste. But you never know with guys. Sometimes they are swayed just by big tits. Not that Bethany is particularly blessed, but still. I’ve got to find him early enough in the day to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.
As I’m getting into Serena’s Death Beetle, it occurs to me that there’s actually a Step One, Part A that I almost totally forgot. I don’t want Serena to feel guilty about going to the prom with Nathan. I need to be the bigger friend here. The always-a-brides-maid-friend, but whatever.
“So, I’ve been thinking about prom some more,” I say, almost too casually. Ugh. Gotta watch that or she’ll know something is up.
“Yeah? You decide for sure on the paisley dress?”
“What? Oh, no, I meant about who I want to go with. I think I might ask that Aubrey guy after all. The one I was telling you about?” That’s a total lie, but I hadn’t had a chance to tell her what a jerk he turned out to be, so she should buy it.
Serena almost-but-not-quite swerves off the road as she turns to look at me. I pretend not to notice. “What about Nathan?” she asks.
“Nathan?” Here’s where I’ve really got to play it cool. I shuffle around papers in my backpack like I’m looking for something. “He’s nice enough and everything. And really cute. But the more I get to know him, the more I’m thinking maybe he’s just not my type, you know? And that Aubrey guy is so hot. I bet Bethany will totally trip over her tongue when I walk in with him.” I very carefully do not look directly at her.
“Oh.”
I figure that’s probably enough to at least spark her up, so I spend the rest of the trip chatting about the prom dress that I figure I won’t even have a chance to wear, seeing as how all of my date prospects have dried up.
By third period I haven’t seen either George or Nathan anywhere. I’m starting to get desperate. I definitely need to get to George before lunch. I pretend to have a coughing fit until Miss Perry gives me a hall pass and tells me to see the school nurse. Just in time too, since my throat is about to give out.
George has AP Calc third period, so I’m in luck for once. Mr. Davis has one of the few classrooms with two doors (one in front and one in back) and both of them have windows. I peek through the backdoor and see George. My luck is holding. He’s only two rows away. I try to make just the tiniest bit of noise so Mr. Davis won’t hear me but George will. I even wave frantically. George, of course, doesn’t notice. It seems like he’s totally engrossed in Calc. The nerd! But finally Martin Felder sees me and I pantomime to him to get George’s attention. After two false starts (Martin seems to think me mouthing “George” sounds like “oar” and he makes paddling motions like I’m trying to ask him to go canoeing with me), George finally sees me and gets a bathroom pass.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“You haven’t asked Serena to the prom yet, have you?”
“No.” He looks at me curiously. “I figured I’d do it at lunch, if that works for you.”
I figure there’s no way to do this easy without getting really embarrassing, so I just say it. “Don’t ask her.” I hope his feelings aren’t hurt. I feel like a total Indian giver. Or asker. Not that I know any Indians and I’m sure they don’t actually go around taking stuff back. Argh. Whatever.
“Ok,” he says, looking confused, but not too wounded.
“Thanks,” I say and give him a quick squeeze and take off for the library. Maybe the less said the better. Nathan’s got study hall for third.
“Bye,” George calls after me.
When I hit the library, I spy Nathan immediately sitting at a table over by the self-help section. But before I can head that way, Ms. Reed, the librarian and Study Hall Nazi, asks me what I’m doing.
“I, uh, need to look up something in a book.” Yeah, I’m brilliant.
“Which book?”
Crap. I rack my brain for any kind of self help book that doesn’t involve teenage sex. “That one, you know, about effective habits or something like that?” I vaguely remember Mom reading it when she went on a self-help kick.
“Ah,” says Ms. Reed. “I think you mean The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.”
“Yes, that’s it!”
“Okay,” she says, satisfied. If there’s one thing she likes better than catching someone doing something they aren’t supposed
to, it’s figuring out what book you want. “You’ll find that in the Self-Help section right over there. Would you like me to look up the catalog number for you?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure I can find it.” Whew. I jet over to the self-help section before she comes up with anything else to ask me.
Nathan gives me a little wave as I walk up. Luckily no one is sitting near enough to him to hear what is bound to be a completely mortifying discussion. I go over to the shelf right behind him and pretend I’m looking for that 7 Habits book.
