Vampire Kisses (2 page)

M
y Sweet Sixteenth birthday. Shouldn’t all birthdays be sweet? Why should sixteen be any sweeter? It seemed like a lot of hype to me!

In Dullsville, they celebrate today, my sixteenth birthday, as any other day.

It all started with Nerd Boy’s shouting at me. “Get up, Raven. You don’t want to be late. It’s time for school!”

How could two kids come from the same parents and be so different? Maybe there is something to that theory about the mailman. But in Nerd Boy’s case my mother must have had an affair with the librarian.

I dragged myself out of bed and put on a black, cotton sleeveless dress and black hiking boots, and outlined my full lips with black lipstick.

Two white-flowered cakes, one in the shape of a 1 and the other in the shape of a 6, awaited me on the kitchen table.

I grazed the 6 cake with my index finger and licked the icing off.

“Happy birthday!” my mom said, kissing me. “That’s for tonight, but you can have this now,” she said handing me a package.

“Happy birthday, Rave,” my dad said, also giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“I bet you have no idea what you’re giving me,” I teased my dad as I held the package.

“No. But I’m sure it cost a lot.”

I shook the light package in my hand and heard a rattle. I stared at the Happy Birthday wrapping paper. It could be the keys to a car—my very own Batmobile! After all, it was my sixteenth birthday.

“I wanted to buy you something special,” my mom said, smiling.

I ripped the package open excitedly and lifted the jewelry box lid. A string of shiny white pearls stared back at me.

“Every girl should have a pearl necklace for special occasions.” My mom gleamed.

This was my mom’s corporate version of hippie love beads. I forced a crooked smile as I tried to hide my disappointment. “Thanks,” I said, hugging them both. I began to put the necklace back in the box, but my parents glared at me, so I reluctantly modeled it for them.

“It looks gorgeous on you.” My mom glowed.

“I’ll save them for something really special,” I replied, putting them back in the box.

The doorbell rang, and Becky came in with a small black gift bag.

“Happy birthday!” she shouted as we went into the living room.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You say that every year,” she teased and handed me the bag. “By the way, I saw a moving van last night outside the Mansion!” she whispered.

“No way! Someone finally moved in?”

“Guess so. But all I saw were the movers carrying in oak desks, grandfather clocks, and huge crates marked ‘Soil.’ And they have a teenage son.”

“He was probably born wearing khaki pants. And I’m sure his parents are some boring Ivy Leaguers,” I replied. “I hope they don’t remodel it and chase out all the spiders.”

“Yeah. And tear down the gate and put up a white picket fence.”

“And a plastic goose on the front lawn.”

We both giggled like mad as I stuck my hand into the bag.

“I wanted to buy you something special, since you’re sixteen.”

I pulled out a black leather necklace with a pewter charm. The charm was a bat!

“I love it!” I screamed, putting it on.

My mom leered at me from the kitchen.

“Next time we’ll give her money,” I heard her tell my father.

“Pearls!” I whispered to Becky as we left the house.

I was in gym class wearing a black shirt, shorts, and combat boots instead of the required white-on-white and gym shoes.
Really, what’s the point?
I thought. Does a white ensemble make a student a better athlete?

“Raven, I don’t feel like sending you to the office today. Why don’t you just give me a break for once and wear what you’re supposed to wear?” Mr. Harris, the gym teacher, whined.

“It’s my birthday. Maybe you could give
me
a break this once!”

He stared at me, not knowing what to say. “Just today,” he finally agreed. “And not because it’s your birthday, but because I’m not in the mood to send you to the office.”

Becky and I giggled as we went off toward the bleachers where the class was waiting.

Trevor Mitchell, my kindergarten nemesis, and his shuffling sidekick, Matt Wells, followed us. They were perfectly combed, conservative, rich soccer snobs. They knew they were great looking, and it made me sick that they were so cocky.

“Sweet sixteen!” Trevor said, obviously having overheard my chat with Mr. Harris. “How lovely! Just ripe for love, don’t you think, Matt?” They were close on our heels.

“Yeah, dude,” Matt agreed.

“But maybe there’s a reason she doesn’t wear white—white is for virgins, right, Raven?”

He was gorgeous, no doubt about it. His blue eyes were beautiful, and his hair looked as perfect as a model’s. He had a girl for every day of the week. He was a bad boy, but he was a rich bad boy, which made him very boring.

“Hey, I’m not the one wearing white underwear, am I?” I asked. “You’re right—there’s a reason I wear black. Maybe you’re the one who oughta get out more.”

Becky and I sat on the far end of the bleachers, leaving Trevor and Matt standing on the track.

“So how are you spending your birthday?” Trevor shouted, sitting with the rest of the class, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You and farmer Becky sitting home on a Friday night, watching
Friday the Thirteenth
? Maybe placing some personal ads? ‘Sixteen-year-old single white monster girl seeks mate to bond with for eternity.’”

The whole class laughed.

I didn’t like it when Trevor teased me, but I liked it even less when he teased Becky.

