by Ian Hall
My mom used to tell me, “Keep your friends close and your enemies’ way closer.” Cami was the closest enemy I’d ever had.
“So, what do I do then?” I asked. “I mean - just once I’d like to be the one who comes out on top. Maybe I could get Craig back from her…”
Alan looked like he felt embarrassed for me. “You’re thinking like a high school girl, Mandy Cross. C’mon…you’re better than that, aren’t you? Think long-term. How could you get back at Cami so bad she’d never recover?”
I put all my brain energy into coming up with something big - bigger than stealing her boyfriend. Bigger than syphilis.
“Well…there was this one time we were drunk and she totally tried to kiss me; Cami totally has this lezbo side to her. I pinky-swore I’d never tell, but desperate times call for desperate measures…”
I left out the part where I kissed back; that didn’t seem important. I wasn’t gay, after all; just wasted.
“Um…that’s good if you want to give every guy at this party a serious boner. But again, think long-term. I bet you can do better.”
I gave up. “Seriously, dude. I don’t know what you’re getting at. Just tell me - how can I get back at Cami in a monster way?”
Alan pointed at something over my shoulder. I turned my head to find Cami and Craig going at it on a blanket not ten feet from me. She totally rubbed his thingy and then grabbed his hand and put it up her shirt. It felt like somebody had just thrown sand in my eyes, and like a retard, I couldn’t even look away!
My heart just shot out of my chest. My hands were balling up into tight little fists. I could feel the blood rising to my face.
“Pay attention to what you’re feeling right now,” Alan told me, drilling into me with those intense eyes of his. “You know there’s only one way to get her back for what she did to you. Your body knows, but your mind keeps blocking the thought out.”
The words totally bypassed my brain and came right out of my broken heart. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”
Alan smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”
“Did he do the sudden light thing with the blind?” I asked her.
Dorothy nodded.
Everything had been going fine ‘til then. I bought the coffees, and we had a small, cozy table near the back.
“Yes, he did that. I don’t know why.”
“He acted pretty pissy and weird to me,” I began, “talking about what we are supposed to go through. I still think the whole counseling thing is hogwash from the start.”
“I know what you mean.”
Somehow the subject got changed, and we talked about music, and sports, and the ethics of cheerleading. Harry Potter. The whole thing turned out to be quite a fun time.
Then her phone went off.
She looked at the number. “Sorry. I do have to take this.”
She got up and went quickly outside, where she had an animated discussion for a few minutes. She came back in with a sheepish grin. “I have to cut this short. Sorry, Lyman.”
I wanted to scream, “NO!” but I just smiled, and said, “Hey, rain-check, right?”
“Of course,” Then she leaned down and did something that had never happened before. She kissed my cheek and smiled at me. Smiled.
A girl had kissed my cheek. And it wasn’t my mom. Hell, she wasn’t even related to me!
And then she had gone, walked right out the door.
The world seemed to go out of focus for a while, and I didn’t care. I looked round the room, but no one had noticed. Bummer.
I went home that night with a spring in my step. It was only ten blocks to my house, and I’d pass Alan’s. Maybe see his mom. As turned the last corner, I seen a huge moving van parked outside. Men were taking stuff into the van already. I walked up the path, and looked in the open front door. “Mrs. McCartney?” I yelled.
“Not here, son,” a rugged man yelled from the kitchen. “She’s already moved her clothes out, we’re following tomorrow.”
“Moving?” I balked. I thought it way too soon to be moving. “There hasn’t even been a funeral yet.”
“She couldn’t stand the idea of being here one moment more,” he said, coming towards me with a large taped box, marked ‘kitchen.’ “She took off this morning.”
“Where to?”
“Florida.” He looked at me for a second, then a penny seemed to drop. “Are you Lyman?”
I stood, shocked into silence for a second. “Yeah, Lyman Bracks,”
“Excellent,” he said, passing me to hand the box to a guy already up in the back of the truck. “I have something for you. Mrs. McCartney labeled it.”
