Dance With a Vampire

  Just then a slight woman in a black DKNY pantsuit came over and stood beside our table. She had Trevor Mitchell’s face. It was his mother.

  “Hi, Sarah. Hi, Paul,” Mrs. Mitchell said. Her smile stretched so wide that her pink lipstick started to crack.

  Mrs. Mitchell studied Alexander, then me, mentally taking notes of anything she could report to her tennis friends.

  “This is a coincidence seeing you here,” my mother said.

  “Or fate,” Mrs. Mitchell corrected as she gazed at my boyfriend.

  “Oh…you know Alexander Sterling,” my mom began.

  “No, I’ve seen him about town, but I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him face-to-face.”

  Mrs. Mitchell extended her thin, flawless hand, complete with a French manicure and flaunting more dazzling jewelry than a saleswoman on QVC.

  Alexander quickly reached his own hand to hers. I felt like he was shaking the hand of the Wicked Witch of the West—without the green skin.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you out in daylight,” she stated flatly.

  When Alexander and his family moved to Dullsville, Trevor had begun the rumor that the Sterlings were vampires, fueled by Mrs. Mitchell’s remarks. I didn’t want to give my nemesis’s mother any more ammunition for her gossipmongering. Apparently, neither did my mother.

  “Alexander’s homeschooled,” my mother announced.

  You go, Sarah Madison, I thought to myself.

  “Trevor was seeing a girl from Romania,” Mrs. Mitchell said, then turned to Alexander. “I believe she was a friend of yours.”

  Alexander shrugged his shoulders. “We lived in the same town as the Maxwells, but we didn’t see one another much.”

  “Interesting,” Mrs. Mitchell retorted. “Anyway, she seems to have suddenly disappeared.”

  Then Mrs. Mitchell glared at me and raised one brown-pencil-drawn eyebrow, as if I’d had something to do with Luna’s departure—which I did.

  “Well, it was great seeing you,” my dad interjected, forcing an end to the horribly awkward conversation.

  “Of course. Mr. Mitchell will be arriving soon and I must get back to my table before they take it away. It was a delight to see you all,” she said, and headed back to her booth.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed to my father.

  We all breathed a collective sigh of relief, for different reasons, as we placed our blue linen napkins on our laps.

  As we perused the menus, I racked my brain for a plan.

  Just then a bearded waiter came over, recited the specials with a fake English accent, and dashed off with our drink orders.

  “Don’t be shy, Alexander,” my mother began. “Order whatever you like. They’re known for their fish and chips and bangers and mash.”

  “Alexander loves steak,” I suggested.

  “Then order the steak…. This is great, isn’t it? We really haven’t had a chance to talk. Either you two are heading out for the night or we’re surrounded by other parents at parties. It’s great to have the chance for a private conversation.”

  “So what sports are you into?” my dad asked. “Football or basketball?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Alexander’s an artist, Dad. He’s not into sports.”

  “Oh…,” my dad said, fidgeting in his seat, dumbfounded as to how he would communicate with another male now that the subject of athletics was off the table. “Uh…that’s okay,” he stammered. “Raven’s mother used to draw sketches when we first dated.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said.

  “What do you draw?” Alexander asked eagerly.

  “Oh, that was ages ago. I haven’t touched a sketchbook in years. What is your medium?” she asked.

  “Oil paint.”

  “What is your specialty?” my mom inquired.

  “Portraits. Family. Memories,” Alexander responded mysteriously.

  “Vampires,” I said proudly.

  My parents paused. “I see you have a lot in common,” my dad commented.

  “Raven’s exams are coming up,” my mom began, fiddling with her silver bracelet. “She said you were already taking your homeschool exams?”

  “Yes. I’ve completed them.”

  “That’s very impressive. Maybe some of your study habits will rub off on Raven,” my dad added.

  “Dad!” I whined, sinking in my chair. “Maybe we could finish with the interrogation after we order.”

