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

by Kimberly Pauley

  “Or how about a better welcome for your long lost boyfriend?” He steps forward to embrace me, but I duck out of his arms before I even think about it. Does he really think he can just waltz back into my life like nothing ever happened? George looks a little hurt, but he doesn’t say anything.

  And I’m glad. Right now I’ve got bigger issues. Life or death issues.

  29

  Dad finally gets my message and calls while I’m filling George in on all the details about Serena and Raven and everything else (well, okay, except for Grady and Cameron).

  “What’s up, Mina? Everything okay? You sounded a little frantic in your message.”

  Well, duh. How would you sound if you heard some crazy Goth girl wanted to kill your best friend?

  I get Dad to stop talking long enough to explain just how crazy Raven is and how much danger Serena might be in. It takes twice as long as it should since he keeps interrupting me.

  “I—oh, my. I have to talk to Dr. Jonas. Hold on a second, Mina.”

  Shoot, I didn’t even get a chance to tell him about George. Maybe I should have led with the good news instead of the homicidal stuff.

  “Okay, Mina, we’re all coming home. Dr. Jonas is coming too. Just stay right there.” Then he hangs up. Immediately the phone rings again.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh and Mina, can you set out some liquid refreshment for us? Thanks.” Then he’s gone again.

  “Yeesh, Dad is still seriously hero worshiping Dr. Musty’s dusty coattails.”

  “What? What did he say?” asks George.

  “Dr. Jonas is coming over, so I’m supposed to get out the good stuff for him. Can you believe Dad’s more worried about keeping the doctor fed than over Raven wanting to kill Serena?” I go over to the fridge, open it up, and push the button for the false back to open up.

  Dad ordered us a fancy false inside compartment thingy for the fridge from the Varney Supply Company and charged it to the VRA. (Basically, you want some kind of vampire-friendly paraphernalia, Varney’s is the go-to place.) Especially handy since there aren’t that many places to run out and pick up a pint (not to mention that Eugenie’s so comfortable with Mom now that she’ll just help herself at the fridge). I pull out a bottle and turn around to find George standing in the middle of the kitchen with his mouth hanging open. Oh no, not him too!

  “Your dad is working for Dr. Jonas? The Dr. Jonas? He’s coming here? Here? Right now?”

  Sigh.“Yeah. I don’t know why, but he’s coming.” You know, you’d think Dr. Musty was a swimsuit model from the way all the guys I know react around him. Maybe I should skip perfume and just dab dust behind my ears.

  I watch while George scurries around fixing his hair and wiping off invisible specks of dust from his clothes. Luckily, wherever Dr. Musty was annoying people today must not have been too far since everybody arrives within about five minutes. Any longer and I might have had to throw a glass of water at George.

  “That Goth girl actually wants to kill me?” Serena says as soon as she walks in the door. She looks remarkably cheerful about it. Then she notices George, who is stuck in neutral staring with awe at Dr. Musty. “George!” She attacks him in a Serena-style bear hug (flailing arms, pogo-sticking legs, squeals of delight). “When did you get here?”

  “George?” say both my parents at the same time. Jinx.

  “That was my other news, but you hung up on me too fast. George got here today. He’s been in the Amazon going all tribal.”

  “Oh, are you with the group studying the Korubo?” asks Dr. Musty.

  George nods and gently disentangles himself from Serena after giving her a more subdued hug back. He probably didn’t want to look silly in front of Dr. Musty. “Yes, my parents are studying them and some other tribes.” He looks cat-that-ate-the-canary pleased that Dr. Musty has heard of it. Figures he would have, nosy old guy.

  “Do you have any other news you haven’t told us about?” asks Dad. Like what else would I be hiding? Not that I was hiding any of this news. I mean, it all happened today. It’s not like I’ve been keeping anything from them.

  “Nope, that’s it. Dr. M—Jonas. Would you like something to drink?” Might as well get some brownie points.

  “Love some, dear,” he says in his whispery, paper-thin voice. Dad smiles approvingly, then gets serious.

