Girls That Growl (10 page)

I open my mouth to respond, but suddenly nothing comes out. Did I really do and say all those things to her? Is that why she hates me so much?

"You always say the cheerleaders are elitist snobs," Mandy continues. "But as far as I see it, you Goths are just as bad, if not worse."

Before I can say anything she turns and stomps out of the locker room. The door slams behind her with an echoing bang.

My stomach twists into knots and I feel like I'm going to throw up. Is that really what everyone thinks of me? Am I just as bad as the cheerleaders? Condemning anyone who I deem less cool than me? Of course, maybe Mandy's just pro-jecting—to make herself feel better. But still . . .

I shake my head. No time to dwell on my own possible shortcomings. I've got to find Cait before she does something else to hurt herself.

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I push open the locker-room door and head out into the gym. The cheerleaders are sitting on the bleachers chatting amongst themselves. Mandy's nowhere to be seen.

"Have you seen Cait?" I ask.

Shantel gestures toward the exit. "Ran out," she says. "She looked really upset, too. What's up with her?

Is she okay?"

"Mandy," I say, as if that could explain everything. "I've got to go find her. I'll catch you guys later."

I run outside, following the paved path that leads from the gym to the football field. I find Cait down by the bleach-ers, crouched on the ground, head in her hands, sobbing.

"Cait? Are you okay?" I ask, approaching her cautiously.

"Go away!" she cries, waving a dismissive hand in my general direction. "You've done enough."

"Cait, don't let Mandy get to you. She's a bitch and every-one knows it." I lean down to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She swats it away.

"What did she mean, Rayne?"

I swallow hard, my mind racing for believable lies. But nothing's coming to mind. "About what?" I ask, stalling for time.

Cait looks up at me, an angry, accusatory look on her tear-stained face. "What did she mean when she said you blackmailed her to put me on the squad?"

"Um, I don't know," I say, laughing nervously. "Who knows what that girl means half the time! She's so dumb she—"

Cait scrambles to her feet, hands on hips, looking furious. I take a step back, worried she might actually try to hit me.

"Don't lie to me, Rayne!" she cries. "I can't take any more lies." She squeezes her small hands into fists.

Her whole body is shaking with fury. "Tell me the truth. Did you or did you not have something to do with me getting on the squad?"

I stare down at the ground. Time to come clean, I guess. Just hope she'll understand I only had the best intentions . . .

"Um, well, sort of," I stammer. "But only 'cause I thought you were so good. That you were better than anyone trying out. And I didn't want them to discount you because . . . because ..."

I trail off. What can I say? Because you don't have highlighted hair? Because your clothes are frumpy?

Because I didn't think your athletic skill would overcome your lack of style?

"Because I'm not cool enough to be a cheerleader," Cait finishes. "Of course. And you figured you'd help." She shakes her head, looking defeated. "God, how could I have been so stupid? To think they took me 'cause I was good enough. My mom was right. I'm not cut out to be a cheer-leader."

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"But you are!" I protest. "You're, like, the most talented cheerleader on the squad!"

"How would you know?" Cait asks, narrowing her eyes. "You suck."

Ouch. I wince. That hurt. Sure, I'm not the most natural cheerleader in the world. But I have been practicing. In fact, I thought I was getting pretty good—

"What I don't get is why you're even on the squad to be-gin with, Rayne. You don't like it. And you obviously think you're so superior to the rest of the girls. Why are you wast-ing your time? Filling up a slot that could be taken by some girl who actually enjoys waving pom-poms."

"Uh, well, actually that's a long story ..."

Cait rolls her eyes. "Whatever, Rayne. Just eff off and leave me alone."

She storms off. I watch her go, wishing I could stop her, to tell her that she's totally off base. But I guess in all actuality, she's not. After all, I
am
only on the squad to infiltrate the werewolf pack. To accomplish my mission, not have a good time, learn skills, and meet new friends. But weirdly enough, I also kind of enjoy it now. It's kind of fun in an odd way. And I do like a lot of the other girls . . .

