Vampire Island (7 page)

All she needed to do was smoke out the Kriks. Once they staggered from the safe protection of their home, they’d be easier targets.

Every day, Maddy spied, but the house stayed silent. No bustle of illness, no emergency medical visitors. Nothing. If the von Kriks had been low profile before, they were keeping no profile now. Had the cookies failed her?

“Madison, you’re looking a little dried out,” her mother mentioned one evening as Maddy slogged past, a filled humidifier tank in each hand. “You and Lexie should switch chores. She’s so much stronger than you.”

“But I like this chore,” panted Maddy.

Her mother reached out and took a grip on one of the humidifiers so suddenly that Maddy lost her balance. “Careful, daughter. Recognize your limits. You might not be as able as you think.” Then she took hold of the other humidifier. In her hands, they seemed light as two batons. Mom’s warning me, thought Maddy as she watched her mother stride off to set the humidifiers in the hall. She knows I’m up to something, but she can’t stop me, either.

By the end of the week, Maddy was in total despair. The cookies hadn’t done it. How terrible to feel so fruitlessly fruit bat. Dragging home from school on Friday afternoon, Maddy picked a tick off a poodle and pondered what she’d done wrong. Maybe if she’d diced that garlic, she would have better diffused the fumes…

Then she saw it. A square of yellow, fluttering on the von Krik front door. She moved in closer.

The word on the paper said it all:
QUARANTINE
.

Lexie

F
riday night of the Midwinter Social, Pete Stubbe stood outside the Livingstone apartment, checking out Lexie’s all-vintage costume—flannel shirt, faded sneakers, and ripped jeans, the classic attire of doomed rock poet Kurt Cobain.

“Grungy,” he proclaimed with a nod.

“Thanks.” Lexie was happy with the way her costume had turned out. “Swashbuckley,” she complimented back. Because Pete was dressed in his favorite dueler’s garb—ruffled shirt, long black boots, and the dashing pencil mustache of Zorro. She took the single red rose he offered and tucked it behind her ear. “We sure have ‘Dressed for Effect.’ Come on in a sec while I do my nightly chore.”

“Uh, okay.” Pete looked uneasy as he shuffled into the Livingstone living room, where Lexie’s parents were rehearsing their new song, “Shiny Cobwebs.” “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone,” he called.

“Hello, Peter,” answered Lexie’s father in a strained voice. “Lexington, hurry up! You don’t want to be late!”

“Yes, go! Go!” agreed her mother.

As pleasant as her parents were to her other friends and neighbors, Lexie was disappointed that they’d never warmed to poor Pete. No matter how nice he was, Pete genuinely upset them. Now Lexie could hear that her father’s drumbeats were off as her mother plucked worriedly on her bass guitar. Unfortunately, Lexie had a weirdly similar effect on Mr. and Mrs. Stubbe, who were always trying to shoo Lexie from their home, too. Whenever Pete and Lexie discussed it, they concluded that both of their families not-so-secretly longed for their child to hang out with kids who were more normal than Lexie or Pete.

But Lexie also suspected there might be a bigger reason.

Lexie swung back to the bathroom and scooped a cup of dried wax worms and mealworms from the Bette’s Pets feed bag stored behind the toilet tank. She cracked open the bathroom window and spread the worms evenly over the windowsill. Even though they no longer communicated with other winged creatures, the Livingstones long ago had made a pact to offer free meals to them, out of respect to the hardship of foraging.

A pigeon, poised on the outside sill, regarded Lexie in his dime eye. He seemed to want to tell her something. He waddled and twitched in frustration. Her heart tugged. Of the many unexpected sacrifices the Livingstones had made in immigrating to the New World, losing the ability to chat with other animals had pained Lexie most. Only Hudson had retained this gift, and he rarely shared it. He said what went on in the animal kingdom stayed in the animal kingdom.

“Remember to tip the driver, kids,” said Lexie’s father, swiftly handing over the taxi fare as, over his shoulder, Lexie’s mother snapped a quick picture—a sweet if empty gesture, since of course there was no battery in the Livingstone camera.

“Have fun, good-bye,” she said with a wave as her father practically pushed Pete out the door.

Fun! Lexie winced from the word. Ever since the night of her non-professed love, Lexie had been avoiding Dylan like the plague. Specifically, the Bombastus Plague of 1837, when the Livingstones and other hybrids, deadly fearful of accidentally siphoning infected blood, had escaped to the one point of the Channel not teeming with bacteria.

For his part, Dylan was as easygoing as ever. He’d even texted Lexie a couple of times this week, asking if she’d hurt herself falling into his garbage can. Lexie could not bring herself to answer. She was through with humiliating herself over Dylan. She would admire him from afar, and that was it.

