Girls That Growl
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GIRLS THAT GROWL
MariMancusi
Rayne McDonald
Vampire & Vampire Slayer
8 Peace Lane
St. Patrick's Cemetery
Oakridge, MA
(617)555-1432
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Mr. Joss Whedon
Producer of
Buffy, Angel,
and various other rocking shows Mutant Enemy Productions
Hollywood, CA
Dear Joss:
How's things in theWhedonverse ? Pretty dull, I bet, now that
Buffy
and
Angel
have bitten it and
Firefly's
flown. I mean, how wonderful can Wonder Woman be? Yeah, I'd be willing to guess you're just sitting around, twiddling your thumbs, dying to find the perfect project to sink your teeth into, right?
Well, Joss, look no further! Have I got a project for you! This would make an
excellent
TV show. Or even a movie. Or hey, why not both? (In case they bury the series on Friday nights and we end up having to push some DVDs.) It's got vampires and vampire slayers and best of all, it's absolutely true!
My name is Rayne McDonald and last year I signed up to be-come a vampire. I got myself on the waiting list, took my Vamp Certification class, etc., etc. But then, the night I was supposed to be transformed into a creature of the night, this idiot vampire assigned to be my blood mate made a huge mistake and bit my identical twin sister, Sunshine, instead. (Yes, Sunshine and Rayne. Think of all the joke potential in our names alone, Joss!)
Anyway, at the time, Sunny had no idea vampires even ex-isted (sad to say she's not a
Buffy
fan either) and she was so not happy to find out she was now morphing into one against her will. So she teamed up with the hottie vampire who bit her (Magnus, current master of our local coven) and the two of them managed to find the Holy Grail (!!) and remortalize her just in time for the prom. In the meantime, Sunny and Magnus fell in love and are presently doing the interspecies dating thing. (Think Buffy and Angel, though I'm guessing they can get it on without him going all evil and destroying the world. But since my sister is still a virgin, one never knows for sure . . .)
Good stuff, huh? But hold on to your pop culture clichés, Joss, it gets even better. The next week, this crazy antivampire company called Slayer Inc. suddenly informed me that I'm their new vampire slayer!
Me! The girl voted most likely to become a blood sucker is now supposed to slay them for a living. (Not that they pay me.Grr .) I tried to refuse, of course, but they insisted it's my destiny and threatened to kill me with some crazy nanovirus if I didn't take the gig. So what choice did I have, right?
So, during my first assignment—to kill an evil vamp who is manufacturing a blood disease that would weaken the vampire population and allow him to take over as master—I hook up with this uber-hot goth vampire Jareth. At first I don't like the guy much, but eventually he grows on me. You know, like Spike does with Buffy. (Except Jareth didn't go and withstand trials and torture to redeem his lost soul like Spike did for the Buffster. Do you think I should have held out for that?) In any case, together, Jareth and I were able to take down the Big Bad, as Buffy would say, and save the vampire world as we know it. Problem is, before we did, Maverick managed to infect me with the virus. To save my life, Jareth bit me and turned me into a vampire. By doing so, he also became infected.
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So now the two of us are essentially gimped vampires. We don't have superstrength, or superhearing, or super
anything,
really (well, besides my superGoth fashion sense, which I must admit is pretty darn super), but we do have some advantages. Unlike other vampires, we can go out during the day. And that makes us extremely valuable to the vampire community. (And great for a hit show on the CW!) As for Slayer Inc., they figured that having an actual vampire on the payroll could bring down their corporate image, so they put me on disability and started training the next girl. I still technically work for them freelance until the new Slayer is fully trained. But hopefully there won't be any actual assignments.
After all, I'm entering junior year in high school. I've got a hot new boyfriend. And I'm finally a member of the Blood Coven. Yay me!
So tell me, does this not sound like a series that will rock the socks of every teen in America? Come on, Joss. You know you want to become part of the Raynieverse.
Love,
Rayne McDonald
Vampire & Vampire Slayer
1
"So, should I or shouldn't I?" I groan and throw myself back on my bed. "Sunny, it's not something I can tell you either way. You have to de-cide for yourself whether or not you're ready."
"But you've been there. Done that."
"Yes, and I have the 'I lost my virginity to a skanky skater kid at camp' T-shirt. What of it?" I don't mean to sound flip, but this isn't the first time we've had this conversation. Now that I think about it, this isn't the tenth time either. And every time she brings it up, I say the same thing. Having sex for the first time is a personal decision no one can make but you.
"I'm not joking," Sunny protests, rummaging through my closet. As if she'd actually wear any of the striped tights, lacy skirts, or delicate corsets I've stocked it with. We may be identical twins, but she's strictly a jeans, tank, and flips kind of girl, even if her boyfriend is a vampire coven master. Not that Magnus would win Mr. Goth him-self. Which, in my opinion, is such a waste. Why be a vampire if you aren't going to take advantage of the basic wardrobe?
"Is Magnus pressuring you?" I ask, trying a new tactic. So help him if he's dicking my sister around. (Or trying to, as the case may be.) Powerful vampire master or no, I'll totally find a way to kick his scrawny English ass. "Like, is he saying he'll break up with you if you don't put out?" Needless to say, I've heard that line before. Stupid guys!
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"No, no!" Sunny says, sounding shocked at the idea. Of course. In her mind, MaggyWaggy walks on water and saves the world before breakfast. "He's been great. Patient. Sup-portive. He's left it totally up to me."
"So that should make it easy."
"Yeah, right."
"Sunny, come here." I motion to the bed. She leaves the closet and approaches me. "Sit down. Look me in the eyes and answer this question: Do you or do you not want to have sex with Magnus?"
