Эллен Шрайбер - Vampire Kisses

"Others? It's that easy for you? just go buy another Prince Precision OS racket?"

"I didn't mean that—"

"It's bad enough you deface property at school!"

"I'm sorry, but—"

"Sorry's not good enough this time. Sorry's not going to win me my game tomorrow. My racket is. I can't believe I let you take it out of here in the first place!"

"But, Dad, I'm sure you made mistakes when you were a hippie teenager!"

"And I paid for them! Like you're going to pay for my racket."

My bank account had about five dollars in it, the remains of my Sweet Sixteenth birthday money. And I still owed Premiere Video twenty-five dollars in late fees. I quickly did the math in my head. Dad was going to have to keep my allowance until I was thirty.

Then he said the three words that reverberated in my head and made me go dizzy with fury. As he said them I thought I was going to explode into a million unhappy pieces.

"Get a job!" he proclaimed. "It's about time, too. Maybe that'll teach you some responsibility!"

"Can't you just spank me? Or ground me? Or not speak to me for years like parents do on those talk shows? Please, Dad!"

"It's final! End of story! I'll help you find a job if you can't on your own. But you'll have to do the work yourself."

I ran to my room, wailing like baby Nerd Boy, screaming at the top of my lungs, "You people just don't understand the pressure of being a teenager in my generation!"

As I cried on my bed, I fantasized about sneaking into the Mansion like I did with Jack Patterson when I was twelve and retrieving the racket.

But I also knew I was a little bigger in the hips now and that the window we'd used had been replaced. I'm sure the new owners also had a security system and, in any case, where would I look for the racket with so many rooms and closets? And while I was searching frantically, I was sure to be caught by Creepy Man wielding a gun or some medieval torture device. A part-time job was a less menacing scenario, but not by much.

At this point I really wished I were a vampire—I'd never heard of Dracula's having a job.

Connections. They'd be wonderful if my dad knew Steven Spielberg or the Queen of England, but Janice Armstrong of Armstrong Travel just doesn't cut it for me.

Far worse than having to show up there after school three days a week, answering phones in a perky voice, photocopying tickets with that hideous blinding flash in my eyes, and talking to yuppies going to Europe for the fourth time was the totally conservative dress code.

"I'm sorry, but you won't be able to wear those…" Janice began, staring at my shoes. "What do you kids call them?"

"Combat boots."

"We aren't the army. And it's okay to wear lipstick, but it should be red."

"Red?"

"But you can pick any shade."

Very generous, Janice! "How about pink?"

"Pink would be great. And you'll need to wear skirts. But not too short."

"Red skirts?" I asked.

"No, they don't have to be red. They can be green or blue."

"I can pick any shade?" If she was going to make me feel like an idiot, I was going to act like one.

"Certainly. And hose—"

"Not black?"

"Not ripped."

"And the nail polish," she began, staring at my fingertips.

"Not black, but any shade of red. Or pink would be great," I recited.

"Very good," she said with a big smile. "You're fitting in already!"

"Thanks, I guess," I said as I got up to leave. I checked my watch. The interview had taken fifteen minutes, but it felt like an hour. This job was going to be complete torture.

"I'll see you tomorrow, at four o'clock then, Raven. Any questions?"

"Do I get paid for the interview?"

"You're father said you were bright, but he didn't mention your wonderful sense of humor. We'll get along great. Who knows, you may want to be a travel agent when you get older."

Mrs. Peevish, my infamous kindergarten teacher, would have been proud.

"I already know what I want to be," I replied. I wanted to say a vampire, just for old time's sake. But I knew she wouldn't get it.

"What do you want to be?"

"A professional tennis player. They get free rackets!"

My mother bought me some horrible brightly colored Corporate Cathy gear so I could fit neatly into the package of Dullsville's business world. I pulled them out of the shopping bags and freaked when I saw the price tags.

"Yikes! These outfits cost more than the tennis racket. Just keep them and we'll be even."

"That's not the point!"

"This doesn't make sense."

I reluctantly modeled a white blouse and blue knee-length skirt. My mother looked at me like I was the daughter she always wanted.

"Don't you remember wearing halter tops, braids, and bell-bottoms?" I asked. "What I wear isn't that much different for my generation."

"I'm not that little girl anymore, Raven. And besides, I never wore lipstick. I went au naturel."

"Ugh," I said, and rolled my eyes.

"Being a teenager is hard, I know. But you'll eventually find out who you really are."

"I know who I am! And working at a travel agency and wearing a white blouse and hose isn't going to make me find the 'inner me.'"

"Oh, sweetie." She tried to hug me. "When you're a teenager, you think that no one understands you and the whole world is against you."

"No, it's just this town that's against me. I'd go crazy, Mom, if I thought the whole world was against me!"

She hugged me hard and this time I let her. "I love you, Raven," she said, like only a smooshy mom can. "You're beautiful in black, but you're smashing in red!"

"Quit it, Mom, you're wrinkling my new blouse."

"I thought you'd never say that!" she said and squeezed me even tighter.

The part-time after-school gig had to go. How could I get the scoop on the Mansion family if I was going to be at work all afternoon? I had to drag all those dry-clean only clothes with me to school and keep them neatly in my locker until school was over. My new afternoon punishment tore me up inside.

"Why doesn't that guy go to school?" I asked Becky as I was getting dressed.

"Maybe he isn't registered yet."

"If I didn't have this stupid job, we could go investigate right now. Ugh!"

I was envious of Becky because she got to go home to the land of cable TV and microwave popcorn, while I went from a school desk to a reception desk.

After parting ways with Becky, I snuck into the restroom and wiped off my black lipstick with a wet paper towel and replaced it with some ultra-flashy shade of red. I truly looked like a ghost with my pale complexion. I reluctantly put on my bright red rayon-and-cotton blends. "I'll miss you, but we'll be back together in a few hours," I said to my black dress and combat boots, placing them in my backpack.

I gave myself a once over—this was one time I really thought being a vampire would come in handy. Maybe I'd look in the mirror and see nothing. Instead I saw a miserable girl standing awkwardly in her red rayon outfit.

I slithered out of the restroom looking right and left like I was crossing the street and made my escape safely out the front door. Or so I thought.

Trevor was standing on the front steps.

I freaked when I saw him but tried to ignore his presence and move on. I wanted to run, but I wasn't used to skinny heels.

"Hey, Halloween's over!" he shouted, following me. "Where's your tennis skirt? Going to some costume party as Suzie Secretary?"

I continued to ignore him, but he grabbed my arm.

I couldn't let him know that I was working, or where I was working, and, most of all, that I was working because I had to pay my father back for the tennis racket Trevor had made me lose. It would have brought him too much joy.

He looked me over, that same look he had given me when he first saw me in my tennis outfit. This time I was his corporate dream girl.