Girls That Growl

by Mari Mancusi

  I sneer one last time at the cheerleaders as I walk by, but they’ve already moved on to the all-important “Does my makeup look all right?” part of their day and so they ignore me. Attention spans of gnats, let me tell you. I walk to the school auditorium’s side entrance and push open the heavy metal door. It clangs shut behind me, leaving me in darkness. I always think the stage is spooky when there’s no one about. Not that I should be scared of the dark. After all, I’m the most dangerous creature here.

  A spotlight illuminates the stage and Teifert, always one for drama—being the drama teacher and all—sits beneath it in a folding chair. Last year the school put on a great production of Bye Bye Birdie with Sunny in the starring role. I have to admit, the girl was pretty good.

  “What’s up, T?” I greet with a casual wave. “How’s it hanging?”

  He grunts, running a hand through his wild black hair. I don’t think he really approves of me, even if last summer I did save the vampire and human races as we know them. I mean, a girl should get some props for that, I think.

  “Rayne, we have a problem. And we need your help,” he says, without so much as a “Hey, how was your summer?” intro.

  Great. And here I thought all I’d have to worry about this semester was calculus.

  “Of course you do.” I sigh. “What is it this time?”

  “Mike Stevens.”

  “Mike Stevens?” I scowl at the name of my arch nemesis. Lex Luthor to my Superman. Joker to my Batman. Mike Stevens is captain of the football team and officially the biggest dick in the universe. “What about Mike Stevens?”

  “He’s missing.”

  “Uh, okay, T,” I say. “Let’s get something straight here. Mike Stevens missing doesn’t necessarily qualify as a problem. I mean, have you met the guy? Some might say a missing Mike Stevens could be the best thing to happen to Oakridge High in a very long time.”

  “That’s not all,” Teifert says. “There’s also something suddenly very odd about the cheerleaders.”

  “Odd about the cheerleaders?” I cock my head. See, I knew I should have kicked their butts when I had my chance. “You mean more odd than usual about a group of girls who want to dance and kick up their legs while wearing short skirts in the middle of a New England November?”

  “Yes. And Rayne, this is going to sound strange, but…”

  Strange. Ha! He’s talking to a vampire who’s also a vampire slayer who spent her spring exposing an evil vampire and keeping him from destroying the world. “Dude, after all I’ve been through, nothing’s going to sound strange. Absolutely nothing in the known universe.”

  “Very well then. The cheerleaders? They’ve been heard, uh … growling.”

  Huh. Then again … maybe I’m wrong.

  “Uh, growling? What do you mean, growling?”

  “We’re not sure exactly. But we think there’s something very odd about their recent behavior. And now with the school’s top quarterback missing, well, we feel it’s something we need to check into.”

  “But I’m a vampire slayer, not Ace Venfootball, Jock Detective. What does this have to do with me?”

  “Rayne, why is it you feel the need to argue with every single thing I say?”

  “Because every single thing you say is usually stupid and ridiculous.”

  Teifert sighs. “Here’s your assignment. And no, until we get our replacement slayer trained, you can’t get out of this. We need you to go try out for the cheerleading squad. Infiltrate their ranks. Find out what’s going on.”

  I stare at him aghast, too stunned to answer at first. Then I find my voice. “No effing way.”

  “Rayne, do I have to remind you of the nanos still in your blood?”

  Ugh. Why does he always have to go there? Basically, for those of you just joining us, when they selected me as a potential slayer girl at birth, the nurse—a secret Slayer Inc. operative—injected me with some kind of nanovirus that lives in my bloodstream. And if I refuse a mission, all Slayer Inc. has to do is activate the virus and I’m dead. Nice, huh?

  “But wait a second! I’m a vampire. I’m immortal. You can’t threaten me with nanodeath anymore.” Ha! Answer that one, T-Man!

  “The nanos are encapsulated shards of wood. If activated, they’d head straight for your heart. Basically, you’d be staked from the inside out.”

  Um, wow. That’s .. . wow.

