I said to Rachel, "I like your bracelet."
"Samantha gave it to me. Isn't it great?"
"Peachy," I said, narrowing my eyes at Samantha.
"Rachel is still part of the squad, Daisy," she said. "We're all wearing them." She looked pointedly at my wrist. "Everyone, it seems, except you."
"I forgot it at home," I said. I'm a terrible liar.
Sam glared at me.
Rachel looked distressed at our bickering, and I felt ashamed of myself about arguing in a hospital room.
"Next time we visit, we'll bring magazines," Poppy promised, just as I opened my mouth to apologize.
"Rachel's going to be out of here in no time," Samantha said. "Isn't that right, Rach?"
Rachel said weakly, "Yeah, sure." But she didn't sound very convinced. After a long silence, she added, "Poppy, magazines would be very thoughtful. I honestly don't know how long I'll be in here."
Time to do a little digging. "Has your doctor narrowed it down at all?"
Samantha changed the subject abruptly. "Did I tell you who the newest couple is?" She sent me death rays with her eyes, but I ignored the warning.
Rachel ignored Samantha's lame attempt at avoidance. "The doctors are stumped, Daisy," she said softly, "and it's getting worse." A tear ran down her cheek, but she smiled at me and I could see a glimmer of remaining beauty.
Samantha turned away, but not before I saw that she was weeping silently. And my normally chatty sister was completely silent.
As soon as I could speak, I said, "We'll do anything we can to help you. Anything."
Rachel's mom arrived, toting a big Tupperware container of food. "I hope you have an appetite tonight," she said to Rachel, "because I made all your favorites." She added, "She doesn't like the hospital food, and I can't say I blame her."
"We'd better go," I said. "Rachel, I'll see you soon."
I told Samantha I was riding home with Poppy and we said good- bye.
In the car on the way home, I dug through my purse, looking for a scrap of paper to write on, when the paper towel I'd scribbled on earlier fell out.
"What's that?" Poppy pointed to it.
"I jotted down a few notes from Rachel's chart, but I can't understand it," I admitted. A thought occurred to me. "Do we have time to stop at the library? Maybe we can find a medical dictionary."
As we left the hospital parking lot, a mint-condition pink 1957 Thunderbird convertible squealed out of the driveway and cut Poppy off as she started to make the turn. Poppy slammed on her brakes, and the driver honked her horn and sped past us.
"Learn to drive," Poppy shouted, but we were both a little shaken by the incident.
"It was a beautiful car, though," I said. "Dad would have loved it." My father had loved classic cars.
"Maybe not in pink," Poppy giggled. She sobered quickly and said, "I haven't heard you talk about Dad in a long time."
"I didn't have anything to say," I replied. My father had been a professor at UC Nightshade until his mysterious disappearance five years ago. The official version is that he died while doing some research in a forest in northern California. The unofficial version, which was talked about in hushed whispers all around town, was that he ran off with another woman, leaving behind his wife and three daughters.
My mother refused to believe either version and preferred to think he was still out there somewhere—alive, but unable to get back to us. This is one case where her psychic powers were useless. I think he just left us and never looked back. And that's why I never talked about my father.
"Mom's still looking for him, you know," Poppy said. "All those nights when she says she's working late? I think she's still trying to find Dad."
"Mom's a hopeless romantic," I said.
Poppy said softly, "Hopeful, Daisy. She's a hopeful romantic." I didn't know how Mom could still have hope after all these years. I know I didn't. I just wanted to survive my junior year.
Chapter Eleven
That Friday evening, there was no football game, so I went with the rest of the squad to visit Rachel in the hospital again. Poppy came along to deliver the magazines she promised. Unfortunately, Rachel wasn't doing any better. Poppy and I left the hospital saddened by her dire state.
Things seemed pretty grim between Ryan and me, too. We had planned to hang out that night, but for some reason he had never called.
"I need a pick-me-up," I said. "Want to go to Slim's?"
"Sounds good," said Poppy. "Why don't you call Rose and see if she wants to come along."
