Corona of Blue

by Berntson, Brandon

  “Come with me.”

  He nods, never more serious in his life. The phrase I say is never more serious.

  I take his hand and show him where we need to go.

  PART II

  GHOSTLY VAMPIRE

  7.

  Corona of Blue

  The sun shone upon her, making her hair a halo of blue. People made comments on it all the time: “Your hair looks blue in the sunlight, Rayleigh.”

  Rayleigh, unsure what to make of this, would raise her eyebrows and frown. “Excuse me? Who’s the lunatic, here?”

  In the spring of 1988, in Louisville, Colorado, Rayleigh Angelica Thorn was already alluring at eleven-years-old. She received plenty of leers from men and women alike, and because of it, she didn’t have many friends. They were jealous of her beauty. Without make-up, without doing her hair or caring about her appearance—angry, sad, humiliated—she was still the most beautiful girl in Louisville, Colorado.

  You could take a scalpel to your face, she thought.

  That would stop the leers, certainly, the jealousy, the heat from their eyes, and she was not averse to a little blood.

  Rayleigh sat at the base of the old oak tree behind her house, her schoolbooks on the ground beside her. She was invisible here, at least to the world. The trees blocked the view of the other houses in the surrounding neighborhoods. With plenty of shade, it was a world she had all to herself.

  The Doll Who Ate His Mother, by Ramsey Campbell was on the grass next to her, but she wasn’t in the mood to read today. As much as she enjoyed reading in the brisk, open air, it was too distracting. She got lost staring at the clouds and trees, hearing, feeling the wind, the warm air against her skin. If she buried her nose in a book, she might miss the magic, the clouds turning silvery white; the deeper blue, the leaves on the trees turning green—all things she loved.

  Her attire never wavered: jeans and a jean jacket, rock-and-roll shirts she bought with her allowance. Most of her wardrobe came from Play It Again Records and Tapes, a record store on the South Boulder Road. She would buy a new shirt every two weeks if she were careful and saved her money. Her mother sighed every time she brought one home, always black with Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Doors, or Van Halen written across the front. Her father, despite his dedication to men’s fashion, thought it amusing. “Only a phase,” he’d said. Rayleigh’s mother asked her why she didn’t want to dress a nicer, and Rayleigh’s response was always an overly dramatic roll of the eyes. “Uh, I’m pretty sure this is as nice as it’s going to get, Mother.”

  Rayleigh loved her mother, but she was Daddy’s little girl. Her father would relax in his favorite chair when he came home, watch the news or a baseball game—if there was one on. Colorado didn’t have a professional baseball team at the time, so Rex always hoped for a Dodgers’ game to air, which they sometimes did. He’d always been a Dodgers fan, being born in California.

  He called her, Rayleigh-girl, and she liked the way he said it, as if no other girl existed, no other girl was more important than Rayleigh Angelica Thorn.

  “Come sit with Daddy, Rayleigh-girl. The Dodgers need some fan support.”

  “That’s better than jock support,” Rayleigh would say, and they’d chuckle.

  Rayleigh would eagerly crawl onto the chair and curl up next to her father in the big recliner. She did it now, even in the sixth grade, wrapping her arms around his big shoulders, where she’d soon fall asleep, and Rex would carry her off to bed. Rayleigh would wake in the morning not remembering how she’d gotten there.

  She thought about her dad a lot. He liked the way she dressed, and he always asked about the music she listened to.

  “What band is this, pumpkin?”

  “Pink Floyd.”

  “Ah, yes,” he’d say, recognizing the band. “The psychedelic era. They sound very artsy, don’t they?”

  “They sound frickin’ awesome,” she’d say.

  He’d smile, shut the door, and leave her alone to enjoy Pink Floyd.

  Under the oak, in the spring of 1988, she thought about her dad, Ricky Bradford, and how she wanted to be a baseball player because she knew it would make her father happy. The snow had melted, and the trees were budding to life. The air was still cool, one of her favorite times of year (besides winter), the weather turning warmer.

  As the sun made a halo on her head, she thought about her pale skin as well.

