Chapter 18 – Of Birds & Bees

Vamped

Previously, Misty struggles to prepare herself for dinner with Mark’s parents. She learns more about their lives and compares their home with that of Mark’s friends.

Monday

I had envisioned the next morning arriving in a fog of bliss, with dreams of kissing Mark and falling asleep in his arms clouding my thoughts and bringing me into wakefulness slowly. But I guess my alarm wasn't much of a romantic, because I woke to the same metallic pinging as every other morning.

Mark was waiting for me on the porch, though, just like the day before. Grabbing my hand, he gave me a brief overview of how his parents assessed my presence at dinner.

“Mom thinks you're incredibly charming, of course. She's the easy one, though. Just smile, be polite, and don't beg for my attention constantly. Dad's the tough one, and you somehow won him over already. He spent the rest of the night pulling down gardening books and putting together recipe menus for your next visit. If you don't want to be involved in either of those, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

I shook my head, giggling at the quick enthusiasm that matched my mom's over meeting Mark. “Actually, I was thinking last night that he would be a lot of help with my own garden, and even give me tips for making my own lunches from now on. Do you think he'd have time for that this spring?”

“I think he would make time for it, definitely. That stuff never caught on with me, for obvious reasons, so he's been aching for some little sous chef to train.” I looked up to see him giving one of his half-smiles and rolling his eyes. “You'll be the daughter they always wanted. Hopefully we'll still have time to spend together, between your weekly five-course meals, afternoons spreading mulch, and evenings arranging wreaths together.”

I didn't hear a note of bitterness in any of that, but decided to tease him anyway. “I'm sure he'd be fine with you joining us. You could be our taste-tester.”

“I'll taste-test you,” was the best he could come up with before leaning over and licking my neck.

“What is it with you two and being in the woods?” We both looked up to see Ashton walking toward us from his house. “I swear, every time I see you guys together out here, you're close to jumping her bones, Mark.”

Mark responded by flipping Ashton off, then pulling me in close for another lick. I pushed him away and tried to change the subject. “How was your weekend?”

Ash gave the typical teenage response, “Fine.” I noticed then that he had his phone up to his ear.

“Who's that?” I asked, nodding to his phone.

He sighed. “Amber.” I suppose even when they didn't walk to school together, they could spend that time chatting anyway. “She was up late last night working on the yearbook.” We could hear her say something muffled on the line. “Sorry, right. She was trying to light a path for the blind.” More mutterings. “And give unto them what they could not provide for themselves.”

Mark shook his head. “Dude, you totally lost me.”

Ash sighed again, switched the phone to his other ear, and explained, “She's been creating this little program to add to the school computers that would allow them to autofill photos in the class pages of the yearbook. So far the school makes the club add them all manually.”

“Ugh, that's insane. How do they not have something like that already?” I asked.

“It exists, of course. They told her it's too expensive, so they just do the whole thing in Word and Photoshop. It's a mess. So she made them a version they can use for free. Offered to license it to them and everything. And they told her it's too risky. Might have a virus or something.”

“Why would they think she added a virus?” I ask. “Wouldn't that just mess up her own work?”

“Right? Especially since she's the freaking student editor. But they don't think she put anything dangerous in there on purpose. They're worried the code isn't safe. Like malware just forms from random keystrokes or something. Won't even let her install it. Made up some excuse about needing her to vet it first.

“So she spent most of the night sending it through free virus scanners so she could show them it's not harmful. I think she ran it through every one she could find.”

I cocked my head. “Did that really need to happen now?”

Amber mumbled something that sounded like deadline. Ashton finished her thought for us. “It takes so long to paste in hundreds of student photos that they have to start the process early on. They need the rest of the semester for group photos, formatting, proofing, and printing. If she wants them to use her autofill method, she has to convince them before they start on the old method. We don't have the largest student body, but it still takes one person awhile to copy and paste it all in, then add the names.”

