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

by Kimberly Pauley

  “Little snotty, if you ask me.” That’s from Lowell, but one glance in his direction shows that there’s only one other teacher sitting remotely close to him and the man’s leaning the other way. Maybe Lowell always smells bad.

  Not that I had superhearing back at my old school, so I can’t technically confirm this, but I can tell you right now that never, at any point in my high-school career to date, have this many people ever talked about me. At once. Or maybe ever, other than at my funeral. I doubt if this many people even noticed me the whole time I attended McAdam. Seriously. It’s really nuts.

  It’s also about to drive me totally insane. It’s been bad enough all day in classrooms (though having to concentrate on listening to the teacher actually helped, go figure), but in here it’s just like a wave of chatter. Actually, more like wave after wave after wave and I’m starting to drown.

  It does seem to help block out all the noise when you try to listen to just one person. So I focus on listening to Grady as he splits off from me to go through the hot-lunch line. I take the cold line since it’s shorter and will hopefully help me get out of here sooner.

  “So, who’s the hot new girl with the whacked-out eyes?” I hear some guy ask Grady. Ohmigod. Is he really talking about me? Hot? Me?

  “Hands off,” says Grady. “I saw her first.”

  Excuse me? What kind of Neanderthal does he think he is? No, wait. What kind of girl does he think I am? Is that what all his oozing Southern charm has been about? So much for that. I guess guys are all the same everywhere. Well, not all guys. George isn’t like that.

  Though, okay, I have to admit that I am a little bit flattered that the guy called me the hot new girl. But also offended about the whole caveman mentality thing they’ve got going on. I swear, if all girls could hear as well as vampires, most guys would not be getting any dates.

  “What about Kacie? She’s gonna show up any minute.”

  “What about her?”

  The other guy laughs. “Your funeral, man.”

  Great. I obviously need to let Grady know that

  a) I have a boyfriend,

  b) I’m so not interested (I don’t care how much of a cute-farm-boy thing he’s got going on, we have less than nothing in common), and

  c) he needs to deal with his Kacie problem, whatever it is. I’m not going to tackle that one for him.

  I grab a tray and just pick up a yogurt. I don’t really feel like eating anything at all and I really want to get out of here, but that would look funny and if there’s one thing G.W. drilled into me, it’s that you have to keep up appearances. Unfortunately, my lunch selection sets off a new storm of gossip and I hear at least three girls behind me in line put back the stuff on their trays and just grab a yogurt instead. What is up with these people? Is this what it feels like to be king of the A-List like Nathan? Except, you know, as a girl?

  It’s really kind of irritating. Who knew? I wonder if Nathan ever gets annoyed? I bet he does. But I also bet he hides it better than I ever could. Good thing it’s just the whole “new girl” status. I bet it will all rub off in a few days.

  I debate grabbing some more food, but then I figure it’s their own fault if they can’t think for themselves. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get like one of everything and eat all of it. That would really mess with their heads.

  Henny finishes paying and leads me over to what can only be the popular kids table. And who should the queen bee be except the one and only Kacie? She’s right smack in the middle of the table, right in the middle of the lunchroom—staring daggers at me and Grady, who’s wrapped up his caveman routine (apparently, he thinks he’s the king of the school, since he cut in line and has already paid) and is making his way to the table.

  So I squeeze in right next to Kacie and everybody obliges by scooting down with only a little bit of whispering and one “whoa.” That gives Grady a pause, but he sits across from me after a minute or two. Henny happily jams herself in right next to me. I can’t tell, but maybe she’s not normally at the A-list table. Grady definitely is (people moved out of his way without him even asking) and Kacie looks like she owns the place.

  Not that this is at all like the A-List Land that I’m used to. That is, used to watching from across the McAdam cafeteria.

  These kids don’t seem quite as, I don’t know, polished? Not like shoe polished, but like schmoozing polished. Like Nathan. I think he could charm anybody, anywhere, any time, of any age. So far, everyone here seems more normal. But there’s still the whole clique thing going on. There are no Goths that I can see, but there’s definitely a group of artsy kids over to the right and a group of nerdy kids in the far corner. I guess some things are universal.