Rather than follow him, I just stood at the doorway. When he returned, he carried Alan’s Fender guitar case. He held it up to let me see. The label definitely said Lyman Bracks, with my address.
“I was going to deliver it, but since you’re here.”
I took the handle, and sure enough, it felt heavy enough for the guitar still to be inside.
“Thanks,” I said meekly, but he’d already walked away.
I suddenly felt very sad. I stood in this bare-walled, echoing house; no goodbyes, no hugs. No, ‘Take care, Lyman’ - nothing.
I turned from the empty walls and walked back down the path to the sidewalk. A girl knelt by the gate, propping up a small bunch of roses.
She stood up. “You’re ‘Red’, aren’t you?”
I looked at her. Gregor Academy uniform; white blouse, white cardigan, short burgundy skirt. From somewhere I recalled her details. A junior, and although I knew she was relatively new to the school, I’d definitely seen her before. She also looked pretty, cute eyes, nice legs, after putting it all together, she kinda had everything.
“Yeah. Who’s asking?”
“Mary-Christine Muscat.”
“Like the wine?”
“That’s me. You were a friend of Alan’s, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. How did you know him?”
“Oh, I’m on clarinet. A bit down the food chain from Alan, but I’ll probably get a place on the band because of this. It’s just awful.” She brimmed up, and I just stood there wondering what the fuck I could do to get out of there fast. Then she took a step forward and hugged me.
An inch or two shorter than Dorothy, but, man, she smelled nice.
In my head, I thought, “Alan had to die to get me some attention?” Then my body started to react to this sweet little number. I pushed her away slightly - mostly because I got the beginnings of a boner. Man, I was in a bad way.
“I’m sorry, Red.” She wiped her tears with her sleeve. “You can walk me home if you like.”
“Where do you stay?” If anything, I felt just a little annoyed at her presumption. I had been in the middle of a grieving moment.
“Just around the corner from you. Cherry Avenue.” She took my hand and began to walk. I had to follow to keep my hand on the end of my wrist.
But I was holding the hand of a very pretty girl. I even sneaked looks around to see who could be watching.
“We just moved here from Milwaukee last month.” She smiled up at me, and damn, she had a nice smile, too. I hadn’t noticed that before. “My dad works for Unicorps.”
“Wow,” I said, genuinely surprised. “So does mine!” Unicorps was one of the bigger industrial employers in the town.
“Cool.” She walked jauntily beside me. “Do you play?”
“Play?” I must have looked like a complete dick. I walked along the road with a Fender Telecaster guitar case, and wondered what she meant. Dummy. I couldn’t play any more than two chords. The guitar thing had always been Alan’s.
“Yeah, like a musical instrument… the guitar, duh!”
I gave a feeble grin. “I just got it today.”
“Wow, cool!” she gushed all excited for me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her it used to be Alan’s; although the idea of another hug tempted me.
She stopped, took one step to the side, one step up.
Seems we were already at her gate. I fleetingly wondered where the time had gone.
She turned. Because of the short step, we were suddenly at eye level. We still held hands, real close.
Oh, God, I suddenly realized that it was serious kiss time. She looked directly into my eyes, obviously waiting for me to do something. This had never happened before, but then again, I’d never walked with a girl holding my hand before.
It was kiss time, and I wasn’t ready, I awkwardly held a guitar case in one hand, and had a case of five thumbs for the other.
She grinned, leaned forward, and came right onto my mouth. Nice kiss. Then at the end, she dipped her tongue between my lips, like a snake tasting the air.
I felt quite overcome. Strawberries. Despite her not eating anything on the walk home, her mouth and lips tasted of strawberries. And her tongue had been the sexiest thing ever to happen to me.
Mary-Christine walked up her driveway, looking over her shoulder, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She’d done her part, she’d hooked the fish. Now all she had to do was reel it in.
