Dad had said the girl — Bonnie? — was the Homecoming queen. She must’ve been beautiful. Maybe just Kramer’s type.
Drifting toward sleep, Lane imagined getting all her friends together: Betty and Henry and George and Riley. I need your help, she told them. She explained her plan, and they all seemed eager to join in. So they crept into the garage and sneaked out with the corpse. They tied the coffin to the roof of her Mustang. They drove through the night across town to Kramer’s house. His station wagon wasn’t there. He was still out on his boat. While her friends waited on the front stoop, she broke a back window and entered the house. She opened the door for them, and they brought the coffin inside. They took it to Kramer’s bedroom. They lifted the body onto his bed and hid the empty coffin in a closet.
Lane volunteered to pull the stake. I’m not scared, she said. And she wasn’t. Not of Bonnie. Bonnie was not the enemy. Bonnie was her ally, her weapon. She drew the stake out of the girl’s chest. The hole melted shut. The cadaver began to expand like an inflatable rubber doll with air being blown in. Its dry, leathery skin uncrinkled, took on a healthy glow of life. Except for the bruised places.
Lane was startled when she realized that Bonnie looked like her own twin. No, she thought, she’s not a twin. She’s me. This is even better than I hoped. Kramer’ll think I came to him.
The Lane on Kramer’s bed opened her eyes. Don’t worry, she said. I’ll take care of him.
Lane woke up feeling as if a terrible burden had been removed. She didn’t know why, but she felt good. Then she remembered the weird plan of her daydream. It had only been a fantasy. Nothing was changed. Her spirits sank and dread returned to its nesting place in the pit of her stomach.
She looked at the clock beside her bed. Almost one.
She’d been asleep for a long time, and she was glad. If only she could just stayasleep.
But she was hungry. So she got out of bed, put on her robe and slippers, and left the room.
The house seemed deserted.
But the door to her father’s office was shut. She knocked. Opening it, she glimpsed a page of black and white photos as Dad swept a folder shut. He smiled at her, but he looked startled and his face was red.
She wondered what he’d been looking at. Whatever it might be, he seemed ashamed of it. She decided not to ask. “Sorry to bother you,” she said.
“No problem. Feeling any better?”
“A little. Hungry, though. Have you already eaten?”
“Yeah. We had lunch an hour ago. Do you want me to make you something?”
“No, that’s okay. I can manage. Where’s Mom?”
“She went to the store. We decided to ask Pete and Barbara over for dinner, so she had to pick up a few things.”
“Barbara’s recovered?”
“Apparently. Your mother dropped in on her. Sounds as if she’s a little embarrassed about her accident, but she’s eager to resume the adventure. Pete’s already picked up a new video camera.”
“Let’s hope Barbara doesn’t break this one.”
“She probably won’t get her hands on it.”
“If Pete’s smart. What time are they coming over?”
“Around six.”
“If I’m not around, make sure you get me up. I wouldn’t want to miss anything.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Absolutely. See you later.” She pulled the door shut and went to the kitchen.
While she made herself a grilled cheese sandwich, she thought back to the folder that Dad had shut so quickly. She tried to remember the look of the paper inside. Glossy, with two or three pictures on it.
Like a page out of Buford Memories.
“Oh, boy,” she muttered. He must’ve torn it from the 1968 annual. And there had appeared to be more than one in that folder.
Pictures of Bonnie. He’d been studying pictures of Bonnie. God, if ol‘ lady Swanson ever found out... I would’ve been in such deep shit... How could he do that to me?
Pete had called him “obsessed.” Right here in the kitchen, when Dad was talking about his weird dreams.
Obsessed, all right.
Lane slid her sandwich onto a paper plate. She took it to the table and sat down.
Dad just wanted the pictures for his book, she told herself as she started to eat. Nothing weird about that. He looked so guilty in there because he stole them from the yearbook, doesn’t want me to find out. That’s all.
Maybe that isn’t all. He’s been dreaming about her. Walking in his sleep. He went out there to pay her a visit.
Lane remembered the way she’d found him staring at the naked corpse. What if he isobsessed with her? Maybe he wants her to be a vampire, wants to see her change back into a beautiful girl, wants to...
Come on. This is Dad, not Kramer. Dad wouldn’t...
The things he was saying to her. But he was asleep. He was talking to her in his dream. Awake, he wouldn’t...
Awake, ten minutes ago, he was staring at her pictures. What was he thinking? Was he wondering what it might be like if she comes back to life tonight?
He’s just a man.
No, he’s not. He’s Dad. He’s doing this for his book, not because he’s horny over a high school girl.
Lane couldn’t finish her sandwich. She threw the remains away, took a drink of water, and hurried back to her bedroom. She shut the door. She tossed her robe across a chair. She kicked her slippers off. She drew the covers up around her neck, curled on her side and hugged her belly.
Dad isn’t like that, she told herself. He’s not a pervert. He loves me and Mom.
He even told Bonnie that he loves us.
The way someone might say it to his mistress.
He claimed he loved us, but he went ahead and started to pull the stake.
He was asleep, for godsake!
But what if I hadn’t been up there?
The girl is dead, Lane told herself. She’s dead. She’s not a vampire. She wouldn’t have come back to life. That’s bullshit, and Dad knows it.
That’s the end of it.
But maybe...
She started to recite an “Our Father,” softly mumbling the words. To stop herself from thinking. To calm herself down. She did another “Our Father,” not speaking this time, going through it in her mind. And then another.
A gentle rapping on the door woke her up. She rolled onto her back as the door eased open. Dad looked in. “Are Pete and Barbara here?” she asked.
“Not yet. But you have a visitor.”
“Was she asleep?” came a voice from the hallway behind Dad.
Lane lost her breath.
“She’s awake now,” Dad said.
“Really,” Kramer said, “there was no need to disturb her.”
“That’s all right,” Dad said over his shoulder as he entered the room. “It was time to get her up, anyway. We’re having some other guests pretty soon.” He gestured for Kramer to come in.
“Daaaad.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m in bed.”
I’m dreaming this.
“If she’d rather...”
“It’s fine. She’s just doing her shy routine.”
Kramer came into the room.
He’s in my bedroom. The bastard’s in my bedroom.
Lane tried to force herself to smile.
Kramer’s smile looked tentative and concerned. “I just dropped by to see how you were doing. I hope you didn’t catch a bug, or something, while we were at the play Saturday night.”
Wasn’t a bug, she thought.
He stepped around Dad and approached the bed. He had a manila folder in one hand. Like the one in which Dad kept his pictures of Bonnie. “Just in case you might be down for a while,” he said, “I thought I’d bring you this week’s assignments.”
“Thank you,” she muttered.
“That’s very nice of you, Hal,” Dad told him.
Kramer smiled back at him. “Wouldn’t want my ace student to fall behind.” He set the folder down on her nightstand. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“Not very swift.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think you’ll be up and around?..”