  I swallow hard before speaking. “It’s not that I don’t want to do this,” I argue. Yeah, right. Do I sound convincing? “It’s just that there’s no way the cheerleaders are going to let me join their ranks. All teens may look alike to you, T, but take a closer look at yours truly. I’m not cheerleader material. I don’t dress like a cheerleader, I don’t talk like a cheerleader, I can’t do splits or back handsprings to save my life. Oh, and there’s the whole ‘they are my archenemies and want to kick my ass’ thing to contend with. There’s no way in hell they’re going to let me on the squad.”

  “Rayne, you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure out something,” Teifert says. He gets up from his chair, reaches in his pocket, and hands me a hall pass. “Now you’d better get to first period. Don’t want to get a detention the first day.”

  “But we’re not finished talking. This is an impossible assignment. I mean, infiltrating seedy blood bars and staking evil vampires? That I can handle. Cheerleaders? No effing way.”

  “Good luck, Rayne,” Teifert says, jumping off the stage and heading toward the main exit. “I’ll expect a report from you in a week.”

  I slump into the folding chair, staring at my hall pass. Great. Just great.

  3

  So then he says I have to join the cheerleading squad!” My boyfriend, Jareth, reaches over to squeeze my and in sympathy. His is squishy with suntan oil. A bit grossed out, I pull my hand away to wipe it on my towel.

  Yes, it’s after school and we’re at the beach. Again. Sigh.

  Ever since Jareth found out that the blood virus had bonded with the melanin in his skin and he was, for the first time in like a thousand years, able to go outside during the day, he’s become the biggest sun worshipper to ever walk the earth. When we first met we’d go to dark, enchanting goth clubs and dance the night away. These days, all he wants to do is tan and surf. Yup. My perfect, pasty, eyeliner-wearing, Goth vampire boyfriend is now a beach bum.

  I’ve tried to humor him. To be understanding. After all, I imagine it’s been rough, sleeping in coffins for a millennium. And to finally get a chance to rejoin the human race? Yeah, that’s got to be pretty enticing.

  Still, I hate the beach.

  “Well, look on the bright side. I bet you’ll look pretty sexy in one of those short skirts,” he teases.

  I swat at him, careful to avoid his grease. Since he has no chance of developing skin cancer, he douses himself with baby oil every time. I, on the other hand, am fully clothed from head to toe and sitting under a black umbrella. The last thing I want to do is ruin my perfectly pale complexion.

  “Whatever. I’m so not doing this. One, it’ll ruin my rep. Imagine! Me! Rayne McDonald. A cheerleader! And two, they’d never, ever in a million years let me on the squad.”

  “That, I don’t believe.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “If you wanted to, you could get on that squad.”

  God, he can be so naive. “No way. Look, Jareth,” I argue, trying to be patient. “I know you were born a billion years ago, but let me tell you a little bit about twenty-first-century high school. There are two requirements to being a cheerleader: One, you have to be one of the Populars; and two, you have to be able to flip your legs over your head. Neither of which I have any chance of doing. Though I think the flipping thing would probably be easier, now that I think about it.”

  “You underestimate yourself, as always. Give away your power. Rayne …” Jareth turns to me, looking me straight in the eye. “What color is your parachute? And who moved your cheese?”

  Ugh. Ever since he was forced to re
tire as General of the Blood Coven Army due to the blood disease’s weakening effects, he’s decided to learn new replacement skills so he can be known for his brains rather than his brawn. Problem is, instead of going back to school, taking night classes, what-ever, he’s decided to do this by stocking up on self-help books. And now every time we get into a discussion he starts quoting some sort of ridiculous psychobabble or other.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll try out for the squad,” I relent. “I don’t have much of a choice, anyway.” Better to give in now, before I’m subjected to a lecture on how to win friends and influence cheerleaders. “Rah, rah, rah, and all that!”

  “I just know you’ll be brilliant, darling,” Jareth murmurs, leaning over to kiss me softly. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips on mine. He is an excellent kisser. And very sexy. And I love him to death … er, undeath, I guess. I mean, the guy literally sacrificed everything he had—his job, his vampire powers—all for me! How lucky am I to have a boyfriend like that?