  “So you’re sure that this girl intends to harm Serena? And you think she’s actually connected with the Black Talons?”

  “Okay, do you remember when that Goth girl in my class went all commando on me?” Oh, shoot, wait … did I tell my parents or did I just tell Uncle Mortie? Maybe I have been keeping stuff from them.

  “No,” says Mom. Drat.

  So I start over and give them the whole spiel about how Raven hated me because she thought I was getting in the way between her and Aubrey and how she threatened to set the Black Talons on me. I guess I’m not surprised that Uncle Mortie didn’t clue them in. He’s good like that. Though this time it would have been useful if he’d been more like a normal adult and all up in my business.

  “Such a strange coincidence that this girl winds up here, of all places,” says Dr. Musty. Um, hello, she wound up here because Serena wound up here because I wound up here because Dad wound up here wanting to work for you. But I don’t say that, since Dad is nodding his head sagely like he just couldn’t agree more. At least Mom looks a little confused.

  “Why is that a strange coincidence?” asks Serena.

  “Because I have been working on proving that this area is perhaps the primary stronghold and birthplace of the Black Talons. The High Council enlisted my help to do so, as they haven’t been able to gather enough evidence on their own to act.”

  Okay, didn’t see that coming. “What are you talking about?” He can’t mean the Carters, can he? Cameron so doesn’t seem like a crazy, bloodthirsty, all-humans-are-evil kind of vampire. And Lowell was kinda creepy (okay, a lot creepy), but he didn’t seem all I-like-to-kill-people crazy. I don’t think. But Raven was at Ernie’s. And Ernie did call Cameron …

  Oh, craptastic. I’ve been fraternizing with the enemy.

  “John and Wayne Carter spread discord and mayhem everywhere they have ever traveled. They created a group in the English countryside called the Bloodhounds in Elizabethan England, whose sole goal was to spread terror among the illiterate masses. Before that, they were responsible for a vampire uprising in the 1600s that claimed the lives of over ten thousand humans and over a thousand vampires across Europe. Their record in France is atrocious. And when they came to the States, it is my belief they started the Black Talons.” Yeesh. It sounds even worse in Dr. Musty’s dry, old whisper. But he keeps going.

  “The High Council has wanted to put a stop to them for years, but their hands are tied up with all of that red tape they generate unless they have documentable proof.” I can’t argue about the red tape. I’ve seen that myself. I can only imagine that The High Council, head of all the regional Councils, is completely bogged down in it.

  “But you think the Carter family is the Black Talons? All of them?”

  “There are definitely Black Talons who aren’t Carters, but I think I can say with some certainty that most, if not all of the Carters, are indeed Black Talons. Now, you say you came upon this girl at Ernie’s? And Cameron was called to pacify her after her rant?” I don’t know that “pacify” is the word I’d use. More like make her shut up and go away.

  “Pretty much. Ernie must have called him. Is Ernie a Carter too?”

  “Wait,” says Mom. “Bob, did you know that this Cameron guy that Mina has been hanging out with might be a Black Talon?”

  George does a double take at that. Ugh. Just what I need right now. I just found out I still have a boyfriend.

  “Um,” Dad says, but I interrupt before he can incriminate himself so I can unincriminate myself.

  “Mom! I haven’t been hanging out with Cameron! He’s just been helping me practice some vampire skills! And
he’s always been a perfect gentleman.” I look sideways at George to make sure he got that part. Not that Cameron hasn’t been a gentleman. I mean, he’s never done anything but stare deep into my eyes. It’s not like it’s his fault that he smells good.

  “It is a historian’s duty to never assume without evidence,” says Dr. Musty. “As far as I know, Cameron Carter is not a Black Talon.” Whew. Thanks, Dr. Musty. “Of course, this new evidence does tip the scales a bit.” Drat. I thought he was on my side there for a minute.

  “Hey,” says Serena. “Time out! Okay, now, I’ve only just started my classes. Who are these whatchacallit Talons?”

  We all start talking at the same time, but Dr. Musty wins since (a) he probably knows more than all the rest of us combined and (b) Dad makes shushing noises at the rest of us once the doc starts talking.