Rose was just getting out of her last class of the week when I reached her on her cell phone. She said she'd meet us at the diner.
Hanging with my sisters at the diner was way better than sitting home on a Friday night. A lot of Nightshade kids drove to Santa Cruz and hung out at the pier on the weekends, which meant Main Street was usually dead on Friday night. Tonight was no exception.
At Slim's, Flo sat at the counter, thumbing through a magazine. When we entered, the bell over the door jangled. I assumed its purpose was to alert Flo to the presence of customers, but it certainly didn't interrupt her reading.
Rose was already waiting for Poppy and me in our favorite booth, the one at the end by the big bay window.
Flo eventually meandered over to take our order. Tonight her shirt read, "I LIKE CHILDREN—FRIED."—W.C. FIELDS.
"I'm starving," Poppy said. "This was a great idea, Daisy. Comfort food is just what we need." She ordered a plate of chili fries and a chicken sandwich. Rose tried to order a salad, but we convinced her she needed a side of onion rings, too.
"Is there fresh coffee, Flo?" I asked. "I need coffee and a cheeseburger."
Flo ambled off to put in our order and then resumed her position at the counter.
"Coffee?" Rose said. "At this time of night? You'll never get to sleep." It was seven o'clock, tops.
"I won't be able to sleep anyway," I confessed gloomily. "I want to help Rachel, but I don't know how." I had been to the library a few times that week trying to interpret the information I had copied from Rachel's chart, but it was no use. I didn't even understand half of what I'd read.
"Oh, the sick cheerleader," Rose said. "How is she doing?"
"We went to see her again today," Poppy said. "She looked like she's at death's door."
"The doctors have run all sorts of tests and found nothing," I said. "Or at least that's what they're telling Rachel."
I sighed. I had been so determined to figure out Rachel's problem myself, but who was I kidding? Rose studied science at college, so she had a much better understanding of medical jargon than I did.
I dug through my purse, found the paper towel with my notes on it, and handed it to Rose. "Maybe this says different."
Rose looked over my notes. "Daisy, I won't ask you how you got this information," she said.
"Good. And I won't tell you," I replied.
She studied the scribbles for a few minutes.
"Well?" asked Poppy anxiously.
Rose shook her head. "They haven't been able to diagnose her with anything. They're stumped. Either Rachel's faking it or—"
"Or what?" Poppy and I said together.
"Or it's not natural at all. I think what's happening to Rachel is supernatural, and the best hospital in the world can't cure that."
"We do know that there's a psionic vampire in town," Poppy said. "What you heard at the council meeting confirmed it."
"How do we trap a supernatural villain?" I said.
We stared at each other. It was a question that none of us had an answer for.
I sighed and put my hands in my pockets. I was wearing the hoodie I'd worn the night Ryan and I snuck into the morgue. The night he'd kissed me for the first time.
My hand touched something metal—the bracelet Samantha had given me. I pulled it out of my pocket and laid it on the table.
"Rachel had on a bracelet just like that," Poppy observed.
"Samantha gave them to all t
he girls on the squad," I said. "I don't like wearing it, though. It gives me the creeps. The ankh has a connection to vampirism. Right, Rose?"
"It can also represent life," Rose said skeptically.
I looked at the bracelet, more confused then ever.
"Are you saying you think Samantha Devereaux is the psionic vampire?" Poppy asked under her breath.
"Sometimes I think she could be," I admitted. "What if she's using these bracelets as some kind of energy conductor or something? She's always making sure we're wearing them. Maybe they help her get her soul fix."
Rose and Poppy looked doubtful.
"The vamp has to be someone who has access to the cheerleaders," I continued. "She's the head cheerleader, so she definitely has the opportunity."
"But what's her motivation?" Rose asked.
"I don't know," I said. "Beauty? Popularity?"
"Samantha's always been beautiful," Rose replied.
"Plus, she's already the most popular girl in school," Poppy pointed out. "And she's only a junior!"
