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Authors: Donaya Haymond

Tags: #Fantasy

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BOOK: Bite Me
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It was four-thirty in the evening when I boarded the late bus. Everything around me still had a faint sheen of unreality over it, three hours after my fight. The hour of detention hadn’t bothered me too much, since it gave me time to do homework without distractions. Unfortunately, my mind seemed to come up with plenty of distractions without any help.

Could this thing be controlled? I wondered. What on earth would I do if I automatically changed into a wolf whenever my feelings or desires got out of hand? Bizarre images flashed through my head: my ears shifting and growing fur when I was trying to hear something, going down on all fours when we had to do the mile run in PE. Despite my anxiety, I couldn’t help but snort at the sillier ideas.

“What’s so funny?” someone mumbled.

There always is a voice to pull me out of daydreaming. This time it was Taylor’s. She gestured to the seat next to her, sounding threequarters asleep. “Care to keep an old lady company?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah. Sixteen-and-a-half is so much older than fifteen-and-a-half. But I will sit, thanks.”
Taylor Calvin is my next-door neighbor and one of my best friends, though at the time she was a junior and frighteningly busy. As usual she seemed exhausted, slumped over her backpack which was on her lap. She had circles under her eyes that any raccoon would envy.
“Were you up all night?” I asked.
“Mmm.”
To get her to be coherent I had to prod her a bit. “Ty? Ty?”
She jerked up. “I’m sorry! I know I need to be strong! But everything has fallen, and they are watching. . .”
“Whoa, Taylor. I definitely don’t want to take all advanced classes next year if this is what it does to you. Do yourself and me a favor and sleep eight hours tonight.”
“Sorry, Dianne.” Taylor slapped both her cheeks in an effort to stay alert. “Strange things have been happening on top of everything else, and I find myself doing such unbelievable—oh, shouldn’t have said that. Never mind.”
“Chum, I know just how you feel.” To keep Taylor from dropping off again and leaving me alone with my thoughts, I added, “Got a secret of a dark and fantastical nature, I suspect.”
“You too, huh?” Taylor smiled. That was exactly what I liked about her. She could be offhandedly weird in such a normal kind of way, though her approach was more dreamy and poetic than my remarks of questionable sanity.
“Is the lack of sleep in any way caused by noises coming from my house?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Oh no, not at all. It’s probably a combination of overwork and nightmares.”
Vaguely I wondered if she was hiding something, but I couldn’t ask. She didn’t ask
me
what made my day so unusual.
We rode in silence for a while, the marks of the city thinning as we headed towards suburbia. Usually the sight bored me, but this time the ugly Pleasant View Apartments complex was on fire. Firemen, medics, police, and shaky survivors ran around, screaming.
“Hey, is that my music teacher?” Taylor asked groggily.
There were a few car accidents too. No one was hurt, but several drivers stood beside the wreckage and shouted at each other. I sighed. Everything was askew today. I decided to emulate my friend and dozed, leaning against her shoulder.
When I sat up again we were drawing towards our neighborhood. Common Lane–it used to be common land, open to anyone, until a few decades ago–is a series of townhouses, each one fronted by a scrap of lawn and domesticated trees, now turning into little towers of color in honor of September. The backyards are so small that Mom swears she would go insane if it weren’t for a very large park just a short drive away. Here she finds plenty of woodland for a she-wolf to work off stress.
Taylor needed to be poked a bit more once we reached our stop. She thanked me quietly and stumbled home. Her house is number 7762, we Anghels are in 7761, and 7760 was currently empty. The previous occupants were an old couple with a severe phobia about bats, so a few sightings of my father flying home was a bit too much for them to handle.
“See you later, Dianne,” Taylor said. “Sorry for being so out of it.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Get some rest,” I advised. She headed off, and I went inside. I had been turning my mind to other things, and then I suddenly remembered Tammy. That must’ve been why I closed the door with unnecessary violence.
“No need to slam the door, Dianne, I can hear you in any case,” called a voice from upstairs.
A voice again
, I thought, dropping my bag to the ground.
Will I never be allowed a reverie?
He came down the stairs slowly, also looking drowsy. Mom sometimes jokingly complains that by the time she’s fifty, Andy—that’s what she calls my father– is going to look like her kid brother. It is true that he’s been perpetually twenty-five for the past eighteen years. Dad was really twenty-two when he made his fateful solo trip to Romania and camped out at Dracula’s famous castle, but he claims that bleeding almost to death ages a guy a little. A century-old ghost of a twenty-fiveyear-old may be a more accurate description of his features. High school photos show a completely different Ferdinand Anghel from the one I know.
But I love the one I know. Call me a daddy’s girl; I don’t care. I have a similarly close relationship, not unusual for an only child, with my mother. I’m more like her in personality, but she isn’t as lonely. As a vampire, Dad has more trouble hiding what he is from people, and needs my company. He’s always around when I’m home, too. Mom often has meetings and extra work after school, but Dad works while the rest of us are asleep. Because of this, I tend to feel the way my mother would, but every day I express myself more and more the way my father does.
