Teeth

by Owen, Kelli

  “So when my uncle calls people hicks, it’s not just that they’re from the country?” A confused looking boy near the front of the class cocked his head in thought.

  “No. There’s a full derogatory definition behind that word, and while it may change subtly from region to region, hick never means an educated, classy person. It almost always comes with the modifier dumb, whether it’s spoken or not.”

  “But people don’t have rallies for people to stop saying hick,” the boy continued.

  “No. But there are also no hick hate crimes. It’s a derogatory term we shouldn’t use, but it doesn’t create social strife.”

  “Cuz they’re too dumb to know it’s mean.” Tamara heard Amber whisper to Madison, and rolled her eyes at the Brenna-wannabe.

  Mrs. Fidler seemed to hear it as well, as she continued with sharpness to her tone. “Unlike vampire. If everyone could make the effort to stop calling them vampires, even the bad ones, even in jest, or even in what some would call art—like the popular bands right now. The music from California is all gothic romantic Hollywood vampires, while the music in New York is heavily derogatory to lamians but claiming to do it from the inside, so it’s okay if they call each other vampire. But no, it’s not. Doing so only furthers the use of a word we’ve all agreed is degrading.”

  She looked at the back of the class in general, not stopping on any one student. “It’s the small things, like the way you look at someone once you find out they’re a lamian. Does that look come with a judgment of sorts? Did you mean it to? Will they take it that way even if you don’t mean it that way? Resting Bitch Face causes enough problems in an overly sensitive society. Add the lamian element to a young person going through the changes, and they become highly sensitive to how they’re perceived by those around them. You need to be aware of your words and actions. Not only should you not fang-shame, but you shouldn’t take advantage of them or their plight.”

  “Like that company who’s getting sued for those banned t-shirts?”

  Tamara didn’t bother to look around and find the source of the question, as she zoned out contemplating the list on the board. OPINIONS. CAUSES. PROTESTS. CRIMES. The last bullet point held her attention and she drifted off to think about the things her dad had told her about the murders, the lesson being heard but not paid attention to fully.

  “Exactly. Sure they thought it was funny, but it was offensive to some.” Mrs. Fidler caught someone’s gaze and stopped. “For those who don’t know what Terry is talking about, there was a t-shirt being sold that said MTGA on the front and on the back it said Making Transylvania Great Again. It was meant to be a proud way to show support for your lamian friends, but Transylvania having anything to do with lamians is a Hollywood derivative and not true, thus the t-shirt was simply furthering lies and hurting the cause rather than helping it. And making a profit doing so.”

  The room was silent for a moment as the teacher’s words sunk in. The quiet was enough to snap Tamara free and she glanced around, noting who looked pensive and who looked annoyed.

  “You should be aware of your words, your actions. You never know who around you, even in this class, is a lamian and hasn’t come out yet.”

  Tamara saw Dillon nod her way, like a secret handshake acknowledging they knew about each other. She noticed several students watching their exchange, but then saw Madison and frowned. Her face was full of panic, and several of her fingers were tipped with Band-Aids.

  What the hell, Maddie?

  — TWENTY-FIVE —

  Dillon stood outside the counselor’s office door and thought about the assignment for Mrs. Fidler’s class. He was seriously considering whether he should write the paper about his mother.

  After all, she fit both the irrational pre-judgment of a prejudicial person, and clung to her incorrect beliefs—even feeding them with the news she chose to watch—and thus was a willing bigot.

  The more Mrs. Fidler had talked about the assignment, or rather the social issues the assignment was about, the more upset Dillon had become. His mother was the embodiment of every single thing wrong with the country, the world, when it came to lamians. He wasn’t better or worse than a human. He was just different. He shouldn’t be judged because of his teeth, but because of his merits, his talents, his achievements.

  I’m a good kid.

  The self-affirmation wasn’t something he thought often, but he knew it was the truth when he heard it in his mind. He worked hard at school and his part time job, did his chores without problems, and was always willing to help out when needed.

