“Heh. You know, when I said I’d help you hide the bodies, I was being metaphorical.”
I lean back with a silly grin. “Yeah.”
Dad tilts his head, raising one eyebrow. “Will there be actual bodies?”
“Jonathan!” Mom gasps.
“Nope… but I’ll let you know if that changes.”
All the color drains out of Dad’s cheeks.
I snicker. “Your face! I’m kidding, Dad, geez.”
He slouches. “Whew. Well, we better get started on moving your stuff downstairs. The ping-pong room will work. It’s got no windows, and it’s about the same size as your bedroom.”
“Wait… are we really believing this?” asks Mom.
I float a few inches up off the floor. “Mom?”
She looks at me. “What?”
“Look at my feet.” I wave them around.
“Oh my God,” mutters Mom. “Are you floating?”
“Duh, Mom,” says Sierra. “Vampires can fly.”
Dad starts toward the kitchen, probably heading for the basement stairs. “Come on, give me a hand with clearing the space out?”
“Sure!” I leap into Mom, hugging her. “I’m so happy to be home… Sorry for dating that ass―moron. You were right.”
Sierra giggles. “You’re eighteen, and a vampire. You can use the bad words.”
“Yeah, termite, but you’re eleven and have super innocent ears.” I wink.
She scoffs.
Mom shivers. “I’m not sure what’s really going on here, but you’re home… my daughter’s home.” She waves at me in a ‘come here’ gesture, so I walk into a near-painful hug. “We’ll help you as much as we can. If this vampire thing is real, I don’t care. As long as I have you back. You’re not dead.”
“No, Mom.” I hug her. Maybe I should work on my mental stuff so I can make her forget seeing me on a slab. Speaking of which, I need to find Sophia before she dies from crying-induced dehydration.
“Be right there, Dad,” I half shout toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna go upstairs for a sec.”
The only thing keeping my sisters’ room from being nauseatingly pink is that they share it. Sophia’s all about dolls, stuffed animals, unicorns, frilly socks, ribbons in her hair… and so on. Sierra likes video games, comics, and space marines―whatever that is―though she’s a closet fan of the Powerpuff Girls.
I ease the door open to the soft, muffled sniffles of a ten-year-old crying into her pillow.
My heart bottoms out like I did something awful to her. It’s not my fault, but Dad never liked Scott from day one. I should’ve listened to him.
“Soph?” I whisper. “Are you awake?”
“Go away,” mutters a whiny voice.
Sophia’s curled up on the upper bunk with her back to the room, still in a pink dress. I glide over to the bed and rest my chin on the mattress. Her straight, bright blonde hair, still damp, gives off an overpowering smell of peach.
“Hey, pixie girl. What are you crying about?” I tickle the bottom of her foot with one finger.
She rolls over with a glare that could knock wasps out of the sky, but when she sees me, she blows up in a fit of wailing. For a few seconds, she doesn’t appear to have any control over her body. Then she leaps at me.
“They said you died!” shouts Sophia, barely able to choke words out between sobs.
Oh boy, this is gonna take a while. A soft squishing sound, small feet compressing carpet, comes from the hallway.
“She did,” says Sierra in the doorway. “But she got better!”
Sophia keeps crying, but shoots her a bewildered/angry scowl. “Stop saying mean stuff.”
“One, you don’t have to cry anymore. I’m okay.” I pull her off the bed into a hug. “Two, this is going to be hard to exp―”
“She’s a vampire,” says Sierra.
“Nuh uh,” yells Sophia. “She’s not sparkly.”
“That’s only in the daytime, dork.” Sierra tickles her. “And she’s a real vampire. She can’t go out in the sun.”
Sophia peers up at me, emerald-green eyes ringed with red.
“Would you be scared if I was a vampire?”
“No.” Sophia shakes her head and clamps on tight. “I don’t care. You’re home, and okay!”
“C’mon. Dad’s waiting downstairs.”
Sophia leans back and gives me a quizzical look.
“I’m getting my own room!” Sierra does a little victory dance. “Technically, you are too… so I guess it’s gonna be pink-mageddon in here.”
I laugh.
Sophia sticks out her tongue at Sierra.
