“No, officer. I haven’t seen anything strange. I’m just on my way home.”
He nods. “Did you see anything at all out of the ordinary?”
“Just some idiots catcalling me.”
The officer shakes his head. “Some people. Are you sure you’re comfortable being alone?”
Hmm. “Well, now that you mention it… would you give me a ride home?”
“Sure.” He smiles. “I can do that. Where do you live?”
I point at the car. “You wouldn’t happen to have a blanket or something I could borrow?”
“Uhh, yeah. What do you need a blanket for?”
Oh wow. This is kinda cool. Guess which girl is never getting a traffic ticket… like ever. “Just because.”
“Okay. No problem.”
The cop takes a dark grey blanket out of the trunk and walks it back over to me. I wrap myself in it like a cloak, grateful not to be exposed anymore… though it’s still kinda embarrassing to be wearing only a blanket. We get in the car at the same time, and he shuts off the flashing lights before flipping open a laptop mounted on a stand.
“Just need to ask you a few quick questions for the incident report.”
I shift my jaw side to side. Come on. I wanna go home. “Okay.”
“What’s your name?”
“Sarah Wright.”
He types that in. “How’d you wind up out here alone?”
“Is it strange for a girl to go for a walk?”
“No, but you were…” He glances at me with an expression as though his brain has shut down. Something on his screen catches his eye. “We had a report of a nude woman walking around.”
“Clearly I’m not nude. It’s a peach-colored bathing suit.”
He twitches a little when I want him to believe I have a bathing suit on. A second later, he laughs. “Yeah, but from a distance.” Still chuckling, he shakes his head and types for a little while. “Okay. So, you’re all good?”
“Except for my ex-boyfriend dumping me and having a long walk home.”
“Where do you live?”
“Cottage Lake. Northeast 167th Court.” I give him my best ‘lost girl’ eyes. “Would you please give me a ride home?”
The officer, Evans according to his nametag, smiles. He’s not that much older than me, so it comes off more like big brother than parental. “Sure.”
He hits the flashing lights again only long enough pull out into traffic since he’d parked on the wrong side facing toward the oncoming lane. Within a minute of us being underway, I’m overwhelmed by his scent, an intoxicating mixture of cologne and steak. My fangs want to come out, but I fight them. He’s driving me crazy with hunger, but I haven’t the first idea how to go about being a vampire. Plus his shirt collar’s kinda high, and he’s driving… and I don’t want anyone to think I’m making out with a cop.
Instead of caving in to what I’m so tempted to do, I clench my hands in fists, keep them in my lap, and concentrate on the idea of going home. My urge to run home and hide like a small child pisses me off in a way, but I can’t help it. The past day or so has been way freaky, and I need the sense of normality that comes with my family and the house I grew up in. It almost feels ridiculous to think that only a couple days ago, I couldn’t wait for summer to end so I could head off to USC. Now, I want to go home, crawl under my bed, and never come out.
The next few minutes pass in a storm of nervousness, as if I’ve done the worst thing ever and the cops are bringing me home to face the parents. Only, it’s not my fault. None of this is my fault.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” asks Officer Evans.
I nod. It takes a second for my voice to realize I want it to do something. “Yeah, why?”
“You’re shaking and crying.”
“Oh, I’m just happy.” I swipe a finger at the corners of my eyes. “You know, can’t wait to get home. Bad breakup with my boyfriend. I’ll be fine.”
He nods as he turns left into my cul-de-sac. “Here we are.”
“Thank you for the ride. It’s the house straight ahead. Wait a sec and I’ll bring your blanket out?”
He parks at the end of the driveway, behind Mom’s Yukon. “Yeah, no problem.”
“Be right back.”
I hop out, gathering the blanket around me, and pad up the walkway to the door. A quick motion by the window tells me Sam came to check out the car pulling up.
“Mom, there’s a cop here,” yells my little brother, inside.
Wow. I just heard him through the wall. For a second, I glance down at my feet, remembering the feel of individual carpet piles. Whoa. Guess all my senses are amped up too. Neat.
