Vampyre

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, still trying to block the mental image of Vyck missing his canine teeth. Part of me wanted to know how his dentist reacted and part of me wanted to never see him again. And the other part of me was trying not to trip over my own shoes as I walked and texted simultaneously.

SLAM.

I heard a chuckle behind me from a guy sitting at the bus stop I had just passed. Letting my head clear before I took a step backwards, I glared at the lower half of a bus stop sign I had just walked my face into.

B home late. Band practice. U can call Chris' mom to confirm. <3 

Since my episode over the weekend, I had been trying very hard to be a good little girl. Always letting my parents know where I was, always picking up their phone calls and always using smileys and less-than-threes to make them (my mom especially) feel comfortable. Building up trust that's been lost is a lot like being and ex-convict. Show up for parole, make visible attempts to be a good citizen and keep illegal activity well below the radar.

Deceiving my parents (not that they would believe me if I told them the truth) was the biggest negative of my experiment so far. My mom and I had such a good relationship until I'd tried killing the drugstore vampire chic. Things had been rough since then.

My phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"Hi Erin, this is Emma."

I could recognize that cheerful voice through the crackle of bad cell-phone coverage even if it had come from the moon. I heaved a sigh and braced myself for a peppy conversation.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound happy to hear her. "What's going on?"

"Well, I know you have my number but I didn't have yours so I got your number from Gryffith..."

How did Gryffith get my number...?

"...Hope that's OK. Anyways, I wanted to follow-up with you about lunch. How 'bout Friday afternoon?  After school?"

"Great," I said. "I guess we can meet up in the parking lot, right?"

"Sure! That sounds super perfect!"

Yay!  I wanted to barf.

"So, you've been talking to Gryffith?" I asked her.

"Well, no," I could almost hear her blushing. "He left his phone on his chair after class today and I may have scrolled through his contacts and his pictures and most of his apps before returning it to him.  You don't think he'll notice, do you?"

"I think you're safe.  We'll talk later - I gotta go."

"Okay, bye!"

I hung up.

The walk to Chris' basement where our band met to practice was long and stupid. Right when I thought it couldn't get any colder, it started drizzling. My week in a nutshell, I thought to myself.

"Look who finally decided to show up," said Chris when I walked down the creaky stairs to his basement.

"Your mom says you need to finish folding your laundry," I said. I hated having practice at Chris' house but Mason's house was getting fumigated this week.

Chris cussed and set his guitar down. Matt was messing with his drum set so I pulled out my base guitar and we jammed while Chris cleaned his room. Mason hadn't shown up yet and neither had Zack - not that Zack always came, but I liked it when he did.

"You guys suck," said Chris, reentering the room with his usual derogatory tone.

Matt just laughed, swishing his blonde bangs out of his face. One day he'd lose the acne and the braces and be cute. Today was not that day.

"Where is Mason?" I asked.

"You know what, Erin? I have no idea. I have no idea where the slacker is," said Chris. "Is it my job to keep track of you peoples?"

"Yes," said Matt and I together.

We had practice without Mason which was miserable. Chris insisted we do an extra twenty minutes to get ready for the 'Big Night' concert. Chris' mom offered to drive me home, which I accepted, happy to not have to walk through the rain.

"Thanks, Mrs. Harper!"

"Anytime, sweety!" she called as she drove away.

Mom had dinner waiting for me. Why are moms so nice?  It makes it so much harder to be an ex-con!

But I wasn't about to be deterred. The next afternoon I cornered Vyck behind the school dumpster.

"OK," I said to the yellow-faced boy. "Let's talk."

He didn't answer me - I tried not to find that rude - walking instead to the football field and then across it. He hoped the back fence with more dexterity than I was able to muster and meandered down the street. I followed. The drizzle from yesterday had morphed into a full-fledged storm with big rain drops and obnoxiously timed thunder claps.

Finally, after winding through neighborhoods, we stopped at a run down little apartment with rickety stairs leading up the fire escape.

"Coming?" he asked when I didn't follow him up.

"Please don't kill me," I said.

We climbed through his back window. I was relieved to get out of the rain.

"Front door is always locked," he explained.

The room was dank and smelly. No lights, not even light fixtures, just the dirty orange glare struggling through his closed blinds.

"What happened to your teeth?" I asked, clearing trash off one end of the couch and sitting down.

"Pulled 'em out."

"Why?"

"Didn't want anyone else to catch it," he said. "Didn't want to kill anyone or turn them."

"So, if you bite a person with those teeth they'll turn into a vampire?"

"Usually."

"Usually? As in, not all the time?"

"Well, sometimes it doesn't take," he said. He sprawled himself out on the dirty carpet. "And sometimes you just eat them before they can turn."

OK. Disgusting.

"But you have to inject the poison on purpose," he continued. "I mean, like, you don't always do it, I guess. One of my friends, she can bite people without them turning."

