Still Sucks to Be Me: More All-True Confessions of Mina Hamilton, Teen Vampire

by Kimberly Pauley

  I grab a bright yellow tennis visor with a flower pasted on it and try it on. Very PTA mom. I think I’ll skip the black cowboy hat with the sheriff’s star and the bright yellow construction helmet though. Where does she get this stuff?

  “How’s this look?” I add some big heart-shaped sunglasses, and she gives me a thumbs-up and a big grin.

  “What do you need it for, anyway?”

  I lean forward and whisper, “Okay, here’s the plan. You, me, and George. We hit the town and take in all of our favorite places. We go to Chili Pepper’s and get a couple of slices of pizza. Run by the Coffee Café for an espresso. And, of course, a Fat Elvis milkshake from Dingle’s. George gets off work at four and we can pick him up then.”

  Serena sits back and puts the bag back on the floor by her feet. “You told George about me? About how I know about the whole v”—she glances at the little old ladies who are staring at us and she lowers her voice—“the you know. Things. And stuff.”

  “No, not yet, but there’s no time like now. As long as we avoid any creepy-looking guys in suits, we should be good. The VRA guys are pretty easy to spot, if you know what you’re looking for.” I lean down to check out what else is in the bag. These glasses are really a little too big for me. I can feel them slipping off my nose. Score! I pull out a pair of glittery cats-eye-shaped sunglasses. No one would ever think to look for me in these. I trade glasses and strike a pose for Serena. “Whaddaya think? Totally très not me, right?”

  Serena doesn’t look like she’s feeling it. She shakes her head.

  “It doesn’t have to look good,” I say. “It just needs to look not me.”

  “Not the glasses. Min, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “What? The disguises?” They are kind of silly, I guess. Maybe I should go for something less noticeable.

  “All of it. Didn’t you tell me the other day that those guys can, like, totally wipe your mind? And that your parents got fined again just because you turned without filling out some form? And how much trouble everyone could get in, including me, if they knew that I knew?”

  “Yeah, but—” How can I leave town without a last hurrah? I thought she’d be all over this.

  “We probably shouldn’t even be here. Showing up at Dingle’s and Chili Pepper’s and all that? That’s just insane. We could get in huge trouble.”

  “When have you ever been worried about getting in trouble?” I mean, come on, Serena’s usually the one who gets me in trouble with her crazy ideas.

  Serena starts packing up all of the hats and glasses left on the table. “Since it could get me brainwashed and my best friend and her family relocated to Siberia. Or who knows what.”

  “Well, why did you even come and meet me here at all?”

  “I wanted to see you again and say good-bye, but I didn’t know what you were thinking. I probably shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t be out in public. This was a bad idea.”

  She leaves some money on the table for our hibiscus tea, which we barely touched (smelled really good but tasted like uck), and stands up. “Come on, we should go.”

  I follow her out, but now I have no idea what to do. My last hours at home and my best friend doesn’t even want to spend them with me. This isn’t remotely how I pictured things going.

  3

  Serena drops me off around the corner from George’s place once she does a drive-by and sees that his car is there. It was all I could do to talk her into driving me here instead of frog-marching me back to the hotel.

  I lean in the Death Beetle’s window. “You really won’t come in with me?” I have to try one more time.

  “Min, you know that’s not a good idea. It’ll only make things more complicated and dangerous. You know I love you. I just want you to be safe.” She gives me a sad smile. “Now get inside before someone sees you!” She waves one last time and drives off.

  I know it’s not the last time I’ll ever see her, but this just feels so final and awful. I don’t like it at all.

  I keep my head down and walk to George’s place, then I stare at the door for a few minutes before going in, which is silly since I’m sure he’s realized I’m here already. I can hear him in there watching TV (that whole superhearing thing can be pretty handy), and with his creaky front steps, I know he heard me coming. He’s probably wondering what I’m doing standing on his front porch.

  Okay, maybe Lorelai with all her dating advice is right. I do tend to overthink things sometimes.

