Eleventh Grade Burns

by Heather Brewer

  Joss’s eyes had remained fierce throughout the encounter, though Vlad could see fear hidden in them. He stood up, brushing the dirt from his jeans. Relief took the place of fear in Joss’s eyes, and he started to back down the sidewalk toward Henry’s house. He called out to Vlad. “Do yourself a favor, Vlad. Don’t you ever say her name again. Your body-guard won’t always be there.”

  Then Joss turned and broke into a run.

  Vikas shook his head. “That boy is a fool.”

  Vlad shook his head too, but for different reasons. “That boy is my friend ... or was, anyway. He’s been through a lot. He and his whole family have had their lives ripped apart by a vampire. No wonder he hates me. No wonder he is the way he is.”

  After a moment, he looked back to Vikas. “Shouldn’t you be eating Thanksgiving dinner about now?”

  Vikas smiled, and for the first time Vlad noticed the small trail of blood on the corner of his mouth. “I just finished, actually. Suffice it to say, Bathory no longer has a homeless problem.”

  Vlad groaned and tugged Vikas’s sleeve, guiding him toward home. “Yeah, about your appetite while you’re here in Bathory ... we’ve got to talk.”

  21

  NOT-SO-DISTANT MEMORIES

  VLAD RAN HIS FINGER THOUGHTFULLY ALONG the thin, silver chain around his neck until he reached the key that Otis had given him. He’d been wearing it ever since that day, always tucking it into his shirt so nobody would question what it opened.

  But Vlad knew. And today, for some reason, the thought of opening the door to his parents’ bedroom was consuming him.

  He’d argued with himself all through first and second period about how stupid it would be to go wander around a room that really held no clues at all to how the fire had started, but the closer it got to the bell ringing at the end of third period, the less his internal arguments made sense. By the time the big hand on the clock ticked toward the number twelve and the bell rang out through the halls of Bathory High, Vlad had decided to sneak out and see if there was anything there, anything at all that might help him determine exactly how his parents had died and who, if anyone, was responsible.

  It didn’t take him long to exit the front doors or to get across town. As he opened the back door, he thought of Vikas, who was likely resting peacefully upstairs. It was weird to think of someone being there in his moment of possible discovery, but it wasn’t like he could shake Vikas awake and ask him to step out for a moment while he strolled down memory lane with the ghosts of his mom and dad. He moved inside quietly. It sounded like the TV was on in the living room, which he immediately attributed to Tristian. Without making a sound, Vlad made his way upstairs and, as he moved past Vikas’s door, pulled the chain over his head, holding the warm key in his palm.

  He stood at his parents’ door for several minutes.

  He might have been gathering courage; he might have been mentally preparing himself. But mostly, Vlad was fighting to keep the memory of that day—the morning he found them—from the forefront of his mind.

  It was a losing battle.

  He closed his hand over the small, silver knob. At the same moment, in his mind’s eye, he saw his hand, his ten-year-old hand, closing over the same knob. Together, both hands swung the door open. Both hearts beat out of control at the smell of ash and soot.

  Shaking his head, trying hard to remain in the present, Vlad stepped over the threshold. His younger self stepped inside too, and turned as he did to face the bed.

  “Mom! Dad! NO!”

  Vlad closed his eyes, blocking out his younger self’s voice.

  No, Vlad. Don’t go down that path. Stay in the present.

  But when he opened his eyes again, all he could see was his younger self’s point of view. It was strange, as if he was watching a movie. Occasionally the real world, the present world, would leak in and he’d see what he was really faced with, but mostly, he relived that day, moment for moment.

  Instead of dust and cobwebs lying atop the soot and ashes, the ashes were fresh, some embers still glowing brightly. Instead of the quiet of a haunted, forgotten place, the sounds of sirens and voices filled his head. The room was filled with smoke, still overwhelmed by a heat that Vlad could barely stand to be near, but he had to see, he had to know. His chest rose and fell both from the run from school and from what he was seeing.

  On the bed were two figures. Figures that had once been people. Figures that had just kissed him good night not ten hours before. All that remained were black, sooty shapes. All that Vlad could identify was an arm and what might have been an open mouth. He reached out, his fingers making contact...