  It’s just that—well, between you and me, and you’d better not say anything!—lately, he’s been … different. More … cheerful, I guess you could say. Happy. Enjoying life. No more brooding. No more deep, dark secrets and heart-wrenching drama. Which is … good, right? I mean, it seems like it should be good. And it’s not that I want him to live his life pent up, anguished, and miserable. Well, not exactly, anyway.

  But you’ve got to understand, when I first met him he was so different. So much like me. The two of us were thrown together and quickly bonded through our mutual unhappiness with the hard, cold world. We came together as two lonely souls—desperate, tortured, filled with angst. We didn’t trust. We didn’t share. But there was a lot of dark, hot passion between us.

  Now, ever since he’s gotten me as a girlfriend and has been able to worship the sun again, he’s been so … happy!

  What’s an Emo girl to do?

  4

  “Sunny, I need an extreme pep makeover.”

  My twin, sprawled on her stomach on her bed, looks up from her math homework, eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?” she asks. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

  “I need you to turn me into a prep.”

  “Okay, now I know I didn’t hear you right.” She sits up. “What the heck are you talking about, Rayne?”

  “Am I not speaking English here?” I ask, getting irritated. It’s already embarrassing enough to be asking this to begin with. “I need you to turn me into a prep so that tomorrow afternoon I can try out for cheerleading.”

  Sunny bursts out laughing. She throws herself back on the bed, tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks as she hoots and cackles. I’ve obviously just said the funniest thing she’s ever heard and it’s going to take her a while to calm down.

  “Urn, whenever you’re done …”

  “Oh my God, Rayne,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re too funny. I just got this total image of you in a cheerleading uniform with fishnets and combat boots.”

  “Uh, yeah. Hence the makeover request.”

  “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you? How can you be serious?”

  “Come on, Sun. I asked you for a favor. Do we have to play Twenty Questions?”

  “My sister, lover of the night, vampire of the Blood Coven, never before seen in anything but the color black, wants to be a pom-pom waving, football field-dancing cheerleader? And I’m not allowed to ask why?” Sunny snorts. “Yeah, right, Rayne. I’m not helping ‘til you come clean. So what’s the deal? You planning to play some crazy trick on them? Make them look like fools in front of the whole school? Come on, tell me. I promise not to squeal. I’m your twin, after all.”

  “Sunny, there’s no plan. I’ve just got to make the squad.”

  Sunny stares at me, patiently.

  “Okay, fine. I’ve been asked by Slayer Inc, to try out.”

  “Really? Are there evil vampires on the squad?”

  “I don’t… I don’t think so,” I say, “Though who knows? Mr. Teifert just said they thought something weird was going on. And he believes it has to do with Mike Steven’s disappearance.”

  “That’s funny. I was thinking it was probably you who made Mike Stevens disappear. Met him in a dark alley one night this summer. Seduced him into your power, then BLAM! Bit him in the neck. Sucked every last drop of blood from that asshole’s veins.”

  I cringe. “Uh, yeah. Right. Except I don’t drink blood, remember?”

  “What? You’re still on the synthetics?”

  My face heats. How embarrassing. I’ve been a vampire all summer and I’ve yet to pick out a pair of Donor Boys and start living like one. The idea of drinking blood from another human being just grosses me out and I can’t help it. I figured once I made the change I’d suddenly be ready to start sucking away. But no. Just the thought of digging my tiny fangs into someone’s neck gives me the willies.

  After nearly dying of starvation my first week, they put me on synthetic blood. Sort of like soy milk instead of cows’ milk. It doesn’t taste all that good, but it’s better than downing the real stuff.

  The coven doctors believe it may have to do with the fact I had the virus. I’m not quite human, but not full-blooded vampire. So while I can’t stomach solid food without throwing up, I still crave it with a vengeance. And while I can’t survive without human blood, I’m repulsed by the idea of drinking it.

  I’m the coolest vampire ever. Not.

