"Maybe you shouldn't invite a boy over you don't know," my mother said, sounding worried.
"That's what I said."
"Did he transfer to your school?" she questioned.
"No, I think he's visiting," Billy Boy replied.
"Who?" my mom asked. "Do you know his family?"
Billy Boy turned to Henry, who just shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm not sure I like you hanging around a boy who nobody knows anything about."
The truth was, Alexander and I did know—we just couldn't tell.
"Well, we'll find out all about him when we meet him tomorrow," Billy Boy concluded.
My dad quickly changed the conversation to Billy Boy's upcoming English project.
"It's Facts Versus Folklore. We got to choose from a bunch of myths and legends—mermaids, werewolves, trolls. Henry and I picked vampires. I figured if we bring in Raven we'll get an easy A," my brother said with a laugh.
"Billy—be kind," my mother scolded.
Little did they know who the real vampire at the table was.
In spite of my family's intense inquiries, I could see Alexander was having fun. I felt a twinge of melancholy for my beloved, who'd been forced to leave Romania and his family. I wondered if I would have been able to leave my whole family and Becky behind, move to another country, and live in a lonely old Mansion with just a butler for company. Even though the creepy man himself, Jameson, was a dear and trusted friend to Alexander and the Sterling family, he was centuries older. I'm sure the odd couple didn't talk about music, girls, and movies.
Alexander never once complained. However, I was relieved that I'd snuck into the Mansion and found my Goth mate there. By the way my boyfriend was beaming here at the Cricket Club, I'm sure he felt the same way.
Now that we all were together, I knew my family and I were safe. I just didn't know for how long.
After dropping Henry off, we all arrived home, our bellies filled with vinegar and chips and chocolate ice cream.
"I appreciate your inviting me out to dinner," Alexander said to my parents.
"We'll have to do it again," my dad said, shaking Alexander's hand.
I walked my boyfriend to Jameson's car.
"Tomorrow we'll have to be at the treehouse at sunset," he said to me as he leaned against the Mercedes.
Alexander touched my cheek with the back of his pale hand, then cupped my chin. He leaned in to give me a lingering good-night kiss.
I watched him as he drove down the street, off to his attic room. He would make the night pass with music and art until it was time to return to his coffin.
I opened my own bedroom door to find my kitten, Nightmare, on my bookshelf, hissing. I was holding her in my arms, softly stroking her nose, when I heard a scream. It came from Billy Boy's room.
I had just released Nightmare onto my bed and raced into the hallway when Billy Boy flew out of his room, crashing into me.
He almost knocked the wind out of me. "Get off, you doofus!" I yelled. "What's wrong with you?"
Billy Boy didn't speak; instead he pointed into his room. His door remained partially closed. It creaked as I slowly pushed it open.
The way he had screamed, I expected to see a dead body.
Nothing looked out of place—his dresser, closet, and bed were all in order.
"What's wrong with you? You were screaming like a girl!"
He shook his head and kept pointing in the direction of his computer desk. "Over there."
I crept over and glanced around. "Yes, this would frighten me, too," I said, holding up a pre-algebra book. "You are only in the fifth grade."
"No, outside—"
I peered out into the backyard. I could see our swing set and my dad retrieving a garden hose. I stepped back. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. Hanging upside down from the window casing was a very live bat. Two beady green eyes pierced through me. I couldn't move.
Just then my mom appeared. "I was in the basement and I heard someone shouting."
I turned to see Billy Boy poking his head out from behind my mother.
I looked back toward the window. The bat was gone.
"What happened?" my mom wondered aloud.
"Nothing," I said. "I think Billy Boy is afraid of his shadow."
"It was a bat!" he protested. "It had green eyes."
"Bats don't have green eyes," my mother argued.
"This one did and it was staring right at me!" my brother urged.
"It must be all that Mountain Dew you drank," I began, "combined with that Cricket Club hot fudge sundae. It all rushed to your head."
"Let's calm down," my mother ordered. "You both need some rest before school."
My mother went over to the window and peered out. She shrugged her shoulders and pulled his curtains closed. Then she switched off his computer desk lamp. "All the shadows are gone."
Billy Boy cornered me at the door as my mom went back downstairs. "I know you saw it," he said. "Just 'cause you didn't tell her doesn't mean you can catch it. It's not going to be your new pet."
"Don't worry. I couldn't afford to feed it," I said truthfully, and pushed my way past him.
That night I was more restless than usual. Not only had dozing off in Alexander's coffin disrupted my sleep pattern, but I was exhilarated. I, Raven Madison, had spent the daylight snuggling in a coffin with my vampire boyfriend. I wanted to scream it from the top of my lungs! I went to the window and peered out into the darkness. I didn't want to be alone.
I'd give anything to spend an eternity with Alexander in his attic room, in our cozy coffin. But there would be a price. I would have to say good-bye to all that I knew and loved—my parents, my best friend, Becky, even Billy Boy.
And then I would be trading mortal nemeses for nocturnal ones. I wondered if being a vampiress would bring me any closer to the Maxwells. In the underworld, except for Alexander, I might find myself even lonelier than in Dullsville.
I lay in bed, Nightmare cuddling at my feet while I doodled sketches of Valentine in my Olivia Outcast journal. He was a cartoonish-looking kid with spiky white hair, tattoos, and piercings.
Above him, I drew a bat with green eyes. I thought about where an eleven-year-old vampire could be sleeping his daylight hours away—Dullsville's cemetery? The attic of an old church? Or maybe he was hiding in piles of leaves in the Oakley Woods. And I wondered what he might be doing alone in Dullsville at night—spying on tween mortals, searching for vacant treehouses, or marking his future unsuspecting Dullsvillian prey? But then I began to think about how Valentine must be lonely without his family, isolated from his friends or guardians. Did he run away from home? Why wasn't Valentine with Jagger and Luna?
Then I drew Jagger—his blue and green hypnotic eyes, his skull tattoo, his white hair with bloodred-tipped ends. Above him, I sketched a bat with piercing blue and green eyes. I wondered what Jagger really wanted in life. Was he back home in Romania biting the necks of teenagers out for a night of clubbing? Did he really crave to be a soccer star, as Luna had revealed to me, the same way he craved blood?
I drew an image of Luna. A gothic fairy princess with long white hair and baby-doll blue eyes, decked out in a tight black dress with pink rubber bracelets, a choker, and pink combat boots. Above her I drew a bat with ocean blue eyes. A kindred spirit of sorts. I imagined her back in Romania, thrashing it up at an underground club, the flashing lights twinkling against her like tiny ghosts as she danced the night away, oblivious to the handsome clubsters surrounding her, and waiting for the perfect moment to stop and pick the neck she wanted to taste.