“I think she probably can’t hear you. That club can be deafening.”
“I’ll try again.”
I pushed redial and waited.
This time she picked up right away. “Raven, is that you?”
“Yes! Can you hear me?”
“Raven—is that you?”
“Yes!” I yelled.
“I think it’s Raven—but I can’t hear her,” she said to someone.
“Scarlet? Onyx? Are you there?”
The call was dropped. All I heard was my own voice shouting.
“I guess we’ll have to try later,” Alexander said, resigned. He wiped off the damp bench with a tissue he had in his pocket and sat down.
“If she can’t hear my invite, then maybe she can see it.”
“What do you mean?”
I sat down next to Alexander and texted as fast as I could. He peered over my shoulder, curious.
Onyx and Scarlet—
Mansion Mayhem!
Mansion on top of Benson Hill only a few towns away.
Saturday Night @ Sunset
Raven
“Now what?” he asked.
“We wait.”
“How long?”
“If she sees the message, it could be within a minute. If she doesn’t, it could take days.”
“We don’t have days.”
“I know….”
We sat in silence, his arm around me, my cell phone in my lap. We both were zoned out when we heard a few beeps. I showed Alexander my phone.
Can’t W8 2 party w/u!
X, S & O
Alexander gave me a huge squeeze, and we spent the rest of the evening pressed against each other’s black and pale red lips.
10
Interview with a Vampire
The party at the Mansion was going to have to be top secret. I couldn’t even invite Becky and Matt. I hated having an intimate party and not inviting my best friend. However, I had to remind myself of the motivation for the party—to get Sebastian’s mind off Becky and onto a vampire girl.
Becky and I sat at a side entrance to the school, she intently eating her lunch on a step while I was perched on a half wall, doodling a macabre party in my notebook.
A figure stood next to me. “What’s that?” Trevor said, snatching my notebook.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“It looks like a sketch for a funeral.”
“And if you’re lucky—or rather, I am—you could be the guest of honor.” I tried swiping it back, but he held it out of reach.
“You and your friends are having some gathering where you try to bring back the dead—”
“We call it a party,” I said back to him.
“A party? And when should I be there?” he asked.
“A party? Who’s having a party?” Becky asked, placing her trash into her brown lunch bag.
“Uh, no one. Trevor’s just mouthing off.”
“Well, your sketch looked exactly like a party to me.”
“There isn’t a party—not now, not ever! C’mon, Becky, let’s go. This location is suddenly very unappetizing.”
Trevor remained at the half wall, puzzled, as Becky and I escaped into school.
Sebastian and Alexander were hanging out in the gazebo when I arrived.
“We’re going to have a party,” I said to Sebastian.
“I know, Alexander told me all about it. I do appreciate the lengths you guys are going to to repair my broken heart,” he said dramatically, his hand over his chest.
“You never know where you might meet the perfect person,” I said.
“Listen, I’ve been traveling all my life and I haven’t found her yet. Well, I thought I had, but I’ve resigned myself to my fate. Becky will marry Matt and I’ll be alone for eternity.”
Alexander and I were chuckling at his histrionics when we heard the sound of a car coming up the Mansion’s long driveway.
“Are the guests arriving already?” Sebastian asked sarcastically.
No one drove up to the haunted-looking Mansion at night, and I didn’t recognize the car. The three of us headed back inside through the kitchen and waited in the dining room as Jameson answered the door.
“I’m Giles Lunken with the Gazette,” we heard a voice say.
Giles Lunken? He was a well-known writer throughout Dullsville who had a column showcasing local and international talent.
“I was wondering if I could speak with Alexander Sterling,” he continued.
“May I ask what this is regarding?” Jameson asked like a strict butler.
“Is he the artist that painted the canvases sold in last month’s auction? We were thinking of doing an article about him for the Gazette. He’s so young—it’s amazing he’s so talented. Also, I’d love to come back with my photographer.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“Why?” His voice was accusatory. “He’s not the artist?”
“Uh…You will have to come back at another time.”
“Then it was another artist?” Mr. Lunken prompted.
“I’m not saying that,” Jameson answered firmly.
“Then what are you saying? Did he paint those paintings?”
“Of course he did—”
“Then does he have a personal phone or cell number?” Mr. Lunken pulled out a PDA.
“I’m afraid he doesn’t.”
“An e-mail?” Mr. Lunken questioned.
“No.”
“He doesn’t have e-mail?”
Jameson shook his bald head.
“Does he have a Web site? I couldn’t find any information on him.”
“You can leave your card with me,” Jameson suggested.
“Uh…I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have a card?” Jameson asked. “Interesting…”
I couldn’t help but snicker. Alexander put his hand gently over my mouth.
“I’ll come back in a few days.”
“That would be best.”
Jameson passed us, and Alexander gave him the thumbs-up sign. The Creepy Man headed for the kitchen as we settled in the living room. Sebastian plopped down on the antique sofa.
“Dude!” Sebastian said with an impressed tone. “You are famous. Soon we’ll have to invest in a security system to weed out the paparazzi.”
“Funny,” Alexander said. “Shouldn’t we have heard his car take off by now?”
Sebastian leaned back and peeked out the worn velvet curtain.
“He didn’t leave.”
Alexander and I jumped onto the sofa and the three of us peered out.
Giles’s car was still in the driveway, but he was nowhere to be found. He soon emerged from the side of the
Mansion with a notepad. He continued walking, staring up at the attic window. Finally, he examined the
Mustang, jotting down a few notes. Several minutes later, there was a knock at the door.
Sebastian fingered his dreadlocks, straightened his shirt, and opened the door.
“Alexander?” we heard Mr. Lunken say.
“No, I’m Mr. Sterling’s assistant.”
“I was just here a moment ago—speaking with an older gentleman. And I noticed a light in the upstairs window and this car…I just thought…”
“He has a very busy schedule,” Sebastian said.
“I can do the story without your help.”
Sebastian paused. “Fine. I think we can work you in. He’ll meet you at Javalicious—”
“I’d like to meet here,” the reporter insisted.
Sebastian turned to Alexander, who shook his head adamantly.
“Please come back in two days after sunset.”
“After sunset?” Giles asked.
“I mean early evening. He’ll be waiting.” Sebastian closed the door.
“What are you doing?” Alexander asked. “We already discussed that I need to remain private. It would be dire to have a reporter see the real Mansion and discover the real me.”
“Then he won’t meet the real you—or the real Mansion. But we can’t put him off. He could write anything.”