  Vlad jerked out of the memory, streams of tears coating his cheeks. He didn’t want to remember, didn’t need to remember. He’d come here looking for evidence, not pain. That he had an abundance of.

  He looked around the room, his eyes searching for something, anything that might offer a clue as to what had happened. But when his eyes fell on the bed again ...

  He reached out, his fingers making contact with the ashen form closest to him. It was his mother. It had to be. That was exactly where she’d been lying when he’d turned off her alarm. As his fingers brushed against her, her body—her burned, fragile remains—crumbled into a pile. Vlad screamed.

  He closed his eyes again, willing away that memory with deep, shaking breaths. The tears were coming too easily now. He brushed them away with his arm, but his efforts were useless. Determined, he opened his eyes again and focused on the present.

  At first, he saw only dirt and dust over more dirt and dust. Then his eyes settled on a spot on the wall, near his father’s nightstand. There the soot was smudged, as if someone had wiped it away. Vlad moved around the bed to get a closer look. He knelt and leaned forward, taking a good, long look at the glyph on the small panel there.

  He’d never noticed it before. But then, he’d never spent much time in this room since the fire.

  He reached up slowly, the glyph glowing at his close proximity, and touched it. The panel opened inward. When he peered inside, he saw nothing.

  Another dead end.

  Vlad cursed under his breath, but then bit his bottom lip and placed his hand inside the compartment. He felt all along each wall, then reached up and felt carefully along the top.

  Nothing. The compartment was completely empty.

  Vlad’s shoulders sank.

  As he pulled his hand out, his finger stung. He yanked it back, fearing a spider bite. Blood bubbled from the tip of his finger. A paper cut. Vlad sucked the blood away and reached back in with his other hand. Carefully, he moved it across the top of the compartment. With the tips of his fingers, he touched the corner of a slip of paper, wedged into a seam. It took him several tries, but finally, he withdrew the paper and sat back on his heels, holding it curiously in his palm.

  He unfolded it and there, in his father’s handwriting, was “Aidan” and a phone number.

  It was probably nothing, probably meaningless, but Vlad tucked it carefully into his pocket and stood, looking around the room some more.

  As he was going over the bureau’s top drawers—or rather, what remained of them—Vikas’s voice broke in from behind him. “What are you looking for, Mahlyenki Dyavol?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Answers. I want to know what happened to them. I want to know who did it. And I want to know why.”

  Vikas stepped closer, placing a caring hand on Vlad’s shoulder. “What answers can you possibly find in the cold ashes, Vladimir? The men who did this must have had their reasons for doing so, but they’ve left nothing behind. Only bad memories.”

  Turning to face him, Vlad said, “Vikas? What makes you think it was more than one man?”

  Vikas grew quiet for a bit, then gave his shoulder a squeeze before turning to leave the room. “Just a feeling I have, Mahlyenki Dvayol. It most likely means nothing at all.”

  Vlad took no comfort in his words, but his tears at last ceased.

  22


  A TAINTED EVENING

  VLAD BUTTONED THE LAST BUTTON on his pewter-colored shirt and sighed. He didn’t much feel like dressing up, and he certainly didn’t feel like going to a dance tonight, least of all this dance, Bathory High’s annual Snow Ball. He slipped on his black vest and smiled at the tiny skull buttons. If nothing else, at least he looked sharp.

  Still, he really, really didn’t want to go. Joss and Meredith would be there as a—Vlad gulped—couple. He didn’t need any more reason to avoid the school at all cost. The very idea of those two dancing closely and ignoring the fact that he was once a big part of both of their lives sent a wave of nausea over him. But then ... maybe he hadn’t been a big part of their lives. Maybe they’d just been a big part of his.

  Vlad shook his head. He couldn’t start down that path of thinking, or the evening would be a total loss.

  With one more glance at his reflection, Vlad walked out of his bedroom and down the stairs to where Nelly was waiting. At the sight of him, she smiled. “You look very handsome. So who’s the lucky girl?”

  “Her name is Snow.”

  Nelly’s voice took on a tone of mock irritation. “And how come I haven’t heard of her before?”

  Vlad did his best to match her inflection with a sarcastic quip. “Because, she lives in Stokerton and I haven’t mentioned her to you.”