  “Fair,” her mother once said when all three of them were standing in the kitchen. “And it’s beautiful skin, Rayleigh. You’ll never tan. You’ll burn, so you’ll have to be careful. You have your dad’s skin. But it will always be healthy. Some people think fair is the most beautiful.”

  “It looks like milk,” Rayleigh said in disgust, holding her arms out to inspect them.

  “It does not look like milk,” her mother said.

  “I feel like a vampire.”

  Her dad laughed from the other side of the kitchen. “Some people think vampires are quite attractive,” he said. “It’s a craze.”

  “I look like a milky, ghostly, sickly vampire in dire need of a blood transfusion,” Rayleigh said.

  Her mother couldn’t help but laugh. “Rayleigh, you do not!”

  “I think that’s why people stare at me so much, cause they think I’m a ghostly vampire. They’re terrified of me!”

  Rayleigh started walking around the kitchen, mimicking a zombie with her arms out in front of her. She opened her eyes wide. “Uhhhh,” she moaned.

  “Rayleigh, they are not terrified of you!” her mother said. “They stare at you because you’re beautiful.”

  “Nice try, Mother,” Rayleigh said. “But it won’t work.”

  Rayleigh went to her bedroom, looked at herself in the mirror, and saw a white vampire staring back at her. She smiled. If she thought she were a vampire, she was going to act like one.

  “What are you going to be for Halloween, dear?” Dorothy had asked in October of that year.

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to be a ghostly vampire. I don’t even have to buy an outfit. I’ll just open my eyes a little wider and walk around town. I’ve been a vampire my whole life, so why change it now?”

  “Rayleigh, how did you get to be so impossible?”

  “From my mother, I guess,” Rayleigh said. “Excuse me, while I’ll go file my teeth.”

  For most of her life growing up and budding into a woman, she would play the role of a ghostly vampire.

  “My life is one dark tone,” she said. She looked around at the trees coming to life, April’s end. School would be over soon, and she would have the entire summer to do what she wanted.

  “Definitely life,” she said.

  She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool April air.

  “I hope it gets bigger than this,” she said, opening her eyes once more. “I hope I can be bigger than this. Not taller, just... bigger.”

  Green was everywhere. The streams rippled cold and clear. The wind was a gentle breeze lightly touching her skin.

  Go away and wish yourself someplace new. You don’t live in the world around you, if you ever did. Do you realize that? Nothing is here in this space. That’s why your grades slip, why your attention span is so screwy. There are worlds inside you you cannot deny, characters, too. There is life and dark in you, Rayleigh Thorn. And you know exactly where to go.

  Thinking this—not knowing who it was—wolves, one by one, emerged from the trees. They looked at her, sniffing the ground, and cautiously approached. Their intent was to kill. She saw it in the way their coats rippled, lips pulled back. She liked the black one the best. The others were a spotty, mangy gray. One had streaks of brown on its coat and discolored eyes. They were big, or was that because she was so small?

  “You’d better watch out,” Rayleigh said. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  The threat did not deter them. They moved toward her, still sniffing the gr
ound.

  “You obviously don’t know who I am,” she said. “You can’t kill me.” She smiled again, the wolves closing in. “I’m a ghostly vampire, you dumb asses! I’m already dead! You’ll die if you drink my blood. It’s too powerful for you.”

  One stopped and cocked its head. It looked at the others.

  “Quoi?” Rayleigh said.

  The others stopped. They walked away while the black one—the one she liked—approached almost bashfully with its head down.

  “You’re okay. You can stay, but the others have to go.”

  The black wolf looked up, eyeing the others, and seemed to give a silent command because they trotted off leisurely into the trees. The black one turned back and spoke: a single high-pitched yelp.

  “Yeah, I forgive you,” Rayleigh said.

  It whined, stepped closer, as if sulking, and nudged her chin with its nose.

  Rayleigh put her arms around its head and scratched it behind its ears. It licked her face.

  “Mom would kill me if she knew I had wolves for friends.”

  The wolf barked again, making Rayleigh’s ears ring.

  “Not so loud next time,” she said.

  The wolf whined again and curled up, putting its head on her lap. Under the oak, she looked up into the branches and felt the rays of the sun on her face. She grabbed a lock of her hair and looked at it carefully.

