Vampire Royals 1: The Pageant

by Leigh Walker

  “I need to go to bed. I have to get going early tomorrow.” Eager to flee, I backed toward my room.

  She shook her finger at me. “You remember what I said. When your numbers up, it’s up.”

  “Okay, Mom. Go to sleep.” I rushed to my room and closed the door, relieved to be away from her. I grabbed my headphones and flopped onto my bed. I turned my music way up, blocking out any other noise. If my mom fell on the way to her room, I wouldn’t hear it.

  That was fine by me.

  I must’ve fallen asleep with my headphones on because there was music in my dream, and then there wasn’t, and then there was someone sitting on my chest and yelling in my face.

  “Jesus!” I yelled, coming awake all at once and knocking my mother onto the floor.

  “I was trying to tell you the other thing,” she yelped.

  I looked at the clock. It was midnight. My mother was slurring. I put my headphones on the nightstand and sat up a little. “Well, you’ve got my attention. Tell me, then let me go back to sleep, please. I have an early run.”

  “Good girl,” she croaked from the floor. “You keep up the running. You’ve always been a good girl.”

  This was news to me. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “Don’t be a sheep.”

  I opened my mouth, but it just hung there, dangling from its hinges.

  “I said, don’t be a sheep, Riley!”

  “Okay…”

  “Don’t just okay me. I mean it. Don’t follow directions blindly. Think about everything you do.”

  “You’re seriously giving me this advice? You can’t even talk straight.”

  She sat up a little. “I’m not online. There’s that.”

  “You’re not a sheep because you’re not on Facebook?”

  She either shrugged or her neck lolled. “If you’re online, they can find you.”

  I smacked myself in the forehead. “Who? Who can find you?”

  “Are you online?”

  “No,” I admitted. It’d be pretty sad to have an Instagram feed filled with my drunk mother, my homework, and my runs because that’d be about it.

  I flopped back onto my bed, studying the water-stained popcorn ceiling. “Why are you telling me this?”

  She sighed. “Because even though I haven’t helped you in a long time, I want you to be safe.”

  “Okay, I think I’ve got it. A, when my number’s up, it’s up. And B, don’t be a sheep. In other words, stay off Snapchat. Are we good?”

  “No, we’re not. But you remember what I told you.”

  I drifted off, trying to get away from what she’d said. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t think that was a failure on my part. It was a cardboard box of Chardonnay talking, disguised as my mother.

  She snored from her spot on the floor.

  Oddly comforted by the sound, I finally drifted off to sleep.

  The Cold Shoulder

  I woke the next morning feeling vaguely annoyed, then I remembered what’d happened. I rolled over, but she was gone.

  I had slept in my sweats on top of my comforter. Even though it was early June, I shivered, feeling stiff. New Hampshire was like that—sweatshirt weather until late June, followed by three months of ninety degrees and one hundred percent humidity, followed by winter. Rent was cheap in Hanover for a reason.

  I changed quickly into my running clothes, wanting to be safely out of the house before she woke up. She might’ve staggered back to her room, or maybe she’d passed out somewhere in the kitchen-slash-living room. If I had to step over her on my way out the door, that would be bad. A pang of guilt hit me. I shouldn’t have left her like that last night, passed out on the floor.

  But she’d mentioned Katie. She must have been off-her-rocker drunk.

  I cautiously left my room, but she was nowhere in sight. Relieved, I made myself a piece of toast, drinking orange juice out of the carton while I waited. When the toast was ready, I slathered butter on it, folded it in half, and popped most of it into my mouth on the way out the door. I might choke, but I was in a hurry for a good reason. I wanted to get a decent run in before I headed to Hollingsworth. Nervous and excited about going to the dorm and meeting the other students, I knew nothing could calm me down like running.

  I put in my earbuds as I started the loop around Occom Pond. There were a few other runners out, getting their miles in before it turned unbearably humid. I wondered if my mother would wake up before I left for Hollingsworth. Probably not. Her weekend ritual involved drinking until she passed out, sleeping till noon, rinse, and repeat.