With the police car’s headlights at my back, he couldn’t recognize me. My heart races, which both confuses and reassures me. I scurry up to the porch and ring the bell. The ding-dong is super generic, but it’s the sound that used to send me scrambling when I was younger. Back then, I had to answer it before anyone else could get there. Geez, why am I so nostalgic? It’s not like I’m dead. I mean, okay, maybe I’m technically dead, but I’m still here.
Oh, shit.
My eyes widen. In Dead Like Me, that girl looked totally different so no one would recognize her. Do vampires work the same way?
The inner door opens, revealing Mom, in her usual at-home outfit of a T-shirt and sweat pants, her sandy-blonde hair still perfect from the office. She stares at me for two seconds.
And screams.
After she runs out of air, she covers her mouth and bursts into tears.
I let out a big sigh of relief. Well, that’s good. I still look like me.
Bodies
7
A few seconds after Mom runs out of air and her scream stops, she grabs me and drags me inside, pawing at my face.
“Mom. Mom. Mom.” I weather the inspection, both my hands occupied keeping the blanket on. “Calm down.”
“Sarah?” half yells Dad. He sprints over from the couch and hits me like he’s trying to sack a quarterback.
“Oof!”
Fortunately, Dad’s not the biggest guy―kinda a computer nerd, really. He crushes me into Mom with enough force to pick us both off our feet for a few seconds. Oh, no… he’s freaking out.
“Sarah! Is that really you?” asks Mom. “Am I dreaming?”
“Baby…” Dad grabs the back of my head and mashes my face into his shoulder.
Oof. “Dad… air. Need to breathe.”
Well, technically not, but…
He relaxes a little, and they both stare at me.
“Where are your clothes?” asks Dad.
“Good question,” I mumble. “Hey, I gotta give this blanket back to the cop. Can you guys hang on for a sec?”
They stare at me.
“Cool. Be right back.”
I dash up to my room and grab the nearest article of clothing at hand: Adventure Time PJ pants and my Evanescence T-shirt. After slipping them on, I wad up the blanket and run back downstairs. The parents haven’t moved an inch. They continue doing the statue thing while I run back out to Officer Evans and give him the blanket.
He glances up at me with an expression that says he can’t remember why he’s here.
“Thanks for the ride, Officer Evans.” I smile and lean closer to him. “And if you could forget you found me, that would be awesome.”
He blinks, bewildered. Without a word, he backs out of our driveway, turns around, and drives off. I sigh at the departing patrol car, wondering exactly how the law is going to react to my not being dead.
I hurry back inside and ease the door closed. The parents are still giving me the stunned, open-mouthed gawk.
“I know we need to talk, but I’m filthy. You guys mind if I grab a quick shower?”
Neither one of them say a word, but they do exchange stunned glances before resuming their blank stares at me.
“Cool. I’ll be right back.” I jog upstairs.
I’m sitting on the couch, hands clasped in my lap,
making faces at the Adventure Time characters on my pajama pants. Dad’s on the recliner to my left, Mom’s pulled one of the dining room chairs in to sit facing me. I feel like I’m about to be grilled about heavy drug use or something. This is like a scene right out of some Lifetime Network drama, minus the sappy music.
The two of them stare at me for at least fifteen minutes, none of us able to find words. Mom keeps dabbing at her tears, but Dad doesn’t even bother. It’s so weird to see him crying and grinning at the same time. I can’t tell if I’m in trouble or not.
“So…” I scrunch my toes into the carpet. “You’re probably kinda confused.”
“I’m not sure what to say,” whispers Dad. “They told us that Deacon boy killed you. We had to identify your body. Obviously, it wasn’t you. That boy killed some other girl who looks a little like you.” Dad wipes a hand down his face. “And you just happened to disappear for three days.”
Mom breaks down, weeping into her hands.
“Figured,” I say. “I heard her yell my name.”
“What?” Mom lifts her head, gawking at me.
