A Beginner's Guide to Fangs

by Matthew S. Cox

  I lean against Hunter, watching a group of kids ahead of us try climbing it, but they always flip over and fall off about halfway up. It doesn’t look cheated, only difficult. Here I can have fun and not make people start drinking heavily to erase a sight they can’t explain.

  “I want to do this one.” I smile up at Hunter and pull out a couple singles.

  He puts his arm around me. “I’m sure you’ll go straight to the top. You’re as agile as Black Widow.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Uhh.” He flashes a cheesy smile. “Character from a comic book.”

  “Oh. Right. Yeah.” I nod. “I think I saw that movie.”

  When my turn comes up, I hand the carnie two bucks for the attempt and he points me at the middle ladder. Since I can fly close to 140 MPH, keeping myself upright while pretending to climb this thing is super easy. I zip straight up to the button and whack it, then let myself flip over and drop onto the cushion.

  “Wow,” says the carnie. “You made that look so easy.”

  “Black Widow,” says Hunter.

  I laugh while getting up and walking back around to the counter to pick a prize. The guy has this adorable fat unicorn with a pink mane. “Oh, I need that for my little sister.” I point at it.

  Hunter pretends to wipe sweat from his brow. “Whew. For your sister.”

  “Didn’t picture you as the stuffed animal type,” I say, clutching the unicorn.

  Again, that weird feeling of being stared at comes out of nowhere. I spin fast, perhaps too fast to appear human, and catch a fleeting glimpse of a figure in a dark coat ducking behind a ring toss booth.

  “Hold this.” I push the unicorn into Hunter’s chest and weave among people to run over there.

  I stop on the far side of the booth, searching the crowd, but there’s no sign of my secret admirer. It might be another vampire, but he didn’t obviously move faster than a person could, and the crowd is pretty thick. So, who knows? Could just be a run of the mill creep. If it is a creep, I hope he tries something.

  Hunter’s sneaker scuffing comes up behind me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Thought I saw someone staring at me. He’s gone.”

  “Do you wanna get out of here?”

  I take Sophia’s unicorn back, and shake my head. “Nah. I’m okay.”

  The problem with winning a stuffed toy for one sibling is, I have to win two more. Though, I don’t think Sam would fancy a pink-maned unicorn. He’s into dinosaurs. We scope out a few more of the game areas until spotting a plush T-rex at the ring toss booth. Fortunately, I have insane dexterity.

  On my first set of five rings, I land three on the necks of bottles, and get a dark look from the carnie.

  “Is that good enough for the stuffed T-rex?” I ask.

  It’s not massive, only about the size of a housecat. He looks back and forth from it to me, then shrugs and hands it over. It’s probably too nice a prize for three rings, but he’s afraid I’ll cost him way more than that if I stick around. “Yeah. Good throwing.”

  We make our way toward the big lot behind the school where most of the mechanical rides are. My parents are hanging out by a portable fence, watching the sibs going around and around in a tilt-o-whirl thing. Sam’s cheering and waving his arms over his head. Sophia’s got a death grip on the rail, screaming and begging them to slow down. Sierra looks bored. Hunter follows me over to my parents and I hand off the unicorn and T-rex.

  “Still working on something for Sierra,” I say.

  “Oh, this is adorable! Sophia’s going to love this.” Mom hugs the unicorn. “I’m tempted to ask you to go get me one.”

  I wink. “I’ll try my best.”

  “So, this is the young man.” Dad looks Hunter up and down.

  “He’s into your music.” I elbow Hunter.

  The two of them start talking about eighties metal, and it’s like Mom and I drift off to an entirely different dimension for a while. Dad redirects the conversation after maybe five minutes, and shoos us off to “go have our date.”

  We hit a ride or two, though they don’t quite have the same magic they did now as they had when I was little, and a few of them we can’t even fit on. I head back to the game booths until I spot a plushie I think Sierra would like―or at least not hate. It resembles that green soldier guy from Halo. Alas, it’s at the bottle toss game. I wind up buying in twice, since the first time I’m mostly feeling out the minimum amount of force I need to put behind the throw to take out the weighted bottles at the bottom row without looking too superhuman.