I was reminded of the regular battles Zane and Claire dealt with on student council and wondered how the school managed to get any student participation in the first place. “I'm sorry, Amber,” I said, leaning over so that she might be able to hear me. “That sounds really stupid.” I heard a whine come from the speaker.

“So that's how we're doing,” Ashton concluded. “Usually she'll come over before school, but she really needed to sleep in today.” We nodded and Ash kept talking with Amber, this time about less frustrating things.

Amber met up with us about a block from the campus, leaning most of her bodyweight on Ashton as we walked. She must have still been half asleep, because she kept talking to Ashton through her cellphone, even after he hung up. Mark kissed me goodbye and followed them into the closest pod, leaving me to wade through the crowd to the other side of the school, where the science classrooms were.

The energy in the hallways had galvanized over the weekend, leaving a static cling in the other students' wakes as I weaved my way through the mass of bodies. I had a brief moment of panic as I remembered those first two weeks here, when the buzz of the thirst and the lack of personal space threatened to overwhelm my restraint. I had my drink this morning, right? I thought, because thirst was the only thing I could imagine having such an effect on me. I had a full bottle this morning, though. So what is it?

The answer was staring at me from every wall, echoed in the chatter of the conversations around me. Taped up against the cream-painted cinderblocks was a series of garish, handmade posters with the words SADIE HAWKINS DANCE spelled out in glitter pen. Once I saw it, the electricity in the air made sense. This wasn't a normal dance; the girls got to invite their dates. Technically they always could, but apparently few high school girls had the tenacity to ask for something they wanted.

You'd think they'd be terrified. The guys often seemed to be. But as I walked to my first period, eager to get out of the way of so much excitement, I heard snatches of different exchanges that contradicted that assumption.

“I waited weeks for him to say something about Homecoming, and then he was all 'I didn't know you wanted to go.' But now he'll have to take me!”

“I feel like he's really into me, but he never makes a move! If I could just get him to go with me, I'm sure we'll be together for Valentine's Day.”

“If I pay for everything, I won't have to put out, right?”

I shook my head, trying to clear out the cobwebs of other people's drama. I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Reminding myself these people can't destabilize me without my permission, I moved steadily forward. I wasn't involved with their flirting and mind games, so none of this could affect me. It worked for a moment.

Then I heard her voice.

I turned automatically, instinct telling me to keep my enemy in sight. She was surrounded by girls, but none of them were facing her. It was as if the queen bee had placed herself within the middle of a honeycomb of other groups. Sets of twos and threes huddled within the pod, gabbing about their weekends. Speculating about next weekend's plans. Yet there she was, raising her voice like she thought her little worker bees were interested in anything she had to stay.

“How many times do I have to say it, you know?” Her voice became a tad shrill as she attempted to project while simultaneously lifting her pitch at the end of her sentence. “You'd think there'd be one guy in this whole school who could remember that I'm supposed to ask this time. This isn't first-come-first-served, you know?” Cameron stood next to her, squished between the backs of other underclassmen who were leaning in better to hear each other over her performance. He nodded after every other word, as if trying to communicate to her that he wasn't going to ask. He was going to wait for her, like she wanted.

As if. I shook my head again, reminding myself that pitying him also ignored how complicit he was in this one-sided obsession. I wondered why she was sharing this advice with other girls, then figured she probably expected them to spread the word for her. Claire's words echoed in my head, Everyone who isn't serving her is a threat. I looked around, trying to find her little freshman Barbies who should be lining up to do her bidding. There weren't any girls sucking up to her now. They were all hyper-fixated on getting their own dates to the dance.

Just when she needed them most.

The warning bell chimed, and I hitched my satchel up on my back, watching for a moment longer. The groups of girls slowly broke apart until no one was left listening to Arabelle give hints about the type of guy she was planning to take this Saturday. She must have been used to the wannabes spreading her gossip like wildfire, because there wasn't a hot guy in sight to overhear her. I saw Cameron give a hopeful smirk when she said he would be 'fit' and I realized neither of them were particularly attractive. Not when they were this desperate.