  “The Black Talons can be considered a faction within the vampire dominion. They are a relatively small group and they believe that humans are, for lack of a better term, mere playthings. No offense, my dear, but to a Black Talon you are an expendable commodity, useful only for entertainment and food.”

  “Ouch,” says Serena. I have to agree. That’s pretty harsh.

  “Indeed. And, as your erstwhile Goth friend indicated, you must kill a human in order to be accepted. We have been working at connecting the Carters, especially John and Wayne, with this nefarious group for some time. I’ve been met with quite a bit of opposition. Some years ago, after the system of Councils was first formed, John and Wayne pledged that they were no longer troublemakers and would respect the law of The Councils. As of right now, officially the Carters are relatively well-respected members of the vampire community with full voting rights. That would change, should we prove that they are, in fact, integrally involved with the Black Talons.”

  “So that’s what you’ve been working on? Trying to prove that they’re all human haters?” No wonder John and Wayne rode into town. I bet they came as soon as they got wind that Dr. Musty was asking about them. I wouldn’t want to be on the bad side of The Councils. Been there, actually. And I only bent some of the little rules. I can only imagine what they do to you if you break the biggies.

  “Yes. We’ve been interviewing some of the more dissatisfied Carter Clan members. We also recently located a record storage location out near Ernie’s. Our next step is to secure the records before they can be moved. However”—Dr. Musty gives me and Serena an up and down once-over—“your situation might prove useful to us.”

  I don’t know if I like the sound of that. Who knew Dr. Musty was like James Bond in disguise.

  30

  So Operation Foil the Goth officially kicks off the next day. My job is to stick like glue to Serena (while wearing that stupid listening device, which itches like the dickens, not to mention I have to wear this really baggy shirt to cover up the wire taped to my belly). Thank goodness we have all the same classes (thank you again, Josh-erator). George is off with Dad and Dr. Musty doing who knows what at the hidden record vault. Mom is busy manning the wire in case there’s an emergency.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask Serena on the walk to school. After all, it is her life that’s on the line.

  “Sure. I guess. I know you’d never let anything bad happen to me.”

  “Of course not!”

  “At least Raven will stick out like a grandfather at a Hannah Montana concert around here.” True enough. Cartville isn’t exactly crawling with Goth girls. “It’s just kind of surreal that someone actually wants to kill me.”

  “Seriously.”

  “I had no idea the whole vampire thing was so dramarama.”

  “It’s not normally. Not really. I mean, you’ve known Mom and Dad for years. They’re pretty much your average, normal, boring parents.” Who suck blood.

  “Hmmmmm,” says Serena. We don’t have time to say any more since Henny accosts us as soon as we get on campus. As per usual.

  “Mina! Serena! Wait up!” Like we could get away from her if we tried. It’s a good thing she’s not a vampire. Then she’d be truly inescapable. We stop and let her catch up. “You guys are going to help with the annual homecoming fundraiser, right?”

  “Um …,” I say at the same time that Serena says, “Sure!” I need to talk to that girl. Don’t we have enough on our plate already?

  “Great! Here, all you have to do is sell bingo tickets. Anyone can buy one. They don’t have to be a student or anything. Make sure they know that this year we’re going to be drawing numbers instead of people getting to pick their own square. Last year nobody bought the corner squares and it was a pain.” She shoves a stack of entry forms at me.

  “What’s it for, exactly?”

  “The money? It goes to paying for prom decorations at the end of the year.”

  “No, the number. Isn’t bingo like that thing that old people play? The whole b-i-n-g-o thing?”

  She laughs. “No, this is cow patty bingo. It’s part of the homecoming festivities, right after the game, since we can’t do it before ’cause of the obvious reason.”

  Not obvious to me. I still haven’t figured out what these people are talking about half the time. “Cow patty bingo?”

  “Oh, I guess they didn’t have that in California, huh?”

  Not so much. We didn’t have anything remotely related to a cow as far as I know. At least in the part of California that I lived in. They aren’t exactly common beachgoers.

