“Ryan,” the coach kept saying tiredly, “save it for the game.”
“I have more than the game needs.”
“Say that when we’ve won,” said the coach.
Althea loved watching the boys when they were apprehensive. Somehow boys never looked as if they got scared. Certainly not football players. It was rather satisfying to know that, yes, they, too, got anxious and tense and tied in knots.
Michael, the best of them, the most athletic, the most capable, was certainly the most nervous.
Since it was an away game, a whole new school’s worth of girls would shortly see Michael for the first time. Althea knew well how their eyes would caress and memorize him.
I’ve always wanted Michael, thought Althea, but now I don’t. Isn’t that amazing? Michael is such perfection: Every inch of him is splendid. I have had Michael memorized for years. I’ll keep him tucked in my mind, something to observe and admire. But not to have.
I like it that he and Constance are a pair.
She looked out the back of the bus. The fan bus was behind them, and she knew Constance was on it; she knew Constance would sit directly behind the cheerleaders, four bleachers up, so that the cheerleaders did not block her view of Michael playing, but so she was still in the thick of the action.
Ryan sent Althea a paper airplane and she sent it back.
How lovely popularity is, Althea thought. It gives you choices. If you don’t feel like talking, nobody thinks it’s because you’re such a loser nobody would talk to you, anyway.
You can sort through the boys and girls around you and pick exactly who you want. And with popularity, you have time to know what you want. You aren’t taking the dregs or the leftovers. You have the winners, and it’s a matter of choosing your own particular winner.
Ryan and two other boys began throwing a pair of sneakers around. The bus driver and the coach yelled, and momentarily the bus stopped by the side of the road while Ryan was informed that responsible young men his age did not behave like that. Ryan seemed, interested, but it did not affect him particularly, and the moment the bus was back in traffic, the sneakers were back in the air.
I love him, thought Althea.
The sentence was astounding.
She felt that she must have shouted it out loud, turned it into a cheerleader’s cheer, and done it to claps and jumps.
But nobody was looking at her. Not even Ryan.
I love him.
He’s mine, and I love him.
O! the life that had been so dark and dreary. Only weeks later, and Althea’s life sparkled and glittered like a tiara at a royal dance. She felt that, she was composed of diamonds and emeralds, and that Ryan was rubies and sapphires.
Her imagination ran into the future of high school, coursing through dances and yearbooks, committees and clubs. She saw herself with Ryan, wearing jeans and prom gowns, short skirts and Halloween costumes. She saw herself in the cafeteria and -the front lobby and the art rooms and at graduation.
Popular.
The boys got off the bus in a unit, sternly ordered (in fact, rudely ordered; the coach had a-limited vocabulary and used it often) not to distract themselves by looking at girls. Ryan said, “I’m not going to look at girls. I’m just going to look at one. Althea.”
He grinned at her, and she laughed back, and the entire cheerleading squad circled her, whispering and giggling and delighted and envious.
Popular.
The game was long and difficult. Once Ryan was thrown into the mud where he lay twisted and motionless. The coach and the ref ran out to him. But he got up, limped briefly, and was fine. Althea breathed again.
Michael was brilliant.
The sky was blue, the stands packed. The fans had stadium blankets over their legs and scarves around their throats. Pompoms rustled, and hands clap-clap-clapped. The smell of hot dogs and popcorn filled the air.
Mrs. Roundman said, “You have the right spirit for cheerleading, Althea. That smile never leaves your face. That laugh is so infectious. I. would not be surprised if you become captain. You have what it takes.”
Chapter 22
THE VAMPIRE DID NOT appear that night.
He did not appear the following night, nor the night after that.
I got rid of him, thought Althea. I really did it. Oh, wow! I didn’t even have to shut the shutters all the way. I just had to get powerful and knock him off the planet.
Althea swaggered a little, laughed some, paraded through the house, and circled the yard, kicking autumn leaves. No laughter like broken glass shattered the peaceful night. Her breath swirled like a dragon’s in the cold winter air.
She spent a night at Kimmie-Jo’s and went to a party at Dusty’s. She and Ryan went to a movie alone together, and another night went with Michael and Constance.
Constance was such a wonderful person. Althea decided to model herself on Constance.
Homework was easy. Quizzes a snap. Teachers admired every word Althea contributed to discussions. Younger girls chose Althea as their favorite cheerleader, and the team won the next game.
The first snow fell.
The dark bleak valley where Althea’s house lay turned sparkling white—pure as true love.
She swept the porch and the steps. The snow was dry and tossed in the air like miniature blizzards. The wind blew it back in her face, and she laughed with the joy of living.
It was a night without stars or moon. It was very, very cold.
Ryan, Michael, and Constance dropped her off, and Ryan kissed her good-bye even in front of the others, and Constance said, “See you tomorrow, Althea.” Michael tapped his horn good-bye.
Althea stood on the bottom step watching the red glow of their car lights disappear behind the hedge. Ryan was right, she thought. The dark is a friend. When you have friends like I do—like Constance, and Michael, and Ryan, and Becky, and all the rest—all the world is a friend, too.
Through the night came a laugh like sandpaper scraping over skin.