  And I’m smart.

  He wasn’t the valedictorian or class president, but he was in the top ten students at the school and had more than enough awards, papers, and several scholarship leads for college already. He wasn’t trash just because he was lamian.

  My teeth don’t negate my talents, my hard work.

  And it suddenly pissed him off on a new level.

  Fuck her.

  Max had said he could stay with the Lamplight Foundation as long as he needed. But Max and Victoria believed they would be helping fix the rift between him and his mother. They thought they were sheltering him until he could go home. Dillon knew he wasn’t ever going home. His mother was more than just an angry, judgmental human with unwarranted hatred toward lamians. She’d become a bigot with murderous intentions, and he wanted nothing to do with her.

  But he was a minor. Technically, if she truly wanted, she could force him to return home.

  Unless I emancipate myself from her.

  He stared at the floor for a moment.

  Or tell the judge she’s a threat to me and request the Foundation take custody until February. I mean, I’ll be eighteen in four months. It can’t be that big of a deal, right?

  Frustrated at the situation, he leaned back against the wall of lockers outside the counselor’s office and flopped his head backward to stare at the ceiling. The tiles were still white and fresh looking. A huge renovation the previous summer to remove every last tiny trace of asbestos from the building had meant replacing ceiling tiles, insulation around some pipes, and something else Dillon couldn’t recall. But he remembered the traffic around the school was completely jacked up all summer and the jocks were all a flutter because they had to practice at the public field rather than their own turf. Wah wah, Dillon mentally mimicked a baby crying.

  He bounced his head lightly against the wall several times, the metallic thud a soundtrack for his frustration. He sighed and moved his head back down to a normal position and watched the stream of students. They moved either direction in the hallway, and he found if he didn’t purposely focus on any of them in particular, he could pick up bits and pieces of thoughts.

  He didn’t like it. It sounded like a crazy person whispering behind him. Saying things that made no sense. Sentences that didn’t connect. In voices that were never the same. It hurt his head and started to blend together into an incoherent buzz as if they were all talking at once, over each other, in a droning tone.

  All he had to do to stop it was focus. Which he was pretty sure was the opposite of how it would work once he got the hang of it, but for now, by concentrating on one person, he could make the rest stop. Of course, he couldn’t know for sure if what he may or may not pick up was actually coming from the person he focused on, or from someone nearby. Some with stronger vibes, as Victoria had explained to him.

  Dillon saw Madison Hayward exit the bathroom and head his way. They’d been fringe acquaintances through most of their school years, always in the same advanced classes together but never once being paired for a partner project. He’d always thought she was pretty, but avoided her because she was tight with the beast.

  Brenna had been Dillon’s cubby partner in kindergarten and had been completely awful to him. She picked on his clothes, his lunch, even his hair—calling it g
reasy and stringy, compared to her tight natural curls and the bounce she considered adorable. She snorted at his answers and scoffed at his questions. His mother had tried to suggest she probably liked him. He couldn’t fathom it and considered her a beast. Over the years, he’d watched as she matured into a full-on bitch, in his opinion. He couldn’t stand her attitude, and the sound of her voice was enough to make him walk the opposite direction. But she wasn’t with Madison at the moment, so he dared a fleeting glimpse and smiled at her, as she got closer.

  He thought he’d picked up some of her thoughts in Study Hall. He thought she might be at least interested in lamian, if not hiding her truth from Brenna. He was intrigued either way, and still found her really cute. His smile was nervous and crooked, his eyes full of questions, and he swallowed over a lump as she got near.

  But when they made eye contact what he saw was a flash of panic in Madison’s eyes, but caught no inner thoughts at all. Nothing. From her or anyone near by, as if a barrier had been thrown up and silence descended.

  She immediately put her head down and sped up. Not simply ignoring his silent hello, but running away from it.

  What gives?