Oh, and in case you were wondering; I felt under no illusion, I knew I was the fish. And if she’d reeled that moment, I would have gone willingly.
Please. Give me an effing break, people. I mean - haven’t you ever said you were going to kill somebody? How many times have you really gone out and done it? I’m guessing like, zero. And if you’re reading this on Death Row, then hey, you’ve got my sympathies.
We’re fast-forwarding again - this time, only a couple of days.
I’d left Jackson’s party a complete spaz. I bawled and cussed people out; I wrote “Cami’s a ho” on the wall with my fire engine red lipstick. Seriously - I’ll never be invited back to Jackson’s ever again, and he’s the only dude I know with a pool and a hot tub. So that really blows.
But, anyway…Alan walked me home. Usually at this point, a friend would be trying to calm their (justifiably) upset friend down. Only Alan just kept whipping me up more.
“You’re just going to let her get away with that?” he said to me. “That’s so chicken shit. That girl just completely humiliated you back there; first she shit on you and then she rubbed your nose in it. And you’re just gonna freak out and run away with your tail between your legs? Fucking pathetic, Mandy Cross. I thought you were better than that.”
I’d been plucking leaves off low-hanging branches as we walked. I dunno - it’s just something I do. After Alan said that, I took the whole bunch and threw them in his perfect little face.
“Go to Hell!” I shouted.
That’s when he gave me the most messed up look I’d ever seen, and got all mocking, “I’ve already been to Hell and back again. Good people, good food. If I thought you could handle it, I’d bring you there sometime. Too bad you’re just a messed up little drama queen; all claws and no scratch.”
Right then, Alan just kind of vanished on me. It wasn’t like zappo he vaporized. More like he just moved so fast my mortal eyes couldn’t keep track.
I stood, stamping my foot, kinda pissed, I mean, he could have done something to calm me down.
Then he didn’t call the next night; I admit that I did wait in the gazebo ‘til three. The next night, I gave up by midnight and went to my room.
I lay under the covers, already in my PJ’s, when I heard a tap on my window. This was pretty freaky since my bedroom’s on the second floor. But, Alan clung to the house like a spider with one hand and knocked on the window with the other.
It stood open and he could’ve swung in anytime - or so I thought. So, I didn’t even bother getting out of bed. I just stared him down from across the room.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” he asked.
“Duh…it’s open. What do you want, an engraved invitation?”
Alan smiled all big and happy. “Just a verbal invitation would be fine.”
I crossed my arms over my chest like a pouty little girl, “You can come in.”
He did that super-fast-moving thing again; super-quietly, too. Seriously, he could have been a freaking feather.
“Don’t you remember anything from Vampire Diaries? I can’t come into a home unless I’m invited.”
Okay, I’d forgotten that part, but it wasn’t like I’d actually paid much attention to the freakin’ thing. It thought it just a dumb book; at the time I didn’t know I was reading a manual for how to live around vampires.
“Interesting how you had no issues getting into Jackson’s house the other night.” Okay - I decided to pry again. So sue me.
“I’ve been there before; dinner parties n’ such. The McCartneys and the Coles go way back. Like…way, WAY back.”
I think my heart pretty much froze up at that point, “What exactly are you saying?”
Alan gave me a cute face and shrugged all innocently. “You can never be sure who your neighbors are.”
“So…Jackson’s a…”
I totally freaked out. That seemed to make Alan mad. He got all huffy.
“Yeah. Say the word: vampire. And so am I. So what?”
“So…nothing.” I said, “Pardon the crap out of me, your highness. I’m not used to the idea that people who live two blocks from me are the living dead.”
He backed off after that; kind of made fun of me a little. “Now you’re thinking of zombies.”
“What’s the diff? I mean, vampires aren’t really alive, right?”
Alan sat on the edge of my bed. The small light from my bedside lamp gave off just enough of a glow to make his flawless face dreamlike.
“Depends, Mandy Cross. What’s your definition of ‘alive’?”