  “You’re right,” my father agreed. “I’m hungry.”

  The waiter returned with our drinks. “Ladies,” the waiter said, holding his paper and pen.

  “I’ll take the Cricket burger, well done,” I said.

  “I’ll have the fish and chips,” my mother said with a smile.

  “For the young gentleman?”

  Alexander cleared his throat. “I’ll have the rib-eye steak.”

  “How would you like that prepared?”

  “Raw,” Alexander said matter-of-factly.

  My parents and the waiter looked at my boyfriend oddly.

  “He means rare,” I corrected. “Medium-rare.”

  I could see Mrs. Mitchell’s head lean ever so slightly out of her booth.

  “Yes, that’s what I meant,” he said with a strained grin.

  “And you, sir?”

  “I’ll have the shepherd’s pie,” my dad ordered, “and the green garlic and pea soup.”

  The waiter took our menus and scampered off to the kitchen as Alexander glared at me.

  “What did you order, Dad?” I asked, horrified.

  “Shepherd’s pie.”

  “No—the soup.”

  “Green garlic. Why, would you like to order some? We can get the waiter.”

  All at once, I imagined the plate of green garlic and pea soup being placed within smelling distance of my vampire boyfriend. Alexander would wheeze; then he’d turn even more deathly pale than he already was. He’d stand up, staggering and gasping for air. We were miles away from the Mansion, Jameson, and Alexander’s lifesaving antidote.

  “No—Alexander is deathly allergic to garlic!” I panicked. “We have to stop them; they can’t bring it out!”

  My dad’s easygoing disposition turned to concern. He tossed his napkin on the table. “I’ll cancel that immediately,” he announced, and hurried off to find the waiter.

  “I’m so sorry,” my mother apologized. “Can he eat nuts?”

  “Yes, it’s just garlic he can’t handle.”

  My dad returned to our table. “I changed it to a vegetable soup. You’re not allergic to green beans, are you?” my dad teased.

  We all laughed.

  “That’s an odd allergy,” my dad said. “How long have you had that?”

  “All my life. My whole family is allergic,” Alexander said innocently. “They’ve always been.”

  “Ahem,” I said, clearing my throat.

  I was getting overheated. My face was starting to flush and my heart was throbbing. First of all I was out on a double date with my parents; secondly my date was a vampire; and thirdly at any moment between the stacks of Abstract Algebra and Mathematics in Action, my brother might be meeting up with a tween bloodsucker.

  “Excuse me,” I said, shooting my chair back. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  Alexander rose politely, like a southern gentleman, as I rushed off to the ladies’ room.

  I was walking around the crowded bar when I bumped into someone.

  “Excuse me,” I apologized.

  “Following me to restaurants now?” a familiar voice said. I looked up. My heartbeat screeched to a halt. It was Trevor.

  “I believe I was here first.”

  “Technically not. I believe my mother was. I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you only ate in your dungeon,” he said with a sneering grin.

  Ever since Alexander and I had diverted Jagger and Luna from turning Trevor into a late-night snack at the Graveyard Gala—Trevor’s party at Dullsville’s cemetery—I’d
gained a little respect from Trevor at school. Though my nemesis didn’t know the Maxwells’ true intent, he did know that for the last several days I had been warning him about the nefarious duo. Still, Trevor couldn’t resist egging me on. His repartee was only slightly less biting than it used to be. Trevor and I’d been caustic to each other since kindergarten—it was the only way we knew how to communicate. Without that, we’d have no relationship. And that, I knew for sure, Trevor wasn’t ready to give up.

  “Is Alexander asking your father for your hand in marriage?”

  “Don’t be lame—”

  “Not even to prom? It’s next week. You’ll miss watching me be crowned Prom King. Too bad they don’t have a place for Prom Freak. They surely would have a tiara waiting for you.”

  I snarled at my nemesis and glanced over at Alexander, who was politely engaged in conversation with my parents.