“Hey, Nathan,” I whisper to him.
He sets his book upright. It covers the lower half of his face so Ms. Reed the Terrible can’t see us talking. I can practically feel her beady eyes on my back. “What’re you doing in the library?”
“I need to talk to you. About Serena.” There’s a part of me that just can’t believe I’m about to do this. In the eighth grade I used to kiss Nathan’s yearbook picture goodnight.
“Ok. What’s up?” He sounds a little puzzled.
“You need to ask her to the prom again.”
“She already said no.”
I pick up a book and flip through it to make it look like I’ve found something. “She’ll say yes this time.”
“I don’t know. Why’d she say no to begin with?”
Man. Why do guys have to make it so complicated? I try to think of a good story, but my brain comes up with nothing as I have apparently exhausted myself trying to think of the name of that self-help book. So I go with the truth.
“Because of me. She knew I liked you, so she turned you down. She didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
Nathan almost turns around, but catches himself in time. I glance back at Ms. Reed, and she looks poised to get up at anytime.
“I didn’t know you liked me,” he says slowly.
“It’s okay.” I put the book down—it was something about being proud of your breasts or something—and pick up another one. “It’s not your fault. But will you ask her again?”
“Sure. You sure she’ll say yes?”
“Just don’t take no for an answer,” I say. “I know she likes you.”
“Okay,” he says and then adds, “Mina, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to come between you guys or anything.”
Ugh. See how decent he is? Does he not realize that actually makes this harder not easier? I will never understand guys.
“No problem,” I say brightly. “I’ll see you later!” I hightail it over to Ms. Reed and hand her the book I’d picked up before I embarrass myself any more than I already have.
“I decided to take this one instead,” I say to her.
“Surviving Teen Pregnancy: Your Choices, Dreams, and Decisions?” Ms. Reed looks scandalized. Oh man, I should have looked at it before handing it to her. Now she’s going to think I’m an ineffective pregnant slut. Why the heck do they even have that book in our library? I think only one girl got knocked up this year, and she wasn’t exactly much of a reader, if you know what I mean.
“Uh, for a friend of mine,” I say lamely.
She stamps the book and hands it back to me. “You know,” she says in the nicest voice I’ve ever heard her use, “if you need someone to talk to …”
Oh Lord. Even Ms. Reed pities me. “Thanks,” I say and grab the book, hoping she’ll think my red cheeks are from gratitude. “I, um, have to get back to class.” I run for the door and make it to the bathroom down the hall before I collapse. I hope Ms. Reed isn’t much of a gossip. I hide the book in my locker and then go back to class.
21
It seems that the prom is on everyone’s mind. As soon as I enter the community center for Thursday’s vampire lesson, Lorelai pounces on me.
“Who are you going to prom with?”
“Nobody. I doubt if I’m even going to go.”
“What?” Lorelai practically screeches. “What are you talking about? Of course you have to go! It’s prom!”
“I don’t have anybody to go with.”
“What about Aubrey?”
I give her a look and she shrugs and moves right on. “Ok, what about that hottie you go to school with that you were telling me about?”
“He’s going with my best friend Serena.”
“Ouch.” Yeah, I agree. But Serena’s going to be so happy I can’t be mad. Well, not too mad. Depressed, maybe.
George and Linda come ambling up, talking some more about tattoos and kickboxing, from the sound of it. I will never get that girl.
“George!” yells Lorelai.
He jumps. Who can blame him? Sometimes I think cheerleaders forget how to converse at normal volume. To much “Yay, Team!” going on.
“Do you have a date for prom yet?”
“No,” he says. I can see where Lorelai is heading with this, and she’s going in a very embarrassing direction. He’s going to think I made up that whole Serena thing as a smokescreen.
“Lorelai, I don’t think … ”
She completely ignores me. “Problem solved! You’re taking Mina!”
George looks a bit confused. Or maybe “stunned” is the right word. Or maybe he’s just creeped out and trying to be polite.
He looks at me, ignoring Lorelai. Serves her right. “Would you like to go to the prom with me, Mina?”