“No, we were thinking of crashing Matt’s party tonight. Otherwise there won’t be anyone interesting there.”

Everyone was shocked, and Becky rolled her eyes, as if to say,
What are you dragging me into now?
We had never been to one of Matt’s highly publicized parties. We were never invited, and we wouldn’t have gone if we were. At least I wouldn’t.

The whole class waited for Trevor’s reaction.

“Sure, you and Igor can come…but remember, we drink beer, not blood!” The whole class laughed again, and Trevor high-fived Matt.

Just then Mr. Harris blew his whistle, signaling us to hightail it off the bleachers and run like greyhounds around the track.

But Becky and I walked, indifferent to our sweating classmates.

“We can’t go to Matt’s party,” Becky said. “Who knows what they’ll do to us?”

“We’ll see what they do. Or what we’ll do. It’s my Sweet Sixteenth, remember? A birthday to never forget!”

T
he most exciting things to happen in Dullsville in my lifetime, in chronological order:

1. The 3:10 train jumped its tracks, spilling boxes of Tootsie Rolls, which we devoured.

2. A senior flushed a cherry bomb down the toilet, exploding the sewage line, closing school for a week.

3. On my sixteenth birthday a family rumored to be vampires moved into the haunted Mansion on top of Benson Hill!

The legend of the Mansion went like this: It was built by a Romanian baroness who fled her country after a peasant revolt in which her husband and most of his family were killed. The baroness built her new home on Benson Hill to resemble her European estate in every detail, except for the corpses.

She lived with her servants in complete isolation, terrified of strangers and crowds. I was a small child at the time of her death and never met her, although I used to play by her solitary monument in the cemetery. Folks said she would sit by the upstairs window in the evenings staring at the moon, and that even now, when the moon is full, if you look from just the right angle, you can see her ghost sitting in that same window gazing at the sky.

But I never saw her.

The Mansion has been boarded up ever since. Rumor had it there was a witchlike Romanian daughter interested in black magic. In any case, she wasn’t interested in Dullsville (smart lady!) and never claimed the place.

The Mansion on Benson Hill was quite gorgeous to me in its Gothic way, but an eyesore to everyone else. It was the biggest house in town—and the emptiest. My dad says that’s because it’s in probate. Becky says it’s because it’s haunted. I think it’s because women in this town are afraid of dust.

The Mansion, of course, had always fascinated me. It was my Barbie Dream House, and I climbed the hill many nights hoping to spot a ghost. But I actually went inside only once, when I was twelve. I was hoping I could fix it up and make it my playhouse. I was going to put up a sign that said,
NO NERD BOYS ALLOWED
. One night I climbed the wrought iron gate and scurried up the winding driveway.

The Mansion was truly magnificent, with vines dripping down its sides like falling tears, chipped paint, shattered roof tiles, and a spooky attic window. The wooden door stood like Godzilla, tall and powerful—and locked. I snuck around the back. All the windows were boarded up with long nails, but I noticed some loose boards hanging over the basement window. I was trying to pull them loose when I heard voices.

I crouched behind some bushes as a gang of high-school seniors stumbled near. Most were drunk and one was scared.

“C’mon, Jack, we’ve all done it,” they lied, pushing a guy wearing a baseball cap toward the Mansion. “Go in and get us a shrunken head!”

I could see Jack Patterson was nervous. He was a handsome crush-worthy guy, the kind who should be spending his time shooting hoops or making girls swoon, not sneaking into haunted houses to win friends.

It was like Jack had already seen a ghost as he approached the Mansion. Suddenly he looked behind the bushes where I was hiding. I gasped and he screamed. I thought we were both going to have a heart attack. I crouched back down, because I heard the gang approaching.

“He’s screaming like a little girl and he’s not even in yet!” one of them teased.

“Get outta here!” Jack said to the guys. “I’m supposed to do this alone, right?”

He waited for the others to retreat and then nodded to me that it was clear.

“Damn, girl, you scared me! What are you doing here?”

“I live here and lost my keys. I’m just trying to get back in,” I joked.

He caught his breath and smiled. “Who are you?”

“Raven. I already know who you are. You’re Jack Patterson. Your father owns the department store where my mom buys her swank purses. I’ve seen you working the cash register.”

“Yeah, I thought you looked familiar.”

“So why are you here?”

“It’s a dare. My friends think the place is haunted, and I’m supposed to sneak inside and get a souvenir.”

“Like an old couch?”

He smiled that same smile. “Yeah, goofball. But it doesn’t matter. There’s no way—”

“Yes, there is!” And I showed him the loose boards at the basement window.

“You go in first,” he said, prodding me forward with trembling hands. “You’re smaller.”

I slithered easily through the window.

Inside, it was really dark, even for me. I could barely make out the cobwebs. I loved it! There were stacks of cardboard boxes everywhere, and it smelled like a basement that had been there since the beginning of time.

“C’mon already!” I said.

“I can’t move! I’m stuck.”

“You have to move. Do you want them to find you with your backside hanging out?”