  During the week, when she worked at the laundromat, she skipped the sleeping-till-noon part.

  I couldn’t wait to get away from her. This made me a bad daughter, but I needed to get the hell out of Depressing Central, where every day was a hung-over memorial service for the people we’d loved, lost, and didn’t dare talk about.

  I rounded a corner on the path. A tall, sinewy man with a silver crew cut ran toward me, and it was too late for me to get out of the way. I bumped into him, and he glared at me, his lip curled into a nasty sneer.

  “Why don’t you take out those earbuds?” he yelled without stopping.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice probably came out too loud because I was blasting my music.

  The man didn’t turn around again.

  I hurried through the rest of my run, wanting to get home and take a shower, eager to put the last twenty-four hours behind me.

  My mother snored in her room. I snuck into the shower. It would be so nice to avoid a messy scene, especially after last night. I rushed through the shampoo and conditioning process, impatient to finish and finally get out of there.

  As I towel-dried my long, thick hair, there was a familiar snuffling outside the window. One of the quirks of our basement apartment was a window located in the shower. I stuck my head around the shower curtain and was greeted by the friendly face of my landlord’s bulldog, Ernie.

  “Hi, buddy.”

  He snuffled in approval and scratched at the screen.

  I reached out my hand, and he put he put his face down so I could pet him through the dusty screen. “I was going to say goodbye to you, you know. And I’m only going to be on the other side of town. I’ll come back to visit you.”

  He sneezed, blinked at me, then went to roll in a patch of mud. My eyes burned with tears as I watched him get filthy. Ernie had been the one bright spot of moving here. “Don’t get too dirty,” I warned him, “or you’ll have to take a bath.”

  He ignored me, gleefully rolling on his back.

  I went back to drying my hair, which took forever. I peeked back through the screen, but Ernie had gone inside. I quietly grabbed the things I’d packed and literally snuck out of the apartment to the sound of my mother’s snores. I went around the side of the building, hopped on my old mountain bike, balanced all my crap, and rode down the sidewalk.

  I had a sleeping bag, my laptop, my sneakers, pajamas, my journal, and a couple changes of clothes. These things comprised my most cherished possessions. I could come back for the rest. And when I did, I wouldn’t have to stay, and that was everything. I did a mental fist-pump as I headed down Main Street toward the Hollingsworth campus. Thrilled that I’d been able to work this one thing out, I pedaled happily, the wind blowing the hair back from my face.

  I couldn’t wait to start over. I so needed to start over.

  It took me twenty minutes to reach the ritzy boarding-school campus. I stopped and locked my bike, looking around. Growing up in Hanover, I’d been around the school my whole life. The campus was pretty, but I’d taken it for granted. Now, it looked different to me. The red-brick colonial buildings were stately, imposing, and full of promise. The green that connected the campus was enormous, a place I’d be able to spread out on, have a snack, and read a book around others like me—quiet, serious, and introverted.

  “What’s up, girl?” a loud voice boomed, making me jump.

  A
tall, dark-haired boy with coffee-colored skin stood next to me, all bones and bright-white teeth, sporting a black hoodie and smiling expectantly.

  I opened my mouth then closed it.

  “You speak English? Or…” He furrowed his large eyebrows. “¿Hablas español? ’Cause I’m half-Puerto Rican. I can roll with that.”

  “I speak English. You just surprised me.”

  He smiled again, easily. “Oh, okay. I wasn’t sure. You looked a little lost.” He held out his hand. “I’m Josh. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Riley. Are you… a student?” I’d never seen him before. He was so tall and smiley. I would’ve noticed him if I’d seen him around town.

  Josh shrugged. “Something like that. I’m here for the summer work-study program. You?”

  “Yeah. I just transferred here for my senior year. I’m checking in for the summer work-study program too.”

  He flashed those teeth again. “Ah, I get it. You’re poor.”

  “Uh,” I stammered, flustered.

