Dance With a Vampire

  Alexander poured us sparkling cherry wine in pewter goblets.

  “This is way better than the Cricket Club,” I said.

  “To us,” he said as we toasted our goblets.

  The sparkling wine tickled my tongue, and Alexander and I began our meal.

  “Just when I thought you’d outdone yourself at the cave, you present me with a five-star dinner at a cemetery.”

  I gazed across the table, the candlelight glowing against Alexander’s pale skin, highlighting his dark, mysterious eyes and sweet smile.

  I had to pinch my arm to remind myself that this amazing and unusual romantic dinner with a vampire was undoubtedly real.

  As Alexander drove through Dullsville High’s parking lot, I couldn’t believe my eyes. A half-dozen white limousines were lined up at the school’s front entrance, dropping off groups of Dullsvillian teenagers as if they were movie stars. Next to the white stretches, Jameson’s black Mercedes looked like a hearse.

  From one limo emerged some of the soccer team members. A handsome Matt Wells extended his hand and helped my best friend, Becky, ease out of the elongated car.

  At the head of the monstrous limo line, out popped Trevor and Jennifer Warren. As if it wasn’t costly enough to arrive in a limousine, Trevor had a stretch for just the two of them.

  Alexander pulled over and, ever the consummate gentleman, helped me out of the car. While he parked the Mercedes, I admired the red, white, and pink balloons tied by red ribbon to the railings of the gymnasium entrance.

  My heart melted again when I saw Alexander in his silky black suit walking up the sidewalk of my school toward me.

  There were so many students going in the main entrance, Alexander held back. Though he was glad to be going, I could tell he was equally overwhelmed in his new surroundings. He wasn’t used to so many people in such a small area, fussing and flashing pictures.

  I pulled him away from the crowd just to be sure he’d be safe from the cameras.

  “Let’s go through here,” I said, stepping out of the crowded line.

  We started for the side door, which was not being used.

  As we walked through the corridors, Alexander studied everything—the trophy case, a display of yearbooks past, a bulletin board of weekly announcements. The mundane things I passed by on a daily basis and didn’t even notice were like fascinating artifacts to my boyfriend.

  “It’s like a museum,” he said.

  “A boring one, right?”

  “No, it helps me understand you more.”

  I gazed up at Alexander and squeezed his hand.

  As we headed for the gymnasium, we passed giggling girls in gowns running to the bathroom to touch up their makeup and gossip about their dates—or possibly us.

  Suddenly Alexander stopped. “Can we see your locker? I want to know as much as I can about how you spend your day.”

  “My locker?” I asked. “It’s just a junky aluminum closet.”

  “But it’s your junk,” he said in a velvety voice. “I want to know everything about you.”

  His comment took my breath away. I held his hand in mine. “It’s back this way.”

  190

  We walked past the auditorium and biology and chemistry labs.

  I spun the dial back and forth to the unlocking coordinates and opened my locker.

  I was stunned. There, hanging on my door and filling the thin locker walls, were tiny painted portraits of Alexander and me. One of us in front of Hatsy’s Diner, one dancing at Dullsville’s golf course, and one designed with four vertical poses, as if it were a strip from a photo booth.

  “These are amazing!”

  Alexander beamed as one by one I viewed his astounding works of art.

  “How did you get in here? I thought I was the only one who liked to sneak into places.”

  “I’ve been trying to give these to you since the cave. But I think this worked out better.”

  “I love them!”

  “Now you can always see us together—and be like all the other girls with normal boyfriends.”

  I gave Alexander a huge hug and kissed him tenderly.

  “I don’t want a normal boyfriend.”

  191

  He pushed my hair off my shoulder.

  “I don’t want to leave them,” I said of my prized possessions. “I want to stare at them forever.”

  “Well, the real thing will have to do for tonight,” he said, taking the picture of us on the golf course from my hand and tacking it back on my locker door. “I can hear the music starting.”

  I shut the door on my picture shrine, and Alexander and I eagerly made our way to the gymnasium.

