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

by Kimberly Pauley

“Absolutely, I wouldn’t miss it.” And I wouldn’t. The one I saw with Uncle Mortie was pretty cool, but I didn’t know that guy. I’m kind of curious how it’ll be when it’s someone important to me, which I guess he is.

  George gives me the hundred-watt version of his smile and then leans over. I figure he’s going to give me one of his quick hugs, so I step up, but instead he gives me a soft little kiss on the forehead.

  “See you tomorrow at school,” he says.

  I just stare dumbly after him until Lorelai pokes me in the ribs and starts giving me the lowdown on her prom dress (a long slinky white silk dress with a slit up the side), dinner plans (romantic candlelit dinner at Le Jacques with her boyfriend), and the after party (some bash at someone’s house I don’t know and then the big debate over renting a hotel room or not renting a hotel room). It’s another hour before I can get out of there, and I can still feel George’s lips on my forehead. Weird.

  22

  Friday winds up pretty uneventful after Thursday’s trauma-rama. I see George three times (in the hall between second and third period, at lunch, and before Ms. Tweeter’s class) and he doesn’t mention last night’s forehead kiss or repeat it. Serena takes the news of me going with George to the prom perfectly in stride without a reaction whatsoever, which totally shocks me. What, did she never like him at all? We make a date to go dress shopping on the weekend since we are woefully behind in our prom prep. (Nathan did ask Serena again and she said yes.)

  Serena drops me off at home with an admission that she’s going out with Nathan on a date—a real date—tonight. She almost looks embarrassed. I play the good friend.

  “Great! Sneak a picture and e-mail it to me so I can see how hot you two look out on the town!”

  She has no idea how good of a friend I really am, but I’m not about to tell her.

  I figure this calls for at least a bowl full of ice cream, so I head into the kitchen but Dad stops me with my hand on the freezer door.

  “No snacking tonight,” he booms in his best dad voice. (Sometimes I swear he must practice.) “We’re going out to eat!”

  This is big news. We don’t go out to eat very often. Since they don’t have to eat, they don’t even usually bother to cook every day. I mostly just cook for myself (Mom totally won’t let me get by with just eating Pop-Tarts, which sucks), but it always seemed like a waste of money to eat out for them.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “Just that my baby girl is about to make the biggest decision of her life.” He gives me a big hug and a sloppy kiss on my cheek. Cheese.

  “We just thought it would be a nice family outing,” Mom adds, coming into the kitchen wearing one of her best dresses. Dad’s even wearing a suit.

  “Wow. I guess I better change,” I say. Mom and Dad smile big happy parent smiles at me and wave me up the stairs. I guess they’re trying to make up for all the drama.

  When I open the door to my bedroom, I see a present on the bed. Huh. They must feel really guilty. Well, I’m not one to not indulge my parents, so I figure I’ll open it up.

  I open the card first.

  Dear Mina,

  We just wanted to let you know that we love you and that no matter what you choose, we will find some way to keep our family together.

  Love,

  Mom and Dad

  P.S. Don’t worry, this isn’t your birthday present. This is just a little something extra.

  I knew the P.S. must be from Mom. She’d know that would be one of my first thoughts. But my real first thought was more like, “Aaawwwwwwww.” They really are great parents. But from what Uncle Mortie’s said and Grandma Wolfington’s threatened, I know that keeping the family together if I don’t turn will not be an easy thing.

  I open the box next. Inside is a totally bombshell Ella Moss dress. Score! I can’t even remember the last time my parents picked out something for me that I would actually wear! I bet my dad nearly had a fit when Mom brought it home (she had to have been the one to buy it—Dad’s allergic to shopping) and saw the neckline, not to mention the price tag. They must really feel guilty.

  I throw it on and freshen up my makeup (I actually did a decent job this morning, so it doesn’t take too long) and waltz on downstairs.

  Mom sees me first and gives me a big smile. “Do you like the dress?”