  Kacie didn’t say anything to me as I sat down, so I give her a huge smile, which I’m sure bugs the heck out of her. The best defense is a confusing offense. That’s my motto. I don’t actually have anything against her, other than her attitude. Not that I want to be her new best friend either. But I would like to just have a decent last year of high school. As decent as possible in this Podunk place. And, you know, I appreciate where she’s coming from. I liked Nathan for years and nothing ever came of it. For me, anyway. It kinda worked out for Serena. But anyway. Who knows how long Kacie has liked Grady? They’re both obviously the leaders of the pack at this school and that’s usually a match made in heaven.

  “So,” I say, “Kacie, right? I think we met briefly at Lonnie’s party?”

  She just glares at me some more, doesn’t even bother to nod or anything. Nice.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

  Still nothing. Even Henny has abandoned me to talk to some girl sitting on the other side of her. Grady keeps making eyes at me, like he’s begging me to stop. Well, no one has ever called me a quitter.

  “My name’s Mina, in case you didn’t catch it.”

  “What kind of a name is Mina?” She practically snarls it at me. Okay, so “Mina” is a little weird, but get a grip.

  “German,” I say through slightly gritted teeth. “It means ‘love.’” I am not going to let her know she’s starting to get to me. “How about Kacie? Is that short for something? It’s an interesting name. I’ve never heard it before.”

  She just stares at me. Man, this girl has a chip on her shoulder the size of … I don’t know … Grady, I guess.

  “I really miss my best friend Serena and my boyfriend George,” I blurt out. Okay, random. But I didn’t know what else to say. If she missed the boyfriend part, then she’s deaf. Even Grady appears to have heard it, since his foot mysteriously moves away from mine under the table.

  “What about Cameron Carter? He seems nice to you?”

  I’m not really sure from her tone what she’s getting at, though I can tell from her pulse (which has practically doubled since I sat down) and her sweat (which is so not Eau du Pleasant) that she’s still highly pissed at me. Maybe it isn’t just Grady she’s mad about. Maybe she’s just got lots of issues. Maybe she just wants all the hot guys to herself. Greedy girl.

  “I don’t really know Cameron all that well, since I just met him at Lonnie’s party and all he did was drive me home, but he seemed nice enough.” Is that diplomatic enough, I hope?

  “I don’t know where you come from, but around here a nice girl doesn’t leave a party with a different boy than the one she came with.”

  Whoa. Okay, that’s it. I’ve had more than enough of playing the nice girl. Mom can’t say I didn’t try. The old me wouldn’t have made it through even half of that conversation. I stand up. Everyone at the table who was paying attention to our little exchange (which was, apparently, every single last one of them) sucks in their breath in one collective whoosh.

  “Not that it’s remotely any of your business, but the only reason I left the party with Cameron was because your panties were so far up your butt over Grady just sitting next to me that I could tell what color they were as soon as you opened your mouth. And it’s probably not nice to say that, but it’
s the truth.”

  In a figurative sense, anyway. I’m talking some green panties. As in jealousy green. But I think she gets my drift from the slack-jawed reaction I get from that one. Or maybe she’s just stupid. From the stunned looks all around us, other people are definitely getting it. Or maybe she’s just not used to anyone calling her or her underwear out.

  “And furthermore, I don’t know where you’re from, but where I come from, when people are trying to be nice to you, you at least act like you’re nice back.”

  This is where I’d really like to invite her outside, but there are quite a few reasons not to do that, like

  a) being as I’ve got superstrength and what not, I could totally accidentally kill her, not that she isn’t annoying and already a pain in my rear, but that doesn’t mean I actually want her dead (and it’d be a total waste of blood);

  b) Mom would totally kill me (I did say I’d try to be nice); and

  c) so would Dad. Not to mention the Southeast Regional Vampire Council.