He came over and gave me a hug. I could feel the ridges of bone in his chest and the unnatural cool of his skin. “How was your day?”
“As usual, it’s do or Di,” I replied, squeezing tight. It was a little ritual we had, the hug and the silly pun with my name. “You should eat more, Dad.”
He let go and raised an eyebrow. As a small child, I spent months trying to do that, and never succeeded. “I seem to recall that as the father of a teenage girl in this modern age, I should be the one saying that. I did go for groceries last night, though. Found a new little butcher shop on the far side of town. In fact—no, you should go first.”
I went over to the kitchen for a snack. If we have non-family people over at our house we always have to empty the fridge. Typically, our stocks include milk, juice, fruits and vegetables, bottles of blood in neat rows, raw hamburger meat (Mom gets cravings sometimes), various dinners cooked up on the weekends and reheated over the week, a little junk food, and these weird red Plasma Pops. Dad was getting tired of slurping his meals all the time, so I came up with the idea of freezing the pig/cow blood into popsicles. They’re especially good on hot days, he says.
First I took some beef jerky, then felt horrified at the thought of my inner wolf springing up, and exchanged it for a cup of chocolate pudding. I pulled up a stool and sat at the square island in the middle of the room. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No thank you, I’m not hungry. Were there any catastrophes? Victories? Revelations?”
Not many people, when they imagine vampires, visualize them in green checked flannel shirts and blue jeans, perched on chairs in kitchens and asking their children about school.
I made an effort to stall. “Did I wake you up? You look sleepy and like you haven’t shaved.” Dad’s clothes are always immaculate, something that’s almost a religion to him, but his hair tends to be awful and he usually has some cuts on his cheeks and chin from a razor.
“No, I was up for a while. I just didn’t feel like it today. Mirrors are my least favorite piece of furniture.”
I shook my head sadly. “Very rude things, I think. Ignore you completely.”
“Now, Di. . .”
“All right, all right, my day at school. Well, it seems now that I am likely a supernatural on my own account, and not just by association.” I continued from there, swirling my spoon around in the pudding as I talked. My gaze stayed down on the counter, tracing the fake marble design. When I got to the wolf-claw part, I heard a sharp hissing noise and sat up.
My dad was folded and bent over, his elbows on his knees and his head just barely above the countertop. Though all the blinds were drawn to keep the lighting down, his eyelids were squeezed shut. After a moment, without moving, he whispered, “Go on.”
“There’s nothing else to tell. I was in detention today, and will have it for the rest of the week. Tammy might need stitches or something, and you can ground me if you want.”
He shook his head and looked at me. “I think you’ve gone through enough. I—I’m very sorry.”
“It’s not like it’s your fault. You didn’t know for sure, right? Besides, I’d rather exist as some kind of wolf-girl than not at all.”
“It’s not just that. It’s you feeling like you have to defend yourself, and me, every day. I can’t be the best father for you. If there were any way I could end it–”
“Hey, it’s okay. You and Mom are the best parents a girl could wish for. Besides, if you were like other dads, I might not see you as much.” Dad still looked despondent, so I hurried on. “And Mom can control when she changes most of the time, so I should be able to as well with a little practice. I wish I could ask someone about what’s going on. Wouldn’t it be great if there were werewolf doctors?”
A sudden light shone in Dad’s dark red eyes, and he banged a hand on the counter. “Of course!”
“Careful there, you might wreck it again.” Usually he made a sizable dent every time he made that gesture. Today, though, there wasn’t even an imprint.
“I was ready to tell you about an unusual thing that happened last night, but I didn’t know how much we would need it,” said Dad. “I found the location of a new butcher shop last Thursday, and decided to stop by. The manager had plenty of blood, and he asked me if I was here for Nat.”
“Who’s Nat?”
“That’s what I asked him, but then a man beside me spoke up and said
he
was called Nat. Apparently he usually came around during the
other
employee’s shift. Now I know why people continue to comment on my, um, complexion. He was very pale as well, and almost as thin. We helped each other load up our cars, and got to talking.” He paused for emphasis. “It turns out that I have found likely the only other vampire in this town, though it seems more than probable there are more in the world. His full name is Nathan Silver, and his office is only a short drive away. He’s a practicing physician.”
I blinked. “Wow. That is just too coincidental to be real. Did he say where he turned?”
It took Dad a moment to process the euphemism. “Dr. Silver was traveling in Los Angeles. He didn’t say when.”
“Hmm. Vampires are never close to home, are they?”
“I suppose the man-eating ones prefer tourists.”
“Did you get his number?”
“He gave me his card.”
I jumped up. “I’m done with what’s due tomorrow, Dad. Call now, please. I really want to find out all I can. Even if he’s never heard of what I have, at least I can get a check-up from someone who’s not going to scream and run away. We can be back by six to have dinner with Mom after her meeting.”
“I’d rather wait for her, Dianne. Oh. Ouch. Ahh... “ He grabbed his temples.
“What?”
“I suddenly have a headache. No, a migraine. Should I be able to have a migraine?”
Vampire health is not, and never will be, my strong point. “Maybe you should see the doctor too,” I replied, tossing away my snack and going to get my remaining homework. Dad mournfully swallowed an aspirin and washed it down with a sip of blood. As I worked, he crouched next to me at the kitchen table, staring into space. He stayed there until Mom came home.