  My second toss of the second set smashes the stack straight off the table. The carnie running that game squints at me, clearly astounded that a girl my size had an arm like that. I give him my best innocent smile and ask for the Halo plush.

  He hands it over, still giving me a weird look. I fiddle his brain a little so he thinks Hunter actually won it. Disbelief and suspicion melt away to a genuine smile. “For the little lady.”

  “Thank you!” I take the stuffed space trooper and grin at Hunter. “Okay, prizes done.”

  He whistles. “Wow, you’re pretty good at these games.”

  “Lucky, I guess. I haven’t been to one of these things since I was like twelve. Wanna find a quiet spot?”

  “Sure.”

  We head back toward the lot full of rides. The back corner on the right side sits tucked nicely against a grove of trees. The operator’s booth for a merry-go-round creates a shadowed alley between the ride and the mini-forest that looks like the perfect place to have a romantic moment―until the stink of cigarette smoke makes me gag.

  As soon as we walk around the corner of the booth, we attract the stares of a group hanging out by a bunch of empty metal boxes the carnival people must’ve keep their rides in after they take them apart. I recognize the guys from school. Two of them, Kevin and Walter, used to be part of Scott’s ‘crew,’ and they’re gonna be a problem.

  “Come on,” I say in a low tone. “Let’s find somewhere else to go.”

  Kevin pushes off the box he’d been sitting on and saunters up to us, mostly in my face. “That didn’t take long. Not even two weeks after Scott dumped you, and already you’re hookin’ up with the weird kid?”

  “He tried to kill her,” says Hunter, leaning forward, clenching his fists.

  “Yeah.” Walter approaches and flicks a cigarette at him while staring at me. “Why you hanging out with this loser? Just ’cause Scott traded up doesn’t mean you gotta settle this low.”

  The other two chuckle, but don’t get up.

  Hunter twitches.

  “Come on, weird boy,” says Kevin, grinning. “Do something.”

  “High school’s over, assholes.” I tug Hunter back from the pair of idiots before anyone throws a punch. “Grow the hell up.”

  Oh, yeah. I’m a badass. ‘Grow the hell up’ is the best I can come up with? Geez, could I possibly sound any more like a total dork?

  Fortunately, neither one of them do much more than laugh as we walk away from the secluded spot at the back of the carnival. I should’ve expected someone would’ve already gone there to drink or whatever.

  “Don’t mind those jackasses,” I mutter.

  “Scott didn’t dump you. Don’t listen to them. He traded down.”

  A vision of Scott falling into Hell makes me grin. “Yeah, he traded way down.” I squeeze his hand. “Thanks, but do me a favor?”

  “Anything.” He smiles.

  “It’s kinda lame talking about boys ‘trading’ girls like we’re comic books.”

  “Oh.” Hunter “Sorry. Well, he made a dumb mistake losing you.”

  “Dumber than starting a land war in Asia?” I ask.

  He laughs. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t worry about what happened back there, okay?” I stop and peer into his eyes. It doesn’t even require vampire stuff to tell he’s feeling small for not defending me or some macho bullshit like that. “I don’t need a big tough guy.” Anymore…


  “But those guys…”

  I lean up a little and give him a quick kiss. “Really. I don’t need the big tough guy. It’s your sincerity I’m attracted to.”

  He stares at me for a while, probably debating calling me beautiful and changing his mind because he’s afraid it’s too basic. “Sorry I never tried to talk to you before. It’s almost like it’s my fault Scott happened.”

  Ugh. I rest my forehead on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. And if I never hear that guy’s name again it’ll be too soon.”

  “Right. Got it. Wanna go someplace quieter and like stare at the stars or something?”

  I grin. “That sounds lovely.”

  We meander away from the back end of the playground, walking along more stacked boxes and small trailers positioned against the trees. It’s fascinating how the carnival people can cram all those rides and things away into boxes like that. The parking lot full of people and booths stands between us and Hunter’s car, parked like a quarter mile up the road. I almost want to stay where we are so I don’t have to go through all the light and noise.

