Ninth Grade Slays (10 page)

Henry sighed, watching Eddie, too. “Yeah. And his name is Eddie Poe.”

9

SNOWFLAKES AND MEMORIES

VLAD OPENED HIS BOOK for the twenty-third time and snapped it closed again. Music thumped in a continuous rhythm, shaking the flame of his candle. How could he expect to focus on reading when several floors below, in Bathory High's gym, Meredith was likely twirling around the dance floor at the annual Snow Ball with her handsome, charming, what-a-swell-guy date? And Vlad, who'd been too chicken to even approach the thought of asking Meredith out again, was left alone and dateless while his two best friends were busy downstairs with dates of their own. It was a rather pathetic situation to be in, so Vlad did the next best thing to attending the semiformal dance alone—he went to his secret sanctuary in the belfry to mope.

Vlad had every right to mope. Henry had scored a date with a pretty blonde junior whose twin sister happened to have an enormous crush on Henry's brother, Greg. Joss had been even luckier than Henry, as he'd managed to score a date with the prettiest girl in the entire town.

Not that he deserved it. Not that anyone deserved a night out with Meredith Brookstone.

For about two seconds after hearing that Joss would be taking Meredith to the dance, Vlad hated them both with a deep passion. Then he felt an immediate mixture of guilt, stupidity, and self-loathing. Vlad should have asked Meredith to the dance weeks ago. But after their last date, he didn't have much hope in the world that she'd actually say yes anyway.

Vlad tried keeping quiet about his feelings, but every time Joss would ask him if he could believe that Meredith had asked him out, Vlad screamed
NO!
inside his skull. And Joss couldn't seem to take a hint. So finally, he'd snapped back one day at lunch that no, he couldn't believe she'd actually asked him out, because who in their right mind thinks anthropologists are hot?

Joss had sulked the rest of the day, but Vlad wasn't about to apologize. Joss had broken the biggest friend code there was: thou shalt not date the girl that thy best friend has a crush on.

All Vlad knew was that if Meredith's name popped up in the next “who's the better kisser” discussion at the lunch table, he might lose it all over his newest friend.

He leaned back in his chair and listened to the music drifting in through the arched windows. His breath formed small clouds of fog in front of his lips. The belfry was freezing, but he wasn't in the mood to sit at home and watch Nelly busy herself with holiday baking. Besides, the idea that he was probably the only person besides Eddie Poe who hadn't gone to the dance had made him feel particularly mopey—so, vampire slayer or not, Vlad had gripped the Lucis in his hand and threw glances over his shoulder at every tree, every bush, the entire way here.

He'd finished packing for the big winter break trip that afternoon, but there had been no further word from Otis, so he wasn't sure yet whether or not his packing was in vain. Rather than stay home and pace (not to mention mope), he'd come here to eavesdrop in the freezing cold.

So far, it wasn't doing much to calm his nerves.

Vlad held his hands up to the candlelight for warmth. The buckles on the backs of his fingerless gloves shined in the low light. Beside him, his father's portrait watched with a smile. The candle's flame shrank and, with a brief burst of light, went out. It was as if the belfry were telling him it was time to give up moping and go home. Vlad whispered into the shadows, to whatever ghosts might be listening, “I can take a hint.”

He glanced over the ledge before stepping out of one of the archways and hovering slowly to a tree near the parking lot. From there he made his way to the cement. He couldn't leave footsteps in the snow that seemed to come out of nowhere, especially not coming from the belfry. It's the little things that get you in trouble.

The snow crunched under his shoes as he made his way around to the front of the school. Vlad might be cold, but his curiosity had not yet been quenched.

Two couples stood just inside the double doors. He recognized Henry right away, despite the fact that Henry's face was buried in a scary-looking kiss with the blonde junior. They looked to be attached by suction cups that had been affixed to their faces. Try as they might to break free, Henry and the junior were trapped. And Vlad was pretty sure they were happy with their predicament.

But it was possible that they were attempting to gnaw each other's lips off. Vlad wondered for a moment if any of his vampiric nature had rubbed off when he and Henry were eight.