(Please do
not
tell anyone, ever, that I just admitted that or I will hunt you down and kill you slowly with much tor-ture!)

I slump to the ground, furious at myself and the situation. Why did I think interfering with Cait's life was a good idea? I mean, I know I had the best intentions. But still! Now she'll never know if she would have made the squad on her own merit or if the only reason she's here is because of my stupid blackmail trick.

Mandy's right. I'm no better than the rest of them.

12

Too depressed to go back to cheerleading practice, I decide to head home. When I walk in the front door I'm greeted by the most glorious smell in the entire universe. Like a bug to a light I'm drawn to the kitchen, practically salivating over the aroma.

I find David at the stove, wearing my mom's apron, and stirring something in a pot. Ugh. For some crazy reason I was holding out some inane hope that my mom had somehow taken cooking lessons and was responsible for the delicious food currently being prepared. Even though I knew that was about as likely as Paris Hilton getting her MBA and launch-ing her own accounting firm.

I consider turning around and fleeing, running to my room—er, Sunny's room—but realize it's too late to do so in a way that wouldn't make David think I'm purposely avoid-ing him. Even though, of course, I am. But I suppose I've got to face him at some point and it might as well be when I'm in as bad a mood as I am now. After all, the night can't get any worse at this point.

"Good evening, Rayne," he says, turning to me, a big smile on his face. "How was school?"

Oh nice. I love how in the short time he's been here he's made himself so at home in
our
house. As if he belongs here and pays half the mortgage. Not to mention how he seems to think it's his job to play
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Daddy since poor Sunny and I are es-sentially without that whole father-figure thing. Next thing you know he's going to start asking how my grades are shaping up and if I need help on my homework.

"Fine," I mutter, opening the fridge to rummage through longingly. I'm so hungry. Well, not hungry exactly, but crav-ing food. Chocolate, ice cream, baked potatoes—heck I'd even take some of my mother's hippie hash or tofu burgers at his point. Just something to chomp down on, savor, and swallow.

I had thought that once I became a vampire all I'd crave was blood. I had no idea how much I'd miss chocolate chip cookies, pasta, and pizza. I'd almost sacrifice immortality at this point, just for one more Krispy Kreme donut.

"What are you cooking?" I ask, against my better judg-ment. I don't want to engage in any sort of meaningful con-versation with the intruder—make him feel like he's welcome or something—but my mouth is watering and my curiosity overcomes my good sense.

"Vegetable soup," he says, walking over to the counter and picking up a knife. I watch, enthralled, as he dices a car-rot. He grabs the slices and throws them in the pot. "I figured since this is a house filled with vegetarians, I'd better start learning to just say no to my meat-and-potatoes lifestyle and learn some new recipes."

I breathe in through my nose, savoring the soup smell. So good. So, so good. I have to fight the urge not to push him out of the way, grab the pot, and dump the whole thing down my throat in one gulp.

"Well, it smells delish," I admit.

"Sorry you won't be able to have any," he says in an overly sympathetic tone. "It must be hard to give up food." David works for Slayer Inc. and is one of the few people on earth that knows I'm now a vamp.

All I can say is he better never tell my mom.

I scowl. "What makes you think I want any?"

"The drool at the corner of your lips," he says with a chuckle.

Oh. I reach up to wipe my mouth with my sleeve.

"That's not from soup envy," I explain, even though of course it is. "It's the bloodlust. I'm actually contemplating sinking my teeth into your jugular and sucking all the blood out of you until you're completely dry and shriveled up." I don't know why, but I find it amusing to try to shock and anger him.

Unfortunately for me, he doesn't take the bait. "Sure you are," he says with a patronizing smile. "You forget I have ac-cess to your file, my dear. I know you're still on synthetics."

"You looked at my file?" I cry, up until this moment not even aware I had a file. But if I do, I know I sure as hell don't want my mom's boyfriend checking it out! "What right do you have to look in my file?"

"I'm your guardian," he says simply. "It's my job to know these things."