I finally gave up. I couldn't even convince my own sisters that Samantha could be our vamp. "Well, who else could it be?" I asked, but nobody had any answers.
Flo finally arrived with our food. I bit into my deliciously greasy cheeseburger.
Rose picked daintily at her salad, but I noticed she slathered the onion rings with barbeque sauce and ranch dressing.
I glanced out the window and noticed a couple walking toward the police station. There was something about the back of the guy that looked familiar. Long legs, broad shoulders, and a few rebellious curls caressing the back of his neck. It was Ryan. With another girl. I couldn't tell who she was, but she wore a black cowboy hat.
I pushed away my cheeseburger. I wasn't hungry any longer. But I was pretty pissed off. It looked like Ryan was taking some other girl to the morgue. From what Officer Denton had said, it wasn't the first time.
Flo pulled up a stool. "Nothing better to do tonight than hang out here?" she said.
Poppy replied, through a mouthful of chili fries, "This is it. What's new with you?"
Flo thought for a minute. "I got nothin'." She snapped her fingers. "Wait a minute!" She fished a quarter out of her pocket and handed it to me. "Go play the jukebox."
"It's still here? I assumed Slim would have traded it in by now." I wasn't really concentrating on the conversation, but instead stared out the window and willed Ryan to reappear.
Flo shrugged. "It kind of grows on you. Some people like not knowing what it'll play next. Although it doesn't do it for everybody."
It had worked for me before, so I figured it would do it again. Besides, you know what they say, music soothes the jealous girlfriend. So I got up, put a quarter in, and looked at the selections. "Flo, I've never heard of half of these songs."
I selected an old Green Day song but was prepared when a different song came on instead.
"Is this thing defective?" Poppy asked.
"Nope," Flo said. "I'm pretty sure it's doing it on purpose."
"What's the name of this song?" I asked Flo.
"This song is 'Heartbreaker' by Pat Benatar. It seems to be trying to tell you something."
Great. Now even inanimate objects were sending me mixed messages. The last thing I needed to hear was a song about a guy breaking some girl's heart.
The bell above the door jangled, and then Ryan walked in with a gorgeous redheaded girl. This time, I heard the jukebox's message loud and clear.
Chapter Twelve
Ryan and his companion were so engrossed in their conversation that they walked right by our booth before he saw us.
"Daisy, what are you doing here?" Ryan asked. I'd never noticed how shifty his green eyes were.
"Having dinner with my sisters," I said icily. "Heartbreaker" faded and then cut out.
"Oh," he said. "I thought you'd be out with the other cheerleaders."
"I'm not," I stated the obvious. Coldly.
"Oh," he said again.
Oh, indeed.
"You're Daisy?" the redhead squealed. Not exactly the greeting I was expecting. I gave Ryan a puzzled look.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said. She slid into the booth and threw her arms around me.
"For what?" I asked. Giving her my guy, not drop-kicking her across town, what?
"For saving my life," she said.
"Daisy, this is Cassandra Morris," Ryan said.
Cassandra? Why did her voice sound so familiar? Then I remembered the voice echoing in my mind.
"The girl you saved at the Black Opal," Cassandra chirped.
I thought Rose flinched when she mentioned the name of the club, but I couldn't be sure because Cassandra was bouncing in her seat.
I introduced her to my sisters and then called out, "Flo, can we get a couple more menus, please?"
To Cassandra I said, "Order anything you'd like. My treat." This technique was called greasing the witness. Cassandra ordered a banana split and a Coke. Ryan asked for coffee.
"Cassandra was just released from the hospital, so she was down at the station answering a few questions for my dad," Ryan said pointedly.
Interesting that Cassandra was already out of the hospital but Rachel was still stuck there, growing weaker day by day. Which meant that the vampire, whoever it was, was still feeding off Rachel. Who'd been to the hospital to see her? Practically everybody at Nightshade High.
Then I realized Ryan was still standing, so we all scooted over to make room for him. He sat across from me, next to Rose. He tried to catch my eye, but I ignored him. He wasn't completely off the hook yet. Lead or not, Cassandra was still a gorgeous redhead.
