by Adam Rex
“I think he’s okay,” said Jay. “Really. He’s safer than most people.” He turned on his television and began flipping up the channels to the Crypt, on which Vampire Hunters would be starting in a few minutes. “How is it looking?” he added, staring upward at the mysterious process that was playing out on his head. Cat had talked her way into coloring Jay’s hair black with a half bottle of leftover dye.
“It doesn’t look like anything yet. It looks wet. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be totally hot. Do you have any hair gel? I like that your hair’s messy, but there’s messy and then there’s messy—you know?”
Sejal pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin. She saw a panicky thrill in Jay’s eyes that told her that he didn’t know but wanted to.
“My hair used to be a lot more messy,” he said. “And blond. I used to have uncombable hair syndrome.”
Cat laughed. “You had what? Is that real? It sounds like one of those bullshit drug commercials, like for restless leg syndrome.”
“They’re both real,” said Jay. “I think. If you Google ‘uncombable hair syndrome’ you can find a picture of me from when I was four.”
“Oh my god. When I get this shit off my hands, I am totally doing that. Forget Crystal Math, when we start our band we’re calling it Uncombable Hair Syndrome.”
Sejal was content to let the two of them flirt as she fortified her position on Doug. She had a decision to make, and she was beginning to notice the return of a cowardly, impetuous approach to problem solving that was not characteristic of the girl she wanted to become. Fear and guilt boiled holes in her stomach. She was not being honest with Doug, but that would come to an end tonight. Unless he’d had an accident.
“Wait, what was that?” said Jay. He flipped backward two stations and stopped at a newscast that was live and in West Philadelphia. Police lights strobed on the screen. The sound came up by degrees.
REPORTER (V.O.)
…dria Franklin, an employee at the MoPo, describes what happened next.
MOPO CASHIER
After he…after he knocked out those two he chases after the third guy, an’—an’ they run out into the street, an’ just as he was about to catch the guy there’s this screech and the trolley comes and POOF!
REPORTER
Poof?
MOPO CASHIER
Yeah, poof! The hero guy disappears! An’ the trolley rolls right by! And there ain’t nothing left but his clothes!
REPORTER
I just want to be clear about this. The vigilante vanished and left his clothes behind?
MOPO CASHIER
Yeah. The cops took them.
REPORTER
What was he wearing?
MOPO CASHIER
A white cape and a hood. Like in a comic book.
“Oh my god. Like in a stupid comic book,” said Cat. Jay didn’t answer, only stared with hard features at the screen.
EXT. A WEST PHILADELPHIA DELI CALLED SAMMY’S II
REPORTER
The story may continue at this nearby deli, where a startled shopkeeper says he had a close encounter with the hero shortly after the foiled robbery. A close encounter of the…thirst kind.
CUT TO THE SHOPKEEPER, WHO DOES NOT APPEAR SO MUCH STARTLED AS VACANT.
REPORTER (off camera)
What makes you think it was the hero who came into your deli?
SHOPKEEPER
Well, it was, like, right after I heard what happened at the MoPo, you know? And…then there was suddenly this guy at the counter, right? And I thought, that’s weird, I didn’t even see him come in. He was just there, all of a sudden.
REPORTER
Was he naked? Or wearing a white cape?
SHOPKEEPER
Um, no. But he was really tall and musclely. Like a superhero.
REPORTER
And did this mystery man identify himself to be the MoPo hero?
SHOPKEEPER
Not exactly. Not exactly, but he acted like he was in a real hurry, right? And he bought some beer and some BullShake Energy Drink, right? Energy drink.
REPORTER
I see.
SHOPKEEPER
Plus, his driver’s license looked totally fake. Like it could be a secret identity.
PAUSE.
REPORTER
Should you have sold him the beer if his license looked fake?
SHOPKEEPER LOOKS CONFUSED, STARES NERVOUSLY AT CAMERA.
Just then something smacked hard against Jay’s bedroom window, and all three kids jumped.