  “So, when do I get to meet her?” Much to Vlad’s annoyance, Nelly had that I-told-you-you’d-get-over-Meredith look on her face.

  “Not tonight”

  Nelly’s jaw dropped; she let out a playful gasp. “You are so grounded to your coffin.”

  A smile fought its way onto Vlad’s face. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to avoid it or how much he wanted to wallow in his self-induced pit of despair, Nelly could always make him smile.

  “I’m meeting her at the dance. October’s giving her a ride.” Vlad opened the front closet and grabbed his coat and shoes.

  “Do you want me to drive you? Or would you like to take the car?”

  “I’m not ready to drive in the snow yet.” Vlad shuddered. “I’m not sure our neighbor’s mailbox is ready either. Besides ...”

  Outside, Henry’s horn honked, so Vlad opened the door and waved. As he slid on his jacket, he smiled at Nelly. “... Henry’s driving me. I’ll be back by midnight, okay?”

  She nodded and Vlad walked out the door, closing it behind him. Once he was inside Henry’s car and moving down the road, he grumbled, “I don’t understand how you and October think it’s okay to pressure me into taking Snow to this dance.”

  Henry was busy checking his mirrors, speedometer, and blind spot. It was obvious that he was avoiding Vlad’s protests.

  Vlad glared. “Dude, you know I’m trying to keep my distance from her and neither one of you are bringing dates.”

  Henry chuckled. “Quit whining. We’re doing you a favor. You should’ve seen Snow when I dropped them off at the school.”

  “Wait, you drove them? I thought October was picking her up.”

  “Yeah, that was the original plan.”

  “So, what happened?”

  Henry shrugged. “Plans changed.”

  “Thank you for explaining that so clearly. So, why didn’t you just bring them over to Nelly’s?”

  “Because when a girl looks as hot as Snow looks tonight, you don’t want your parental figure to see.”

  Vlad didn’t argue, because for once in his young life, Henry sounded full of wisdom.

  The car came to a stop just across the street from the school and, thanks to the chill of late December, it didn’t take long for the boys to make their way inside. The hall was decorated in a thousand different snowflakes. Some dangled from the high arched ceiling; some were pasted onto lockers and walls; some littered the floor. A silver, white, and soft blue path led their way to the gym, at the doors of which stood a girl. A girl Vlad couldn’t take his eyes off.

  He thought he heard Henry say something about having fun as he moved down the hall and into the gym, but he couldn’t remember how to speak, so his reply was merely silence.

  She was dressed in black from head to toe. The top of her luxurious silk gown was strapless, baring her flawless, pale shoulders, and corseted, revealing just a hint of something that made Vlad’s face flush bright red. The skirt of her gown was layered and full. Her hair was pinned up in messy curls, tiny bats dotting the barrettes, matching the tiny, glittery bats on her nails. Vlad took a step closer and breathed her name. “Snow ...”

  Her nervous smile relaxed. Vlad couldn’t help but wonder what it was she had to be nervous about. He was the one who felt like a stuttering idiot. He walked down the hall in what felt like slow motion, and when he reached her, her smile faltered. “Listen, Vlad. I know I’m only here because October forced you to take me. So we don’t have to pretend we’re dating or anything. We can just be here as friends.”

  Vlad shook his head, a smile fixed on his lips, unwilling to let reality spoil the already magical evening. “You look amazing.”

  Relaxing her shoulders, Snow beamed. “You look pretty hot yourself, mister.”

  He held out his elbow and she looped her arm in his, then they walked arm in arm through the open gym doors into a winter paradise. Wide, wondering eyes turned toward them, and though Vlad was certain most of them were questioning who exactly was the beauty on his arm, he was happy to speculate that maybe a few of the gathered crowd had no idea who he was. He felt like a different person, oddly confident, ready to shine, and very, very aware of the feel of Snow’s arm on his own.

  One couple in particular caught his eye. A good-looking guy in deep blue and a pretty girl in white and pink. Joss and Meredith. And for once, Vlad didn’t care about what Meredith might be thinking. He was too wrapped up in the shocked expressions that had greeted them.

  But there it was, on the cusp of the other kids’ thoughts. Meredith’s words in his head. “Is that why he broke up with me? To be with her?”