I waited until they'd placed their order and Flo was out of earshot.
"Can you tell us what happened that night?" I asked.
"You sound just like Chief Mendez," she said. "Side Effects May Vary is my favorite band," Cassandra explained. "I never miss a gig. Unless I have a tournament or something."
"Tournament?" Poppy said.
"I'm a cheerleader for the San Carlos Squids."
Poppy made a face at the name. "Who wants to be the Squids?" she said.
"Nightshade High doesn't exactly have the best mascot in the world," I said. "We're the Sea Monsters, remember?"
"And UC Nightshade's mascot is the Slug," Rose added.
"So you were at the Black Opal to see the band?" I prompted, trying to bring the conversation back to the night in question.
"Were you alone or did you have a date?" Poppy asked.
"I went alone," Cassandra said. "I like to keep my options open." She elbowed me in the ribs, just in case I didn't get it.
"And is that what you were doing that night? Keeping your options open?" I sounded a little sour.
" Trying," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye, "but there weren't many likely prospects."
"Then what happened?" Ryan asked.
"Well, the band took a break and I went down the hall. I was going to try to sneak backstage and meet them," she explained.
"How did you know where to go to get backstage?" Rose asked.
Cassandra giggled. "This guy I know works there. We've hooked up a couple of times and he told me."
Rose didn't say a word, but I knew she was wondering if the guy was Nicholas.
"Then what happened?" I asked.
Cassandra thought for a moment. "I don't really remember much after that. I think I saw a white light or something and then bam, I woke up in the hospital."
She took off her cowboy hat and fanned herself with it. That's when I saw it. There was a long white streak in her hair, just like the one Rachel had.
I nudged Poppy, who asked Cassandra, "Did you get your hair highlighted recently?"
Cassandra looked puzzled. "No, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Maybe nothing, but maybe something," I replied. "Do you know where you got that streak of white in your hair?"
"Not a clue," she
said indifferently. "I like it, though," she said. "It makes me stand out from my twin."
"You have a twin?"
"Yes, her name is Chelsea," Cassandra said. "We're not identical, but we look enough alike that people still get us confused sometimes."
Chelsea? Chelsea Morris, the dead girl from the morgue, was Cassandra's sister? Oh, no. I knew there was something familiar about Cassandra besides the voice and the cowboy hat.
I exchanged a glance with my sisters. Should we break the bad news to Cassandra? It didn't seem right to keep the information from her, but it would sound absolutely crazy to tell someone that her dead sister was running around Nightshade. Oh, and we thought she was a psi-vamp.
"Maybe we could talk to your sister," Rose suggested.
"I haven't talked to her lately. She's staying with our dad right now in Los Angeles. She and my mom got into this huge fight," she said.
I grabbed a napkin and wrote down my name, phone number, and e-mail address. "If she gets in touch with you, have her call or e-mail me, okay?" I had a dreadful feeling we wouldn't be hearing from Chelsea. I hoped I was wrong. I hoped it was like in the movies. Maybe if we found the head vampire before Chelsea sucked the life out of someone, it wouldn't be too late for her.
Cassandra shrugged and put the napkin in her purse. "Sure, but she's pretty mad at Mom. Chelsea hasn't even been returning my phone calls."
Ryan looked at his watch. "I should get Cassandra home."
"Why?" she said. "I don't have to be home for ages. I thought we could go somewhere and talk."
Poppy rolled her eyes at that one. I could almost hear her thinking, What a lame-ass line.
"You don't have to be home," he said, "but I do. Daisy, are you ready to go?" His eyes pleaded with me to say yes. Since I didn't want Ryan to be stuck fending off Cassandra's advances, or even worse, not fending them off, I said yes.
We made it to the door before Poppy called out, "Be good, kids!"
Ryan and I both blushed. Cassandra looked from Ryan to me and said, "So you two are a couple, I guess." She sounded disappointed.
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