“Holy shit,” said Cat. “Is that a bat?”
It was without question a bat, twitching, pasted flat against the glass like a Halloween decoration. It shook itself and flapped away.
“It must have been attracted to the light,” said Sejal.
“I…don’t think it was a bat,” said Jay.
“It was definitely a bat.”
“IT WAS A MOTH,” he answered in a voice that was suddenly like a car alarm. “A big moth. I have to go to the bathroom.” And with that he hopped to his feet and strode out of the room without moving his arms.
Cat smiled after him. “Weird guy.”
“He likes you,” said Sejal.
“Yeah. Probably just because his best friend likes you.”
“I don’t think this is true.”
Cat changed the channel until “Last week on Vampire Hunters” could be heard.
“You’re really not into Doug, are you?” asked Cat. “You’re just naturally nicer to him than everyone else.”
Sejal nodded. Her stomach seethed.
“If he asks you out again, you have to tell him no. Guys like him who haven’t hooked up much…they get clingy real fast.”
“I know this. You could say the same of Jay.”
“I’m handling Jay. But with Doug…trust me, it’s better you say something sooner than later. Just say dating’s not allowed in your country or your religion or—”
“I know, I know. I will tell him. Don’t eat my head.”
“Sorry, yaar,” said Cat.
Silence followed, and Cat turned up the sound.
EXT. FLOODLIT, TREE-LINED FIELD AT NIGHT
VAMPIRE HUNTER CREW STANDS IN A LOOSE LINE, REDEEMERS IN HAND. THEY FACE A SECOND LINE OF DRESSMAKER’S DUMMIES. ALAN FRIENDLY IN FRONT. MUSICAL STING #24 (REDEEMER THEME)
ALAN FRIENDLY
There! The San Diego vampires are before us! Present Redeemers!
CREW MEMBERS RAISE THEIR WEAPONS
ALAN FRIENDLY
Send those mothersuckers back to hell, boys! Fire at will!
CREW FIRES WEAPONS. QUICK CUTS OF DUMMIES STRUCK IN THE HEART WITH STAKES, DUMMIES STUCK IN THE HEART IN SLOW MOTION, DUMMIES STRUCK IN THE HEART IN BLACK-AND-WHITE WITH DRIPPING BLOOD EFFECT #3 (BLOODY VENETIAN BLINDS)
ALAN FRIENDLY
Equipped and confident, we set back out on the trail. Last week we learned that two individuals, quite possibly a vampire and his ghoul, robbed a bloodmobile outside the San Diego Convention Center. A convention center that was playing host to the largest pop-culture gathering in the world, Comic-Con International.
MONTAGE OF SCENES FROM PAST CONS, COURTESY OF COMIC-CON INTERNATIONAL
ALAN FRIENDLY (V.O.)
Comic-Con: four days of sights, frights, and delights in the heart of San Diego—
“They’re stalling,” said Cat. “They must not have anything good this week.”
“No,” said Sejal.
“I really didn’t mean to…eat your head?”
“Do you not say that here?”
“I don’t know, but I’m saying it every chance I get now.”
“I did not mean to snap. I’ve been testy. I thought I should try to like Doug. But I think I understand now that he is not my sort for a number of reasons. Jay is nicer.”
Cat nodded. “And kind of more fun when Doug isn’t around. Hey, you’re not gonna like Jay now, are you? Not that it wouldn’t be okay, but…”
&n
bsp; “No. It would not be good for me to date a boy with an Intel Quad Core with E-Line connectivity.”
“Right. Hey, stormtroopers.”
EXT. THE BEACH—A REGIMENT OF STORMTROOPERS RUN DRILLS
ALAN FRIENDLY (V.O.)
On Mission Beach we caught up with two Imperial Stormtroopers of the 501st Legion, who were attendees at the convention. Do you remember any people who could have conceivably been vampires?
STORMTROOPER #1
Dude, tons. (to Stormtrooper #2) You remember that vampiress with Arcade Comics? She was all kinds of hot.