  “I’m just teasing you, sheesh!” He eyed my bike. “Are you local?”

  I nodded. “I’m from Hanover.”

  He patted my shoulder, which was way below his, and beamed at me. I might need sunglasses to look at those teeth. “Riley Payne from Hanover… wow. I’m honored to meet you.”

  “Huh?” I swallowed hard. “Why are you honored to meet me? How do you know my last name?”

  “I never met anybody from here before. And I saw your name on the list, of course.” He flashed me another megawatt smile. “I have to get going, but I’m looking forward to seeing you around. You’re my newest friend.” Josh got on his iPhone and sauntered off. I watched his big thumbs as they fired off a rapid text.

  “Nice to meet you,” I mumbled.

  The sun warmed my face as I headed toward the steps of the administration building. Josh seemed nice, but he was definitely weird. Still, he’d called me his friend, and friends were something I’d been in woefully short supply of at Hanover High.

  Maybe Hollingsworth would be good. Maybe I’d make friends. Maybe I could salvage my thus-far painful high-school experience.

  I started up the stairs. That was when I saw him.

  The Cutest Boy Ever

  He—whoever he was—wore a backpack with both straps over his muscular shoulders. He stood on the steps of Fallon Hall, staring at me, all six-foot-three, tall, dark, and handsome of him. He had on a snug-fitting T-shirt with his ripped torso visible beneath it.

  My mouth went dry. If I could have created an ideal boy out of my imagination, there he was. There he was, and he was staring in my direction.

  I looked over my shoulder to see who he was looking at. But there was no one behind me, so…

  I turned back. He was still staring.

  “Hi?” I made it a question. Hi, you are the cutest boy ever. Are you staring at me?

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he scratched his head and kept staring, as if something didn’t compute.

  I looked wildly around for whatever had stymied him, but there was no one near us, no one except little old me. “Are you… okay?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not at all.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Definitely not.” He turned, cursed, and stalked up the steps.

  My stomach clenched. What had I done to offend him?

  Why did you say hi to him, loser? When had a guy like that, or any guy for that matter, ever stared at me?

  Never. Never ever.

  I groaned, trying to shrink back into myself as I watched him go into the administrative building. I needed to go in there too. I needed to go in there, and I’d just said hi to him, the cutest boy ever, and he’d looked at me like I’d offered him a plague sandwich.

  I sighed as I went up the stairs, a pit in my stomach.

  The boy was already at the desk. The secretary laughed at something he’d said. She smiled at him, visibly charmed, as they chatted easily.

  “Can I please see the student list for the summer program?” he asked.

  She twisted a lock of her hair. “Of course, dear.”

  The boy looked at the list. From behind, I swear I saw his shoulders tense as he read the names. He thanked her, and she practically fanned herself. When he finally turned around, he gave me the once-over with his dark-brown eyes but didn’t say hello.

  I shivered, feeling my face turn beet red.

  “Miss? Miss?” The secretary sounded annoyed, probably that I wasn’t tall, dark, and handsome—and an asshole.

  I shuffled up to the desk as the boy left the building. “Hey. I’m Riley Payne, I’m here to check in for the summer work-study program.”

  She peered at me over her glasses. “Don’t sound so excited about it.”

  “I am excited. I guess I’m just nervous.” I forced myself to smile at her.

  “Don’t be nervous. Everybody’s nice. Here, take these.” She handed me a stack of papers, a map, and a schedule. “The place I circled is your dormitory, which is the Tate building. You’re in the west wing.” She gave me directions through the green. “And you have orientation this afternoon, which they’ll do on the quad. Any questions?”

  I gathered the papers together and put them into my backpack. “Are all the other students here for the work-study program? Or are some of them just taking summer classes?” I hoped I sounded nonchalant.

  “Some are here for classes.” She smiled. “Don’t be nervous. You’re going to love Hollingsworth, and everybody says good things about the summer work program. If you ever need any help, I’m Gina.”

  “Thanks, Gina.”

  I grabbed my map and headed out the door, wondering if I had ever seen the Tate building before.