  “Well,” Henny explains, “the football field is marked off into squares after the game. Each square has a number and people who bought an entry get assigned a number. Then they turn loose Eugenie’s cow and everybody waits for her to go. Whichever square she poops in is the winner. That’s the cow patty part. They get half the prize money and the rest goes to the prom committee.”

  Serena starts cracking up. I just stare at Henny. I’ve never known her to be a joker before. She doesn’t really have the subtlety for it. “Are you kidding me?”

  She looks confused. “About what?”

  “People sit around and wait for a cow to poop?”

  “Oh yeah! It’s the biggest homecoming event, actually. Some people don’t even show up until after the game is over, just so they can cheer Baby on. That’s Eugenie’s cow. It used to be Mr. Fleming’s cow Bossie, but they ate her a few years ago.” Serena starts snorting, but Henny continues on like nothing is out of the ordinary. Which I guess it isn’t—for her.

  “It doesn’t usually take that long for the whole thing to be over. Eugenie is going to make sure Baby eats a lot that day. Lots of silage—that’s her favorite. Then there’s the bonfire and the dance.”

  O-o-kay. I’ve officially heard it all now. I have an almost uncontrollable urge to call Uncle Mortie. I think he’d truly appreciate the weirdness that is Cartville. And maybe he’d come save me. But probably he’d just come to watch the cow and lay a bet.

  I actually manage to sell all the cow patty tickets by lunch (ha, unwanted popularity is good for something), with the last one going to Lonnie Pratt. I’ve been keeping an eye out for Cameron all day with no luck until I see him heading into the cafeteria. Might as well get it over with. I nod at Serena (we’re still like glue) and she nods back. We go into the cafeteria and get in line behind Cameron.

  “Hey, Cameron,” I say, all casual-like. Then stop. Once again, didn’t quite think through what I wanted to say first. How best to bring up the whole “hey did you happen to do anything with that crazy Raven chick, or is she still around just waiting to jump out and kill my best friend? And, oh, while you’re in the mood to spill some secrets, can you tell me if you’re one of those nasty Black Talons?” thing. All I really want to do is yell at him for how he handled the whole Raven situation. And me.

  He just gives us the standard Southern hello head bob, a little uncomfortable. I open my mouth again and then Serena jumps in. “So, I hear some crazy chick wants to kill me. You know anything about that?”

  Well, I guess the
re’s always the direct route.

  “Um,” he says in probably only the second time I’ve ever seen him remotely at a loss for words. “Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else?” He grabs the first thing in the lineup (french fries and an apple) and goes to pay. Serena picks up a yogurt and a sandwich and I get a salad and a couple of cookies. (I still like to mess with their heads.) We find Cameron in one of the far tables in no-man’s land (i.e., mostly band members and the Future Farmers of America club, all wearing their little jackets).

  “Maybe we should talk after school?” He looks a little nervous.

  “Why? Nobody’s paying any attention to us.” Which isn’t strictly true, since half the cafeteria watched us walk over to sit by Cameron, but it’s not like anyone else here has superhearing, so I don’t see what the problem is. Lowell almost never eats in the cafeteria. I hear he hardly ever even leaves the Shop classroom, the freak.

  Serena steals one of his fries. Still up to her old tricks. “Besides,” she says, “I could be dead by then, right?” Groan. I guess she’s not gonna let him off the hook at all. Though, you know, I do see her point.

  He sighs. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine. I talked to your friend—”

  “She is so not my friend,” I say. As if.

  “Okay, I talked to that girl who showed up and made a scene at Ernie’s.”

  “And?” Serena and I both ask at the same time.

  “And hopefully she’s calmed down now.”

  “Hopefully?” Serena steals another one of his fries.

  He sighs again. “Yes, I’m sure she’s calmed down now.” Ha, I seriously doubt that. He doesn’t know Raven very well. She was obviously worked up enough to follow Serena halfway across the country. I really don’t think one little talk is going to do anything. Except possibly tick her off even more.