  “Love it!” I give her a huge hug and Dad too, when he comes in the room. I can tell he’s trying really, really hard not to say anything about the dress since he’s looking everywhere but around my cleavage area. Which is just as well. I mean, he is my dad. I don’t exactly want him scoping me out.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “I let your dad pick,” says Mom.

  Ah. That can mean only one thing: Italian. My dad is a sucker for garlic. That thing about vampires being driven away by garlic? Total fiction. He can’t get enough of the stuff. The only thing that repels him is brussels sprouts, as far as I can tell.

  “We’re going to Strozzapreti’s,” he says proudly.

  “Awesome!” Strozzapreti’s is the one of the nicest Italian places in town. Dad’s shelling out some big bucks tonight. Let me tell you, that’s really rare. As an accountant, spending money is like his least favorite thing.

  Strozzapreti’s is pretty much exactly like I expected. Low lighting, a piano player playing Italian elevator music over in the corner, candles and flowers on every table, the works. Our waiter is even named Antonio.

  “And what will the beautiful young lady be having tonight?” Man, if Aubrey had that accent on top of his looks, I might still be into him. Probably not, but maybe.

  “I’ll have the mushroom risotto, please.” I just love mushrooms. Kind of like Dad and garlic, only not as bad with the aftereffects. I don’t know how Mom can kiss Dad after an Italian meal. Especially with the whole super-sniffer thing.

  After the waiter’s gone, Dad reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. “Mina, we meant what we said on the card,” says Dad. “No matter what, we’ll find a way.”

  “We really don’t want to influence your decision,” adds Mom.

  “No offense,” I interrupt, “but it’s almost impossible for you guys to not influence me. I mean, you’re my family.” They both look a little down at that, like they’ve failed some big parent test. “But don’t worry. I’ll make the right choice for me. Promise.” That cheers them up a little, and when the main course gets there, Dad perks way up. By the time dessert arrives, he’s in garlic heaven.

  It’s really nice having dinner with just the three of us. Dad’s actually a pretty funny guy, once you get him to loosen up (wine does that pretty good; Mom’s definitely doing the driving on the way back) and Mom can hold her own with a story. I know a lot of teenagers can’t wait to get away from home after high school, but my parents just aren’t that bad. I suppose I should be more angst-y, but I’m just not. They’re pretty cool.

  And they can make their canine teeth half an inch longer just by thinking about it. How many parents can do that? I used to think that was the coolest thing ever and I’d make Mom do it again and again. That’s the one cheesy movie special effect that they’ve kind of got right. It’s just totally cool.

  I feel like I should take the weight off their shoulders and turn like they want me to. But it’s not that easy. I just don’t know what to do about Serena. I don’t feel like I can ask them about it though. After all, think of all the things they’ve given up for me over the years.

  23

  The prom-dress shopping went amazingly well. Actually, I don’t mind shopping in general; it’s all usually good. Well, except for:

  a) Bathing-suit shopping. And before someone starts beating me down, yes, I know I’m on the skinny side. But that doesn’t make it any easier to buy a decent suit. Somehow I usually wind up with one that either squashes my breasts so flat I look like a twelve-year-old or I get those ever-so-attractive under the armpit breasts. You know what I mean.

  b) Underwear shopping. It
’s not really so much the actual underwear that are the problem, but the fact that I always, and I mean every single time, run into some boy from school. It freaks me out that Tim Mathis knows what color my panties are. Of course, I could be asking them what the heck they are doing in women’s lingerie, but I’m generally too busy trying to hide the lacy stuff before they get too good of a look.

  c) SaveMart shopping. I’m not into the whole warehouse scene and those stupid little uniforms they make the employees wear? I’m embarrassed for them.

  Anyway, I got a great dress even though the racks were mightily picked over. It’s like a lime green, which sounds kind of gross but actually looks really good with my hair.

  So you’d think everything would be picture-perfect, right? I’ve got a great dress, I’ve got a date (well, an escort, anyway), my best friend is uber happy … but all I can think about is the fast approaching deadline (a dead … line … get it? Okay, so I suck at puns.) hanging over my head.