  So instead I just turn to Henny and tell her thanks for showing me around all day and that I’ll see her tomorrow. And I just leave.

  I can feel the whole room staring at my back as I walk out. The cafeteria falls completely silent—except for Lowell chuckling to himself over in the teachers’ corner and Grady whispering to Kacie to shut up. Kacie finally manages to snap her mouth shut.

  Oh, wouldn’t I have loved to shut it for her.

  15

  I try texting Serena on the way home, but I don’t get a response. Gah. Try George and get the same thing. What good is a cell phone if I can never reach anyone on it? I send Serena one more text saying I’m going to call her in ten minutes and she’d better be there. Or else. Or else my brain might explode, but hey.

  Mom must have had an inkling that my first day at Cartville High probably wasn’t going to be my best day ever. She’s taking a batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven as I open the door and doesn’t even mention that I’m home way early. The smell is absolutely heavenly. I thought cookies smelled good before, but now, it’s just amazing. It almost makes up for the lingering smell of the cafeteria. Almost.

  She takes one look at my face and wisely doesn’t say a word, just hands me a cookie and takes one herself. We sit at the chipped Formica kitchen table (seriously, this place is so decrepit it’s starting to depress me) and chew.

  I’m on my third cookie when she says brightly, “I’ve got some good news!”

  “We’re moving back home?”

  She just hands me another cookie. “No, I signed us up for a class.”

  Okay, so she thinks, somehow, that more school is going to make me feel better? “What, how to speak Southern?”

  “No,” she says in the same bright, cheery voice that she’s been using way too much lately. “It’s a shape-shifting class. Kind of like continuing education for vampires. Remember all those brochures that Ivetta left? Well, the shape-shifting one sounds like fun, don’t you think? Your father and I never took any classes before, since we were kind of on the down low—isn’t that what you kids call it? Anyway, I thought it would be fun. You know, like a girl bonding thing.”

  “I—”

  “It will be great! Just the two of us … your Dad is too busy, you know, and it’s supposed to have some really practical applications. I think it would be good for you. Show you some of the good things about being a vampire, you know? Maybe we could meet some other local vampires. Hang out a little. And I’ve never tried shape-shifting before.” Mom takes a bite of a cookie and stares at the ceiling. “Well, I did once, but it didn’t work out exactly … but anyway, what do you think?”

  She sounds so excited and for-real bubbly that I don’t have the heart to tell her I’d rather eat live flies than take another Council-sponsored class. And I get the feeling that if I don’t agree, this is going to turn into one of those all-nighter talks about what’s good for me and how I need to adjust to my “new” life. Not to mention, I’d have no hope of sneaking out to talk to Serena. I check the clock on the microwave—five more minutes until I’m supposed to call. Time to suck it up.

  “Sounds great.”

  Even though I don’t sound all that enthusiastic (hey, Serena’s the actress, not me), Mom gets even more excited.

  “Wonderful! I can’t wait. Honey, this will be such fun!”

  She’s all smiles, no fangs. I manage to smile back at her. At least one of us is happy. Well, make that two of us. Dad comes through the front door just then practically bouncing up and down.

  “Hey! How are my two favorite girls? What do you say we blow this pop stand and go out tonight? I heard about another blood bar a few towns over. I can’t wait to tell you about my day today! Dr. Jonas is just amazing!” He stands there beaming at us like a heavy-duty flashlight. I have the urge to tell him to take a breath, but I don’t. He and Mom just stand there grinning at each other like crazy people.

  Sometimes they really depress me. I mean, I love my parents. I do. Even when I’m mad at them, I still love them. Bloodsucking vampire freakishness aside, they’re pretty cool as parents go. I know they do their best, most of the time. Or, at least, they try to. They didn’t abandon me like George’s parents did to him and they don’t argue all the time and call each other names like Serena’s parents. They just drag me halfway across the country.