More carpet squishing approaches.
“Oh, hi Sarah,” says Sam from the door.
My nine-year-old brother yawns and walks off. Four seconds later, he reappears with his eyes all the way open.
“Sarah!” He runs in and grabs onto me, a huge smile the extent of his emotional outburst.
“Okay, okay, okay, guys.” I pluck Sophia off and set her on her feet. “Dad’s waiting for me downstairs.”
New Digs
8
I push a nail into the wall above my pillow with my fingers and hang the last poster, my second one of Evanescence.
There. Room done. Even after like two hours, I’m still giggling to myself at the face Dad made when I carried the folded ping-pong table out on my own. Vampiric strength plus flying made moving my furniture down here pretty easy. Everyone else helped out with the smaller stuff, and I’ve managed to more or less recreate my bedroom.
Except there’s a blank white wall behind my desk instead of a window full of trees. Mom cried when I asked her to take a picture of my old room’s window in the middle of the day and print it out at work full size, so I can hang that up as a fake one down here. Maybe it’s maudlin or something, but I figure the closer I make this room look exactly like my room, the easier it’ll be to pretend I’m normal.
I jump down off the bed and do a slow turn, taking in my dresser, desk, bed, shelves, and the pile of clothing on the floor. The only real difference (other than lack of windows) is how the clothes are in one big lump instead of scattered around. Mom always gets on my case about picking them up… and I suppose a near-death experience hit me harder than I let on. I’m so grateful to be home in one piece (relatively), I collect all the dirty stuff and sort it into stacks for laundry―then throw it in the machine. Heck, it’s right outside my bedroom now, not like I have to run up and down two flights of stairs.
Wonder if the neighbors will complain that I’m doing laundry at midnight.
Sophia and Sierra walk in, with a yawning Sam behind them.
“What are you guys doing awake?” I ask.
“Mom’s letting us stay up since you came home.” Sierra yawns.
“Are you really a vampire?” asks Sophia.
“Pretty sure.” I sit on the edge of the bed and show off my fangs.
Sophia leans back, shivering. “Are you gonna bite us?”
“No, dork,” says Sierra. “She’s still Sarah.”
“I’m not gonna bite my family.” I wink. “Come on… you two should be in bed.”
After walking them upstairs to their room and promising like six times I’d still be here tomorrow and they’re not having a weird dream, I trudge back to the living room―where my parents are not. They’ve probably gone to bed already. Well, that’s good I suppose. They trust me alone with the brat squad.
If I still had my iPhone, I’d call my friends, but I don’t remember their numbers off the top of my head. Not like they’d be awake at midnight anyway, but I doubt they’d mind if I woke them up. I start to get up, thinking of trying Facebook or Twitter, but neither of them really touch Facebook much… and they’d probably think it’s some douchebag hacking my account to mess with them ‘after my death.’
Nope. Gotta see them in person.
Okay. Second downside to this vampire thing: boredom.
Right, TV. Looks like awful
late-night television and I are going to become good friends.
And crap. I’m really starting to get hungry.
My eyes open to a blank white ceiling. The rumbling bass of a video game or movie on the living room entertainment center shakes the walls.
I’ve figured out by now that in total darkness, I can still see, but there’s no color. The door to my new bedroom opens out to a short hallway off the main finished basement, which has windows. Directly across from my door is our laundry room. It, too, has a small window. However, with both doors shut, my new bedroom is effectively sun-proof.
Even if someone opens the door in the middle of the day, direct sunlight couldn’t reach me without some Indiana Jones–level mirror chaining. Hmm. Dalton said something about my being able to wake up early, and I’ll be fine as long as I stay out of the sun. I wonder if I can tolerate indirect sunlight or not?
Eh, I’m not in a real hurry to go up in flames, so I think I’ll assume that’s a no.
Long boring nights might be a downside, but in the pro column, as soon as that sun comes up, I pass out. No more lying there for an hour staring into space trying to fall asleep. I don’t yawn, but a stretch still feels good.
I sit up, stretch again, and swing my legs out of bed. Oddly, the smell of lipstick is in the air. Hmm. After creeping over to my door and opening it enough to peek out at a black-and-white basement, I relax. Okay, sun’s down.