  In bold letters above the gymnasium door hung a sign that read VIVA LAS VALENTINES. Red and white Mylar balloons and bright candy-colored streamers hung down over the entranceway like a beaded curtain. Dozens of Dullsville’s decked-out students were mingling and filing into prom. I opened my silver chain-link purse and handed our tickets to an attending chaperone. I looked up. It was my study hall teacher, Mr. Ferguson.

  “I see you finally came back,” he said sternly, referring to my not returning to study hall.

  “There was a long line at the water fountain.”

  Mr. Ferguson studied Alexander as we quickly filed past him and made our way into the gymnasium turned ballroom.

  While the Snow Ball was elegant with its winter theme, the Prom Decorating Committee had outdone itself. Gigantic Necco-like candied paper hearts hung from the rafters like sugarcoated snowflakes. Phrases like BE MINE, TRUE LOVE, LET’S KISS, BE GOOD, SWEET TALK, and MY LOVE—in baby blue, Barbie pink, sunflower yellow, winter white, lavender lilac, and mermaid green danced within arms’ reach in the air above us. The white gymnasium walls, normally covered with Dullsville High banners, were replaced with three-foot-high cupid cutouts and pink hearts. The hardwood basketball floors were sprinkled with red and white heart-shaped confetti. In one corner, a photographer was stationed to snap pictures of gown-and tuxedo-clad students with a giant red heart and white lacy valentine as a backdrop.

  The band the Caped Crusaders, four men in their thirties wearing trendy black suits with cupid wings and white tennis shoes, were jamming on a makeshift stage underneath the home team’s basket.

  Dullsville’s students had metamorphosed from cheerleaders and jocks into princesses and princes. Girls glistened in their evening gowns—a rainbow of pink, blue, red, and orange dresses from Jack’s department store swept over the basketball court as if we were at a Hollywood premiere.

  I noticed a small brunette girl in an amazing blue vintage gown holding the hand of her dashing young date.

  “Becky!” I called, running over to her.

  “Raven! I rode in a limousine!”

  “I know. I saw you get out. You looked like a movie star!”

  “You are the prettiest one here!” she gloated.

  “No way, you are! That dress is so you—and so gorgeous!”

  While Becky and I gushed, Alexander and Matt made small talk.

  “Let’s get our picture taken,” Becky said. “All four of us.”

  My heart sank. Again I would have to miss pictures with Alexander.

  “I’m still blinded from all the flashes at home,” I said.

  “Very funny.” Becky pulled my arm and eagerly led me to the photo area. I glanced back. Matt was following us, but my dark-suited boyfriend stayed still.

  “Where’s Alexander?” Matt asked. “I thought he was right behind me.”

  “He hates pictures. Something about them stealing your soul,” I rambled on.

  A crowd of promgoers gathered, waiting for their Kodak moment. All of a sudden, Becky pulled Alexander from between a group of couples standing behind us.

  “Your turn,” the photographer said, pointing to me.

  I froze, but Becky pulled me to the black duct-taped X marked on the center of the floor. “I’ll cherish this forever.

  “Maybe they’ll pick this on
e for the yearbook,” she continued.

  “We can only hope,” I said through a cheesy grin.

  “I didn’t know vampires showed up on film,” I heard one of the students say. They were referring to me.

  The photographer angled Becky and me in a V shape and arranged Matt and Alexander behind us as if they were giant game pieces.

  I glanced back at Alexander, who I was surprised to find smiling for the camera.

  “On the count of three,” the photographer said. “One, two—”

  “Hachoo!” I said, faking a sneeze.

  “Bless you,” my friends said.

  “Gesundheit,” the photographer said, stepping away from his digital camera. “Again, on the count of three.” He focused behind the camera. “One, two—”

  “I really must get a tissue,” I said, holding my hand up.

  Becky held my arm so I couldn’t move.

  “I have three hundred pictures to take this evening. I can’t take the picture if you keep moving,” the photographer warned.

  I could feel the crowd around us getting restless.

  The photographer stepped behind the camera.