  He had no time to consider what could be going on with Madison, as the counselor’s door finally opened.

  A kid Dillon knew only as Jake followed a teary-eyed woman out of the room. Dillon wasn’t sure if he couldn’t remember the kid’s last name or had never known it. What he did know was the boy had been in trouble repeatedly over the years. He was in almost all the fights on and off school property. He’d gotten in trouble for bringing both a snake and a knife to school, on two separate occasions. He had started a fire in the boy’s locker room, which had earned him a two-week suspension. And then there was eighth grade, where he disappeared for most of the year.

  The rumor mill said Jake had been locked up in a psych ward, but Dillon thought it more likely he’d been sent to the local detention hall for private schooling and an attitude readjustment. Whatever the case was, he’d been gone for a while before eventually returning, having learned no lessons, and his troubled ways continued to get him sent to the office.

  Jake turned and leered at Dillon, curling his lip up high so Dillon could see the still-growing new teeth Jake sprouted. The sneer had almost looked like a dare, or a warning, and made Dillon very uncomfortable. If Jake was lamian, there was a good chance he was going to turn out like every horrible stereotype claimed he would. Just like Dillon’s mother would expect both of them to be.

  The counselor’s voice pulled Dillon’s attention back to the doorway.

  “Mr. Hubbard?” The counselor watched Jake and his mother walk away and rolled his eyes back toward Dillon. He sighed heavily. “First things first, is this about vampires?” The annoyance in the man’s voice was aimed at the world at large, but landed squarely on Dillon’s already fragile ego.

  “Lamians, asshole. And never mind.” Dillon spat his disgust at the man and walked away.

  — TWENTY-SIX —

  Madison was finishing up the dinner dishes when she jumped at the knock on the back door. She glanced into the living room but heard no response from her parents, and decided they likely didn’t even hear it over the television program they were watching. The back door was reserved for friends and neighbors, neither of which was expected on a Monday night.

  She had only nibbled at her dinner, her stomach and mind still arguing about what she should and shouldn’t eat. Her mother noticed, and she made Madison sit there until her plate was empty. Madison had forced the last few bits of food down with a tear in her eye and hurriedly cleaned up so she could go hide in her room. But first, she apparently had to be pleasant to someone at the door.

  She wiped her hands and eyes on the towel and hung it over the bar of the stove. Turning to the door, she announced her intentions loud enough for her parents to hear.

  “I got it!”

  Madison pulled the door open, expecting to see Mrs. Stanley from across the alley in need of milk or sugar, which was usually an excuse to gossip with Madison’s mother. As the kitchen light washed over the guest on the doormat, Madison froze for a moment.

  “Tamara? What are you doing here?”

  “I thought maybe we should talk.” Tamara smiled at her, like an old friend finally coming home.

  “About what?” Madison mentally ran through her day at school, trying to figure out what could have landed her ex-friend on her back porch.

  “Your teeth.” Tamara’s eyes twinkled as she spilled the secret with a smirk.

  “Oh my God, shhhh.” Madison scooted outside and pulled the door shut behind her. “What’s wrong with you?” She whispered in a scolding tone.

  “Me?” Tamara pointed to the door. “What was that all about?”

  “Are you crazy? They might hear you.”

  “Why—” Tamara started to question, but quickly realized what was going on as her confusion turned to revelation. “Wait, they don’t know? Why not?”

  “Because I’ll get shunned—from school, from family. I’ll become the girl who had a perfectly normal family and then her teeth came in and ruined everything. And I don’t want that. I don’t want them to be afraid I’m going to eat them, or God forbid actually think I might.”

  Tamara’s eyes widened for a moment and then she doubled over with laughter. She laughed with a boisterous exaggeration and slapped her thigh as she stood back up. “Oh my God…” She covered her mouth and laughed some more. “You’re completely serious, aren’t you?”

  Madison watched her friend’s reaction and burst into tears. Every fear ran free in salty streams down her face.

