Vampire Kisses Series - Vampire Kisses Part 5

He grabbed handfuls of candy and stuffed them into his jeans. I watched as my remaining treats were strewn across the lawn. The only candy I could salvage were some boring Smarties and a smashed Mars Bar.

"Still want to be an item?" he asked, his pockets stuffed full with my night's work as he pulled me close. "Still want to be my girlfriend?"

Suddenly he let me go and started toward the Mansion. "Now I'll get some real candy."

I grabbed his arm this time. Who knew what Trevor would do if he reached the door?

"Miss me already?" he asked, startled that I hadn't run away.

"They're out of candy."

"Well, I'll just see about that!"

"Their lights are off. They went to sleep."

"This'll wake them up." He pulled out a can of spray paint from underneath his cape. "They definitely need someone who knows how to decorate!"

He walked on toward the Mansion. I ran after him.

"No, Trevor. Don't!"

He pushed past me. He was going to vandalize the one thing in this town that was truly beautiful.

"No!" I cried.

He popped the lid and shook the can.

I tried to pull his arm away, but he threw me down.

"Let's see...how about 'Welcome to the neighborhood!'?"

"Don't, Trevor, don't!"

"Or 'Vampires love company!' I'll sign your name."

Not only was he going to deface their property, he was going to frame me for it. He shook the can once more. And began to spray the Mansion.

I rushed to my feet and pulled back my tennis racket. I used to play with my father, and no game was more important to win than this one. I locked my eyes on the aluminum paint-filled cylinder as if it were a ball, and smacked it as hard as I could. The can spun off into the distance, and, like my usual game, I lost my grip and the racket went flying after it. Trevor let out a yell so loud I thought the whole world would hear. I guess I had hit more than the can.

Suddenly the front door light came on, and I heard the jingle of locks being unlatched.

"We gotta get out of here!" I yelled to Trevor, who was crouching down, holding his wounded hand.

I was ready to make my escape when I felt something I had never felt before: a presence. I turned around and let out a soundless gasp, because fear had taken my breath away. I stood frozen.

There he was. Not Creepy Man. Not Mr. or Mrs. Mansion Family. But Gothic Guy, Gothic Mate, Gothic Prince. He stood before me, like a knight of night!

His long black hair lay heavy on his shoulders. His eyes were dark, deep, lovely, lonely, adoringly intelligent, dreamy. A gateway into his dark soul. He, too, stood motionless, breathing me in. His face was pale like mine and his tight black T-s.h.i.+rt was tucked into his black jeans, which were tucked into monster-chic punk-rock combat boots.

Normally fear is something I feel only when I know my mom's hosting a Mary Kay party and wants to use me as a model. But we were on private property, and my curiosity to meet this strange creature was overwhelmed by my terror of being caught.

The tennis shoes really were a good choice tonight. I could hear Trevor yelling at me as he followed me in flight, "You monster! You broke my hand!"

I raced through the open gate and climbed into the waiting Camaro.

"Drive me home!" I screamed. "Now!"

Matt was startled by his unexpected pa.s.senger. He just stared at me, in silent denial.

"Drive me now! Or I'll tell the police you were involved!"

"The police?" he blurted out. "What's Trevor got us into now?"

I could see the angry Count Trevor running down the driveway, his cape flowing in the wind. He was almost at the gate. Gothic Guy hadn't moved but continued to stare straight at me.

"Drive! Just drive the freakin' car!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The motor started and we peeled away until the Mansion and its unusual occupants were out of view. I turned around and looked out the back window at a shouting Dracula Trevor chasing after us.

"Happy Halloween," I said to Matt as I let out a sigh of relief.

8

Looking for Trouble

I was making my way to history cla.s.s when I spotted Trevor walking ahead of me. I noticed something unusual about his indoor ensemble- he was wearing a golf glove on his right hand.

"Making a fas.h.i.+on statement?" I teased, catching up to him. "I guess it's a good thing you don't play soccer with your hands!"

He ignored my comments and continued to walk to cla.s.s.

"Guess you'll have to miss a few sessions of graffiti club," I joked. "Since your trigger finger is out of commission."

He stopped and stared at me coldly. But he thought better of speaking and walked on.

Ouch! I guess I hurt more than his hand.

"I see you made it home safely," I continued, pursuing him. "Matt took great care of me. He's a perfect gentleman!"

But then I realized everything. I had taken away Trevor's pride, his girlfriends, and now had forced his best friend to betray him and side with the enemy. I felt sorry for him...almost.