  I’d really like to be happy for my dad since he obviously thinks Dr. Musty is the best thing since, I dunno, refrigeration or sliced bread or music videos. But so far, all I’ve been served up on my plate is a big oozing pile of suckiness with a side of suck it up.

  “Uh, I’m going to skip out tonight. It’s been kind of a long day.” Besides, I need to get them out of the house and beyond hearing range, so I can give Serena a call.

  “Oh, I completely forgot to ask! Mina, how did your first day of school go?” Dad pulls up a chair and puts on his best concerned-dad face. See, that’s what I mean. They do try. But sometimes they just don’t get it.

  I glance at the microwave clock again. Three more minutes. I talk fast. “Well, the cafeteria smells like a garbage dump, everyone was preoccupied with my butt, and some girl hates me already.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t really hate you,” he says, totally disregarding the butt comment. Which I expected. “Maybe you just need to get to know her better. Maybe she’s just jealous. After all, you are my beautiful girl.” He reaches over and fluffs my hair. Oh, cheese.

  “I know what you mean about the cafeteria,” says Mom. “That used to get me at work. You get used to it after awhile. Mostly.” Great. I was hoping there would be some kind of Jedi mind trick to dealing with it. What did vampires back in the Dark Ages used to do when they didn’t even have, like, toothpaste and good soap? I suppose I could ask Dr. Musty. I bet he’d know.

  “Well, you guys better get going!” I start shuffling them toward the door.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go with us? I heard this place is pretty nice. Dr. Jonas told me about it. They even have karaoke!”

  Double cheese. Vampire karaoke? That makes me want to go even less. Besides, talking to Serena will cheer me up way more than Dad belting out an off-key version of Love Shack or Bohemian Rhapsody.

  “No, I’m fine. You and Mom could probably use some alone time.”

  They head off without too much more fuss. I think the idea sounded good to them too, once they thought about it. That’s a great trick, actually. Parents have needs too. If you can cater to those and to your own at the same time, total win-win. Plus you get brownie points.

  I wait until they’re far enough away that they can’t hear me and I pull out my cell and dial Serena. Four rings and she finally picks up.

  “Hello?”

  “Serena! It’s me!”

  “Hey, M—Willy! Nice to hear from you! Hold on a second, let me get up to my room.” I hear her fiddling around for a couple of minutes and some babble in the background that must be the holy terror (i.e.,
her little sister). “It’s safe now. How are you? I miss you!”

  “Willy?” I’ve been called lots of things before, but that’s a first.

  “Well, I couldn’t call you Mina in front of my mom. It was the first thing I thought of. We were watching a movie with that goofy actor guy. Besides, Willy is kind of cute.”

  “Yeah, yeah, funny,” I say. “I’ve missed you, you goober.” I really have. I’ve got so much stuff to tell her that I almost don’t even know where to start. It just starts coming out all at once. “Serena, you won’t believe what happened to me at lunch—”

  “Hang on just a sec.” I can hear her yelling at someone on the other end of the phone. “Can’t you just leave Alexis alone for one second, you guys! She’s not your interpreter, Mom. Tell him yourself!” Serena gets back on the line. “Sorry about that.”

  “Is everything okay?” I say. “What was that all about?”

  “Things with my parents are getting really bad. They won’t even talk to each other directly anymore. I absolutely refuse to be their go-between, so they’re using Alexis. I guess the good thing about that is they have to watch their language.”

  “Oh man.” Grown-ups can be worse than little kids sometimes.

  “Yeah. I saw Dad looking up apartments for rent online. I think this really might be it.”

  “I’m so sorry.” What else can I say? It really seems like there should be something better to say, but heck if I know what it is. Gah, I hate stuff like this.

  “It’s okay. At this point, I think it might be for the best.”

  “Still sucks.”

  “Yeah.” She’s quiet for a minute and I debate about whether or not to tell her about my almost throwdown with Kacie. I really want to get her take on what to do about her, but suddenly it feels kind of wrong. I don’t want to worry her with my problems. She’s got big enough problems of her own.

  “So what were you saying about lunch?” she asks.