Left of the laundry room is the basement bathroom. I’m pretty sure the vampire thing is real, since this is at least the third day since I woke up in a body cooler and I still haven’t needed a toilet. Other than not having to pee, trudging straight from bed to bathroom feels pretty normal. Opposite of normal, I don’t need to turn the light on to see, though color is nice so I do it anyway.
For whatever reason, the basement bathroom has a mirror over the sink, but no medicine cabinet. I can’t imagine I’ll get too many headaches anymore… but the mirror catches my eye due to red marks on my forehead.
I peel my hair aside like a theater curtain, revealing the word ‘dork’ in lipstick. That explains the smell. At least he used the cheap Walmart red and not one of my exotics. This must be Sam’s retribution for making him sad. Meh. I’ll deal with it. Not about to get into an argument with a nine-year-old about whose fault my death was.
After scrubbing my face clean, I change out of my PJs into sweat pants and a fresh T-shirt, then pad across the basement to the stairs. The clink of dishes comes from the door at the top, and the smell of turkey and mashed potatoes hangs in the air. It’s still mesmerizingly weird how I can feel every fiber in the carpeting on the stairs. Being a vampire has amped up my senses big time.
The girls are at the sink washing dishes, Sophia in a plain white dress, Sierra in jean shorts and a T-shirt. Both of them twist around to look at me when the basement door squeaks open. Sam’s wiping off the kitchen table… and gawks at me with a mixture of shock and disappointment. From the looks of his shirt and cargo shorts, they had mashed potatoes. I’m hungry almost to the point of distraction, but although the food smells wonderful, it’s not tempting.
“Mirror thing’s made up, dork.” I pat him on the head as I walk by.
Sophia, staring at me, fumbles the plate she continues to dry without looking at it.
Time seems to freeze the instant I think to dive after it. I leap forward and snag the plate out of the air only a few inches from her hands, and the world goes back to normal speed.
All three of my siblings shout at the same time. Sierra yells, “Whoa,” while Sophia just straight-up screams. Sam belts out an “Aaah!”
“Holy crap, Sare, that was badass,” says Sierra, her eyes wide. “You like totally blurred.”
“Sorry,” whimpers Sophia, both hands at her chin. “I didn’t mean to drop it.”
Sam gawks at me in awe.
I hand the plate back to Sophia and poke her in the ribs. “Hey, no more glummy bear.”
She cringes away from my finger, grinning.
Sierra scoffs and rolls her eyes. “She’s not five.”
When we were little, Dad sometimes tried to bribe us out of bad moods with sugar. The bad pun stuck… and apparently, Sierra has gotten too old for that. Honestly, she’s probably still upset about thinking me dead. Maybe reminding her about ‘before’ isn’t a good idea. I help them out with the cleanup and pick up on a quiet awkwardness among the three of them. While taking a freshly washed serving platter from Sierra (who is elbow-deep in suds), I make eye contact and get the sudden inkling that they’re trying not to remind me I didn’t eat with them. Oh, whew. For a while there, I thought they might be freaked out by the whole vampire thing, but they don’t want me to feel bad.
I smile wider, overacting happy. It’s not hard―being home again is awesome. The unease in the air kinda goes away for a little while until Sam brings it back with a single question.
“Why are you helping us clean up and you didn’t eat?”
Sophia looks up at me, horrified, before shooting Sam an accusatory glower.
Sierra doesn’t take her gaze off the fork she’s washing, but her sponge isn’t moving.
“Because,” I say in as cheery a tone as I can manage, “my new schedule doesn’t leave me a lot of time to hang out with you guys.”
“But…” Sierra peers back at me. “You didn’t really hang out with us much before. I mean, it’s cool. You’re like old and stuff. Who’d wanna hang with a bunch of little kids? You couldn’t wait to go to California.”
Sophia sniffles.
Okay, she’s got a point. I’d be lying if I said I’d been a totally awesome older sister for the past year or two. I mean, I never like screamed at them or said mean things, but a groan or two might’ve happened when I got ‘stuck watching them,’ and I spent most of my time hanging out with Ashley and Michelle. But really, what senior wants to spend all their time looking after their younger siblings? We’re not Amish. I have… had a social life. Sorta. Okay, two close friends with a lot of geeky hobbies still counts as a social life. Maybe not to normal people, but it worked for me.