STORMTROOPER #2
Totally. Her
ALAN FRIENDLY
Not on basic cable.
STORMTROOPER #1
Remember those slave Leias that posed for that big group photo with Jabba?
STORMTROOPER #2
(laughing) They weren’t vampires.
STORMTROOPER #1
Oh, right. Vampires. Well, there was that old lady dressed as Elvira.
STORMTROOPER #2
That was Elvira.
STORMTROOPER #1
And there was that guy dressed like that guy from Dark Shadows.
STORMTROOPER #2
And that girl dressed like that girl from that video game.
ALAN FRIENDLY
These are not the vampires we’re looking for.
“Heeey,” said Jay from the doorway, and he had Doug with him. “Look who I found.” Doug said hello and the girls answered.
Sejal supposed it was the sun allergy that made Doug always look better at night. He wasn’t wearing the same clothes he’d left in, and these new clothes were less than flattering—the T-shirt, in particular, looked like the sort of thing you’d get free for opening a checking account. Still, there was something very ripe and alive about Doug now.
“His clothes got all sweaty from the bike ride. So he stopped at his house on the way back. That’s what took him so long,” said Jay. Doug said and did nothing to confirm or deny any of it. He stood calmly in the doorway as though waiting to be invited in.
“What did we miss?” asked Jay finally as he went and sat down beside Cat.
“Whole lotta nothin’. They’re just fartin’ around San Diego.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, I mean…I didn’t want to miss it if they caught him.”
Doug had taken a seat behind the rest of them, but Sejal could feel his eyes on her. She stole a glance and regretted it—he was gazing at her, all right. That’s the word for it, she thought. He is gazing. The light of desperation, that faltering candle, was gone from his eyes. Now they were steady, warm, and even, and Sejal couldn’t explain the chill that seized in her chest.
“Excuse me,” she said, and left the room.
The hall bathroom did not lock. She didn’t really have to go, but she hiked down her pants and underwear nonetheless, going through the motions as though the dance itself might bring rain. She sat on the toilet and tried to work out why a girl from a house where people did not lock doors might now have groped every inch of a bald doorknob for something to turn or press. What was wrong with her? This was only Doug.
After what seemed the right amount of time she rose, dressed, washed her hands, and opened the door to where Doug stood in the hallway. She had to make an effort not to laugh or scream.
“I need to talk to you outside a minute,” said Doug.
Sejal stood silently for a moment, then sighed and followed him through the kitchen and out the back door. Across the deck, down stairs into the yard, he stopped by a weathered swing set. Sejal sat on one of the swings and curled her arms around the chains, because who could come so close to a swing set without sitting on a swing? But Doug stood before her.
“That’s perfect,” he said. “You on that swing set.” He didn’t elaborate on what was perfect about it. “I just wanted to tell you that things are going to be different now. I’m a different person than I was when you met me.”
“That is…remarkable,” said Sejal. “I met you only a week ago, no?”
The moonlight touched off a single cold spark in each of his eyes, and it was only now that Sejal realized Doug was not wearing his glasses. Sejal had had a good look at those lenses before, at the Coke-bottle curves of the glass, so now she relaxed, no longer clothed in the scratchy self-awareness that comes from being on display. There was no way Doug could see anything but smears of color. His familiarity with Jay’s house had been a good cover, but he was blind as a bat.
“A lot can happen in a week. A lot has happened to me just tonight—I’ll tell you all the details someday, but it can wait for now. I just want you to understand that we can take things slowly if you want, I have all the time in the world.”
Dating is not allowed in my country, Sejal repeated in her thoughts. It’s against my religion. I’m arranged to marry a cricketer. In fact, I’m already married now! A dozen dodges and excuses formed in her mind, but she stayed silent. If she could, she would have remained silent forever, but there was Doug above her like a vetala, a folktale spirit, demanding answers. Say the wrong thing and she’d never be rid of him. Speak properly and she could set him free.
