Shadow Lake Vampire Society: The Vision

by Wendi Wilson

  “What was all that about?” she asked me as we piled into her Ford Fusion. "'What's shakin'?' Does she say that now?"

  I shook my head, the emotions still having a tug-of-war in my gut. “She wants me to go to some camp. Be a counselor or something. I think she’s been reading too many self-help books.”

  “A camp?” Coco wrinkled her nose, pushing brown curls out of her eyes. My best friend was tan and gorgeous, making me look like a ghost in cutoffs. “What camp? Like with cabins?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, gesturing for her to start the car. “Let’s just go. We'll miss the mindless debauchery.”

  Coco smirked, winking at me. "There’s that Bubbly Piper we were talking about. Sunshine and roses all the time.”

  But she wasn’t mad. That was the wonderful thing about Coco, no matter how dark my mood, she could always find a way to drag me out of it. This time it was old Backstreet Boys songs from our moms’ day turned all the way up and the windows rolled all the way down. Once our favorite song came on, I was singing at the top of my lungs, holding up a pretend lighter and hooting as if I were at one of their concerts. All the bad feelings melted away.

  Until we pulled into the school parking lot.

  Coco found a spot between a beat-up truck and a Jeep. People were flocking out of their cars and heading to the field between the tennis courts and baseball diamond, a wide-open area with lots of room, plus bleachers and trees that supplied cover. While the school didn’t sanction this event--too many students doing too many stupid things—they didn’t stop it, either. The staff just looked the other way.

  The event would start with the players on the field, water guns and balloons ready. They’d be given twenty minutes to try to tag as many fellow classmates as they could before the survivors took off and continued the game elsewhere. People came fully armed. Glancing around, I spotted modified super soakers, water balloon launchers, and one guy with a backpack with a water gun attachment that reminded me, strangely, of the movie Ghostbusters.

  “They don't play around, do they?” I asked as we stopped at the top of the hill, standing with the other spectators.

  Coco laughed, pulling out her phone to record the madness. “Tyler Remington told me he spent a thousand dollars on water guns for him and his team.”

  “God, the waste.”

  Coco just snorted. She was busy getting ready. She had a pretty substantial social media following on a lot of platforms and spent hours a day cultivating it. I knew better than to interfere while she was in her "zone."

  Instead, I watched as the masses gathered in a giant circle while the coordinator went over the rules with a megaphone. Finally, he began a ten second countdown, and everyone took off running, putting distance between themselves and their opponents.

  Teens streaked across the grass, posting up behind trash cans and utility poles as the buzzer sounded.

  “Let the games begin!” the announcer shouted over the megaphone.

  There was a moment of tense anticipation, and then it began. The bravest ventured out first, tearing across the lawn and taking aim at the weakest targets. I watched two girls get blasted by a bandana-wearing, shirtless meathead with two super soakers, then I laughed as he got pegged by a water balloon from fifty yards away. Someone had built a catapult and was launching balloons from the far side of the tennis courts, way out of range of the super soakers.

  I whooped and pointed Coco in that direction. She gave me a thumbs up and kept filming as she narrated the play-by-play.

  Watching the chaos, I wandered near the baseball field, expecting to see more watery drama but froze as what I saw turned my blood to ice.

  Two males stood in front of a female contestant in the dugout. She was backed into a corner, her hands out, her water gun long gone. Her shirt was soaking wet, showing her bra.

  They’d already tagged her, so why were they continuing to soak her and close in as she cowered against the wall?

  I had a strong suspicion I knew why.

  My blood humming, I turned to find backup. “Coco? Coco!” But she was long gone, trailing down the hill as she tried to get a close-up on the catapult as another group tried to overtake them.

  There was no one else I knew, no one else I could call an ally.

  When I looked back, the two dickwads had the girl against the wall, and one stood in her personal space, leering.

  The look on the girl's face was sheer terror.

  Without thinking, I ran toward them.

  I made it down the hill and across the infield in no time. “Hey!” I shouted as the douche put both hands on either side of her head, walling her in. “Stop!”

  All three of them turned toward me, each of their faces lit up with surprise.

  I skidded to a stop several yards away, my heart pounding as I realized that I’d managed to draw the boys’ attention. Relief flooded my adrenaline-soaked body as the girl took the opportunity to slip out and run in the opposite direction.

  My relief was short-lived, turning to icy fear as the two boys trained their predatory stares on me.

  “Piper, right?” the one guy said, a nasty smile curving his lips upward. “I know you. You’re the one whose dad died.”

  I cringed, feeling as if he'd struck me. But, more than his insensitive words, their hungry stares were sounding all my internal alarms.

  I began to back up in the direction I came. “Stay away, asshole.”

  They ignored me, taking slow steps in my direction.

  “You aren’t wet,” the other mused. He was taller with a splattering of pimples across his hairless chest. His name was Travis Brickley. I remembered it because he used to ride my bus in middle school before he set the back seat on fire. A real gem, that one.

  I took a few more steps back in an attempt to maintain the space between us. “Leave me alone.”

  They stalked forward, matching me step for step.

  “You need to get wet,” Travis said. “It’s part of the rules. And we always follow the rules.”