Though our obligatory family road trip last summer had been fun. Oh, ugh. Guess I’m not going this year. I hope Dad doesn’t cancel it because of me.
“Well, stuff’s different now. I can’t go outside in the daytime, so I want to be around when you guys are still awake. Couple more years and you’ll be off with your friends. Well, maybe not Sierra. She’ll be in her room playing video games.”
Sierra gives me a raspberry but laughs.
“Oh, and I don’t want any of you feeling bad about having fun during the day.”
“Why would we?” Sierra sticks her tongue out at me.
I grab it before she can pull it back. Who says superhuman reflexes can’t be fun?
She squeals and flails her arms, tossing suds everywhere. Sophia and Sam laugh.
“Good. Carry on as normal.” I let go of her tongue. “And sorry for ditching you guys so much. Kinda had a reality check.” That’s one way to put almost dying and losing my family. Don’t wanna say that though; Sophia’s finally calmed down and I don’t want to reopen the floodgates.
All three of them wind up clinging to me, Sierra’s soapy arms and all. No one’s crying at least.
Okay, that’s a lie. But I’m tall enough that they don’t notice.
After our group hug breaks up, we finish off the dishes and migrate to the living room. Sophia stretches out on the sofa with her head on Mom’s leg and her feet up on the armrest, reading her Kindle. Sam goes up to his room and his computer since Sierra and I monopolize the main set with the PS4 and Mortal Kombat. We flop on the floor, sitting with our backs against the couch, and proceed to beat our virtual selves to a pulp.
The last time we played this game, it felt like a crazy button-mashing fit. Sierra completely owned me, but I didn’t quit. Not really caring about winning helped. Despite her outward attitude, I think deep down inside, she’s got the same clinginess to
ward me as Sophia. Sam’s into video games too, but he doesn’t like to lose. The two of them don’t play against each other much, since within ten minutes, the mortal combat has migrated off the screen and into the living room. Sophia’s not that big a fan of video games, and when she plays, she goes for the cute stuff―games that Sierra doesn’t want to even look at. You know how that one vegan friend won’t carry the group’s food if the bag’s got a single piece of chicken in it? Sierra’s like that with the girly games. She even asked Dad to get a new PlayStation because a foo-foo game had touched the one we have.
But now? This game feels like super easy. Before I realize that my amped up vampire reflexes have kicked in, I’ve won three full rounds in a row, twice without taking any damage at all. Sierra’s gotten quiet, which is never a good sign.
I glance over at her out of the corner of my eye and note the pulsing vein in the side of her neck and bright red color of her cheeks. She’s even giving off a smell like strawberries, and it’s not coming from her shampoo.
Oh, damn. I think I’m getting dangerously hungry if my kid sister is starting to smell like a Pop-Tart.
“What are you sniffing?” asks Sophia.
“Umm.” I bite my lip. “Sierra’s strawberry shampoo is kinda strong.”
She narrows her eyes and turns her head toward me. “I do not use berry shampoo. That crap is Soph’s.”
Wow. Her blood’s pumping hard. She’s furious at losing.
“Sorry. It must be you I’m smelling.” I lean closer and sniff at her. Yep. Her heart’s racing. It bugs me that I’m sure her blood would taste like strawberries.
“Huh?” Unease chips away at her anger. “I don’t smell like berries.”
Sam thunders down the stairs and heads toward the kitchen. How can a reedy nine-year-old make so much damn noise on the stairs?
“I don’t smell like strawberries either.” Sophia sniffs her arm, then rolls half off the couch to sniff Sierra.
“Knock it off.” Sierra pushes her.
“Do I smell?” Sophia crawls onto the floor and around past us to sit beside me.
I lean over and sniff at her. The scent of berries is coming from her hair, but there’s another scent under it. Not as strong as Sierra, but Sophia’s not angry enough to throw a controller across the room. “Yeah. Cotton candy.”
A Nighttime of Forever Page 6