  Vlad pushed her thoughts away and with them, his anguish at seeing the heartbreak in her eyes.

  Though the rest of the goth kids were nowhere to be seen, Henry was standing by the punch bowl with October; Vlad steered Snow toward them, smiling the entire time. October grinned. “You’re the perfect couple”

  Henry nodded. “Our work here is done.”

  He and October clinked their plastic cups together and smiled. Vlad was happy to see his two friends getting along and working together toward a common goal. Even if he was the reason that they had to work so hard.

  The evening proceeded with much more grace than Vlad thought was possible. He and Snow danced to almost every song, when they weren’t hanging out with Henry and October, who seemed to have developed a sort of friendship when Vlad hadn’t been looking. The music was incredible—a perfect selection of songs. The food was amazing. Even luck seemed to be on his side, as he didn’t see much of Joss or Meredith at all. Halfway through the night, a slow song came on, and Snow tugged him onto the dance floor with a gleam in her dark eyes.

  As they danced, Snow stepped in closer and Vlad let her. They swayed side to side, so close and warm, and Vlad’s heart fluttered happily. Then, without warning, his gums throbbed and his fangs elongated. Tensing, he snapped his mouth shut.

  Not here. Not now. Not when he was trying so desperately to quit drinking from Snow.

  Snow looked at him, concern filling her eyes. It took her a second, but when she realized what the problem was, that Vlad needed to feed and he needed to feed now, she tugged him out into the hall. Henry emitted a howl from across the room, which made Snow roll her eyes right along with Vlad. Once in the hall, Snow pulled him into a semidark corner, bent her neck to the side, and whispered, “Hurry. Before someone sees.”

  Vlad nodded, unable to speak, unable to refuse, only capable at the moment of hungering for what lay within Snow’s delectable veins. He pulled her closer, trying to be gentle, and bit firmly into her jugular. The sweet taste of war
m blood splashed across his tongue, and Vlad almost moaned with pleasure. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash—Eddie, probably, and his stupid camera—but he didn’t care. The hunger had him now. He drank deeply, filling himself with her essence, feeling his body growing stronger as hers grew weaker. For a brief moment, he opened his eyes, and over Snow’s shoulder he saw a face that he knew very well.

  Meredith’s brown eyes were wide, but not terrified. She muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” and turned to walk away, her eyes shimmering.

  He’d hurt her. Again, he’d hurt her.

  Vlad pulled back, withdrawing his fangs. They shrank into his gums immediately. He wiped the blood from his mouth with his palm. “Meredith, wait...”

  Snow crumpled to the ground, weak from his feast. Vlad crouched down, his eyes full of concern. He’d done it again, despite his determination not to. He’d fed from Snow. He’d treated her like nothing more than a cheeseburger. He’d hurt Meredith again and once more, he was hurting Snow. He couldn’t get anything right.

  He didn’t deserve either one of them.

  He met her eyes and she mouthed, “Go after her.”

  After a pause, a long pause, filled with doubt that seemed to stretch on forever, he bolted down the hall, back to the gym. Meredith was hurrying across the room, heading straight for Joss. Vlad reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Wait. Would you just wait?”

  She stopped suddenly but didn’t look at him.

  “That wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “So you weren’t just making out with that ... that ... that girl?” She flung an arm in the general direction of where they’d left Snow, her eyes furious, alive with jealousy.

  “No. I—wait, what does it matter to you if I was? You’re with Joss now, remember?” His voice had risen in anger and resentment. He didn’t mean for it to.

  Meredith’s cheeks flushed—mostly out of anger, but also because Vlad was right. It was no business of hers who Vlad made out with.

  Vlad blinked, uncertain what else to say. Part of him wanted to let Meredith run off, to be done with worrying about what she thought, to dance with Snow and feed when he needed and kiss her ... yes, kiss her. The other part of him wanted—needed—Meredith to know the truth, to know if she loved him no matter what fiendish beast lurked inside of him, to hold her close and transport them back in time, to when things were easier between them. He took a deep breath and spoke before he could stop himself. “I wasn’t kissing her. I was feeding from her. I’m ... I’m a vampire.”