"You have vampire friends?"

"Only a few. Just Alyssa, really."

That name sounded familiar. Oh, right.

"Gailyn's girlfriend?"

"Yeah..." his voice trailed off.

A flash of grey tore across the room and clawed up my leg.

I jumped and shrieked. Sneaker's digging into the old couch, I stood up, looking for my attacker. An earsplitting cry split the air like Fergie without autotune.

Vyck grinned, his eyes shut, head cushioned by his hands.

"That's Vampyre. My cat."

I followed the venomous hissing sound to the corner of the room where Vampyre was cowering, eyes sharpened like a number two pencil.  He too was missing his canines.

"Your ... Your cat?"

"She was a ... uh... A stray?" he said. I was uncomfortable with his tone. Vampyre was rolling on the ground, rubbing her spine against the carpet. This cat was a few Verizon bars short of a signal. I didn't leave my defensive stance on the couch.

Vyck rolled over and pulled something from out of a partnerless shoe on the floor.

"Want one?" he asked. I shook my head, still keeping my eyes on the cat who had begun drooling profusely.

I didn't look at Vyck as he smoked.

I could handle vampires and murder and nights at the police station. I could even handle Emma - probably. But drugs and cats I was not as good with.

"You probably shouldn't do that," I finally said. "Drugs are bad for you."

He laughed which I thought was rude.

"Would you rather I act like Vampyre?" he asked, smiling. I shook my head. "That's what happens when you don't get blood. You go like... crazy."

I didn't understand.

"Blood dulls everything, the noise and the things you see," he said. "The light, makes it not hurt."

"So, without blood it's like you've got hang over all the time?"

He laughed again which was beginning to really grate on my nerves. If I hadn't been paralyzed in fear of his pet, I would have thrown something at him.

"Well...But worse," he said. "And it has to be human blood. That's how Vampyre and I met."

I didn't want to know.

"I didn't want to drink human blood - and I don't - so I found him and bit him," Vyck explained. "But it didn't do anything for me, didn't help. Only, I accidentally turned him into a vamp cat." He laughed.  I restrained myself from throwing an empty soda can at his clammy forehead.

"Is that why you pulled his teeth out?" I said with a forced calm.

"Yeah, don't want him spreading it," he said. "But he doesn't drink blood and he won't do drugs."  His loppy smile revealed both missing teeth. "He's a good little church-cat."

"So drugs keep you from going crazy because you don't drink human blood?"

He nodded and smiled again, keeping his lips closed around his white-wrap.

"I should go," I said. Setting my feet down on the floor was harder than I expected. For two terrifying seconds I thought Vampyre might pounce on me, dragging me down to the floor by the throat like a lion attacks a gazelle.

The rain outside had turned into hail and my thin blue sweater was already drenched. I looked out the fire escape at the slick metal stairs and mentally slapped myself. Why do you get yourself into these messes?

I turned to say goodbye to Vyck and jumped again. He was standing a foot behind me holding out a jacket.

"Take mine," he said. The rain slicker was worn and frayed. I didn't feel like taking anything from him anyway, so I held up my hands to refuse.

"You can return it tomorrow," he said. There was no smile on his face, just bulging, sad eyes. I looked at his stupid cat who had fallen asleep on his back, feet twitching awkwardly.

"Okay," I said, taking the coat. "Thanks. I'll get it back to you."

I slipped it on and it fit perfectly. It was actually pretty comfy for being so doggone ugly.

Buzz.

Can you pick up milk on your way home? Will pay you back upon your safe return. -Mom

I smiled and sent her an "OK."

There was a Smart Mart on the corner by the school so I stopped in and grabbed a carton. Maybe the afternoon had made me extra jumpy, but what happened next was definitely an over-reaction. Turning in line, I saw a police officer behind me. Not just any officer - it was Arysmendi, the officer who'd questioned me when I confessed to killing a vampire.

The milk carton slipped from my fingers and I let out a little yelp as I tried to keep it from hitting the floor. Turning beat red, I positioned my back towards the cop. He was still in uniform and had a two cups of coffee in his hands.

I placed the milk on the counter and searched my coat pockets for cash. They were surprisingly empty - I knew I had money... Finally feeling the tips of several rolled up bills, I pulled my hands from my pockets and placed the rolls hurriedly on the counter, keeping my eyes plastered to my feet.

"Excuse me?" said the Asian man behind the counter. "What dis?"

Panic shot through my veins like Vampyre had shot across Vyck's apartment.

No. Please, please no.

I looked down at the counter. Yes, that was not money. I had forgotten I was wearing Vyck's coat over my own.

Arysmendi leaned over my shoulder to look at the items I had just placed on the counter. Then he smiled at me.

"I'll get the milk for you," he said, holding out real currency to the clerk. "But I'm going to have to ask you to follow me to the squad car."