Эллен Шрайбер - Dance With A Vampire

I hung out in the restroom for what seemed like an eternity and returned to Trevor's class just as the bell rang.

Mr. Hayden's classroom door opened and students burst into the hall.

Trevor, still fixated on the pom-pom girl, whizzed right past me.

"Trevor," I called to my nemesis. But he didn't hear me.

I caught up to him and pulled his backpack strap until it fell off of the soccer snob.

"Hey, jerk!" Trevor spun around and stopped in his tracks. "Oh, it's you."

"As much as I hate to admit it, I need to speak with you."

"Take a number," Trevor said, and walked on.

"What did you do to Valentine?" I asked, catching up to him.

"Who's Valentine?"

"You know who—the Goth kid at Hatsy's."

"Oh, that punk?"

"People are saying he tried to choke you. But I know that's not what happened. Is it?"

"How do you know what he did or didn't do? You weren't even there."

"I just do. Now tell me."

Trevor paused. "It'll cost you." He gazed down at me, his blond eyelashes accentuating his sexy green eyes.

My stomach turned. "Forget it."

"Forgotten." Trevor adjusted his backpack and joined the crowd of walking students.

"No, wait," I said, catching up to him. "Fine. I'll carry your backpack to class," I offered.

Trevor didn't hand over his North Face pack. Instead he turned to me. "Prom. That's what it will cost."

I almost gagged. "I'm not going with you. I'm going with Alexander."

"One slow dance," he said with a grin.

The thought of slow dancing with Trevor in front of all of Dullsville High made me feel like a contestant on Fear Factor. However, I needed the info. I stuck my hands in my pockets. "Fine. I'll do it. Now tell me."

Trevor seemed pleased. He leaned against a locker and began to tell me his story. "I was sitting in Hatsy's Diner with my team when this freaky ghost boy walks in. We looked at him as if he'd just crawled out of a grave. The kid didn't make eye contact with anyone as he walked through the diner. When he reached my booth, he suddenly stopped and stared straight at me—like he knew who I was. I'd never seen him before, but then I realized he looked familiar—just like Luna's brother Jagger, only smaller."

"Did he say anything?"

"No, he went to the counter and ordered fries. The kid was a major freak, so I had to check him out."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, he was busy counting his change. He only had sixty-five cents."

"So…"

"He looked emaciated enough as it was, like he barely had enough blood running through his veins. I took out a five and ordered him a Hatsy's meal."

I almost melted. I had no idea Trevor had a nice side. "I'm impressed," I said truthfully. "Then what happened?"

"I said, 'Are you Jagger's brother?' Then he gave me a death stare and asked, 'Are you Trevor?'"

I felt chills run down my spine.

"So I asked him how he knew me, but he didn't answer. Then I asked, 'How's Luna?'"

A twinge of jealousy ran through me. "You still like her?" I asked.

Trevor didn't respond and continued on. "Instead of answering me, the kid looked at me like he'd just seen a ghost."

"Go on…"

"He seemed confused, like he didn't know. Then, all of a sudden, he reached out and he put his hand on my neck."

I was surprised by Valentine's actions. Instead of hiding like he had at the tree house, Valentine was becoming increasingly daring—this time with Trevor.

"Did you hurt him?"

"No, I called him a freak and pushed him away. He grabbed his Hatsy's meal, jumped on his graveyard-themed skateboard, and sped out of the diner. Now let's talk about prom."

"I need to know…when he grabbed your neck— what were you thinking about?"

Trevor paused and smiled a sexy grin. "I was thinking that I should have been at the Graveyard Gala with you instead of his sister."

"Really?" I asked, half flattered, half horrified.

"Are you insane? No one puts their hand on me, unless they're a girl."

The bell rang and Trevor stepped into his classroom. "I get to pick the dance," he said, gloating.

I held up my hand, revealing my fingers had been crossed the whole time I'd made the promise.

Instead of being angry, Trevor cracked a smile. He loved our game. And I knew this time he'd come back playing even stronger.

"Anyone home?" I called out when I arrived home from school.

The house was silent.

"Billy Boy?" I yelled as I roamed through the kitchen and family room. Both areas were empty. I opened the basement door. The light was switched off, but I hollered down anyway. "Billy—are you here?"

I ran up to Billy Boy's room and knocked on his door.

He didn't respond. "Nerd Boy—are you in there?"

When I failed to hear a response from calling him his least favorite name, I figured the nerd lab was clear.

Fortunately, my brother didn't have Henry's Mr. Gadget security system and was unable to lock his door from the outside. I gently turned the knob and opened the door.

I began my search for Valentine's gravestone etchings, hoping they would provide a clue to his motives in Dullsville. I quietly scoured my brother's dresser drawers, but all I found were tons of white socks and folded T-shirts. I checked under his bed and pulled out a baseball bat, a chessboard, and an unopened model spaceship, but no gravestone etchings.

I glanced at Billy Boy's Star Wars alarm clock. I didn't have much longer until he would arrive home. I rummaged through his desk drawers, filled with pens, computer games, and software.

I turned on his computer. I tried to access his history page to find out what he and Valentine had searched for, but I couldn't log on. I didn't know Billy Boy's password.

If I were Billy Boy, what would my password be?

I typed in "E=MC2" and pressed the RETURN key.

Nothing.

I typed "Maytheforcebewithyou" and clicked on "Enter."

Denied.

Knowing my brother, he probably switched his password every week. Frustrated, I typed in "Billy Boy" and hit

RETURN.

Suddenly the computer signed on. Out of all the passwords—I never dreamed my brother would use the nickname I called him. For a moment, I felt flattered.

Then I heard the front door open and my brother start up the staircase. I glanced at Billy Boy's half-open bedroom door. If I bolted now, he might see me race out of the room. If Billy Boy found out I'd been searching his room, I'd be grounded until prom was over. I switched off his computer, but it seemed like forever until it logged off.

"Come on," I anxiously mumbled.

I could hear him coming up the stairs and down the hallway.

Finally the screen went blank.

I flew over to his closet, quietly slid open the door enough for me to squeeze through, and shut it behind me. Once I was safely inside, I cracked it open slightly.

I saw my brother enter his room.

I sandwiched myself between the wall and his coats. His jackets smelled like dirty air from outside, which was odd because Billy Boy spent most of his time inside his room like a hermit or at Henry's indoor laboratory.

I could hear Billy Boy turn on his computer.

Underneath a pair of shoes in front of me, I saw a box marked PROJECT VAMPIRE.

I could hear the pinging sounds of Billy Boy instant messaging.

I quietly opened the plastic case, vampire's nourishment was marked on a Ziploc bag. Inside were the four amulets. Another see-through bag was marked VAMPIRE'S HOME. Inside were two folded gravestone etchings of people's names I didn't recognize. The last bag was marked VAMPIRE. I opened it to find the back side of a three-by-five photo. I turned it over—it was a picture of me.

When I heard my brother leave his bedroom, I poked my head out the sliding door. Billy Boy must be heading downstairs for a snack, I thought. I had just a moment to make my escape. I climbed out of the closet and slid the door shut behind me.