  Laughing, they exchanged a glance. Then they turned and opened fire.

  As the water soaked my shirt, I froze. Terror rendered my limbs useless. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t scream. The wetness hit my face, sliding down my cheek just as it had in the cabin.

  Trapped.

  Terrified.

  Helpless.

  But there was no horrible creature at the door. These were two adolescent boys playing with water guns they bought in a toy store.

  Blinking the water out of my eyes, I stared at my assailants.

  Then I did something I wouldn’t have had the courage to do a year ago.

  I ran forward and kicked Travis Brickley in the balls.

  Chapter Three

  Despite Coco assuring me I was a total badass, I was a nervous wreck as she drove me to school the next morning. Kicking Travis in the junk felt amazing in the heat of the moment, but I’d lain awake half the night stressing about what he might be planning.

  Because I did not doubt he’d do something to pay me back. His revenge was sure to be swift and probably painful.

  “Stop freaking out, Pipes. You know I’ve got your back. And I guarantee you more than half the female student body does, too. Those guys are asshats, and I’m sure you weren’t the first girl to nail one of them in the nutsack.”

  Laughter bubbled up my throat at Coco’s words and the mental image they created. She pumped a fist in the air, like making me laugh was life goal numero uno. I shook my head, but kept the smile on my face.

  “Just don’t try to talk me into going tonight.”

  “No worries,” she said, stopping at a red light and checking her eyeliner in the rear view. “The bucket challenge is boring anyway.”

  Coco was right. The bucket challenge was boring. Seniors lined up under buckets brimming with freezing cold ice water held onto ropes above their heads. If their arms got tired and dropped too far, the tension on the rope caused the buckets to tip a
nd spill all over the person’s head. It could take hours to finally declare a winner. I had no idea why the student coordinators hadn’t replaced the competition with something more exciting.

  “Have you given any more thought to the summer camp thing?” Coco asked, changing the subject.

  “You trying to get rid of me?” I shot back, narrowing my eyes playfully.

  “Of course not, dork.”

  Her lips pressed closed as her face scrunched, and I knew she had more to say. I let her struggle in silence for a full minute before I called her out.

  “Just say it, Coco.”

  Her shoulders drooped as a sigh rumbled from her lips. She steered the car into the school parking lot, pulling into a spot and killing the engine before she turned in her seat to lock gazes with me.

  “Listen, Piper. I love you, and hell no, I don’t want to lose you for a whole summer. But I have to put on my big girl undies and stop being selfish. I think you need this. You need to get out there, meet new people, and try to live a little. I’m here for you, and I will support any decision you make, but that’s my two cents.”

  A rock formed in my chest, filling up all the empty space while making it hard to breathe. The thought of leaving town and going to some backwoods camp filled with strangers made my heart beat in a syncopated rhythm.

  The last time I left town, my father was murdered.

  Killed, I reminded myself. If I was ever going to get the people in my life to stop worrying about me, I had to make them believe I accepted the fact that my dad was killed by a bear. Not murdered.

  “Calm down,” Coco whispered, her hand running up and down my arm. “I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again. I promise.”

  I nodded with tight lips before turning to climb from the car. By the time I met Coco by the front bumper, I had my emotions under control. Time and necessity had taught me how to regulate my inner demons. I had to be able to maintain a calm and perfectly sane façade if I didn’t want to live my life under observation, sedated with anti-anxiety meds.

  “God, you’re good,” she said with a smirk. When that drew a real smile from me, she laughed. “There’s my Bubbly Piper.”

  She hooked her arm through mine and pulled me toward the old brick building that housed our town’s only high school. I noticed several girls staring at me, small smiles playing on their lips before a blonde stepped in front of us, blocking our way.

  “Hey, Piper,” she said, her eyes wide with emotion. “I just wanted to thank you for stepping in last night.”

  She lifted a hand to scratch at the opposite bicep, a nervous habit that I, myself, was a victim of. The thought of what might have happened had I not interfered was weighing on her. Remembering the crazed look in Travis’s eyes and the confident smirk of his buddy, I had no doubt she’d been right to be scared.

  “You’re welcome, Tiff,” I said, her shortened nickname rolling off my tongue without a thought.

  I knew who she was. I used to have friends, and we’d shared some mutual ones. Before the… incident in the cabin, I had a life. I’d hung out at the lake on hot, summer days, laughing with the girls as we dodged cold splashes from goofy boys. I had sleepovers and pedicures, first dates and Friday night football games.

  After my dad died and I lost my mind, all of those so-called friends vanished. I was a weirdo—quiet, depressed, and scared of my own shadow. Too much drama for them to deal with.

  Except for Coco. She stood by my side, unwavering. She suffered with me, guiding me through to the other side. Even when I emerged as a darker, quieter version of myself, she didn’t desert me. She loved the new me just as much as she’d loved the old one.

  Maybe even more. Because she knew the new me needed that love and constancy more than the old me ever did.

  I made it through the whole day without running into Travis Brickley or his creepy sidekick. Maybe they were intentionally avoiding me. Maybe they were just absent, Travis tending to his tender balls. I didn’t know, and I didn’t really care. I was just relieved I didn’t have to suffer through some pissing contest in which those boys tried to prove they were tougher than me.