Trevor paused, staring down at me like he was going to explode. But I was distracted by a strange figure talking to the secretary in the princ.i.p.al's office. It was Creepy Man! Standing pale in the bright fluorescent light, his long gray overcoat shrouding his skinny body. And hanging from his pale, bony hand was my dad's tennis racket.

I pulled a fuming Trevor to the wall, where we could safely overhear the conversation.

"What are you doing?" Trevor asked, trying to wriggle away.

"Shhh! That's the butler from the Mansion!" I whispered, pointing.

"So what?"

"He's looking for us!"

"How can he be looking for us? It was dark, stupid!"

"That guy saw us! He probably found the spray cans on the lawn and whatever stuff you sprayed on the wall as proof! And he has my dad's tennis racket!"

"d.a.m.n, freak, if you hadn't hit me none of this would have happened."

"If you hadn't been born, none of this would have happened, you creep. Shhh, already!"

"Sir, you can leave the racket with us and we can make an announcement," I heard Mrs. Gerber reply. "What did you say the girl was wearing?"

"A tennis outfit, miss."

"For Halloween?" She laughed and reached for the racket.

But Creepy Man drew back. "I'd prefer to keep it in my possession for now. If you find the owner, she knows where she can claim it. Good day," he said and bowed to a charmed Mrs. Gerber.

I freaked and pulled Trevor behind a statue of Teddy Roosevelt. "It's a trap," I said, squeezing Trevor's gloved hand. "I'll show up and the police will be waiting with handcuffs!"

Students stared at Creepy Man as he walked creepily toward the front doors, glancing around as he left. He was looking for us.

"He's taking the evidence with him, and that evidence is worth two hundred dollars," I whispered to Trevor.

"Yeah, the evidence," he said. "Against you!"

"Me? Your fingerprints were all over it. That guy saw you, too."

"He only saw me running. He could have been after you. You were mad he ran out of candy, so you sprayed his house until he heard you making noise, then you dropped your candy and tennis racket when the lights came on," Trevor said, like he was Sherlock Holmes solving the Case of the Missing Tennis Racket.

"You're going to pin this on me? I can't believe you!"

"Don't worry, I don't think you'll go to jail over this, babe. You'll just get a major spanking by that crazy butler."

I had gotten in enough trouble for things I had done; I didn't want to be punished for things I hadn't done.

Trevor started walking to cla.s.s.

I caught up to him. "I'll drag you down so bad if anything happens!"

"Who will they believe, freak-an honors student who is a star soccer player or a two-bit gothic chick with one friend, who spends more time in the princ.i.p.al's office than in cla.s.s?"

"You owe me a tennis racket!" I shouted helplessly as Trevor sauntered off.

I admit it, Trevor had avenged himself for the Naked Woods Night. Because of him I'd lost my dad's fancy-schmancy racket. And more importantly, he'd made me the enemy in the eyes of the only people in town who might understand me and be my friends. They were my freedom from Dullsville and my connection to humanity, but now because of Trevor, the Mansion would be harder to get into than when it was boarded up.

9

Living h.e.l.l

"You what?" my father yelled during dinner after I told him I lost his racket.

"Well, it's not exactly lost. I just don't have it."

"Then get it back if you know where it is."

"That would be impossible right now."

"But I have a game tomorrow!"

"I know, Dad, but you have other rackets." I tried to deflate the power of that one particular racket. Big mistake!

"Others? It's that easy for you? just go buy another Prince Precision OS racket?"

"I didn't mean that-"

"It's bad enough you deface property at school!"

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Sorry's not good enough this time. Sorry's not going to win me my game tomorrow. My racket is. I can't believe I let you take it out of here in the first place!"

"But, Dad, I'm sure you made mistakes when you were a hippie teenager!"

"And I paid for them! Like you're going to pay for my racket."

My bank account had about five dollars in it, the remains of my Sweet Sixteenth birthday money. And I still owed Premiere Video twenty-five dollars in late fees. I quickly did the math in my head. Dad was going to have to keep my allowance until I was thirty.

Then he said the three words that reverberated in my head and made me go dizzy with fury. As he said them I thought I was going to explode into a million unhappy pieces.

"Get a job!" he proclaimed. "It's about time, too. Maybe that'll teach you some responsibility!"

"Can't you just spank me? Or ground me? Or not speak to me for years like parents do on those talk shows? Please, Dad!"