  “One—” The flash went off. Tricky man. Luckily the room was bright enough that the flash didn’t blind me, much less Alexander.

  Another couple scurried toward us, making their way for our spots.

  “I’m thirsty,” Alexander said anxiously, suddenly leading me through the crowd and away from the photographer.

  As Alexander and I made our escape, I could hear Matt calling us.

  “We have to take it again,” he said. “The photographer cut Alexander out of the picture.”

  My nonphotographic boyfriend and I gathered at the punch bowl. The refreshment table was sprinkled with red and white chocolate Kisses, bowls of Red Hots, and heart-shaped boxes filled with more chocolates.

  I saw Jennifer Warren in the black cocktail dress I had wanted to purchase at Jack’s. I was still annoyed she had pulled the dress out from under my nose, but she really did fill out the dress so beautifully that I couldn’t help but tell her so.

  “That dress was made for you.”

  “And yours as well,” she said with a catlike grin.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  Deep down I knew she didn’t mean it as a compliment.

  Trevor, in an unbuttoned sleek black tux, crisp white shirt, and solid red silk tie, walked over to Jennifer.

  He looked me over from my midnight black hair to my charcoal witchy boots.

  “Too bad you didn’t want that dance,” he said softly. “I was planning on showing you a night to remember.”

  “It will be a night to remember. Only I’ll be forgetting you were in it.”

  Just then, Alexander stepped between us. The Caped Crusaders began to play “Love Shack.”

  “May I have this dance?” Alexander said, offering his hand.

  We left Trevor by the refreshments and for the next hour, Alexander and I rocked and rolled until I was seeing hearts. Finally we were both so exhausted, we headed back to the punch bowl for a pick-me-up.

  Mr. Ferguson took center stage and stood in front of the Caped Crusaders. “I’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight for Viva las Valentines!” he said into the microphone to massive applause. “I’d like to thank the Decorating Committee for volunteering their time and transforming the gymnasium into a valentine paradise.”

  “Go, Becky!” I shouted, clapping for my best friend, who was standing next to me.

  “And finally to Shirley’s Bakery for the candies and refreshments,” Mr. Ferguson continued.

  “Now we’re applauding the punch bowl,” I whispered to Alexander.

  “I am very pleased to announce tonight’s King and Queen.”

  “Woohoo!” a soccer snob shouted over the sound of applause.

  “Drumroll, please…,” Mr. Ferguson commanded.

  The crowd stood quiet as my study hall teacher opened a letter-sized valentine.

  “I’d like to present to you this year’s Prom King…Trevor Mitchell.”

  Trevor high-fived his soccer-snob teammates and ran up onstage like he was receiving the World Cup.

  I rolled my eyes. “Big surprise. When Daddy owns all the land in Dullsville,” I whispered to Alexander, “he can afford to buy his son a throne.”

  Heather came over to Trevor, who was now standing center stage, waving to the crowd, and placed a silver staff in his hand and a crown on top of his blond locks.

  “And this year’s Prom Queen…” Mr. Ferguson opened the second valentine and began to say, “Jen—”

  Jennifer Warren started for the aisle.

  Mr. Ferguson’s eyes bulged out like Jameson’s. He cleared his throat and said, “I mean, Raven Madison.”

  The crowd went quiet.

  “Raven Madison,” he said again.

  I stared at Trevor, who gave me a triumphant wink.

  All eyes were on me as the spotlight hit my face.

  “This must be wrong,” I said to Alexander.

  Jennifer Warren stood stunned at the foot of the stage. “This is my senior year! I demand a recount!”

  Becky started clapping. “Raven, Raven!” The other promgoers were as shocked as I was, but they joined her.

  “Raven! Raven! Raven!” the crowd began to cheer.

  “Get up there,” Becky said, pushing me toward the stage.

  I gathered my dress and walked up the few stairs toward the stage. It felt like an eternity, walking in slow motion, as I headed over to Trevor and Mr. Ferguson. Heather came over, gave me an evil look, put a silver faux-diamond-encrusted tiara on my head, and handed me a bouquet of red roses.