  “Oh my God, Maddie. Noooo…” Tamara stood upright and pulled her friend into her arms. Madison cried while Tamara shooed her softly.

  “You don’t have to be afraid, honey. Your mom and dad are cool. They’ve never been anything but tolerant. Why would you think they’d be different because it’s you?”

  “Because it’s me.”

  “Oh silly. No. God, no.” Tamara pulled Madison down toward the step. “Come on, sit down. Talk to me. What the hell, Maddie? Let’s start with those fingers. What did you do?”

  “Just chewing my nails until they bleed. Which is gross by the way. Blood is gross, I don’t want to drink blood.”

  Tamara snickered, holding back another big belly laugh. “You don’t have to, silly. Change your diet, get the pills, there are things you can do. But you never, ever, have to drink blood. Cuz you’re right. That’s gross.”

  “But…” Madison looked up at her friend’s calm face. The smile she’d known since kindergarten wasn’t condescending or poking fun. It was genuinely sweet. Just like Tamara had always been.

  “Honey, did you used to want to murder people?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would you now? It doesn’t change who you are on the inside, just what kind of nutrition you need. You’re still good or bad based on you, your upbringing, your insides, your heart and soul. Jesus, ya big goofball. Why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh my God, Brenna? Brenna doesn’t know either, right?”

  “Oh no. No, no, no.” Fear washed over Madison’s face.

  “Doesn’t matter. She’ll push you away and that’s fine. Eventually it will only be her and Tristan anyway. I’m here. Right here. Always have been.”

  “Really? That simple?”

  “Yeah. And you should probably tell your parents sooner rather than later. You want me to come in, be with you? Do they know Brenna pushed me away? How’d they feel about that?”

  “Honestly, my mom called her a bitch.”

  Tamara laughed. “Yeah well, even her closest friends call her that.”

  “But how did you…” Madison’s tears started again, more in relief than fear this time.

  “H
ow’d I what? Find out? My tooth came loose and I told my parents. Why wouldn’t I? And—” Tamara’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Oh God, that’s right, you don’t even know.”

  Madison shrugged, silently confirming her lack of knowledge and motioning for Tamara to continue.

  “So it turns out my mom is lamian, basically a full-blood, and didn’t know. First of all, she was adopted, can you believe that? They kept that from her. And then, when her tooth came loose they brought her to an orthodontist who specialized in hiding the truth. I mean, I can’t even, right? This guy put on braces she didn’t need, and pulled teeth claiming extra teeth, and something about movement and all kinds of things my dumb mom believed, cuz he was a dentist. Here it turns out he was paid to lie and make her believe it all. Apparently this was a thing back then. Can you imagine?”

  Madison nodded. “Actually, yeah. I can. Considering the things I’ve been looking up lately and ways I’ve been debating hiding this.”

  “Why? It doesn’t make you a monster anymore than it makes me one.” Tamara cocked her head at Madison. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

  Madison shook her head.

  “I’m the opposite. I’m a friend. Annnd, we get to be friends for a damn long time now, cuz we’re gonna live until almost two hundred.” The excitement in Tamara’s voice lifted the pitch and tone to that of an overly sugared child.

  “Two hundred? What do you mean?”

  “Oh there’s so much you don’t know.” Tamara hugged Madison again, releasing her with a giggle. “For someone who’s in all the honors classes, you sure are stupid about this. You’re gonna live a long time. Hell, didn’t you hear about the first lamian judge who was nominated to the Supreme Court? That’s a lifetime post, so now they’re debating if they should change it because of the lifespan difference. You can be anything you want. And if you really want, you can be a monster. But I think you’ll probably just be a big math nerd like you already are. Come on. There’s a support group on Monday nights. Mom isn’t going with me this week, but you are. Wait until you see this place, books that go back hundreds of years. Your inner nerd will freak out in that place. And the people, the lamians who run it, are super nice. You’ll learn what you truly are, and then we’ll tell your parents.”