The other couple was standing in shadows, not kissing, but clearly standing very close. The girl glanced over her shoulder, toward Vlad, and with a word to her date, who nodded and headed back toward the gym, Meredith opened the double doors and stepped outside.

Vlad's feet were frozen to the sidewalk, but it wasn't due to snow or ice.

Meredith pulled her satin shawl over her porcelain shoulders and, with a shiver, managed a small smile. “Hi, Vlad.”

Vlad cleared his throat and looked down at his feet and over at the doors—anything but into her perfect eyes. “Hey.”

Meredith folded her arms in front of herself. Had she really braved the cold just to say hi to him? Vlad knew he should say something, but he wasn't sure what exactly. He'd narrowed it down to either something involving the weather or school, when she parted her pretty pink lips and asked, “Can I ask you something?”

Vlad smirked. “You just did.”

“Yeah, but I meant . . .” Meredith bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder at the door. Henry and the junior were still attached at the face. “Never mind.”

The sight of her turning away gave Vlad a shot of bravery that he desperately needed. “No, what is it?”

Meredith's cheeks were blushing, but Vlad couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or the intense cold. “Don't you like me, Vlad? I mean, after Freedom Fest last year, you just sort of avoided me. And then you didn't ask me to the Snow Ball. Did I do something wrong? I mean . . . besides asking Joss to the dance to make you jealous?” She shivered and looked at him with pleading eyes.

Vlad's eyes widened a bit. She'd tried to make him jealous. So that's why she'd asked Joss to the dance. Man, had it worked.

He took off his jacket and held it out for her. With a grateful nod, she slipped her arms into its sleeves. Vlad shivered against the cold but couldn't help but smile. The sight of Meredith's smooth skin sliding against the insides of his jacket was enough to keep him warm for at least the next few minutes. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

Meredith's hair was swept up away from her face. Tiny curls stuck out here and there, pinned in place by miniature rhinestone snowflakes. Real snowflakes joined them on the background of Meredith's lush chocolate hair. Vlad felt his heart squeeze its way up through his chest and settle in his throat. Meredith dropped her eyes to the ground between them. “So what is it?”

Vlad swallowed hard, but his heart refused to budge. “I don't know.”

She met his eyes. Vlad swore he could see the threat of tears in hers. “Are you sure you don't know? Or is it like Chelsea Whitaker says, that you don't think I'm pretty enough to go out with? Because I like you, Vlad. I really like you.”

Vlad wrinkled his forehead in confusion. Why on earth would Chelsea Whitaker think she knew anything at all about Vlad when the expanse of their interaction had been Chelsea making snide comments about Vlad and pulling stupid pranks that always seemed to land Vlad in detention? That sealed it. There was no way Vlad was ever going to be able to comprehend the complexities of teenage girls.

Meredith must have taken his blank, astonished stare for something that it wasn't, as she turned abruptly and rushed up the steps toward the double doors. Five more steps and she'd be through the door and on her way to Joss's arms. Vlad blurted, “I like you, too.”

Meredith stopped and turned around.

“I don't know, because this is still kinda new to me. You're the first girl I've ever asked out. I guess I didn't know the rules as well as I should have.” He swallowed hard and ran his tongue over his incisors. How could she like him? He was such a freak. Not to mention dangerous. Nelly had always said that women like a dangerous man. Was that it? On some level, could she detect the danger of him, and that's what she found so appealing? Or maybe, Vlad thought, it was nothing at all. “Maybe it was smart, asking Joss to the dance instead of me. But one thing's for sure . . . Chelsea's wrong. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen.”

After a pause, she gestured with a bent finger for Vlad to come closer. Vlad booked it up the stairs and nearly fell. Twice.

She laughed and brushed some snow from his blushing cheek.

Her fingers against his skin were all he needed to label this evening well spent, but then Meredith leaned closer and said, “You're sweet, Vlad.”

He was going to say that she was sweet, too, and he meant it when he'd called her pretty, that he had wanted to be the one to take her to the Snow Ball, but he'd been too scared that she'd say no. But there was no time. Meredith pressed her lips to his.