The vampire did not go through the crust. He walked over it, leaving no footprints. The winter wind grabbed his black cape and flung it around him one way and then another, so that he kept wrapping and unwrapping.
The only things that gleamed in the dark night were his eyes and his fingernails. She knew that when he smiled, his teeth would also shine. The crisp clean air turned foul.
The silent night filled with the creaking of shutters, as if they were craning their necks to see the action.
When she shifted position, the snow crackled beneath her boots, as if something were chewing on her ankles.
She was cold, terribly cold, right to the marrow of her bones.
But she said, “I thought you left.”
“Briefly. Now I’m back.”
“I don’t need you,” she said. “Go away and stay away.”
The vampire stared at her. His jaw dropped in disbelief, and for the first time she saw his tongue. It was pointed and curled up as if rolled in a can. Then he laughed. The pitch of laughter broke the ice that lined the bare branches; the ice fell into the snow below. He said, “You don’t need me, Althea? Think again.”
She said, “I have thought. And I don’t need you. And I won’t cater to you. I’m too strong for you, anyhow. I kept Becky safe.”
He took a step toward her. She stood her ground. He stank of rot and decay. She gagged. He took another step, and she could not be that close to him. She backed up, and he laughed again. He moved closer to her, she backed up again, he moved again.
“Get away from me,” she said fiercely.
“No.”
The single syllable was uttered softly this time, and almost regretfully, as if something were about to happen that even the vampire would not enjoy.
This time she dug her boots into the snow and did not let herself back up any more. “I will never again do anything you ask,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. He sucked in his lower lip. The long white teeth inched do
wn toward his chin. They glittered like icicles. They dripped as if melting.
The vampire said, “All right.”
To show him that she was completely in control, Althea turned her back. She walked slowly into the house. She shut the door firmly but without slamming it, leaving him in the yard.
She unlaced her boots, knocked the snow off them, and set them on the drying rack.
She unzipped her heavy jacket and hung it in the coat closet.
She took off her scarf, shook the snow away, and looped it around the hanger of her jacket.
The vampire said, “But it will not be all right with you.”
Her head jerked up. He was standing on the first step of the stairs. His cape flared out by itself, as if pinned to the walls.
The vampire said, “Go to school tomorrow, Althea. Without me. And see if it is all right. See if you need me. See how strong you are. See if you need to cater to my requests.”
She glared at him. “I saved Becky.”
“No. The location was too far. My dark path was weak. I could not complete the migration. You had nothing to do with it. Nor did Becky. It was simply an error in navigation and planning.”
“You’re boring me,” said Althea. She thought, I’ll just learn to live with it. He’ll come by and nag, I’ll walk around him holding my breath. Eventually he’ll get bored and go back where he came from.
“No,” said the vampire. “I am rarely bored. Nor will I go back where I came from. You, Althea, are the one who will go back where she came from. Go back to being invisible. Inaudible. Unloved. Unpopular.”
She shrugged.
“Even Ryan will not know your name,” said the vampire.
“Get lost,” said Althea.
Now he smiled. A smile of joy. The evil crescent covered the entire bottom of his face. “All right. I will get lost. And when you want me back, Althea … I may refuse to come.”
Chapter 23
IN THE MORNING, HER car did not start. Walking was so humiliating. If you couldn’t be popular, you should at least have transportation.
But I am popular, thought Althea, smiling. She called Ryan to ask him to ask Michael to stop and pick her up. But Ryan didn’t answer his cell.
All right, she told herself. I can walk. One of my friends will see me and stop and pick me up. I’ll get teased, but that’s okay.
Althea walked to school, up the long, long hill, facing traffic. The cars of high school kids passed her, but no one stopped to give her a ride. No one waved. No one rolled down a window to yell good morning.
The temperature had risen, and the crusty snow had turned to slush. Cars flung black filth on her clothing. Althea stepped in an ice puddle and her boots must have had leaks, because her feet were soaked and painfully cold.
Althea cared deeply about her appearance. She hated people seeing her dirty and wet. I don’t even have a car so I can go home and change! she thought.
I’ll ask Ryan to borrow Michael’s car and take me home, she decided. Or maybe Kimmie-Jo would. Nobody understands the importance of pretty clothes more than Kimmie-Jo.
But nobody noticed the mud on Althea’s clothes.
Nobody noticed Althea at all.
Nobody called her name; nobody ran over; nobody registered the fact that she had walked into the school.
Althea went into the girls’ room, brushed her hair, and straightened herself up as much as possible. She headed slowly to her locker to hang up her coat, mittens, and scarf.
She was overjoyed to hear her name and turned, laughing, terribly relieved, to see who was calling her.
Nobody was calling her. Two Junior Varsity cheerleaders were striding along behind her. “At least the new season is beginning,” said one, giving Althea a look of loathing. “Tryouts for basketball squad will be fair. Unlike the last tryouts.”
Althea lost her breath, as if someone had beaten her up. She whispered, “It was fair. I won it.”
“It was given to you,” said the JV girl. “What experience or background did you have? Huh? Tell me.”
“Mrs. Roundman was playing favorites,” said the other.