  I open the door and run right into George’s arms. Yeesh. He’s getting really good at that whole silent stalking thing. Not that I think he’s actually gone stalking anyone or anything for real. But he totally could. I didn’t hear him get up from the couch at all. I guess his silent stalking is better than my superhearing.

  “Hey, Mina,” he says as he hugs me. “I was wondering if you were going to come in. You do know that whole thing about being invited in is a crock, right?” He gives me one of his crooked half smiles. It registers just a 3.5 on the George amusement scale.

  “I know, I know,” I say and just let myself melt into his arms.

  “How’d you escape the dreaded clutches of the VRA?”

  “You didn’t think I’d skip town without seeing you one more time, did you?” I neglect to mention how I got here but he doesn’t notice anyway since I distract him with a flurry of kisses. Works every time.

  I guess I should look on the bright side. I was hoping to get some time alone with George today to talk about the big stuff. Like where our relationship is going now that I’m being forced to relocate. Gah. The VRA sucks. This really isn’t a conversation I’m ready to have yet. We’ve only been dating a couple of months. I mean, it’s all been good, but still. I feel like I’m barely used to having a boyfriend. And while a long-distance boyfriend is better than no boyfriend, what I’d really like is a move-along-with-me boyfriend.

  We go sit on his lumpy couch and I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. Ever since he turned, his eyes have been like that crazy mood ring my uncle Mortie fobbed off on me one Christmas. Except prettier. And only in vampire-like shades of blue and green.

  They are a dark and stormy gray-blue today, which doesn’t bode well for me asking him about future plans. But it is now or never.

  “So …” Yow, I suck at this. I really have no idea how to say this. “I’m thinking we’re probably going to LA. Do you think you’ll be able to visit me soon? Or, you know, I’ve always heard it’s a great place to live.” I can hardly stand to look him in the eye as I say it, but I manage to keep my eyes on his. “What do you think?”

  “Um,” says George. “I don’t think—” He clears his throat and looks away.

  Yowch. I sit back on the couch a bit. That definitely doesn’t sound like a yes.

  George takes my silence as an opening, I guess, since he keeps going. “I probably should have brought this up when I first started thinking about it, but I knew you wouldn’t be happy, so I’ve been putting it off.” He takes my hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. So not good. He’s not going to use this whole relocation drama as an excuse to dump me, is he?

  “I’m leaving.” He holds up his hand as my mouth drops open purely of its own accord.

  “What? The VRA’s moving you too? Where? Do you know where?” And does he know somehow that it’s not where I’m going? Did they tell him? Is the VRA trying to split us up or something? Why are they out to ruin my life?

  “Hold on. The VRA isn’t relocating me.” He pulls me back down on the couch. I hadn’t even realized that I’d stood up. “I’m going to go visit my parents. I know how you feel about them after what they did to me, abandoning me all those years. I know. But I just keep coming back to the fact that they are my parents. The only ones I’ve got. I feel like I’ve got to take a chance and get to know them. I want to … I don’t know … know where I came from. You know what I mean? You understand, don’t you?”

  Oh. Wow. Didn’t see tha
t one coming at all. His eyes cycle an even deeper shade of blue, like the ocean just past the breakers during a storm. But no, I don’t understand. Why would he want anything to do with them at all, after they abandoned him to the foster care system when they decided to become vampires? “I—”

  I don’t know what to say.

  He leans over and squishes me in a big, huge bear hug. It’s a good thing I’ve got supervampire strength too. Otherwise he probably would have broken my ribs. “I promise I’ll do my best to stay in touch. I don’t want to lose what we’ve got. I just feel like I’ve had this hole in my life for all these years. I’ve got to try and fill it.”

  Exactly what does he mean by that? He never said anything about a hole before. Does what we have together not help fill that hole? And what does he mean by he’ll “promise to do his best to stay in touch”? Is it just me, or does that sound like the kiss of death? And I do not remotely mean that in a vampiric sort of way.

  “Um—”

  “Please, Mina? Don’t be mad,” he says into my hair.