I wonder what I do that makes me seem ugly to Mark.

I spent most of the day pondering my habits and insecurities. I still had a lot of those. I wasn't completely sure they'd ever go away. Not really. Maybe it was like having the bloodlust. I could choose to ignore it in the moment. Come back to the thoughts when it was convenient, or when I could actually do something about it.

That didn't change the fact that I wanted Mark to think I was hot and clever and pretty and competent and mature. I think I was just accepting how much of those things were determined more by attitude than by how much time I spent getting ready in the morning or reading things I didn't find interesting. I took stock of the times when he was surprised by me and those when he was annoyed. It didn't seem to be the insecurities themselves that bothered him, nor voicing them. Mostly, it was when I'd let it affect how we related to each other.

I thought about testing him a little bit, to see if I could predict what he would like. I'd have to behave during sixth period, with Newcastle watching, but after that, I could distract him all I wanted. It was only an off-season soccer practice after all.

As the bell chimed again, I realized what Mark liked to see from me most was what my mom had always wanted for me also. Socializing. At that first party, talking to his friends after Twister, I kept catching him sneaking glances my way, smiling when he'd see me connect with someone.

After our class together, I walked with Mark until we got to the field, greeting people by name as we arrived. I smiled when he kissed my lips, pushing in a little, then turning around more quickly than usual to take a seat in the stands. I wasn't up for tutoring today, so I sat with Claire instead, as she quietly read off last-minute reminders to Zane about their council meeting that afternoon.

“Are you sure we should bring up the transfer idea now?” He interrupted at one point. “You know he'll be in a bad mood with the dance coming.” It surprised me that someone so determined to maintain stereotypical teen experiences wouldn't find a dance comforting. But he probably didn't appreciate the regressive attempt to encourage girls to make the first move once each year.

Claire hesitated. “I'd like to get it in before it's too late in the semester. Eventually he'll say it's best to try next year, and then we'll never get it on the agenda.”

Zane nodded. “Well then let's introduce it now. At worse, he'll table it for a few weeks and it'll show up as old business next month. Then he'll have to hear us out.”

I cleared my throat. “You're still not planning to tell him it was my idea, right?”

The both looked up, startled to see me there. “Of course not,” Zane replied coolly. “We actually want him to consider it.” Claire giggled and Zane waved as they went back up to the main building.

“What's going to happen during the actual season, when he can't come to all the practices?” I asked the girl next to me, Erin.

“He can. The team only has practice Tuesdays through Thursdays, so it won't conflict with their student council meetings. Not that it would matter,” she said, a little breathily. I quirked my eyebrows up, not sure if she meant he would skip practice for it. “Oh, you know,” she started to explain. “It seems like Newcastle only runs those meetings to feel in charge of something. They never get anything done, and all their suggestions come out worse than if they had said nothing.” I let out a sigh, wondering how he would manage to twist my transfer student matchmaking plan beyond recognition. She smiled kindly and patted my hand. “Don't worry. By end of junior year, everyone figures out the truth.”

“What truth?” I asked.

She looked straight at me. “You can't get anything done in those meetings, so it's best to take it into our own hands.” She leaned back against the bleachers behind her and put her hands behind her head. “Take the Sadie Hawkins, for example. He vetoed that when I brought it up two years ago, as a sophomore. Said we might as well just do a winter formal, like all the other schools. But we didn't want it formal and we didn't want it like all the rest, so we did it ourselves.”

“How'd they let you hold a dance here if they wouldn't even host themselves?”