  “Yes, I’m still on synthetics. So what?”

  “Nothing. Just… it’s weird.”

  “Not really. It’s like … vegetarianism.”

  “A vegetarian vampire is weird.”

  “Wow. We’ve been here ten minutes and I’m not one bit prepped out yet.”

  “Fine, fine.” Sunny groans, dragging herself off the bed. “Let’s see what I can find.” She walks over to her closet and starts rummaging through. “So Slayer Inc. thinks the cheerleaders have something to do with Mike’s disappearance?”

  “Yup. And he says they’ve been heard growling.”

  “Oh-kay then.” Sunny laughs. “So you’ve got to secretly infiltrate their ranks and figure out where they stashed the quarterback.”

  “Something like that.”

  “What I want to know is how the heck you’re going to make the squad.”

  “Extreme pep makeover, I told you.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Rayne, but it may not be that simple. One, they’re going to see right through your pink clothes. Your tattoos won’t be easy to cover up, just FYI. And two, regardless of whatever stereotype you have in your head, I gotta tell you, there are some minimum skill requirements for cheerleaders.”

  “Please. They just jump around and wave pom-poms. How hard can it be?”

  Sunny shakes her head. “Fine. You’ll see. But I suggest you practice before your tryout. A lot.” She hands me a pair of yoga capris and a tank top. “Seriously. And even then, you’re not going to be able to master a round-off back-handspring by tomorrow evening. There’s going to be lots of girls more qualified than you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Not to mention Mandy’s the captain of the team. And we all know what Mandy thinks of you.”

  “Right,” I say, suddenly inspired. Mandy Matterson. Captain of the squad. Former best friend. That gives me an idea.

  “Sunny,” I say. “Forget the makeover. I have a much better plan. One that will guarantee I make the squad, no questions asked.”

  Oh yeah, baby. This is going to be fun.

  5

  “Okay, we’re going to call you out by name, one at a time. You’ll step out in front of us and perform your cheer. Then we may ask you some questions. We only need two girls to fill the squad, so obviously most of you won’t make it. We’re very selective here at Oakridge High. We have standards. High standards.”

  After finishing her speech, Captain Mandy sits back down in her seat behind the row of tables, joining the seven senior squad members serving a
s judges today. She tosses her long blond hair behind her shoulders and clears her throat.

  “Okay,” she says, after a glance to her clipboard. “Up first, Britney Smith.”

  A giggling blond girl jumps up from the bench the rest of us wannabes are sitting on and cartwheels over to the center. Hmm, nice open.

  “Hi!” she exclaims brightly. “I’m, like, Britney Smith. Thanks for having me!”

  Do we get bonus points for over-the-top, air-headed behavior? Something to consider. Not that I think for one moment I’d be able to pull off that level of vapidness.

  “I’m so nervous,” squeaks a voice next to me. I turn to the girl in question. She’s smaller than the rest of the hopefuls and really thin. The kind of girl who’d get to be top of the pyramid were she to make the squad. Still, she’s not as … Barbie doll looking as the others. Her brown hair’s a bit on the stringy side and her huge, unmade-up eyes are a muddy shade of brown. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and baggy shorts that do nothing for her figure. I’d like to say those things don’t matter and that it’s all about talent, but I can’t imagine that’s a realistic assumption in this scenario.

  “Meh, you’ll be fine,” I say, trying to calm her nerves. Not like I’m not a bundle of them myself.

  “My mother was captain of the squad back in the 1970s when she went to Oakridge,” the girl continues, her voice literally quaking with fear. “And she really wants me to follow in her footsteps. When I didn’t make the team last year, she was so upset.”

  Wow. Talk about pressure. I hate parents like that. The ones who try to relive their own sad, pathetic youths by forcing their kids into activities they used to enjoy. Who knows, this mousy little girl could have been a terrific artist or track star. But she’s going to waste all her effort in this air-headed, pseudosport because Mommy Dearest wants to be able to brag at bridge.

  “Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” I say. “I’m Rayne, by the way. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Caitlin. But everyone calls me Cait.”