“Doug, I’m not interested in you as a suit—as a boyfriend. I think perhaps we should not hang around anymore.”
Doug smiled. “You don’t mean that.”
Sejal blinked and skimmed back through her last statement for typos. Everything checked out.
“I do mean that. Actually.”
“There’s a lot you don’t understand,” Doug answered, “but you will. I’ll take care of you.”
Sejal laughed now, half from nerves. But then she laughed harder as a sort of slap in the face, the best she could do to soothe a bright animal whisper in her to flee, to put doors and distance between her and this boy—or else to attack, to push her sharp thumbs into his soft eyes. Gods, was it just a panic attack? Why did it feel like Doug was to blame? Her laughter, anyway, had the effect she wanted—Doug flinched, and a little of that old uncertainty flickered across his face.
“You’ll…” Sejal sputtered. “You do not need to take care of me, Doug. I will manage on my own, thank you. Why do you Americans think we are all orphaned children? For only pennies a day you can buy me a donkey! Excellent! Thank you. I’ll put it with the rest.”
“Hey. Hey! Why’re you…where do you get off saying shit like that to me?” said Doug. “No one says stuff like that to me. Anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” said Sejal, looking away.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing, saying stuff like that?”
Sejal sighed. “I am doing what needs to be done. I’m sorry if I…got mean about it.”
“You’ve been giving me signals. Don’t pretend you haven’t. You’ve been going out of your way to lead me on.”
“I am like that only,” Sejal insisted. “I’ve been trying to be friendly. I did not know you would…not see it like this.”
“So what’s wrong with me, then?”
“Doug—”
“No. Really. I’d like to know. I’m too short? Too fat? I can tell you without bullshit that I am maybe the second-strongest guy in school. Do you want to know how?”
“You are not kind!” Sejal said, braced forward, knuckles white around the swing set chains. “You are no better than you have to be. Why are you no better? Because people treat you poorly? You treat others poorly. You treat Jay poorly.”
“I’ve been nothing but nice to Jay today—”
“Yes. Today. It is like you’ve been running for office.”
They fell silent and the old nag of a swing set creaked and groaned. The leafy tangles at the property’s edge shuddered in the night air.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Doug said. “It’s not my fault, if you say these things.”
Sejal stood, feeling suddenly foolish, and put the black curved seat between her
and Doug. It shimmied and bumped against her hips. “I know what I’m doing. I have been trying to find something in you…I have been looking for your heart. There should be something divine in all our hearts.” She swallowed hard and her eyes rimmed with tears.
“Hey,” said Doug. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s all right.” He tried to take hold of her, but Sejal backed away and in between the swing and struts.
“There’s something wrong with me, too, Doug,” she said. “Something missing. That is how I can see it. But I’m trying to be better. You’re only trying to be admired.”
“Oh, and—and I suppose Adam’s a good person.”
“Adam? This has nothing to do with Adam.”
“He likes you.”
“He likes Sophie,” said Sejal.
She was cold and her feet were damp and she wanted to go inside and then to leave with Cat. After a moment Doug said something. Sejal couldn’t make it out as he barely moved his lips, so tight were they over his teeth. He looked as though he might be biting the inside of his mouth.
“I can’t hear you,” said Sejal. But Doug didn’t repeat himself, so after a moment she added, “I’m going in.” She walked back up the deck stairs and into the house (don’t turn around, she thought, don’t look), and left Doug alone below in the dark.
“How dramatic,” she whispered to herself sourly. “I should try out for the school play.”
25
BLOOD BROTHERS
IT HAD RAINED in the early morning. By lunch the world was as fresh and clean as a green apple. The air was spiced with the smell of new possibilities and taquitos. While most of the usual lunch group was occupied with a loud and stuttering debate over whether Andrea did or did not sleep with Blaine on Lexington Avenue (it was like watching toddlers play soccer, this debate—each new idea was swarmed and kicked simultaneously from all directions), Ophelia asked Sejal about the rest of her weekend.