  Prom? I hadn’t even thought about prom since Jagger, Luna, and now Valentine had arrived in town. Dullsville High was so small, all grades were invited to attend. Finally, I, Raven Madison, queen of the outcasts, had a potential date with the most gorgeous guy in all of Dullsville to the most important dance of the year, and I hadn’t even had the time to daydream about it.

  My best friend, Becky, was so busy with her boyfriend, Matt, that she and I hadn’t had a chance to dish about the prom. Of course, she’d be attending the ball with Matt, and Trevor would arrive with some gorgeous blond varsity cheerleader. And I would be escorted by Alexander Sterling. But would he even go after the fiasco at the Snow Ball several months ago where Trevor challenged him, forcing him to retreat to the Mansion?

  And would there even be a prom if the town of Dullsville knew that a preteen vampire was lurking somewhere in town?

  “Don’t forget to vote for me,” my nemesis said, disappearing into the crowd of patrons.

  I ducked into the ladies’ room, washed my hands in the white porcelain sink, and reapplied bloodred eyeliner to the corners of my eyes and snow-colored powder to my nervous brow.

  How would I manage to get us to the library in the middle of dinner with my parents, while the curious Mitchells sat at an adjacent table, without making a scene?

  It would take a miracle—or at least a ghost white lie.

  “I think Billy Boy should be with us,” I said when I returned to our table.

  My parents looked at me skeptically.

  “He’s at a Math Club party. I told you that,” my mom reminded me. “They’re providing dinner.”

  “You know how much he loves eating here. He’s crazy about the Cricket burgers. Now I feel bad, eating at one of his favorite restaurants without him—”

  “We can bring something home for him,” my dad offered. “Why the sudden interest in your brother?”

  Clearly my father wasn’t making this easy.

  “He loves the big-screen TVs. He whines enough as it is. I’ll have to hear about it for weeks.”

  “You don’t need your little brother as a buffer, do you?” my mom asked. “Paul, I think we’re embarrassing her. We’ll stop asking so many questions.”

  “No, you guys are great,” I assured my parents. “I just think he’d be upset to know we were so close and didn’t include him. How about Alexander and I just run over and pick him up?” I suggested. “It’s only a few blocks away. We’ll be back before our dinner arrives.”

  “He’s having his own party,” my dad said. “Right now they are probably exchanging prime numbers.”

  “Well, if that’s what you really want, Paul,” Mom said.

  “All right, I’ll get him,” my dad said resignedly, putting his napkin on the table.

  “No—I want to,” I said, standing up before my father could. “Alexander’s never been to the library.”

  My dad looked at me suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not sneaking off to a rave?”

  “In this town? No, but if I find out about one, you’ll know where we are,” I said with a wink.

  3

  Dead Tree Forest

  Alexander and I set off to do something I never thought I’d do: crash a Math Club party.

  My vampire boyfriend held my hand as we hurried through the strip mall parking lot, across a two-lane side street, and around a gas station. We were briskly walking past the small wooded area next to the library when we heard something off in the distance. It was the sound of a dog howling.

  We stopped in our tracks. Hair stood up on the back of my neck. The dog howled again.

  Dead Tree Forest, as I called it, was a two-acre undeveloped property with thick brush and foliage surrounding an inner layer of decay. The trees reached out for the sun and rain in vain; all that remained were wooden skeletons. Sometimes on the weekends I’d get my research from the library and do my homework among the rotting oaks and maples. There were more dead trees than live ones, but the heavy brush made it difficult to see through to the streets once inside the woods.

  In the seventies it was rumored that the woods were a haven for drunken motorcycle gangs. Others claimed no one was ever heard of coming out of the woods at nighttime alive.

  Streetlights illuminated the darkened exterior, casting an eerie glow.

  “Maybe Valentine is in there,” I wondered aloud. “Can you see him?”

  “I can see in the dark, but I don’t have X-ray vision.”