“I … ” My first instinct is to say no. But then I think, why not? George is a great guy, and we’re good friends. He’s nice. He’s not a mama’s boy (which I guess would be impossible, considering) or an empty-headed jock (not that they’re all emptyheaded, but sometimes when there’s a stereotype, there’s a reason). What would it hurt to go with him? We always have fun together. And I guess it’s obvious now that Serena won’t mind. “Yeah. I’d like to go with you. Why not?”
And the boy can kiss.
“Perfect,” crows Lorelai. Then she grabs my arm and drags me over to a seat so I don’t even get to see George’s reaction. “Now, let’s talk dresses.”
I’d have probably been stuck discussing the benefits of long and slinky versus short and flouncey for days if G.W. hadn’t come in. I never thought I’d be so glad to see Grandma Wolfington. I may be a closet girly-girl, but I can only take so much talk of hemlines.
“We’ve talked about the changes that will definitely happen to you after you’ve turned, but we haven’t yet talked about what changes might happen. Some vampires experience additional changes to either their bodies or their capabilities, either immediately after their turning, or sometime thereafter.”
Interesting. Hopefully she isn’t talking about growing a third eye in the middle of your forehead or something gross like that.
“These changes can’t be predicted or controlled, and most, if not all, of you will not experience them. However, I feel it is only fair to warn you about what might occur so you are completely prepared.”
“What percentage of vampires experience these types of changes?” George asks.
“Generally, less than five percent. But we’ve had some time periods where as many as twenty percent of new recruits have abnormalities.”
It sounds a bit less interesting when she calls them abnormalities. That definitely sounds like an extra appendage kind of thing. I am perfectly happy with the number of appendages I have, thank you very much.
“Most of the ‘extra’ changes that occur can be lumped into two categories: physical or mental. Physical abnormalities can include such things as X-ray vision, truly superhuman strength—or I guess I should say super-vampire strength—and changes in heat or cold sensitivity. The latter meaning that you would be able to tolerate much greater temperature ranges than normally possible.”
Did she actually say X-ray vision? That’s totally out of a comic book! But how cool would that be?
“Mental changes are less common, but include abilities commonly referred to as paranormal, such as extra-sensory perception or telekinesis.”
I have always wanted to be telekinetic. How cool would it be to not have to walk across t
he room to get the TV remote or turn on a light?
Then Grandma Wolfington goes into her normal mode of way-too-much-detail, and I tune out. The woman could make anything boring, even a comedy routine. I sneak some looks at George dutifully filling out his notebook. I wonder if he’s glad or not about the prom thing? He probably thinks I’m a total flake, since it was Lorelai that set the whole thing up—especially after I asked him to ask Serena to the prom and then demanded that he not. And it’s not like I can explain that I’m not a total flake to him. You can’t just go up to somebody and say, “Oh, by the way, I’m really not a total flake.”
Then George catches me looking at him and gives me a half-smile, and I swing my focus back on Grandma Wolfington. Geez. You’d think I’d never seen a boy before. I should really get a grip on myself.
After the lecture, George comes up to me. I kind of expected him to, but was also kind of hoping that he wouldn’t, since I was still (un)characteristically flustered. Okay, okay, I get flustered all the time, but still.
“I forgot to warn you,” he says, “but prom will be the day after I turn. I was planning to turn right away since we’ll be all done with these sessions. I’ve already set up a place with my sponsor. I don’t think you knew that, so if you want to cancel, I’ll understand. I don’t even know what I’ll look like.”
So, there he is, being the polite gentleman and giving me a way out. Or does he want me to cancel because he doesn’t want to go with me? Agh! I decide to take the chicken way out and make him make the choice.
“Oh, wow, big day. I’m fine, but I’d understand perfectly if you didn’t want to go because of that. I mean, that’s huge.” I put as noncommitted a look on my face as possible. Now he’s got an out if he wants. Ball in his court: Mina 1, George 0.
“Okay, great. I’ll make the reservations and stuff then. And I was wondering if you wanted to maybe attend my turning too? I’d really like it if you were there.” So I guess he doesn’t want the out, which means he was just being nice. Or chicken like me.
Sucks to Be Me: The All-True Confessions of Mina Hamilton, Teen Vampire (maybe) Page 16