Drink, Slay, Love

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “Neither does my family,” Pearl said. “I should introduce them.” She’d meant it as a joke, but even saying the words caused her mind to conjure an image of Brad’s neck, torn open. She shuddered. “Or not.”

  She wondered what this oh-so-nice family would say if they knew about Brad. Why couldn’t she banish him from her mind? She should be thinking about the Family and how she could avoid whatever fate they had planned for her. But instead she kept tasting the blood and thinking about ice cream.

  “You did right to leave,” Bethany said. “That was a toxic environment. Home shouldn’t be like that. Home is supposed to be safe. And if it’s not, then you need to find a new one. Everyone deserves to be safe.”

  Home was the opposite of safe and always had been. She’d made it, of course, a million times worse. How was she going to fix this? Somehow she had to find a way to prove that she didn’t need to be destroyed. She was an asset, not a wild card. There had to be a way!

  The bedroom door bashed open, and Pearl leaped to her feet.

  An older girl filled the doorway. She was a platinum blonde, sun-kissed tan all over. She wore workout shorts and a T-shirt. “Whoa, little brother told the truth,” she said. Pearl recognized the voice from last night—it was Evan’s sister, the one he’d called Lizzie. To Bethany, Lizzie said, “You okay? You shouldn’t be in here alone.”

  Smiling sunnily, Bethany said, “I’m not alone. I’m with Pearl.”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “How’s it going downstairs?” Bethany asked.

  Lizzie snorted. “Eh, they’re primarily upset that Evan didn’t introduce her last night. Also, the whole unchaperoned slumber party is wigging them out. But Evan can charm the pinfeathers off a duck. They’ll be offering her a lease on the master bedroom before breakfast is over.” Her eyes raked over Pearl. “You’re wearing my baby brother’s clothes. And, I assume, my missing underwear.”

  Under her glare, Pearl suddenly felt more naked than she had last night. “I lost my clothes.”

  “I’ll fetch you some more.” Lizzie exited without waiting for a response. Pearl inched toward the window. If she left now, she could avoid any parental interaction. It wasn’t as if Bethany could stop her. But if she left . . . where would she hide next nightfall? Before Pearl could come up with a reasonable solution, Lizzie returned with a stack of clothes. “I doubt they’ll fit you, but you shouldn’t meet the ’rents wearing his.”

  Pearl expected them to give her privacy, but they didn’t. Instead, Lizzie plopped herself in Evan’s desk chair and swirled around once before glaring again at Pearl. “Little brother said you were pretty. You’d better not mess with his head. He’s too nice for his own good.”

  Pearl picked her words carefully. “I’m not planning to hurt him.” It was disturbing how true that was. She didn’t want to pierce that lovely skin or see the light fade from his luminous eyes.

  “Good,” Lizzie said. “Don’t. He always looks for the good in everyone. It’s a strength and a weakness. If I hear you’re taking advantage of him . . .”

  Bethany yelped. “Lizzie! She just left home. She needs our help, not threats.”

  Lizzie snorted again.

  “So . . . he thinks I’m pretty,” Pearl said.

  “Beautiful, actually.”

  That cheered her up a little. “Good to know he has taste.” Pearl pulled on the clothes. The skirt was loose on her and sat low on her hips, but the shirt was fine, albeit hot pink.

  They waited in an uncomfortable silence, listening as the voices rose and fell downstairs. Pearl began to contemplate the window again. Surely she could find someplace else to hide.

  Lizzie cocked her head as footsteps thudded upstairs. “Told you,” she said.

  Evan burst into the room. His eyes were so bright they seemed to spark. “All set! You can stay.” He darted across the room with all the energy of a hummingbird, and he closed the window. “You take Lizzie’s room.”

  “Hey!” Lizzie said. “What about me? Dog pen?”

  “You’ll share.”

  Lizzie raised both eyebrows, and Evan waited as if daring her to object. Pearl felt as if she’d missed a piece of the conversation. Finally, Lizzie said, “I don’t sleep well with others.”

  “They said you girls could take turns,” he said.

  “This sucks,” Lizzie said. Pearl felt a prickling on her spine from Lizzie’s word choice. Just an expression, Pearl told herself. Obviously, Lizzie didn’t know the truth.