I yanked and pushed and pulled. Finally Jack came through, to my relief, but not his.

I led the terrified senior through the moldy basement. He held on to my hand so tight I thought he would break my fingers.

But it was nice to hold his hand. It was big and strong and masculine. Not like Nerd Boy’s, whose tiny hand always felt squishy and smarmy.

“Where are we going?” he whispered in a terrified voice. “I can’t see a thing!”

I could make out the shapes of massive chairs and sofas, covered with dusty white cloth, probably once belonging to the old woman who stared at the moon.

“I see some stairs,” I said. “Just follow me.”

“I’m not going any further! Are you crazy?”

“How about a full-length mirror?” I teased, peeking behind a cloth.

“I’ll take one of these empty boxes!”

“That’s no good. Your friends will kill you. You’ll be a laughingstock the rest of your life. Believe me, I know how it is.”

I looked back at him and saw the terror on his face. I wasn’t sure if he was scared of his friends outside or of the basement steps that might cave in at the slightest pressure. Or maybe he was afraid of ghosts.

“Okay,” I said. “You wait here.”

“Like I could go anywhere? I have no idea how to get back!”

“But first…”

“What?”

“Let go of my hand!”

“Oh, yeah.”

He let me go. “Raven—”

“What?”

“Be careful!”

I paused. “Jack, do you believe in ghosts?”

“No, of course not!”

“So you don’t think there is a ghost here? Of that old woman?”

“Shhh! Don’t talk so loud!”

I smiled with expectation. But then I remembered his gang’s dare and grabbed his baseball cap. He screamed again.

“Relax, it’s just me, not one of those spooky ghosts you don’t believe in.”

I carefully ascended the creaky steps and bumped into a closed door at the top. But it opened when I turned the knob. I was in a wide hallway. Moonlight was shining through cracks in the boarded windows. The Mansion seemed even bigger on the inside. I caressed the walls as I walked, the dust softly caking my hands. I turned a corner and stumbled upon a grand staircase. What treasures lay at the top of it? Is that where the ghosts of the baroness appeared?

I tiptoed up the stairs, as mouselike as I could in my heavy combat boots.

The first door was locked, as was the second and third. I leaned my ear to the fourth door, and I heard the sound of faint crying from the other side. A cold chill ran through me. I was in heaven. As I listened closer, I realized it was only the wind whistling through the boarded windows. I opened a closet, which creaked like an old coffin. Maybe I’d find a skeleton! The only thing I discovered, however, were several old hangers sporting cobwebs instead of clothes. I wondered where the ghosts were. I peered into the library. An open book lay on a small table, as if the woman who stared at the moon had been reading it when she died.

I grabbed
Romanian Castles
off the shelf, hoping it would open a secret passageway into a spook-filled dungeon. Nothing moved except a hairy brown spider that scooted across the dusty shelf.

But the next moment, I heard a loud sound and nearly jumped through the roof—it was the honking of a horn! Startled, I dropped the book. I had totally forgotten about Jack’s gang and my new mission.

I ran back down the grand staircase, leaping over the last steps. A bright light was beaming through the boarded-up windows in the living room. I climbed onto the bay window and peered out, safely hidden behind the boards. I could see the seniors sitting on the hood of their car, the headlights shining up through the gate of the Mansion.

One of them was looking in my direction, so I pushed Jack’s cap out through an opening between the boards and waved it like I had just landed on the moon. I felt triumphant. The seniors gave the thumbs up in reply.

I found Jack in a sweat, sitting in a corner of the basement on top of some wooden crates. He must have been thinking about rats as well as ghosts.

He grabbed me like a child grabs his mother. “What took you so long?”

I replaced the cap on his head. “You’ll need this.”

“What did you do with it?”

“I let them know you made it in okay. Ready?”

“Ready!” And he pulled me back through the window like the place was on fire. I noticed he didn’t get stuck this time.

We shoved the board back in place. It looked as if we had never been there. “We don’t want this to be easy for anyone else,” I said.

He stared back like he didn’t know what to make of me, or how to thank me.

“Wait! I didn’t get a souvenir!” he realized.

“I’ll go back in.”

“No way!” he said, grabbing my arm.

I thought for a moment.

“Here, take this.” I gave him my necklace. A black leather band with an onyx medallion. “It only cost three dollars, but it looks like it was owned by a baroness. Just don’t let anyone appraise it.”

“But you did all the work, and I’ll get all the credit.”

“Take it before I change my mind.”

“Thanks!”

He weighed the necklace in his hand and gave me a warm kiss on my cheek. I hid behind the crumbling gazebo as he ran back down to his buddies, dangling the necklace in front of their faces, getting high fives. They adored him now and so did I. I held my filthy hand against my freshly kissed cheek.

After that day Jack hung out with the cool club and even became class president. From time to time, I’d see him around the town square, and he’d always have a huge smile for me.

I didn’t have a chance to return to my Barbie Dream House. Word spread that Jack had snuck into the Mansion. Fearful that more kids might break in, police patrolled the area at night. It would be years till I visited the Mansion again.