The girls had matching smirks: ugly cruel grasping faces trying to wipe her out of her cheerleading spot.
Althea’s cheeks were cherry red. “May the best one of us make the squad,” she said, trying to be a sportswoman.
The girls laughed viciously. “That lets you out. You were no competition for Celeste. And you’re no competition for us, either.”
Althea clung to her locker, facing the thin metal closet, waiting for the JV girls to pass on. She pressed her hand against the gray door.
A gruesome chill crept up her spine.
How long her fingernails had become. The nails were scarlet and extremely pointed. They were claws. They were inhuman.
Heart pounding, Althea dropped her coat and scarf and dug through her purse to locate an emery board. What could I have been doing to let them get like that? she thought. They looked evil.
And that polish? Althea liked clear polish, or pale pink and slightly glittery. This polish was bloodred.
She could not think clearly. Far from being drained of blood, Althea felt that she had too much. Gallons of blood pounding, throbbing, racing through her veins. Her pulse snapped like drum rims.
The emery board had no effect on the scarlet weapons at the tips of her fingers.
The nails stayed sharp and pointed and … toothlike.
Have I become a vampire? With my hands I turned Celeste and Jennie over, and on my hands you can see the proof.
She curled her fingers into fists to hide the evil nails.
A dozen lockers away Becky chattered with Dusty. “I’m really excited about the tryouts, aren’t you?” said Becky. “It’s always fun to beat the competition.”
“Hi, Becky,” Althea called. She’s my best friend, thought Althea.
Becky looked briefly Althea’s way. “Hi,” she said without enthusiasm.
Dusty said, “This time we’ll get a real cheerleader. It’s too bad Celeste is still feeling low. I’d like to see her back. She was fun.”
“Didn’t we have a great team last fall?” Becky agreed.
Althea struggled with the lock. What was the combination, anyway? She opened her English notebook to the front page where she had scribbled it down on the first day of school. She could hardly remember right from left to make the silly thing turn.
Dusty said, “People who can’t even open their lockers are hardly Varsity material.”
Althea quivered as if she were Jell-O and somebody had touched her with a spoon. “Becky?” she whispered. “Becky, please—I—”
“Althea,” said Becky irritably, “later, okay? I’m busy.”
Becky walked away.
No! cried Althea in her heart, in her soul. No! Becky is my friend!
Althea focused on hanging up her coat. She achieved it. She focused on putting her scarf and mittens on the little shelf. She chose the right books to get her through the morning. She said to herself, Becky’s moody. It doesn’t actually mean anything. I’m okay. It’s all still okay.
She wet her lips and took a desperate breath, quieting her fears.
Down the hall came Ryan.
She expanded like a flower in the morning sun: All that was within her turned golden, and when she spoke his name, the syllables were a song of love. Smiles decorated Althea’s soul. Joy trembled on her fingertips.
“Hi, Ryan,” she said. “I tried to call you this morning. But you didn’t answer. I needed you.” She laughed a little. Just seeing him made her so happy she had to laugh.
Ryan frowned, as if unsure why she looked familiar. He said, dutifully, as one acknowledging last year’s teacher, “Hey, how are you, Althea.” It was not a question. It was an anonymous greeting. He did not care how she was and did not expect her to answer.
“Not too good,” she said desperately. “Ryan, I—”
“See you around,” said Ryan meaninglessly.
>
She had turned back into the boring sophomore with the forgettable face and the blank life. Pain like bread knives with serrated edges sawed through Althea’s heart.
He walked on and was gone, and the hall was empty.
Life was empty.
She had never believed that all her popularity was the gift of a vampire. She would have the popularity she had earned on her own.
But she had been wrong.
She had nothing because she had never been anything. She was just a creation of the vampire.
She thought of skipping class.
She thought of quitting school.
But then she would have to do something else, and what would that be? There were no other lives out there for her. She would have to stagger on through this one.
Althea walked on through the halls, which seemed to widen and lengthen, like a trick to test her commitment to staying alive. She passed the athletic department, and on the wall outside Mrs. Roundman’s office was a large sheet of yellow paper with a miniature cheerleading outfit and pom-poms tacked to it.
VARSITY CHEERLEADING TRYOUTS
BASKETBALL SEASON
SIGN-UP SHEET
Althea studied the names. She knew them all. There were three times as many as there were positions on the squad. This time there would be real competition. And the girls who had complained that Althea’s tryout had been rigged—well, as it turned out, they were proved right, and now had a chance at a fair tryout.
She had pencils in her purse. She could add her name to the list. But why? She could never win on her own. And if she went, she would have to face Becky, and Kimmie-Jo, and Dusty, who would ignore her, or avoid her, or say vaguely, “What’s your name?”
And what is my name now? thought Althea. When nobody knows and nobody cares, perhaps you don’t actually have a name.
Eventually the morning passed. Eventually the clock turned and it was twelve noon, and time for lunch. Althea was silent amid the screaming hungry students. Althea was slow amid the racing feet of starving sophomores.
She reached the cafeteria last.
All the lines were long.
All the tables were packed.
Except one.
Celeste hunched over a sandwich she was not eating.
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