  I awkwardly smiled as the crowd cheered. I felt like I was in a scene from Carrie. I now knew what my payback from Trevor would be. He’d imagined that I’d be excited that I, the school oddball, had been chosen by the student body to be Prom Queen. At any moment, just like in the horror film, a bucket of pig’s blood would fall on me, embarrassing and belittling me in front of the whole school.

  Only I had a different weapon than Carrie had.

  A Victorian parasol.

  I opened my elegant umbrella and glared back at Trevor, then the crowd.

  I waited. And waited. And waited.

  Nothing came down. Not even heart-shaped confetti from the ceiling.

  I stared out into the crowd of Dullsville High faces, all looking confused. Then it hit me and I realized my fate.

  Trevor had a far worse plan for me than embarrassing me with pig’s blood—he wanted to dance with me in front of the whole school and, most important, Alexander.

  “This dance belongs to Prom King and Queen Trevor Mitchell and Raven Madison,” Mr. Ferguson announced.

  All eyes were on me. I wanted to run, but I was surrounded by staring students.

  Trevor gripped my hand harder than a goalie holding a soccer ball.

  I saw Alexander, who stared back at me, his eyes lonely, clapping with the rest of the students. I felt awful holding another guy’s hand in front of Alexander, especially the hand of my nemesis.

  Trevor led me down the steps of the stage and pulled me into the center of the dance floor.

  The lights dimmed, and red hearts danced around the gymnasium walls and floor.

  I could barely breathe. Trevor put his arm around my waist and pulled me close.

  I was dizzy from the lights and the music. I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t invite Alexander to come with me to prom to watch me dance with Trevor Mitchell.

  I didn’t care what prom protocol dictated or who Trevor had paid off.

  I pulled away from my nemesis. “You fixed this,” I yelled over the music. “I’m not really Prom Queen. This dance belongs to Jennifer Warren.”

  “Don’t ditch me in front of the whole school,” Trevor said through gritted teeth, trying to grasp my hand back.

  “Forget it!”

  “Once a freak, always a freak. I’ll get you, M
onster Girl.”

  Trevor’s words churned through my veins like jagged glass. As far as Trevor and I’d come in the last few weeks, we were right back to being two kids in kindergarten.

  I pulled my tiara off my head.

  Jennifer, who was being consoled by the Prada shoe snob, smiled at me.

  “This belongs to you.” I handed her my tiara.

  I turned around, triumphant, to celebrate with my vampire boyfriend.

  Instead, all the smiling faces I saw were mortal.

  I looked everywhere, making myself dizzy searching for Alexander in the sea of promgoers as they watched Trevor and Jennifer Warren dance. It took me a moment to catch my breath, my heart was beating so fast. I pushed through the crowd and found Becky and Matt. “Where is Alexander?”

  “I don’t know. He was here a minute ago. I can’t believe you are Prom Queen! Why did you give your tiara to Jennifer?”

  “We’ll talk later. I have to find Alexander.”

  “Hey—we have to retake the picture of us,” Matt called to me.

  I searched the tables where couples were sitting. Not a vampire among them.

  “Have you seen Alexander?” I asked our class treasurer.

  “Who’s Alexander?”

  I ran over to the punch table. A few couples were munching on chocolate Kisses.

  “Have any of you seen Alexander?”

  “Alexander who?” one kid answered. “The zombie? I think he’s already been buried.”

  My heart sank.

  I raced to the side exit. A sign read EMERGENCY USE ONLY. IF DOOR IS OPENED, ALARM WILL SOUND.

  Drats!

  I passed the photographer, who was dismantling his equipment. I flew out the gymnasium entrance and hurried down the hallway.

  Memories of the nightmarish end to the Snow Ball came storming back to me. Running outside in the pouring rain, finding a lone Alexander, begging him to talk to me as he walked home to the Mansion.

  However, when I opened Dullsville High’s main door, it wasn’t pouring rain—or raining at all—but was cool and quiet.

  “Alexander!” I called.

  There, standing at the bottom of the stairs with his back toward me, was my vampire boyfriend.