  Breaking up the staring match between Evan and Lizzie, Bethany asked, “Do Sandy and Donald want to meet her?”

  He nodded. “They’re waiting for us to be dressed and ready.” He grabbed clothes from his drawers. “Lizzie, I’m going to change in your room.”

  “Resist the urge to alphabetize anything,” Lizzie said. “I like my clutter exactly the way it is. And don’t open the closet. And stay out of my desk.”

  “I won’t touch anything,” Evan said. “You . . . behave too.”

  Lizzie glared at him. “Believe it or not, I have some manners. Don’t squish the spider in the corner. He’s not hurting anyone, and he catches the other bugs.”

  “Charming,” Evan said. He walked out the door and crossed the hall. Pearl heard another bedroom door open and shut.

  Lizzie grinned, and then she flopped down on the bed. “Apologies in advance about the spider roommate,” she said to Pearl.

  “I won’t be here long,” Pearl said. Somehow she’d find a way to return home. She’d earn the Family’s forgiveness without having to suffer horrendous pain, dismemberment, or death. She just needed to quit thinking about Brad for long enough to plan.

  They lapsed into silence again.

  A few awkward minutes later, Evan reappeared, looking both slightly rumpled and startlingly handsome, as if he’d walked off the set of a windblown fashion shoot rather than out of his sister’s room. “Ready?” he asked. Lizzie and Bethany sprang for the door. Pearl followed behind. Gentlemanlike, Evan waited for her. “Don’t worry. I think you’ll surprise them.”

  “You know, that’s more cryptic than comforting,” Pearl said.

  Ahead of her, Lizzie and Bethany trooped down the stairs. “Ooh, I smell waffles!” Bethany said. Lizzie sniffed and corrected, “Pancakes.” Bethany shook her head and said, “Banana waffles with maple syrup.”

  “Better with honey,” Evan said from behind Pearl.

  Lizzie faked a shudder. “Next, you’re going to tell me you put margarine on it. You know that’s like dipping caviar in ketchup.”

  I should have jumped out the window, Pearl thought. But it was too late. Sandwiched between Lizzie, Bethany, and Evan, Pearl was swept into the kitchen.

  She saw a picture-perfect, magazine-cover kitchen. Brass pots gleamed above a stainless-steel stove. Marble counters shone in the morning sunlight that poured through the bay window. Herbs grew in hand-painted pots on the windowsill.

  By the counter, Evan’s mother was peering into the toaster oven as if it were an oracle. She raised her head as they entered. She was, hands down, the most beautiful woman Pearl had ever seen. She had honey-colored hair with white streaks so bright they nearly glowed. Smile lines creased her cheeks and highlighted her coffee-warm eyes. So this is the woman who raised Evan, Pearl thought. She could see it. Even though they didn’t share genes, Evan had adopted her smile. Like him, she radiated warmth in all directions. Evan’s mother smiled at Bethany. “Lovely to see you so early, Bethany. What an unexpected treat!”

  Evan shot a look at Lizzie at the word “unexpected.”

  Bethany skipped across the kitchen and threw her arms around the woman’s waist as if she were four years old and this were her real mother. Pearl thought of what Bethany had told her, about Evan’s mother rescuing her from Daddy. It looked as if the duckling had imprinted. For the first time, it occurred to Pearl to wonder how that rescue had occurred. Evan’s mom looked like she could flip a mean pancake, but Pearl doubted she
could out-kung-fu a grown male vampire. Unfortunately, that question wasn’t exactly acceptable breakfast conversation.

  “Hello, Pearl,” Evan’s mother said. “Welcome to our house. You may call me Sandy.”

  Evan’s father was at the stove. He flipped three pancakes into the air in rapid succession and then caught them in the pan. “Hi, Pearl! I’m Donald, Evan’s dad. Stay as long as you like. Any friend of Evan’s is a friend of the Karkadanns.”

  He actually seemed to mean it.

  Evan leaned toward Pearl and said, “Melinda.” He pointed to a pencil-thin girl who towered over their mother. “She’s one year older than me but adopted five years later. She’s a tap dancer, special dance school in the city. Don’t play her in Scrabble.”

  “Heard that,” Melinda said. Crossing to them, she pecked her brother on the cheek and then sniffed. “You used my shampoo.”