A moment that probably only lasted a total of two seconds stretched on into eternity in Vlad's mind. His heart had continued its journey north and slid out his ear—he was pretty sure it was now floating several feet above their heads. Just like that, the cold was gone. Meredith Brookstone had kissed him, and the world was right again.

She walked up the steps and pulled the door open. Vlad saw her smile in his direction before the doors squeaked closed. He reached up and brushed his lips with his finger-tips. His whispered words were a gray cloud in the cold air. “Thank you.”

After several minutes spent in front of the high school, staring at the doors in blissful contemplation, Vlad turned and started home. He was halfway there when he realized that Meredith hadn't returned his jacket.

Shivering, Vlad quickened his pace and squinted into the blowing snow. By the time he reached his house, his fingers had numbed, and his arms felt frozen to his sides. But his lips were still warm from Meredith's kiss.

He was crossing the street when he noticed a man standing on the corner, watching the house.

Vlad's heart shot back into his body and grabbed onto his ribs for support.

The slayer.

Vlad bolted across the street, toward the house. In a blink, he had the Lucis out of his jeans pocket and his thumb poised over the end—he wasn't sure what good it would do him against a human, but it was all he had. He hurried to get inside, both to protect Nelly from a madman and to get warm before he could formulate a plan. Maybe they could hide out in Stokerton for a while. Or, considering how unpopular Vlad probably was with Elysia for blowing a hole through their president last year, maybe not. He opened the gate and rushed toward the house but was stopped by a dark figure that entered his path. Vlad swore under his breath and pointed the Lucis at the slayer, but a strong hand gripped his wrist and pointed it into the distance. He looked up at the slayer's face, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“I'm glad to see you taking precautions, Vladimir. It's good to see you again.” Otis's entire face smiled. His eyes, lips, cheeks, even his chin seemed to have a pleasant glow. He stepped forward and grabbed a stunned Vlad into a tight hug. When they pulled apart, Vlad thought he caught a glimmer of relief in his uncle's eyes . . . until Otis smirked with bemusement at Vlad's lips.

Vlad rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. If Meredith had left glittered lip gloss on him, it was better that Otis saw it than Nelly. The last thing he needed was to be grounded for making out with a girl (not that he and Meredith were making out, but try explaining that to Nelly), when he was supposed to be sucking down sodas at Eat, Bathory's one and only diner. Sure, the name of the restaurant was Aunt Polly's Dining Emporium, but nowhere on the front of the building was that listed. All it said, in big red and blue neon, was EAT.

Vlad breathed a sigh of relief. No slayer. Not yet, anyway. "Uncle Otis. You could've dropped me a note or called or something. I didn't think you were coming.”

Otis raised a perplexed eyebrow. "Didn't you get my letter, inviting you to Siberia with me?”

Vlad shrugged. "Well, yeah. But that was a month ago. Where'd you go after that? I've got some questions I want to ask you about my abilities.”

“Haven't you been reading the book on vampire history your father left behind?”

"Of course. But, Otis”—Vlad shook his head—"no book has all the answers. Besides, I've missed you. Where have you been?”

The smile returned to Otis's face. He placed a hand on Vlad's shoulder and squeezed. “I've missed you as well. As for where I've been . . . well, we'll discuss that inside.”

As they turned toward the house, Vlad felt a strange nudge in his mind. He glanced at Otis and clamped down on his thoughts. His uncle wrinkled his brow before following Vlad up the steps. Vlad was about to ask why Otis had been attempting to examine his thoughts, when the door opened and a flushed Nelly welcomed them with a surprised smile and a plate of steaming cookies. “Otis?”

Vlad glanced at his uncle, whose eyes sparkled at Nelly. “How are you, Nelly? You look—”

“Cold? Because I'm cold.” Vlad nudged passed his aunt and sat on the stairs, where he removed his shoes and waited for the hushed whispers to end.

Nelly glanced at Vlad. “Where's your jacket?”

Before Vlad could answer, Otis stepped inside and took the plate from Nelly. “Chocolate chip. My favorite. I wouldn't suppose you could spare a little something to warm me up before I indulge.”