  “It’s not blue at all,” she said, brows narrowing. “It’s purple. People don’t know shit.”

  She let go, letting her hair fall back into place, and thought about the benefits of being a vampire. She could fly. She had wolves for friends. ‘Don’t worry about lunch today, Mom, I’ll just drink some kid’s blood. One’s been bugging me at school anyway.’

  Corona of blue, I never see you, but you are real to me. Be careful of your rage and wickedness.

  “Did you hear that, Bandit?”

  The wolf looked at her.

  “Who is this voice that keeps talking in my head? Come out! Show yourself!”

  Bandit cocked its head, looking worried, but Rayleigh only giggled to herself.

  Being a vampire had its quirks.

  ~

  Bandit had disappeared. He wasn’t real anyway. She’d only imagined Bandit and the wolves.

  “Why are you not with me now? Why do you mean so much to me and nothing at all?”

  She wrote this down in her notebook. She had it out now, a red spiral for poetry and idle expressions, sometimes detailed descriptions of the old oak tree, or Bandit.

  She couldn’t wait for school to end. Just over a month now…

  Mrs. Shalay announced a new girl would be in school tomorrow. A hell of a time to move, Rayleigh thought, at the end of the school year. What a drag that would be!

  “I want all of us to give her a warm welcome,” Mrs. Shalay had told the class. “Would anyone like to volunteer and show her around on her first day?”

  For some reason Rayleigh had raised her hand.

  “Rayleigh,” Mrs. Shalay said. She was an attractive woman in her thirties. Rayleigh liked her because she drove a bright yellow corvette to school everyday. Mrs. Shalay had style. “Thank you so much. Her name’s Janeen Kensington. Her father transferred here from Aurora. Just make her feel at home, okay?”

  “I’ll go easy on her,” Rayleigh said. Mrs. Shalay smiled, and they continued the day’s lessons.

  Back in the field, under the oak tree, wishing Bandit were here, Rayleigh thought maybe she’d have a new friend this summer. But she didn’t expect much. She would scare, intimidate, or frighten Janeen like she did all the others. Janeen would grow popular, and Rayleigh would be left alone again. She knew the drill.

  But she still had Ricky. They never saw each other except at school or afterward for a short walk in the field, but they held hands and kissed when they were in the mood, which was fairly often.

  Rayleigh sighed. Maybe a good, creepy movie was on the Big Chill Theater tonight. That would be cool.

  Corona of blue stood up, grabbed her schoolbooks, and walked out of the glade under the oak tree in the spring of 1988.

  Be careful of your rage. You can be a wicked girl when you set your mind to it.

  “I try to be terrible whenever I can,” she said.

  Rayleigh Thorn rolled her eyes, sighed, and blamed the voice on her mother.

  ~

  “Mom, how come you have to make meatloaf so much? It’s like a big meat sponge.”

  “Rayleigh, how come you have to talk to your mother that way?”

  “Can I have some macaroni and cheese instead? You make great mac and cheese, Mom. Honest.”

  “You had mac and cheese last night, Rayleigh Angelica. We’re having meat loaf.”

  Rayleigh stood in the kitchen with her mother, who had a fetish for antiques. A rustic, homey feel pervaded the kitchen. Pots and pans, cans of spices, flour, sugar, and pasta covered the shelves. Rayleigh was putting the spices away: fresh parsley and cilantro, oregano, garlic, and Worcestershire sauce.

  “Did you do your homework?” her mother asked.

  “Most of it.”

  “What about your paper?”

  “That’s not due until the end of the week. And Mrs. Shalay’s giving me extra time because I’m showing a new girl the ropes tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Rayleigh, that’s so sweet of you!”

  Rayleigh rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh loud enough for her mother to hear. She liked to exaggerate feelings of revulsion. “Mom, stop it. I’ll probably scare her away anyway.”

  Dorothy Willamina pressed the meat into a shallow baking dish. Rayleigh looked at the meat and wondered what was the best way to approach it that night for dinner. Lots of ketchup maybe, sweet-and-sour sauce?

  “Rayleigh, I wish you’d get your vampire fascinations out of your head.”

  “I’ve decided I’m going to be a vampire from now on.”