I pulled my answer right out of my ninth grade biology book: “Something that grows, moves, and eats.”
“Okay. By that description you’re saying that an amoeba is more alive than I am.”
“If the definition fits…”
“Yet- I think. I have emotions and opinions…a sense of humor; an amoeba has none of that. Sure - the amoeba grows; that’s something I’ll never do again. As I am now, I’ll be forever. But! I do move, Mandy Cross…” He came in really close to me; I could feel his lips on my throat as he spoke, “and I certainly do eat.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe, overwhelmed with this total sense of dread. Like any minute he could just sink in and drain my life away. I wouldn’t be able to stop him. What’s weird, though - it also proved to be a kind of turn-on.
“And an amoeba couldn’t do this.”
Alan brushed his lips up against my neck with the softest, most delicate kiss. I instantly wanted more - a lot more. But that’s all he gave up just then.
My head felt all foggy, like I was drunk. He noticed.
“That’s vampire pheromone,” he told me, obviously enjoying my loopy-ness. “Helps to sedate victims; makes them a bit more willing.”
“You should bottle it.” I rubbed my eyes until tiny stars burst in them, “It’s good stuff.”
Again, Alan got super close to me. This time, I inhaled all my lungs could handle of the sweat-perfume coming off his skin.
“Mandy Cross,” he whispered.
His breath curled around my senses like a net. I was snagged and being pulled in.
“I could make you do anything I wanted to right now.”
I felt about ready to beg him to let me do all kinds of stuff to him when Alan backed completely off. My whole body tingled…especially down there. Seriously - I’d done it eight times with Craig and he never had me close to being that worked up. Now I knew why guys got so pissed off when girls “teased” them.
So, I figured I’d take matters into my own hands. I dropped the spaghetti straps of my nightshirt down and slipped the top to my waist. Alan looked at my naked breasts like you’d look at a painting in a museum - nice…but no touching.
It seemed I sat there for ages while he just scored me with his eyes.
I felt humiliated. I pulled my top back up.
“Okay. So, you didn’t come her
e for that. What do you actually want, Alan?”
“I want everything I just saw, Mandy Cross…and more; and I want it with you,” he told me with this really serious tone. “But, you’re mortal.”
I felt really pissed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Alan made for the window. He dropped a nice little bomb on me before he leapt out, though.
“Don’t you see? To me, you’re the one who’s less than an amoeba.”
Conflict of Interests
I didn’t sleep much that night. I lay on my bed and imagined Dorothy’s breasts on my chest, then Mary-Christine’s. I got so worked up, I had to masturbate. I woke up around two in a cold sweat, the dream of them both together still so fresh in my mind. I couldn’t help it; I did it again and that did it. I fell asleep immediately afterwards, totally exhausted.
I mean, I had a case of female overload. I awoke a mess, tired, listless, and when mom suggested I take a day off, I resolutely refused and sleep-walked round the corner to the bus stop. Well, who stood there but perky Mary-Christine.
That sure as heck woke me up.
We chatted the whole way about school, and music, and television, and celebrities; it proved quite a mind meld.
My first class was English, and Alan’s empty desk sat next to me as a reminder to us all. I tried to put all negative thoughts behind me and spread out a bit and wallowed in my stud-ness. I handed in my homework, and breezed through ‘til lunch. Dorothy sat next to me again, and I caught Mary-Christine out the corner of my eye, sitting with friends.
It seems that Dorothy’s major dialogue centered on cheerleading, and considering her being a year older, talking to Dorothy kinda paled in comparison to Mary-Christine’s conversation. But Dorothy definitely had the better tits. Well, from what I could see at least.
We arranged to meet at the coffee shop again, at six, and she’d make sure that no one would phone this time. I decided to go straight home at three-thirty and change. I mean – this was our second date and I was still dressed in school burgundy.
I chose a nice leather jacket and, at the last minute, pulled a black wool hat over my red locks. I looked in the mirror; all in all, quite a change from the red-headed geek.