I try to stare at my chest where the knife hit me, but Amy Lee’s face is in the way, courtesy of my T-shirt. “No, Scott really did stab me.”
“That son of a bitch is still out there,” mutters Dad, going from sad to furious.
My mother glances at him, then me. “Sarah, what’s going on?”
“Uhh.” I fidget, looking down. “It’s not easy to tell you this.”
Dad leans forward and rests his hand on top of mine. “It’s all right, baby. We will love no matter what.”
Mom nods emphatically, managing a tortured smile.
“I’m not on drugs.”
“No, the damn doctor who mistook you for dead is on the drugs.” Dad leans back and folds his arms.
Mom keeps staring at me. “You’re going to have his baby?”
“No. I’m not pregnant. It’s much worse.”
Dad opens and closes his mouth.
“What?” Mom looks at him.
He fidgets with his hands. “She said ‘worse,’ so she’s not going to come out of the closet. That wouldn’t be bad news.”
Aww, Dad. That’s so sweet. I smile at him. “I’m not gay. No, this is actually like an issue.”
“Cancer?” asks Mom. “It must be bad if you can’t even look us in the eye.”
Am I breaking some kind of law of nature here? I mean, in every single movie, it’s like the worst thing imaginable to tell people the truth. Right. Like movies are any source of facts. “Mom, Dad? Ugh. This is so hard.”
Mom leans in and takes my right hand; Dad grabs my left.
“You’ve decided not to go to college and you’re moving away to a hippie commune?” asks Dad.
I crack up laughing, which becomes crying. “God, Dad, you’re such a dork.”
He grins.
“Oh, wow. I needed that.” I wipe my eyes again. “This might me a little out there for you, but…”
“It’s okay, hon. You can tell us anything.” Mom squeezes my hand.
“No, I’m not running off to a commune.” I fill my lungs and let the air out slow, through my nose. “Mom, Dad? I’m… a vampire.”
They blink. Dad stifles a chuckle. Mom tilts her head.
“You’re going to go goth or something?” asks Dad. “Dye your hair black and punk out?”
“Ugh, no. I’m not being metaphorical. Scott did kill me.” I’d show off the scar, but I’m not flashing my boobs at my dad. “This guy…” I tell them about Dalton and how he felt bad for me but wasn’t fast enough to stop Scott before he’d stabbed me to death.
They look at each other. I can practically hear the telepathic discussion of them wondering what drug I took.
“It’s okay. I didn’t believe it at first. I woke up in a body cooler.” Still holding their hands, I relay the story of the past night spent in a mausoleum.
Dad purses his lips. He still seems overjoyed to have me home, but he’s giving me the ‘time to call the psychiatrist’ look.
“Whatever’s going on in your life, we can deal with this,” says Mom.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“Would you?” asks Dad.
“You identified me at the medical examiner’s office, right?”
Mom shivers. “Please don’t ever make me think about that night again.”
“Guys…”
When they look at me again, I open my mouth and extend my fangs.
Mom’s eyes practically pop out of their sockets.
“Hmm.” Dad covers the lower half of his face with a hand, and spends a moment tapping a finger on his cheek before letting his arm fall into his lap. “Well, so much for going to California.”
“Aww, no fair. I had dibs on her room,” says Sierra from overhead.
I peer up at the stairs behind the couch.
My eleven-year-old sister is sitting directly above me, three steps away from the top, grinning between the banister poles, her face wet with tears. She scrambles down the stairs, swings around the railing at the end, and dives into a hug. All four of us inherited Dad’s physique, and Sierra looks like a cartoon character with noodles for arms and legs. ’Course, I did too at her age. I get a face full of mouse-brown hair as she clamps on and sobs into my shoulder, muttering, “You’re really here. You’re really okay,” over and over.
It’s weird to see her so emotional. She’s usually even more stoic than Dad. Sophia’s the girly-girl, and a heavy sleeper. Wait, it’s not that late, is it?
“What time is it?” I ask, over Sierra’s head.
“Umm.” Dad glances at his phone. “9:37.”