  “Valentine could be searching for more than a tree house—perhaps a meal? What if he plans to pounce on my brother the moment he walks out of the library?”

  The dog howled again.

  Alexander looked at me as if he, too, was uncertain about what lay in the woods—or rather who.

  “All right,” he said valiantly, and proceeded toward the trees.

  Now I was concerned for us. I clutched my boyfriend’s arm.

  “Wait,” I warned. “Who knows what he’ll do. Maybe we should just head for the library.”

  “You do realize he is eleven,” Alexander said to me.

  “But the same blood that runs through his veins also runs through Jagger’s and Luna’s. He isn’t like any other eleven-year-old. Plus, you know better than I do what he is capable of.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, putting his hand firmly on my shoulder. “That’s why you are staying here. If I can talk to Valentine, we can put this whole thing to rest. I’ll be right back.”

  Alexander pulled back a branch and disappeared into the brush.

  I waited for a moment, my heart pounding with anxiety. I couldn’t see anything from my vantage point. I wouldn’t be hurting anyone if I poked my head in to get a better view.

  I pulled a branch back and crept inside the thick brush.

  The foliage blocked out much of the streetlight and I could barely see the skinny trees before me. I guided myself around them with an outstretched hand in the faint moonlight.

  The wind whistled through the barren trees. I passed a creepy white broken fence with only a few pickets left, leaning like aging tombstones. I managed to carefully step over a few stumps, downed branches, and fallen trees.

  I couldn’t see Alexander anywhere. I could hardly make out the woodpiles, rocks, and discarded mattresses that were before me. Just then I heard a branch snap.

  I spun around.

  “Alexander?”

  I didn’t feel the familiar presence of my boyfriend. I turned back around and cautiously crept forward.

  It was impossible to tell where I was. I studied the ground to see if I’d made tracks, but the hardened dirt and dead grass showed no signs of combat boots. I stepped once more, not knowing if I was going toward the street or farther into the woods.

  The dog howled another time. Its cries seemed stronger. Was it howling at Valentine—or my own true love?

  “Alexander—where are you?”

  I remembered my parents were waiting for us at the Cricket Club. Alexander and I were supposed to return before the meals reached the table. We would have been back before the fish and chips arrived if I
hadn’t diverted us into the woods.

  “Alexander!” I called again.

  Then I realized if Valentine was here, my continued shouting was calling attention to my location.

  I heard a fluttering in the trees above me. I could barely see what looked like two frightened squirrels racing up a branch, running away from a winged creature. It looked like a bird, but then the moonlight illuminated its small, mouselike face. This was no bird—it was a bat. It hovered in place intently, then headed straight for me.

  I raised my arm to cover my face.

  “Alexander!”

  Nothing happened.

  I opened my eyes and saw the creature fly overhead, through a break in the trees, into the night sky. Then it disappeared.

  A hand fell hard on my shoulder.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I turned around.

  “I told you to stay outside on the sidewalk,” my boyfriend scolded.

  “Was that you?”

  “Was what me?”

  “That bat?”

  “What bat?” Alexander plucked a few twigs out of my hair and shirt, which I now knew he could easily see in the dark, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s get your brother,” he instructed softly.

  As Alexander led me back through the woods, I glanced up at the moon, wondering what, or maybe who, I’d just seen.

  4

  Library from Hell

  Dullsville’s library was a freestanding two-story brick building with white colonial columns, built in the late nineteenth century.

  My favorite memories of visiting the library were during Halloween. The librarians did their best to make it scary and fun. They’d decorate the shelves with cobwebs, dangle plastic spiders from computers, and place “terrorific” authors like Edgar Allan Poe, Stephen King, and Mary Shelley on display. I’d be greeted at the door by a witch and later check out a book from a werewolf.

  However, today wasn’t Halloween and I was going to be checking out more than literature. Alexander and I breezed through the automatic doors and past the “Used Books” drop box, the table of upcoming events, a cart of returned books, and the circular information desk.