  “I’m not mad,” I say really quickly before he can confess to anything else. He squeezes me even harder and lets out a huge sigh of relief. “I’m just surprised is all,” I squeak out.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you before—”

  “I don’t suppose your parents are in LA, huh?”

  “No, they’re in Brazil.”

  “Brazil?” That’s another country entirely! That’s like … well, I don’t even know exactly how far away that is, but it’s a long, long way.

  “Yes, they’ve been working down there off and on since they turned.”

  Oh, so that’s where they were all those years that George was in foster care. Gallivanting around the beaches in Brazil. That’s just pathetic. Why does he want to go spend any time with them? Instead of me? I don’t get it at all.

  George takes my silence as acceptance this time and gives me another bone-crushing hug. “I knew you’d understand. I really can’t wait to see them! Your relocation really came at the perfect time! You’ll be so busy moving that you won’t miss me at all! Things couldn’t have worked out better!”

  Well, I don’t know about that. I can think of a lot of ways things could have worked out better. I’m thinking they couldn’t have worked out any worse.

  4

  George drops me off at the roach hotel (okay, so maybe it isn’t exactly infested, but it sure looks like it could be) and I have my only piece of luck of the day. Uncle Mortie is sitting on the bed and watching TV, but Mom and Dad and the Josh-erator are nowhere to be seen.

  “Getting in a little face time with the old boyfriend before we go, eh?” Uncle Mortie wiggles his hairy eyebrows at me.

  “Yeah,” I say and sit down next to him. I’m too depressed to think of a snappy comeback, which Uncle Mortie notices right away.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “George is going to Brazil to go visit his deadbeat parents for who knows how long. Not to mention I’m leaving behind everything I know to move who knows where.” And a weirdo Goth girl is making bizarro threats to Serena for who knows why, but I keep that part to myself. That’s a secret even Uncle Mortie might tell my parents, though I bet he wouldn’t tell The Council.

  “Ah,” he says. “Brazil. Great beaches. Did I ever tell you about the double-jointed trapeze artist I met who was from Brazil? She was—”

  “Uncle Mortie. So not helping.”

  He puts an arm around my shoulders. He smells kind of like bacon and barbecued meat. He must have gone to get a burger like I thought. Of course, Uncle Mortie usually smells like some kind of food, so maybe not.

  “George is a good guy. I like him. And you like him, right? Maybe even luurrrrvveee him?”

  “Uncle Mortie!”

  “What?” he says innocently. “Isn’t that what you girls say nowadays? I swear I heard that in a movie.”

  “Maybe if I was a member of the single-digit IQ club. But yeah, I like him.” I like him a lot. And maybe I do love him, but there’s no luurrrrvveee involved.

  “Just give him some time and space to do his thing. ‘To boldly go where no man has—’”

  “Uncle Mortie, enough with the ‘Star Trek,’ okay?” I kind of head butt his chin. He’s such a goober.

  “Okay,” he says. “Pep talks aren’t really my thing anyway. Besides, we need to get ready to go to the airport. I’m supposed to be your chauffeur. Bob and Mari are going to meet us there with the goon.” He gets up and heads for the dirty bathroom.

  “The airport? We’re not driving?” LA is a little bit of a drive, but not killer.

  “Drive?” Uncle Mortie emerges from the bathroom holding three dingy towels and the only washcloth that didn’t have a hole in it, all of which he promptly stuffs into his suitcase. “No way am I spending that much time in a car with your dad. I’d probably want to strangle him after three days. After four, all bets would be off. Five, and I couldn’t promise you that you’d be alive either.”

  Um, days? More than five days? You’d have to be driving at a snail’s pace to take that long to get to Los Angeles. A snail in a full body cast. Not that Dad’s any kind of speed demon, but still. Even he could make it in a day. “Where are we going? I thought we were going to LA?”

  Uncle Mortie reaches to unplug the phone and stuffs that in his bag too. “LA? Why would you think we were going to—Ah.” He sits back down. “Kiddo, we’re not going to Los Angeles.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m not supposed to say,” says Uncle Mortie. He picks up the Gideon Bible and looks at it for a minute and then puts it back down.