"Well, I'm going to tell Slayer Inc. I want a new guardian. Or no guardian at all. You're my mom's boyfriend. There's gotta be a conflict of interest in there somewhere."

"I checked out the rules and I assure you, Rayne, it's per-fectly on the up and up," David says. "And
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speaking of, how is your latest assignment going? Teifert tells me the cheerlead-ers are actually Lycans?"

I open my mouth to retort that it's none of his business when my mom walks in. All talks of the fanged and furry must cease.

"Hi, honey," Mom says, coming over to kiss me on the forehead. "How was school?"

I want to tell her about the football game. About my stu-pid English teacher who believes he's the greatest author since Shakespeare and forces us to sit and endure his poetry during class. And about a whole slew of other things that daughters share with their moms. But
he's
here. And I don't want him knowing anything about my life that he doesn't have to. He already knows too much—having looked into my file and all.

"Fine," I say, going the one-word answer route.

It doesn't matter anyway. Mom's already moved on to David, evidently feeling the one standard question satisfies her obligatory daughter-discussion requirement for the night. She walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. He turns around, soup spoon in hand. She opens her mouth and he gives her a taste.

"Mmm," she says. "Delicious." She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the mouth. So gross. I turn away.

"You're a great cook, sweetie. Much better than I could ever be."

"The neighbor's dog is a better cook than you'll ever be, Mom," I mutter.

Mom's face falls and I feel bad for being snarky. She tries hard. And she's never had any help. And look at her—she's happy! With a great guy who cooks. Why can't I be okay with that? But I can't be. I'm just too annoyed.

"Your mother is a fine cook," David scolds me. "And she works very hard. You guys should appreciate all she does for you."

Now he's lecturing me about being nice to my mom. I can't stand it! I'm always nice to my mom. Okay, well, the neighbor's dog jab wasn't exactly a Mother Teresa moment, but really, I'm a good daughter with lots of respect for the Momster. He so needs to mind his own business.

"Mom knows I appreciate her," I snarl. "And you're not my father."

"No," David says under his breath so Mom can't hear. "If I were your father I'd be off in the high-stakes poker room in Vegas."

That's it. I'm not going to take this from him. Not father cracks. Not when he should know how sensitive a subject that is with me. (If he'd read my file and all!) I start to lunge toward him, ready to attack. "You take that back!" I cry, shoving him in the chest. I catch him off balance and he falls back against the stove, making it look like my push was a lot harder than it really was.

"Rayne!" my mom cries, horrified and furious. She jumps between the two of us before I can take another swing at him. "Stop it! Now! What's wrong with you?"

David stares at me with cool eyes, as if daring me to keep going. I curl my hands into fists and take a deep breath, re-minding myself that in addition to being my mom's boyfriend he also works for Slayer
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Inc. How much power does he have over there, anyway? Could he tell Teifert about my outburst and get me nanoed?

I look at my mom. She's sunk into a kitchen chair, head in her hands. Is she crying? God, that stupid David made her cry. He so deserves me to kick his ass.

"You bastard!" I say, furious. "Look at what you've done! You made my mother cry."

"I didn't," David says calmly.
"You
did."

I look at my mom, waiting for her to defend me. To speak up and say that David should leave and that she'd made a big mistake asking him to live here. That she's very sorry she put me and Sunny through all this and wants us to be a girls-only family again.

But Mom doesn't say any of this. And when David walks over to her and puts an arm around her shoulders she leans into him, sobbing against his chest. I stare at them, realizing I've been replaced.

"Fine," I say, giving up. "I see how it is. I'm so out of here."

I walk up to my room (sorry, make that
Sunny's
room) and start stuffing my clothes into garbage bags.

First I'll go to England and then when I get back I'm going straight to the coven and moving in there. Or I'll hitch a ride to Vegas and shack up with Dad. Whatever. Just as long as I don't have to come home to Casa Unwelcome Rayne anymore.

You know, I hope Mom worries. I hope she thinks I'm dead and calls the National Guard or whoever you call when someone disappears. It will serve her right for siding with
him
instead of her own daughter.