Hmm. Sam might be asleep by now, but the sibs are usually allowed to stay up until ten on non-school nights… and it is summer.
“Hey…” I squeeze Sierra. “You can still have my old room. I’m going to need to move to the basement or something. If the sun hits me, I’m gonna be dead for real.”
She sniffles, sits back on her heels beside me on the couch, and stares. “Can I see your fangs?”
I shrug and show them off again.
Sierra’s bright hazel eyes get super wide. “Ooh. You’re not making stuff up. That’s awesome.”
“I’m not sure how to handle this, Jonathan,” says Mom.
“Umm.” Dad scratches at his head, leaning back and glancing at me like I came home high on cocaine with a gun.
Sierra gets an inspired look and dashes into the kitchen.
A moment of uneasy silence passes between the parents and me. I fidget at my T-shirt, staring guiltily at my lap.
Sierra runs in, leaps back on the couch, and shoves a bulb of garlic in my face. “Does this bother you?”
“No more than you trying to stick any random thing up my nose.”
“Cool!” She scampers off back to the kitchen. “We don’t have to get rid of all the garlic!”
Dad chuckles.
I lean forward, arms draped over my knees. “Look, guys. You always said you’d love me no matter what. Like, even if I stole a bunch of stuff and went to jail, you’d still love me and do anything to protect me, right?”
They both nod.
“Well, I didn’t break any laws. I’m still me… only better.”
“Better?” asks Mom. “But you’re… dead.”
“No, I’m not. I mean, okay, maybe exposure to sunlight will turn me into a pile of ashes, and maybe I’m going to live forever, and maybe I gotta drink blood now, but I’m still your daughter.”
“Uhh,” says Mom. “Is this really happening?”
Dad whistles. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t a mass hallucination.”
Sierra runs back in with a crude drawing of a crucifix, which also gets shoved into my face. “Does this bother you?”
“Yeah.”
She gasps and backs up. “It does?”
“Your proportions are way off. You need a few art classes,” I mutter, toneless.
�
��Nice deadpan,” says Dad.
Mom swats him.
Sierra starts to run off, but I grab her shoulder.
“If you come back with a wooden stake, I’m going to wrap you in blankets and hang you upside down from the end of your bunk bed.”
She giggles.
“Y-you’re taking this rather well,” says Mom, her voice shaking more than her hands.
I let out a soft sigh. “Well, given the choice between this or being dead dead… This is pretty damn cool.”
Sierra flops down next to me and clings. “She’s not even cold.”
“Are you alive or dead?” asks Mom. “Can you still have children someday?”
Dad winces.
Sierra shoves her hand up under my shirt to feel my stomach.
“Hey!” I yell, grabbing her arm as she proceeds to tickle the crap out of me. “Stop it!”
She laughs.
Ugh, Mom. Really? I’m eighteen. Does she honestly believe I’ve ever thought about having kids? Besides, she’s got Sierra and Sophia… plus Sam. There will be grandkids. Probably a ton of them. “Umm. Well, I think I’m undead, but my heart’s still beating. I don’t really know how the rest of the plumbing works, but I’m gonna guess probably not.”
“You need to date a werewolf and make fur babies,” says Sierra.
“There’s no werewolves.” Mom blinks. “Are there?”
I shrug. “These teeth didn’t come with a user’s manual.”
“If vampires exist, then I suppose there’s a possibility other things we didn’t believe in might exist,” says Dad.
“Don’t tell Sophia that or she’ll demand a unicorn for her birthday,” mutters Sierra.
“Where is she anyway? Is she okay?” I ask.
“Umm. She’s been really upset that you died and she went to sleep early.” Sierra bites her lip.
Damn. I was afraid of that. “Sorry.”
Dad stands, takes my hand, and pulls me upright into a hug. “It’s not your fault.”
I clamp onto him and sniffle into his shoulder. “Thanks, Dad. I promise I’m still me. Though, you’re right about USC. Too much sun in Cali.”
A Nighttime of Forever Page 5