  “We’re leaving today. Why all the hush-hush anyway? I did the whole turning thing. Aren’t I part of the family? Why are you all keeping everything from me?” I have this insane urge to throw a tantrum like when I was three, but I hold off. For now. But I do shut the dresser door before he can take the channel guide.

  Uncle Mortie pulls his hand back and blows on his fingers like the drawer got him. Like it was even close. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to say. I said I’m not supposed to say. The VRA apparently thinks you might be a flight risk since you’re still young. A fledgling, so to speak. But that’s a bunch of hogwash.”

  I knew Uncle Mortie would come through for me. “So where exactly is it they’re sending us to anyway? Siberia?”

  “I’m going to New Orleans.”

  I do a double take, but Uncle Mortie has a completely straight face and I don’t think even he would joke about something this big. Oh. My. God. New Orleans? As in New Orleans, Louisiana? That’s, like, just as bad as Siberia practically. I mean, it’s more than halfway across the country from California. Serena is going to freak. I plop down on the hard bed and nearly bounce my bag off onto the floor.

  “Wait, what do you mean, ‘I’m going to New Orleans’? We’re not?”

  “I’ve got some big plans in the city. Your dad has a new job … outside the city. But we’ve wasted enough time. We’re going to be late if we don’t get out of here.”

  He hustles me out the door and cranks up the music as soon as we get in his rental car. (The VRA confiscated his big yellow boat of a car, which is the only good thing they’ve done, as far as I’m concerned.) We make it to the airport in record time. The way Uncle Mortie drives, it’s a good thing we’re practically indestructible.

  Apparently, the VRA has some serious connections at the San Francisco airport. The Josh-erator and my parents are waiting for us in some posh area called The Strix Lounge where the only other people waiting are vampires. Probably other VRA victims. They’ve got a pinched peevish look about them.

  I decide to go for the full-frontal attack on the Josh-erator. I’ve obviously been playing way too nice so far. I walk right up to him sitting in a plump leather chair with his ever-present briefcase at his feet. “You’re sending us to Louisiana? What kind of crazy is that?”

  “Now, now,” he says in the annoy
ingly warm and friendly tone of voice he seems to use every time I ask a question he doesn’t want to answer (namely, every single one). “I’m sure you’re going to love your new home, Mina! Why don’t you just have a seat? I just have a few final things to go over and an information packet to give you and then you’ll be on your way!”

  “Mortie—” says Dad, but Uncle Mortie just shrugs and swipes a handful of peanuts from a table. He’s got my back.

  “I’ve had enough information packets to last me a lifetime,” I say. Even a vampire’s lifetime. “What about LA or San Diego or, I don’t know, anywhere other than Louisiana?”

  The Josh-erator gives Dad a your-daughter-is-beyond-annoying look and then just ignores me, handing out the stupid packets one at a time, starting with Mom. I let mine drop to the ground. Sadly, it’s all stapled together, so it just kind of falls in one lump.

  “You’ll be contacted by a local Council representative once you reach your final destination. If you have any questions, you know where to reach me. I’ll be sending on your personal effects—those I can, of course—as soon as possible.”

  He gives me another one of his thousand-watt smiles (which do not compare in any way, shape, or form to George’s). “It’s been a pleasure working with all of you. As always, please be sure to destroy any paper documents once you have committed them to memory.” And with that he hightails it out of there faster than you can say “vampire chicken.”

  “Mom,” I say. “Seriously, this completely sucks. What am I supposed to do in Louisiana?”

  “The same thing we’re all going to do.” She picks up my packet and hands it to me. “Make the best of it.”

  5

  I have to say that flying is a totally different experience as a vampire than as a regular person. Basically, you’re sitting in this flimsy seat that you could crush with your bare hands, listening to all these creaks and pops and other scary noises that the people around you can’t hear. And the worst part? You can also hear every conversation going on in the whole plane, including