  “Mine ran out.”

  “You smell like magnolias. It’s lovely.” She ruffled his hair with a fond smile. “Welcome, Pearl. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Oh?” Pearl said to Evan.

  In a superchipper voice, Evan said, “Dad, those pancakes look great!”

  A college-age boy bounded into the room, scooped up five slices of bread, and disappeared down a hall. Pearl heard the front door bang shut. “That was Marcus,” Bethany said. “You’ll get to meet him in three, two, one . . .”

  The front door banged again and Marcus skidded back into the kitchen and stopped in front of Pearl. “Whoa,” he said.

  “Marcus, this is Pearl,” Evan said.

  Marcus stared at her. For the first time since she walked into the kitchen, she saw an expression that wasn’t warm and fuzzy. “Jesus H. Christ,” he said.

  Pearl suppressed a wince. Religious names hurt vampiric ears. It wasn’t anything like holy water on the skin, but it did make her want to scratch her ears with a Brillo pad. “Nope,” she said. “Just Pearl.”

  “Marcus,” their mother said sharply. “Manners. She’s our guest.”

  Evan placed his hand on Pearl’s shoulder, as if to protect or claim her or something. “It’s a girl, Marcus. Ever seen one before?”

  “Uh, sorry.” Marcus’s face turned flame red. “You just surprised me. No one in this family tells me anything!”

  Lizzie swept by him and said, “Your fly is down.” She winked at Pearl. “There. I told you something. Happy?”

  He examined his fly, which was up, and said, “Not so much.”

  “Aren’t you late?” Lizzie asked.

  “Right.” Marcus snagged an apple from a bowl that more resembled an arrangement for a still life than an actual fruit bowl. “Tell me everything later,” he ordered Evan. He nodded his head at Pearl. “Interesting to meet you.” He darted out of the house again.

  Lizzie smirked.

  Evan looked at her. “You changed his clock again, didn’t you?”

  “Falls for it every time,” she said happily. “He’s a full hour early.”

  During this exchange, two more boys, another girl, and a fluffy gray cat had entered the kitchen. Bethany pointed to each of them. “Brooke, Louis, and Allen. The cat’s Molly.”

  Another boy, also older, followed them, scooped up a plateful of pancakes, and dug in while he leaned against the refrigerator. “And that’s William,” Bethany said.

  He waved at Bethany. “Hey, Bethy-babe. Still hanging out with us squares?” Pearl recognized him from his curls—he’d seen her on the roof with Evan. He nodded at Evan. “Good to see you this morning, bro.” Pearl noticed that he didn’t look at her. The cat, on the other hand, minced across the kitchen floor to investigate Pearl.

  “You know that no one says ‘squares’ anymore, right?” Bethany said.

  “Well, gag me with a spoon, I’ll be hornswoggled.”

  To Pearl, Bethany said, “He thinks he’s funny.” William grinned at Bethany, and she stuck her tongue back at him like a four-year-old. Pearl felt as if she’d fallen into a vat of wet sugar. All of them were so sickeningly sweet. “No one tells him he’s not because he’s the oldest.”

  Lizzie chimed in, “Seems impolite seeing as how he’ll go gray first.”

  Evan pulled out a seat at the table. “Have a seat,” he said to Pearl.

  She sat, and the cat jumped into her lap.

  “He likes you!” Bethany said, delighted.

  The cat hissed at Bethany, kneaded Pearl’s lap, and then settled down.

  “Pancakes?” Donald offered Pearl.

  For an instant the kitchen was silent as everyone looked at her. The so-called evil cat purred in her lap, perhaps recognizing a kindred spirit. “No, thanks,” Pearl said. “I’m not a real breakfast person.”

  Bethany cleared her throat. “Donald, those pancakes smell wonderful.”

  Still smiling at Pearl, Evan’s father presented Bethany with a plate piled with three oblong pancakes. Sandy added a scoop of mushed strawberries. One of the other brothers—Allen or perhaps Louis, Pearl had missed who was who—handed her a fork and napkin. As everyone ate, Pearl felt the sidelong glances from Evan’s brothers and sisters, as well as the encouraging smiles of his parents. She tried to think of a way to shift the focus off herself. Turning to Melinda, she asked, “So . . . honey or maple syrup for your pancakes?”