  “What are we going to do with you?”

  “I thought it was obvious.”

  Dorothy turned and looked at her daughter. “What do you mean?”

  “I think, ‘stake through the heart’ is the phrase you’re looking for.”

  “Rayleigh, go to your room. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Rayleigh went to her room and thought about Janeen Kensington, whoever she was. Soon, she could smell the meatloaf, and heard her mother calling for dinner. Walking up the stairs, she stuck her finger in her mouth, pretending to gag. “Lots of ketchup for sure,” she said.

  ~

  The next day, at 7:30 am, a new girl walked into Mrs. Shalay’s class with her blonde hair in a ponytail. She had hazel eyes and freckles, a thin, fair face, and peered at the floor as if wishing she were anyplace else in the known universe but where she was. Light-colored jeans, pink tennis shoes, pink and white shirt, and a red and black windbreaker made her attire. Janeen held a yellow notebook to her chest like a life preserver. She peered at Rayleigh as if to say, “Save me!” Rayleigh arrived at school half an hour early, and she was already in Mrs. Shalay’s classroom.

  “Hello, Rayleigh,” Mrs. Shalay said. “This is Janeen. Janeen, this is Rayleigh. She’s going to show you around the school.”

  “Thank you,” Janeen said, in a soft, breakable voice.

  Rayleigh left her notebook on her desk and walked over to Janeen.

  “Nice to meet you,” Rayleigh said, putting out her hand. The girl smiled and grabbed it. It was damp. Janeen was nervous.

  “You, too,” Janeen said.

  “Well, I’ve got to get class ready,” Mrs. Shalay said. “Make sure you’re back by eight, Rayleigh.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rayleigh said. She turned to Janeen. “You can sit by me. There’s an empty seat right there.”

  The girl walked over and put her notebook on the desk next to Rayleigh’s. They walked out of the classroom and down the hall.

  Rayleigh asked Janeen, “Do you have to move a lot?”

/>   Janeen looked at Rayleigh and shrugged. “We’ve moved a couple of times. I hate it.”

  “I would, too. We moved once, and Dad says we might have to move closer to the city because of his job, but I hope not. Moving sucks.

  “Anyway, I can show you around. Most of the teachers are pretty cool. Mr. Weis is kind of a dork. He’s the principal. And Mr. Fox; he’s the gym teacher. But Shalay’s cool.”

  Janeen nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I met Mr. Weis yesterday. He does seem kinda dorky-like.”

  Rayleigh chuckled and showed Janeen where the bathrooms were.

  Your dark life has only just begun.

  In the hallway, Rayleigh stopped. She looked to the side, much like Bandit had done yesterday.

  “Something wrong?” Janeen asked.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “I just heard something. You didn’t hear it?”

  “Uh,” Janeen said, looking at Rayleigh oddly. “Pretty sure I didn’t.”

  “Jeez,” Rayleigh said, walking with Janeen again. “First vampires, and now this.”

  The girl laughed. “What?”

  “Oh, this thing lately…feel like a vampire. Never mind. Do you like vampires?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Janeen said. “How can you not like vampires?”

  “Funny, I didn’t think you were the type when you walked into class.”

  “Why is that?”

  Rayleigh looked at her steadily, eying Janeen from her pink and white shoes to her blonde ponytail. She raised her eyebrows.

  “Damn her, I knew it!” Janeen said, stomping her foot.

  Rayleigh laughed.

  “I knew this was gonna be the wrong shirt. ‘Go like a sweet girl,’ Mom says. ‘Meet some sweet friends!’ I knew it. I’m getting my other clothes out when I get home!”

  “Hope she doesn’t meet me,” Rayleigh said.

  “You’d be perfect.”

  Rayleigh raised her eyebrows. She liked Janeen. First impressions were important, and she got the impression she and Janeen were going to be good friends.

  ~

  “The gym,” Rayleigh said. “Obviously.”

  They were standing at the doors leading into the gym, which was empty. Rayleigh explained this was where they held skate parties, dances, contests, the yearly spelling bee, where the school band played, and other similar activities. Obviously, it was the gym, Rayleigh pointed out, because of the basketball hoops along the wall.