Chapter Three
Leave Me

Mom, however, thought that we should wait until Friday night. “Are you sure that you can trust that man?” she asked at dinner. Dad sat with us just for the conversation.

“He seemed nice. . . besides, he is a vampire, “ Dad said, as if that automatically was a point in his favor.
I had been quiet for some time, but suddenly choked on my broccoli.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Dad interjected. “But if he has a secret of his own, he likely won’t reveal ours.”
“That’s what you said about Sh–”
Before I could finish the name, Mom shook her head urgently. “I thought you wanted to go to the doctor.”
“But you won’t let me!”
“I just want you to go the day after tomorrow, Di, so your father can check up on this Nat’s authenticity.”
Waving my fork to indicate resignation (kind of hard, but I pulled it off), I said, “Meh, if you say so. But do realize that I am going to be a social leper tomorrow.”
In a moment I wished I hadn’t said that, as both parents stared at the food, or lack thereof, in front of them. The only sound was of the Calvins next door laughing loudly enough for us to hear through the paper-thin walls between the houses.
Slow minutes ticked by, until a very slight whisper escaped Mom’s lips. I strained to hear, feeling absolutely terrible. She looked up, and her eyes suddenly brimmed. “Dianne, honey....” she quavered. Somehow it sounded unnaturally loud.
“I’m sorry if I was insensitive, okay?” Too much had happened that day. I had felt too much anger, confusion, dread, and defensiveness. No wonder I had gone feral at school.
I thought you would understand
, I wanted to say to my parents.
I don’t need someone to treat me either like a freak or a little kid. I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to be volatile.
My dad put down his cup, so utterly expressionless that I knew he must have been either furious or heartbroken. “So that’s what it looks like. Di, you might want to check your ears.”
“You don’t need to shout,” I replied, wincing.
“I’m not shouting. I am just barely speaking above my breath.”
Bewildered, I reached a hand up to the left side of my head, and gasped. A shaggy triangle of an ear met my fingers. Not only did it amplify the sounds I had been trying to hear, it was also pressed backwards, a canine signal of aggression.
“H-h-how d-do I turn it back?” I stammered.
“What were you trying to do?” Mom asked.
“I was trying to hear what you were whispering. I guess I wanted you to know that I was upset, too.”
“Well then. . .
stop trying
!”
The Calvins must have heard that, even if they were in the basement. I nearly jumped out of my seat.
Dad was pressed against the wall, completely shocked. “Why did you do that, Selene?”
She looked drained. “If Dianne can only shift involuntarily, she has to return involuntarily as well. See, her ears went back to human ones to avoid being hurt.” Then she ran over and hugged me tight. “I’m so sorry that I scared you like that. I’m sorry for all of this.”
“Earlier, I imagined this happening, actually,” I said, my voice muffled in her arms. “It seemed funny at the time.”
In a moment Mom let go of me. “That’s my girl. Though if you weren’t, I suppose you wouldn’t have this problem in the first place. Now promise me if you feel any strong emotion at school, excitement or loneliness or anything at all, you’ll run to a bathroom or somewhere you can be alone.”
I nodded mutely, thinking this moment certainly qualified.

BOOK: Bite Me
6.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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