“No more moping, no more professing, and definitely no more showing off,” she told Pete as the taxi pulled up.

“Good plan,” he said. “Dylan doesn’t deserve you. Hope there’s a costume contest. I bet I’ll win it. Tonight should be way fun.”

That word again.

Inside, the cafeteria had been transformed. Lunch tables had been folded and stacked to give room for a dance floor, and kids bopped to the music and kicked up dozens of pink and silver balloons. Lexie had Mina radared within seconds. Her archrival looked delicately perfect in a lace top and jeans, with a violet ribbon strung through her curls. As soon as their eyes met, Mina pinched Lucy’s arm, and the two of them beelined over.

“Dyslexie, ew! Why are you wearing those grimy old pajamas?”

“Oh…because…” Lexie stared around, trying not to let the confusion appear on her face. Everyone looked great. Nobody had chosen to “Dress for Effect.” With the exception of herself and Pete, everyone had Dressed for Style. Compared with Mina, she felt taller and clumsier and more battish than ever.

“And if it isn’t Pete Stubbe.” Lucy sneered as she eyed Pete’s costume. “What’s your problem? Did you think this was a Halloween party?”

“Zorro is a romantic figure, appropriate for any social gathering.” Pete patted his glue-on mustache.

“Speaking of romantic, you two are perfect for each other.” Mina planted her hands on her hips as she stared from Pete to Lexie and back again. “Sometimes I think you two aren’t even from the same planet as the rest of us. More like…Planet Freak.” She shook back her curls as the others hooted. “Ooh, Dylan’s here. See ya.”

“I never mean to act freakish,” said Pete as they watched the girls take off. “And we’re dressed just the way we wanted, right?”

“‘I have never failed to fail,’” answered Lexie in a tone she hoped would have made doomed Kurt Cobain proud. Of course, K.C. had been proud to be a freak.

Lexie’s eyes followed Mina as she fluttered over to Dylan, who stood with Alex and the rest of their friends in the lunchroom doorway. Kids were grinning and nudging as they noticed Pete’s costume. Lexie wished she could share Pete’s attitude and not mind if kids didn’t totally accept her—except she
did
mind. I had to give up the language of animals, but I don’t speak the language of my classmates, either. I don’t fit anywhere, thought Lexie.

As if sensing her misery, Pete squeezed her hand. “Let’s try some of that strawberry fizz punch.”

Fun was nowhere in sight tonight. Sipping artificial strawberry flavor while Pete practiced his fencing moves, Lexie leaned against the wall. Everyone milled around, having a good time. Here Lexie had waited hundreds of years for her first middle school social, and she had read thousands of musty romantic books and poems, and she had spent millions of moments brooding over adorable Dylan, and not one single thing about love had turned out the way she’d thought.

Something pricked her eyes. Lexie blinked. She had read about tears, but never in her hybrid life had she managed to conjure one. Until now. What did it mean? Was it a sign that she was becoming less hybrid and more human?

She caught a teardrop on her finger.

DJ Jekyll’s voice boomed. “Okay, Cathedral Middle! Right now, we’re inviting everyone to ask your secret crush to one dance. Only your secret crush, though, and one dance only. So get brave, get busy, or get off the dance floor.”

Pete tapped her shoulder. “If you think he’s worth it, then you better get brave, Lex,” he called over the commotion.

“No way.” Lexie quickly wiped her tear on her flannel sleeve. “DJ Jekyll is talking about a
secret
crush. It’s no secret I like Dylan.”

“It is to me.”

Lexie froze. Slowly, she inched around to find Dylan standing right behind her.

“Really?” Lexie was stunned.

Dylan smiled. “Dance with me?”

“‘No one worth possessing / Can be quite possessed.’” At Pete’s sudden outburst, Dylan stepped back, palms up.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize.” He looked hard at Lexie. “Are you…possessed?”

“Not at all,” Pete answered for her. “But we came together, and we’ll probably leave together, too. You might say Lex and I belong together.”

“What are you doing?” Lexie squeaked, pinching Pete’s side just as Lucy reeled up and tapped Dylan on the arm.

“Wanna dance, crush?” Lucy giggled. “Mina says I need to be your bodyguard against stalkers.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Lexie.

Dylan gave Lexie one last bewildered look. She gazed back at him. Then, his hand caught in Lucy’s, he stumbled off. Heart pounding, Lexie watched them go before turning on her friend in frustration.

“Pete,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Was that supposed to be chivalrous? I
like
Dylan. You totally messed it up.”