  This had the desired effect: She touched off a family-wide debate on the relative merits of pancake condiments. Pearl stayed quiet and listened, trying to feel out the undercurrents. Usually, she could spot the power structure in a group, which ones tensed when another approached, which ones watched the others, which ones smiled too much or kept too silent. But all the normal clues were missing here. Evan’s family . . . they liked one another.

  As she watched them banter, she wondered what it would feel like to be a part—Oh, shut up, Pearl, she told herself. These were humans, for goodness’ sake. There was nothing admirable in all this sweet, loving crap.

  Cutting off the condiment discussion, one of the sisters asked, “Did you hear the Dairy Hut burned down last night?”

  Don’t react, Pearl thought.

  The sister who’d spoken, Melinda, had found a perch on the counter next to the sink. She talked around mouthfuls of pancake. A patch of maple syrup was stuck to her cheek.

  Everyone expressed dismay at the news.

  “Was anyone hurt?” Evan’s mother, Sandy, asked.

  Pearl stood before she even realized she had. Everyone looked at her. The cat, who had slipped to the floor, stalked away with her tail high. The kitchen was silent except for the sizzle of the pancake griddle on the stove. “We should leave for school, shouldn’t we?”

  “Pearl . . .” Evan’s dad spoke. “We hope you know that you are welcome to stay here for as long as you need. As you can see . . . we’re a made family, not a born family.” Pearl looked around—as Evan had told her once, all the siblings were adopted.

  Evan’s mother said, “All of us know at least a little of what you are going through, even though the specifics may be different.” Sandy held up a hand to forestall anyone from speaking. “You don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready. Just know that you’ve come to a place that understands.”

  Pearl had to look away. For reasons that she couldn’t identify, she felt a lump in her throat, and her chest ached. She swallowed hard and tried to force the achy feeling to stop. No matter how lovely the words were, these people didn’t understand, and she couldn’t stay.

  Staying could destroy her more thoroughly than a stake through the heart ever could.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-ONE

  At first Pearl was oddly happy to be in school. Everything about this place was so distant from her problems that she might as well have traveled to another planet. But then she heard the whispers in the hall, everyone talking about the Dairy Hut and the horrible fire. It had been contained, thanks to the speed of the fire department, but there had been one casualty.

  One casualty.

  No one
seemed to know his name. Ted. Or Todd. Or Ben. Or Brett. “Brad,” Pearl wanted to say. He’d been an idiot who couldn’t stammer out a complete sentence. He’d been a boy who was easily distracted by cleavage. He’d been a skinny kid in an ice-cream store, a dropout whom no one really knew and no one really remembered and no one really cared about, until he became fodder for conversation up and down the halls of Greenbridge High.

  Every time she overheard another student whispering about him, she wanted to rip the lockers off the walls and kick the concrete until it cracked. And then she wanted to rip and kick herself for feeling like this. She’d never felt this way about a victim before. Maybe it was because he’d been her victim alone, not shared with the Family. Maybe it was because she hadn’t meant to kill him. Or maybe it was simply the corrosive influence of all these humans.

  She had to stop this feeling. But every time she tried to shut it off, her brain replayed the bite-suck-die cycle from last night. She felt as if she were suffocating on the memory, and she stumbled through the morning with little awareness of her surroundings.

  At the end of third period Pearl shuffled back to her locker with so little enthusiasm that she might as well have crawled. She shoved her books inside and then leaned her forehead against the cool metal. She wished she could run fast and far away from her memory, her Family, and all the voices around her. But where could she flee that they wouldn’t find her? Vampires were immortal and very, very stubborn. Someday they’d catch her. One night she’d be late returning to shelter. Dusk would come early, or dawn would come late. Or they’d find a way to trap her. No, she had to find a way to fix this mess, reclaim her place in the Family, leave this daylight world, and forget about Brad.

  Behind her, she heard two voices.

  “Dude, you ask her.”

  “Nuh-uh, you ask.”

  “Rock paper scissors?”

  “You cheat, man,” Matt said.

  “How is it possible to cheat at rock paper scissors?” Zeke asked.

  “You game the system,” Matt said.

  “It’s not my fault you always choose rock.”