  One minute I know what I’m going to do and the next minute I don’t. Be a bloodsucker, don’t be a bloodsucker. It’s like a B movie gone bad in my head. See the amazing vampire girl! I spend literally all day Saturday, Sunday, and Monday going back and forth. I feel like a Ping Pong ball. Old life versus new life. Family versus best friend. Could Mom and Dad actually pull things off if I don’t turn?

  Serena even notices something is amiss through her happy-Nathan haze during our Monday night homework party.

  She throws a pillow at me, whapping me right in the face. “What’s the matter with you, girl? I think you’ve read that same page like fifty times.”

  I put down my copy of Dracula. It certainly doesn’t help with the whole big decision, let me tell you. “Probably more like sixty,” I say.

  “So, what’s up? You haven’t been yourself lately.” She looks away from me for a minute. “Are you sure you aren’t upset about me and Nathan?”

  “Positive.” I throw the pillow back at her and score a direct hit. “I’m really happy for you, you dog.”

  She grins back. “I’m so happy it’s ridiculous.”

  “Tell me about it.” I’d have thrown another pillow if I’d had one. It is really great to see her so happy, but also kind of annoying when I’m having such a crisis of my own.

  “So … are you going to tell me what your problem is, or am I going to have to get it out of you the hard way?”

  “The hard way being?”

  “I’ll think of something.” She waves another pillow at me menacingly.

  Normally, I’d be laughing when she did that. Normally, I’d have told her what my problem was ages ago, and I’d be feeling fine right now. Normally, I wouldn’t have my whole life hanging in the balance. This time, I just sigh and look down at my book.

  Serena throws a pillow at me. And then another one. And then launches herself and pins me down by the arms. She may be smaller and shorter, but never underestimate Serena when she’s determined.

  “Girl,” she says in her best Uma Thurman as The Bride voice (which is actually pretty good, but was one thing that was definitely more effective when she was doing the Goth thing), “I am your best friend. You can tell me anything. Now. What is your problem?”

  This, I suppose, is why The Council doesn’t trust humans because I totally crack and unexpectedly break down and spill the whole sordid story: parents being vampires, having to choose, not knowing what to do, blah-de-blah-de-blah. Little violins playing in the background.

  Serena lets my arms loose and rocks back on her heels. “Your parents are vampires?” She looks at me like I’m totally insane, which I am for telling her at all. “Bob? Marianne? No way.” She picks up my copy of Dracula and pitches it across the room. “I think you’ve been studying too hard.” It dawns on me that she doesn’t believe me. This is not at all the reaction I thought she’d have.

  “They are! And I have to decide whether or not I want to be one too. By the end of the week!” I should really, really shut up, but the look on her face is really ticking me off after I totally bared my soul here. I mean, she’s supposed to be my best friend and stick with me through thick and thin and all that. And believe me, even when I say things that sound totally crazy.

  “Mina, seriously, you need to chill out and take a break from all this Dracula stuff.”

  “I am serious. Look at all this!” And I pull out all the crap I’ve been collecting from Grandma Wolfington and dump it on her lap.

  She starts flipping through it with a completely dumbfounded look on her face. I start thinking about how I’ve completely screwed myself. If they have some of those vampire SWAT guys watching new recruits, I am so-o-o-o dead. I sneak a peek at the window, but I don’t see anyone. I don’t think. I pull the curtains anyway. G.W. did say she’d be watching me. What if she really meant it?

  “Never mind,” I say, and grab all the stuff back and throw it in my backpack again. “Just kidding. Ha, ha. Forget I said anything.”

  “Yeah, right,” she says. “I know you. You aren’t kidding, are you? Why didn’t you tell me? How long have they been vampires?”

  “Since forever,” I say and flop backward, staring at the ceiling. So now she believes me. Figures.

  “Forever? You mean like forever forever? Wow.”

  “Well, no, they aren’t like that ancient or anything. Just since I was born. Well, Dad right before and Mom right after.”

  “Wow,” she repeats. “So what’s the issue? Why aren’t you jumping up and down and saying ‘Hell yes, I wanna live forever?’”