Her smile widened. “They didn't. One of my friend's mom works a the hotel right at the edge of the highway. We got ahold of the booster club, and they helped us fundraise for it. Then, after all the details were set, we put up posters – also without permission. Newcastle spent an hour going through the school, tearing them down. But we put one in all the girls' bathroom stalls. The damage was done. The next year, he took the lead and did the whole thing on the activity budget. And the school's liability insurance.”

I tried not to scowl. “You went through all that trouble for a dance?”

She laughed. “Some people like them. And there was no reason not to. Eventually that's what you learn. There's no reason we shouldn't have healthier foods or more chairs in the cafeteria. All the excuses he gives are just ways to keep us jumping through hoops so we're too busy to do it ourselves.”

“How would you change the lunches?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Start a stall in the neighborhood with hot food served each day. They could make it a closed campus, but that wouldn't stop students from buying it on their way to class each morning. Go door-to-door, explaining to parents that it's healthier, cheaper, and giving students real-world business experience. Really sell it. All we'd need is people to cook.”

I snorted. “My mom would love that.” Then I checked myself. “If she had more time.” I couldn't be certain that she cooked because she enjoyed it, and not because it was necessary to keep me well-fed.

Erin shrugged again. “We can't keep whining at adults about what we want and expecting anything to change. We have to take action ourselves.” She nodded up to the school. “There's a reason you don't find a lot of ambitious upperclassmen on our student council,” she said. “The ones responsible and motivated enough to get involved usually have the competence to change things without permission.”

I must have looked downcast, because she lightly bumped me with her elbow. “Don't worry. Zane and Claire are going far. They'll figure it out soon enough.” She looked up. “Here come the boys.”

My tentative plan to be more attractive during the practice came back to the forefront of my mind, and with it, panic. The only thing harder for me than being desirable was trying for it. I didn't want it to take up so much of my attention that I forgot to pay attention to other things, like making new friends.

I thought back to the things I had done unintentionally, or for myself, that he had responded to. My hand went to the ponytail holders at the nape of my neck, holding together the French braid I had anchored there before allowing the rest of my hair to hang loose. I weaved my fingers between the strands in an attempt to brush it out, the way I had it for the dinner with Mark's parents.

Erin saw me struggling to get the locks to fade away and offered a hair brush. The boys were halfway to the field now, and I was getting nervous, reconsidering how I'd look after taking something cute out to look hot. “Here, let me.” Erin grabbed her brush out of my hand and started brushing from the bottom. “Your hair's straight enough, but it'll get frizzy in this humidity if you work it too fast.”

She made smooth, methodical strokes, working higher and higher, the way my mom did when she put my hair up. Some of the other girls let their hair down too, sitting on the steps below me to form a chain. I ran my fingers through silky brown curls, as the girl in front of me introduced herself as Caitlin. I recognized her as one of the girls Shane had brought to the Twister party. Her loose bun slowly lost its shape as I copied Erin and started brushing from the bottom.

When I was finished, I asked if she'd like me to put it up again. I had been practicing my own hair for awhile and was hoping I could do Mom's when she went out with Rei. “Oooh, yes, could you? I love when people play with my hair.”

I smiled and looked up then, as the guys started spreading out into a scrimmage game. Mark was on the far side of the field. Perfect, I thought. He would have a chance to see me for the first half of the practice. He got into position, then waved over to me. I held the brush up as I waved back, and he stopped to take a longer look at the five of us, all doing somebody's hair. It seemed so juvenile, but I liked the idea of us primping each other.

He shook his head and laughed, then refocused.

I played around with Caitlin's hair a bit, trying to see what I could do without yanking on her curls too much. Eventually I settled on two braids that would wind together at the base of her head to form a bun. When I finished, I lean over to show Erin, who gasped, “That's so cute! Guys, look what Misty did.” The two girls in front came up to my seat to see and oohed also.

“Can you do mine, too?” another asked. I nodded, and switched with Caitlin so I could start again.