Under the blue party lights, Pete’s yellow eyes seemed to glitter. Lexie wondered why she hadn’t noticed until now that Pete’s recent growth spurt meant he’d caught up to her in height. And was that mustache really glue-on? Because it perfectly matched Pete’s strange silvery hair. “It might not have been the best timing,” Pete admitted as he ladled his fifth cup of punch and downed it in one thirsty sip. “But I was compelled to say it.”

“You were compelled to drive away my crush?”

Pete looked dismayed. “When Mina made that remark about us both being from the same planet, something clicked inside me. Like, maybe you and I…we…?” He clasped his head in his large, heavy hands. When had Pete’s hands become so pawlike? “Or maybe I am the one who’s possessed! At nighttime, I can’t think as clear as by day. I’m confused, Lex—but I know that’s no excuse.”

And Pete looked so genuinely embarrassed that Lexie had to forgive him, with a quick touch of her fingers to his cheek. On contact, the tips of her fingers, as well as her ears and her nose, inexplicably tingled. Was it Pete’s skin, or hers, that was too hot?

“Let me make it up to you,” Pete pleaded. “Time for Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“First, we dance. Then, leave it to me.”

Lexie nodded. Together, she and Pete swung onto the dance floor. Immediately, Mina joined them, whirling into the group with Alex on her arm. Soon there was no room to move. Everybody had paired up with someone to protect somebody else’s crush, Lexie realized. Human behavior was so peculiar.

The music changed, signaling the end of the crush-dance, and Pete bumped deliberately against Lexie so that she jostled Dylan’s elbow. His eyes quizzed her.

“Hey, Dylan. Sorry about earlier,” Lexie stammered as Pete walked away. “Pete gets protective.”

“Sure.” Dylan shrugged. “But Pete’s not the only problem. You’re hard to understand yourself. And you’re the first girl I ever met who could spy from a fourth-floor window.”

“I wasn’t spying, really,” said Lexie. “I was planning to profess…something.”

“Know what I think?” Dylan leaned close toward her ear. “I think you prefer hanging out with freaky Pete Stubbe. I think you like standing on the sidelines with him better than getting to know a normal guy in a normal way.”

Lexie was speechless. Was Dylan right? Was freaky Pete doomed to be her destiny? How tragic! Yet Dylan was so boyish, so innocent, so
human.
Maybe she didn’t know how to relate to him in a normal way. Maybe she simply wasn’t normal enough.

By now, her crush had turned back to his friends. “Watch me,” he commanded, and everyone looked over just in time to see Dylan execute one of the world’s worst side thrust karate kicks, accompanied by a whoop as he went crashing to the floor.

“Oooof!” Dylan’s hands clasped his knee as he rocked back and forth.

“Dancer down!”

“Bring a heating pad!”

“Call an ambulance!”

“Find an ice pack!”

Teachers flew over. Even without her cowbell, Mrs. MacCaw took control. “The hospital is only a few blocks. We need a big, strong young man for you to lean on…” Her eyes searched for candidates.

“Me.” Lexie stepped forward. Another bat stunt, but necessary. After all, she was the strongest person here. She bent down and swept Dylan into her arms.

“Okay, that does it.” Mina raised her voice. “Is everyone watching this? Can we all just please admit that this is too weird? That a
regular
girl does not have the muscle to carry a
full-sized
guy?”

“But…Lexie wins the Presidential Fitness Competition every year,” said Alex.

“Yeah, and Mina’s always talking against Lex,” added Pete in a strong, deep voice. “Remember that time when she said Lex picked her nose with her tongue?”

Everyone nodded. Yes, they remembered. Mina glared at Pete. And now Mrs. MacCaw was leading Dylan and Lexie out of the gym.

“Do you care that I can carry you?” Lexie whispered to Dylan.

“Just don’t drop me.” Dylan hooked his arms tighter around her neck. Ooh, and he smelled so nice, thought Lexie. Like new sneakers and spearmint gum.

She carried Dylan the whole seven blocks down Lexington Avenue, all the way through the doors of the hospital emergency room. Dylan mustered a smile as Lexie settled him into a wheelchair. “I hope I did break my leg. Then I’ll get a cast and everyone can sign it.” So cute—even in his pain, Dylan was thinking about his buddies. Lexie gave Dylan a double thumbs-up as he was wheeled off for X rays.

“Goodness, Lexington Livingstone, I’d like to see an X ray of
your
bones,” joked Mrs. MacCaw as they settled in the waiting area. “Strong girl. You must drink plenty of milk.”

“Mmph.” Lexie tried not to gag at the disgusting mental picture of herself drinking milk, which she had not tasted in multiple hundreds of years—except that one time, right after the malted milk shake had been invented.