  “You,” I say. That’s really what it comes down to.

  “Me? What’d I do?”

  “If I turn, we’re all supposed to fake our deaths and move away and take on new identities.”

  “Yeah, but I know now. They, whoever ‘they’ are, can’t do anything about that.”

  “Oh yeah they could. You don’t know these people. Vampire SWAT Goons. They can do just about anything. They’re like the NSA or the FBI or the CIA. But with fangs.”

  “Mina,” she says, “has anyone ever been able to keep us apart before? You do your turning thing or whatever you call it. I’ll cry buckets at your funeral, we’ll lay low for a while, and then you write me with your new identity. They can’t watch you forever.”

  “Well, technically, they could.” I mean, they are vampires. Forever is a relative thing.

  She snorts. “Do you honestly think they’re going to permanently assign like a secret service agent to you or something? Get real. I love you, but you’re not that important. Besides, you’re going on your big European jaunt after senior year and I’m going right to UC Berkeley or UC Davis. We always knew we’d have some time apart, but that doesn’t mean we have to always be apart.”

  Then I get a brainstorm. Why didn’t I think of this before? “Why don’t you just turn too? Didn’t you say you’d love to be a vampire just last week?”

  She thinks about it for like a minute and then shakes her head. Obviously, she doesn’t have the same decision-making problems I do. “A month ago, maybe. But now … ”

  “Nathan?”

  “Yeah.”

  Can’t argue with that. I might have been saying the same thing, if Nathan had actually been interested in me.

  “You really think you can keep it a secret? And not tell anyone? And I mean anyone at all. ’Cause they will so swoop down and take your memory away if you do. They can do that, you know.”

  “I can do it,” says Serena. “I’m a born actress. Didn’t I make a great Lady Macbeth?”

  “No comment.”

  Serena creams me with another pillow, which is exactly what I would have done if I were her.

  “Thanks,” I say, and she gives me a hug, since she knows I’m not talking about the pillow.

  24

  Tuesday’s vampire lesson (number seven for me, for anyone keeping track), is really the last lesson. After that, we’re on our own. Well, us and those relocation specialists. No more Grandma Wolf
ington. Can’t say that I’ll be sorry to see her go.

  Well, kind of. We almost all get to the session early, except for Aubrey, who’s still missing (haven’t seen him since the Melman fiasco), and Raven, who I’m sure wants to make a grand entrance. Everyone’s pretty quiet. We’re all thinking about the Big Decision. I swear you could light a bomb in the room, and no one would notice. Incidentally, what happens to a vampire if they get bombed? Not the over-drinking kind of bombed, but like a real bomb? Could you heal from that?

  I guess it doesn’t really matter. My prospects of getting blown up are pretty slim. Unless Raven ever learns how to make a bomb.

  “Everyone gonna do it?” Linda’s the only one that really looks more excited than overwhelmed. Her eyes are just all glowing.

  “Yeah,” says George. He still hasn’t really talked about the whole prom thing other than to give me all the details like the time and name of the restaurant and to ask me what color my dress is. We’re going to meet Nathan and Serena at a French place downtown before cruising over to the Hyatt Ballroom. Thank God there were enough funds this year so that the prom isn’t being held in the gym.

  “Oh yeah,” says Lorelai. A few others just nod. I don’t say anything. I still have my doubts and I’m just not ready to talk about it.

  Linda pounces right on me for not saying anything.

  “You aren’t sure?” she asks. It’s really more like an incredulous exclamation, like she can’t believe anyone would even consider not doing it, like becoming a vampire is the best thing next to sliced bread, no-lick stamps, and iPods.

  “Still thinking.” I shrug.

  G.W. click clacks up in a pair of two-inch heels, the sturdy librarian kind. “Alright, everyone,” she says, “I’ve got a few announcements and some things to cover.”

  “We’re still missing a couple of people.” Linda volunteers. I’m sure she wants to make sure that everyone gets the chance to become the best thing on Earth.