  Right as I hesitate, I wind up locking eyes with a guy in a dark coat half-hidden at the corner of the balloon-dart game. He’s got a big lens pointed at me, some kind of telescope or camera. Before I can even think what the hell, a body comes sailing out from behind a trailer and plows into Hunter.

  My reaction is fairly normal: I jump back and yell in surprise.

  Walter lands with a knee on Hunter’s chest, and punches him square in the face. Hunter barely reacts to the hit, and wrenches his body in a twist that throws Walter off him. Kevin leaps off the top of a metal container, launching himself into the most uncoordinated attempt at a flying jump kick I’ve ever seen―and my dad loves cheesy martial arts movies. It’s obvious he’s going to miss, so I don’t do anything but watch.

  Hunter rolls out of the way and scrambles to his feet, only to catch another fist to the jaw as soon as he’s upright. Kevin lands like a drunken goose and trips into the wall of empty boxes. Laughing, Walter moves in for another punch, but Hunter springs forward, quite a bit faster than expected. His knuckles crash against Walter’s cheek, staggering him, but before Hunter can follow up, Kevin grabs him from behind, holding his arms.

  The other two wander out from hiding and head my way. They don’t seem intent on attacking me, but they look like they might try to hold me back from getting in the way of the beating they intend to give Hunter. I wanna say the ginger in the black leather jacket is named Jimmy or something like that, but I never talked to him or the other one in the four years I went there. Jocks aren’t my thing. I’m still not sure how the hell I wound up with Scott.

  “Knock it off,” I say.

  Ignoring me, Walter rushes in to take the cheap shot. Hunter kicks him in the gut and struggles to get out of Kevin’s grip, but can’t. When I take a step toward them, the other two move in front of me.

  “Just watch, sweetie,” says Jimmy. “Don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

  Hunter lets the strength out of his legs. Dead weight is too much for Kevin, and they collapse backward together in a heap. Walter pounces, and the three of them whirl into a blur of grabbing, kicking, and punching.

  I glare into Jimmy’s eyes. “Go home.”

  With a sudden look of mission, he pivots on his heel and hurries off. The other kid grabs my arm when I try to walk past him. I glance down at his hand. The thumps and thuds of a fistfight continue off to my left.

  “Your hand is on my arm.”

  He―I half remember his name as Trent or Trevor or something like that―grins. “Should I grab somewhere else?”

  I reach across and seize his wrist with my left hand. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to grab girls without being invited to?” First, I try a gentle tug with normal human strength.

  “Aww, come on. Don’t be like that,” says T-something. His other hand starts going for my butt.

  Eyes narrowed, I squeeze until his wrist breaks. He screams in agony, or maybe he tried to shout, “What the F,” but it’s not even words. I grab him by the neck and pull him close, giving him a memory of tripping and breaking his wrist when he landed, then I throw him into one of the open containers.

  His body hits the metal with a deep, resonant boom, which startles Kevin and Walter long enough for Hunter to land a perfect right hook into Kevin’s nose. I hurry over, grab Walter by the scruff of his jacket collar and his belt, then hurl him over the wall of boxes into the trees.

  Sprawled on the ground, Hunter stares at me in shock as I drag Kevin to his feet and swing him around by a two-fisted grip of jacket and shirt, pressing him against a metal cargo box. Kevin grabs my shoulder and arm, trying to peel my hands away, but it feels like I’m wrestling a four-year-old. A little part of me wants to snap bones, but I’m not that vicious.

  Instead, I lean in until our foreheads almost touch, and snarl, “Get the hell out of here while you can still walk on your own power. And stay away from us.”

  Kevin gurgles and slams his knee into my side.

  Sigh. I hate stubborn boys. That’s what I get for daring to simply try and talk first.

  Let’s try that again. This time, as I order him to go away and leave us alone, I do it with a compulsion instead of a simple verbal threat. He goes limp and stops struggling. I shove him into the same cargo box with Walter, and turn around to check on Hunter.

  He still hasn’t gotten up. Trickles of blood run from his nose and lip, and he might have a facial bruise.

  “You okay?” I ask, crouching beside him.