Sunny flops back on the bed with an agonizing groan. "Can't we call it 'making love' or something? I mean, 'sex' sounds so clinical."
I dig my fingernails into my palms, wondering how I can run screaming from the room without offending her too much. I so don't want to be having this conversation.
"Sure, whatever, call it what you want, Sun," I force myself to say brightly. "Making love, screwing, doing the wild thing, hooking up, getting it on. It really doesn't matter what you want to refer to it as. Just if you feel you're ready. And if you want to."
"I want to," Sunny whines. "But I'm scared."
Okay, that's it. I've made the decision for her. "Fine. Then maybe you should wait. I mean, if you're this conflicted ..."
"But I love Magnus!"
How many years in jail do you think I'll get for killing my sister?
"Then do it. Or don't. I don't care. I don't even get why you're asking me anyway. You don't listen to anything I have to say!" I jump off the bed and head to my computer, loading up iTunes, ready to drown out anymore conversation.
Okay, fine, I probably sound like the worst twin sister known to mankind, but you'd be losing patience, too, if you had to have this conversation twenty times in one week. Especially if the other nineteen times you tried to impart wise, sisterly advice and she never listened to a word of it. At the end of the day, she's going to do whatever she decides to do. Hashing it out with me is only time suckage.
Sunny sticks out her lower lip in a pout. "Fine," she says. "Don't help me."
I turn from the computer, my finger still hovering on the PLAY button. "Sunny, if you don't stop this, I'm going to strangle you to death. And then you won't have a decision to make."
My twin opens her mouth to speak, but luckily at that moment the front door creaks open. Mom must be home. Time for all talk of sex to cease.
We head downstairs to greet her. She's got her arms full of groceries from the local Harvest Co-Op. I take a paper bag from her and bring it into the kitchen. Sunny heads to the car to grab what's left.
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"Thanks," Mom says as we put the groceries in the cabi-nets and fridge. I grimace as I pull out some kind of purple, crinkly vegetable I don't recognize.
"What is—?"
Mom shrugs."Idon't know exactly. But it was on sale."
Typical. Mom's an ex-hippie who used to live in an actual commune in upstate New York before my dad whisked her away and impregnated her with twins. She may be all soccer mom wannabe now, but her kitchen remains in the Age of Aquarius. If you can add tofu to a recipe, you can be sure my mom's done it. Not that it matters much to me anymore. As a vampire, I can't eat. Which is a relief, when it comes to Mom's cooking.
"So girls, I have something I need to talk to you about," Mom says, sitting down at the table after the groceries are put away. "It's about David."
David is Mom's boyfriend. Last spring we thought he was an evil vampire and tried to douse him with a Super Soaker amount of holy water. Turns out, he's actually a guardian for Slayer Inc., the company I've been working for. He fell in love with my mom while on assignment to watch over me. They've been dating all summer. He's okay, I guess. But kind of geeky and out there. Which makes him a good match for Mom, but annoying to be around at times. Luckily, he lives across town.
"He's going to be living here."
What?I look at Sunny and then back at my mom.
"Live here?" Sunny asks, sounding as incredulous as I feel.
"He's moving in? He can't move in! You barely know the guy."
Mom frowns. "Rayne, I will decide that, not you. And be-sides, it's only temporary. He's having his condo renovated and he needs a place to stay."
"No way!" I protest. "This house is a Girl's Only Zone. I mean, there are tampons in the bathroom cabinet. My bras are hanging from the shower curtain rod."
"Maybe this will encourage you to pick up after your-selves once in a while," Mom counters.
I decide to switch tactics, to avoid being hammered by a clean-up-your-room lecture on top of everything else. "Mom, what kind of moral lesson does this send to your daughters? Shacking up with some random guy!" I feign horror.
"Why, you're right, Rayne!" Sunny says, catching on. "Maybe I should see if my boyfriend wants to move in with me. After all, we've been dating at least a month longer than Mom and David."
Mom rolls her eyes. "Give me a break, girls," she says, unmoved by our shocked morality. "And besides, he's not staying in my room."
Sunny and I look at one another.
"Uh, where is he staying then? This is a three-bedroom house."
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"He'll be staying in one of your rooms," Mom explains in the most matter-of-fact tone, though I can see she's avoiding meeting our eyes. "You'll have to share a room while he's here."
Oh no. No way.
We will just have to see about that.
2
I can't believe it's the first day of school already. Seems like the summer flew by.
Sure, technically I don't
have
to go to school anymore. After all, I'm an immortal vampire. Part of the coven. I could just col-lapse on a velvet couch and sip blood cocktails from a crystal goblet. But at the same time, if I'm going to live thousands of years, I figure I might as well spend a few finishing high school. Get myself an education. After all, I've met more than a few undead dropouts and they're dreadfully dull at dinner parties.
Not to mention if I want to stay living with Mom and Sunny I've got to keep up the normal teenager act.
Still, as I walk down the halls of Oakridge High, dressed in a black lacy Lolita dress, fishnets, and platform boots, swinging my
Beetlejuice
lunchbox, I wonder if this really was such a good idea. I mean, it's so obvious I don't fit in here with the rest of the Mean Girls and jock boys. I watch them, as if I'm a fly on the wall, as they excitedly greet each other, first-day-of-school style. The trend slaves in their brightly colored, back-to-the-eighties, horizontal striped shirts, belts, and leggings. The retro grunger girls in their shapeless dresses worn over bell-bottom pants. The preps in their boot-cut denim and fitted collar shirts. Everyone has a style that suits their clique. Maybe in a bigger school there'd be others that look like me. Not here though. Oakridge High sucks.