  The handsome boy was out on the green, talking to a group of other students. I mentally crossed my fingers that he was a summer student and wouldn’t be on the grounds crew.

  Although seeing him sweat in a tight-fitting T-shirt wouldn’t suck, my mind argued, but he wasn’t nice enough to even say hello, so I wasn’t interested.

  I held my head high as I followed the map to Tate. When I finally found it, nestled among the other dormitories, my heart soared. It was red brick with black shutters and skylights—the perfect blend of classic and modern. This was my new home. I smiled as I slid my key card in the slot and went through the doors. The lobby was sunny, immaculate, and best of all, silent—no drunk moms waiting to spring out at me.

  I headed to my room—number three—and put my hand over my heart when I got inside. It was spacious and sunny with enormous windows facing the quad. I unpacked my things, carefully spreading my sleeping bag out on the mattress. I’d go home at some point, preferably when my mother was at work, for a set of sheets and my comforter.

  I sat on the bed and looked at my schedule. I had two hours before the meeting. Tired from my run, my mom waking me up last night, and the weird encounter with the handsome boy at the office, I got into my sleeping bag. It smelled like home, which surprisingly, made me ache.

  My eyelids drooped, so I grabbed my phone to set the alarm in case I fell asleep. I curled around a patch of sunshine on my bed, letting the heat seep into me, feeling warm and comfortable. I didn’t know if I was the only person already in the dorm, and I didn’t care. I thought about the boy again, wondering why he’d looked at me that way, wondering if I’d imagined it. I probably had. I possessed a very wild, overactive imagination, probably a side effect of having no social life.

  I started to drift off. Maybe, now that I’d started Hollingsworth, things would be different.

  I knew I’d fallen asleep because my dad was there. He was unpacking groceries in the kitchen of our old house. My heart hurt. I yearned both for him and that house. The white kitchen cabinets were nicked, the refrigerator sagged, the old pine floor planks were warped, but it was home.

  Dad smiled at me, his eyes crinkling. “I’m going to make soup, pumpkin. Do you want to help?”

  “No,”
my dream-self said. I wanted to slap her, to jump in and say, “Of course!” It was my dad, and he was so close to me, and he wasn’t dead.

  He picked up the milk and smiled. “Go have fun. I understand.”

  I left the kitchen, but part of me screamed, Go back, just let me go back to see him for a little while longer! But instead, I ran outside to the dirt driveway and picked up rocks. My hands got dusty as I piled them high.

  A shadow appeared across the pile I’d assembled.

  I looked up to find the man with the silver crew cut from my run that morning. He stood over me, looking unimpressed. Then he opened his mouth and bleated like a sheep.

  I sat up suddenly, yanking myself from sleep. What the heck? I looked at the time—crap. I’d fallen asleep for almost two hours. I’d accidentally muted my phone. The meeting started in fifteen minutes. I got up and hustled to the shared bathroom on the floor, trying to shake off the dream. I brushed my teeth and hair as fast as I could. A toilet flushed. I grabbed my things to flee, but a girl sprung out from the stall.

  “Hey. I thought I heard someone out here.” She was a little taller than me with gorgeous porcelain skin and a strawberry-blond pixie haircut. She washed her hands. “I’m Emma.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Riley.”

  She dried her hands, looking me up and down, and I had the odd sensation I’d somehow disappointed her. “I’m Emma West. I’m from Indiana.”

  “Huh. I’ve never been to Indiana.”

  “You’re not missing anything. Except for the Hoosiers—they’re pretty awesome.” She looked at me, as though she were waiting for me to say something.

  “Huh,” I said again.

  She continued to inspect me, her sharp, green-eyed gaze cataloging every detail. “Are you a student or part of the grounds crew?”

  “I’m both. But I won’t start classes until the fall.”

  “What did you say your name was, again?”

  I licked my lips. “Riley. Riley Payne.”

  Her gaze focused on me, as if it were about to gamma ray my face off to see behind it. “And where are you from?”