  “Yeah, no big deal.” Hunter wipes blood from his lip. “What the hell was that?”

  “Two idiots who still think they’re in high school,” I say.

  He sits up, dusts himself off, and stands. “No, I mean…” He gestures at the box where Walter and Kevin lay, still moaning in pain. “That.”

  “Oh.” I sheepishly look down at my sneakers. “Remember when I said my life’s kinda complicated?”

  “Uh huh.”

  I fidget and bite my lip. “Well, yeah. It’s really complicated.”

  The Archive

  4

  So, my date with Hunter didn’t go too badly.

  After the fight with those jocks from school, we wound up in the woods by Bassett Pond, staring at the stars and talking. I chickened out and didn’t tell him everything. Or anything really. I did promise to tell him everything when ‘the time is right’ or something lame like that. He didn’t push, though he did get a little weird about the fight. I mean, it’s like in a guy’s natural instinct to be tough for the girl. For now, he’s assuming they ‘let’ me break up the fight because they didn’t want to hit a girl.

  It also surprised me, in a good way, that he didn’t try anything sexual. The boy just wanted to be with me. I’ve been the good girl so long, I can’t really say with any certainty how I would’ve reacted if he suggested we do more than make out. And, okay, so I cheated a little by knowing what’s going on in his head, but he genuinely adored simply spending time with me no matter what we did.

  Wow. Wish I could’ve read minds before. That would’ve made dating so much easier.

  I almost feel bad for him, in the sense that I’m not quite what he’s expecting. The longer I take to spill, the worse it’ll hit him if my being not-quite-dead is a deal breaker. Still, I kinda don’t want him to leave. So I chickened out. If I wait too long and the truth crushes him, I could always make him forget I ever existed… but would that be any better than what Scott did with Bree?

  After a while of debating if erasing myself from his memory would be a kindness or a deep violation of his personal space, I drag myself out of bed and wander upstairs. My day outing has another side effect―it left me tired enough to sleep until almost eight. Or maybe it’s unrelated and I wanted to sleep.

  Mom’s in her study doing work while Dad and the girls are finishing cleaning up in the kitchen. Sam’s nowhere to be seen, which m
eans he’s probably in his room on the computer. Soon, we all wind up around the dining room table playing a board game. Sierra’s initially grumbly about it, but when she realizes that we can compete without my newfound abilities giving me an unfair advantage, she takes a much keener interest in ‘the boring pre-technology’ game.

  “Where’s Sam?” I ask. “Isn’t he going to play?”

  “He’s having a sleepover,” says Sierra.

  “Nuh uh,” chimes Sophia. “Sleepovers are for girls.”

  “Wouldn’t that technically be a pajama party? For girls I mean,” I ask.

  “Wow. There’s a term I haven’t heard in a long time.” Mom chuckles.

  “Daryl’s parents had to go out of state for a funeral or something. Distant aunt or whatever and the boy didn’t want to go. So he’s spending the night here,” says Dad. “And they invited, uhh…” He snaps his fingers a few times. “Joey?”

  “Jordan,” says Mom.

  We settle into the game, each of us trying to move our piece to the ‘treasure’ in the middle of the board. It reminds me a bit of that Dungeons & Dragons thing Dad was into as a kid, only way simpler. It occupies only about forty minutes before ending a little faster than anyone expected when Sophia gets like four lucky rolls in a row and makes it into the vault.

  “That was short,” says Sierra. “But, okay, not boring.”

  Sophia grins. “Can we play again?”

  “We could… or we could fix a problem,” says Dad.

  “I didn’t do it.” Sophia goes wide-eyed.

  He laughs. “No, not with this game.” Dad points at me. “With her education.”

  I fake roll my eyes. “What movie are we watching?”

  “The Lost Boys,” says Dad.

  “Can we watch it, too?” asks Sophia.

  “I dunno.” Mom fidgets. “Is that one safe?”

  “It’s rated C for cheese,” mutters Sierra.

  Dad gasps at her. “Heretic!” He chuckles, then nods to Mom. “Yeah. It shouldn’t be too much for them.”

  “Soph scares easy,” says Sierra. “It’ll give her nightmares.”