  As I walked out of the fluorescent-lit hallways of Watercrest High, into the bright afternoon sunshine, I heaved a sigh of relief. Only three days left of school, and then I’d be free.

  My steps faltered, my mood dropping as those words echoed in my head. Free? Free to what? Hide in my room all summer, hanging out with Bagel while stuffing my face with potato chips? Lay in my bed at night, living vicariously through Coco as I obsessed over her social media accounts?

  That’s what I did last summer, but that was different. With Dad’s murd…death hanging over me like a fresh slice of hell, no one begrudged me the alone time to mourn.

  No one in my life was going to be so passive about my choices this summer. It had already begun—Mom teaming up with Dr. Whitley to ship me off to some camp for troubled kids, Coco agreeing with them—and I knew they would only turn up the pressure if I dismissed it out-of-hand.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” Coco asked, searching my face as I reached her car. “You didn’t have any run-ins with skeezy, pimple-faced morons, did you?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I was just thinking.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Shut up.” I laughed, shoving her toward the driver’s side of the car as I turned in the opposite direction. Once we were inside the car with the air conditioner running, I admitted, “I was thinking about maybe giving that summer job a try.”

  “Really?” she asked, hope shining in her eyes.

  I arched one brow. “Are you that eager to get rid of me for two months?”

  “No. Of course not,” she huffed, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the parking space. “I just worry about you, Pipes, and it seems to me a few weeks in a new place where no one knows your history might do you some good.”

  “And helping kids who’ve been abused, neglected, or abandoned might help me put my own pain and trauma into perspective?”

  “Hey, you said it. Not me.” Coco replied, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. “Anyway, I think the combination of anonymity, helping kids, and new surroundings could help you take that first step into healing. Like, really healing, Piper.”

  She kept her eyes on the road as she drove, and I studied her profile in silence for a few moments.

  “When did you get so wise?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

  “Duh. Always have been. Nice of you to finally notice.”

  I barked out a laugh, and she chuckled with me. I was going to miss her. My breath hitched as the thought ran through my mind.

  “Hey, can you take me to Dr. Whitley’s office instead of home?”

  “Of course,” Coco replied, flicking on the turn signal before veering into the left lane. “Does this mean…”

  “I think I’m going to do it,” I said, answering the question she left hanging between us.

  “Okay,” she said with a note of everlasting support.

  “Okay,” I repeated as she pulled into Dr. Whitley’s driveway.

  “Want me to wait for you?”

  “Naw,” I said. “I’m going to have my mom meet me here so we can go over everything together.”

  “Text me when you get home,” she ordered as I climbed from the car.

  “Yes ma’am,” I agreed, flashing her a smile.

  “Bubbly Piper,” she muttered, smiling back before she backed out of the drive.

  I watched her car disappear down the road before pulling up my texting app on my phone. My finger hovered over her name, then faltered. My eyes flew up to Dr. Whitley’s modest, one-story home. The red bricks and white trim made it appear welcoming, and the presence of her black SUV in the driveway told me she was home.

  But I had no idea whether or not she was seeing a patient in her office off the back of the house. I should have called first. I didn’t have an appointment, and it was rude—not to mention, unp
rofessional—to just show up unannounced like this.

  The creak of the screen door startled me, and I jerked my gaze to the front porch. Dr. Whitley stepped out, her usually smooth brow crinkled with concern.

  “Piper? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry,” I started, taking a few shuffling steps toward her. “I had Coco drop me off here because I wanted to talk to you, but I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve made an appointment.”

  “It’s fine,” she assured me, waving me forward before tucking a chunk of wispy blonde hair behind her ear. Even though she was older than my mom, Dr. Whitely was a fox. “Come on in. I don’t have anything scheduled for this afternoon, so I’m all yours.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief, then picked my way up the steps to stand beside her on the porch. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Of course,” she replied, waving off my thanks. “Are you thirsty? Hungry? I have brownies.”

  The scent of fresh-baked chocolate tickled my nose as I stepped into her house, making my stomach rumble with anticipation. Dr. Whitley laughed as I slapped a hand to my belly in an attempt to stop the embarrassing noises.

  “I guess that’s a yes to brownies,” she said, moving out of the entryway and into a small kitchen on the left.

  “Do you mind if I call my mom? I want her to meet me here.”

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” she asked as she nodded and motioned toward my phone.

  “Better than okay. I think,” I said as I pulled up Mom’s number and tapped the screen.

  Mom assured me she’d be there in ten minutes, and when I ended the call, Dr. Whitley had a small plate with two brownies and a tall glass of milk waiting for me on the kitchen table. I thanked her as I slid into a rickety chair and dropped my backpack to the floor beside me.

  “I’ve never been in here before,” I commented as I picked up a warm treat and took a big bite.

  “Well, I usually only see my patients in the office,” she replied with a smile, hooking a thumb over her shoulder toward the window.

  The small, detached office matched the house in material and design and was accessible from the driveway. There was no need to go into her house, and I was sure she preferred to keep her professional and private lives separate.