I looked back up the field again as I shoved the brush handle in my mouth, and Mark looked back at me too just then. There was a momentary flash of confusion on his face, but I decided to roll with it and flutter my fingers at him like nothing about this was abnormal. I braided the other girls' hair in the same style, hoping to get as much practice in as possible before doing it for Mom. It got easier as I went, and I could see a difference from Caitlin's hair to Erin's, even accounting for her poker straight blonde mane.

They stood up to show off their matching hairdo's to the rest of the spectators, who were actually quite impressed. Erin came back to our seats first as I stood to stretch my legs. “Want me to do yours? I watched you three times.”

“No thanks,” I said. “I appreciate the offer, but I like having mine down occasionally. I looked back at the field then and saw Mark coming toward my end. He looked up as he ran and smiled at me, and I knew this was my moment. Trying to copy the way he had played with my hair Sunday, I brought my hand up to the side of my head, fanning my fingers above my ear, and threaded them through my hair, bringing the locks to rest over my shoulders.

I saw his lips form an O, his body stopped moving as his gaze followed my hand from my ear to my shoulders, chest, and then waist. And then I watched him get smacked in the face with the soccer ball and go down.

And I laughed. Again.

“Cheese and crackers, Mark!” Erin said, running to the field and leaning down as his teammates helped him up. He got hit on the cheek, so his nose was fine, but he took a rest for a few plays to shake it off.

He came down to sit with me as Erin dug through her backpack for a first aid kit, then shook a gel pack at him. He held it to his face and stared me down with the eye closest to me. “For the record, I only get hit like that when you're around.”

“Is that so,” I said, trying to sound disbelieving.

“Just so we're clear. I don't want you thinking I'm a huge klutz who can't keep his eye on the ball.”

“What I'm hearing is that you only get distracted when I'm around,” I said, then bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

“Pretty much,” he mumbled.

“Come here,” I said, gently pulling his chin around so that I could see where the ball hit. I lowered his hand and lightly pressed my lips against his cheekbone, leaving them there longer than necessary before pulling away. “Better?”

He shook his head. “No, I think you'll have to do that again. In fact I have some other places that are hurting too.”

My jaw went slack as I caught his meaning. The other girls were back and sitting by this point, and shrieked with laughter. They all laughed even harder when they saw how red my face looked. I realized this was the perfect time to make him regret saying that in public, because there was nothing he could do about it now and I wouldn't have to turn down something I wanted so badly.

“What kind of places?” I asked, overly-innocent.

He lowered his head at me, in a very unamused expression. “Misty, don't be coy,” he said, trying to keep his mouth from smirking.

But I wasn't finished, yet. “Like your mouth?” I said, then leaned in and gave it a soft kiss. He rolled his eyes. “Or your ear?” I leaned in further and nibbled his ear lightly. He huffed and shook his head. I thought I could get one more attempt in before he got bored and moved the conversation on.

“What about your finger?” I pulled away and took his hand, kissing the tip of his middle finger. He cocked an eyebrow, so I pushed his whole finger into my mouth, then sucked it gently as I pulled it out again. Both his eyebrows shot up, so I gave it another chaste kiss, then let go of his hand. “Like that?”

“You're a minx,” he said, stepping closer so that our chests were touching. The girls around us cackled again.

“Watch-ya gonna do about it?” I asked, swaying my head a little so he would catch the challenge.

He looked back to the girls watching us, then brought his lips to my ear. I braced myself not to react. “I'm going to get back on the field.”

Then he jogged away, waving cheerfully.

He could pretend to be unaffected, but I could see through the lie. I could see quite a bit through his practice shorts, too.

I sat back down with Erin and the others to watch the rest of the scrimmage.

Mark was back to his affectionate self when he came to meet me by the edge of the field after practice. We held hands and chatted about our classes on the walk to my house. He didn't say one thing about the dance, which I appreciated. I had heard enough about it during passing periods.

Henrietta met us almost immediately after the property line, squeaking and chittering as she led us back down the path to my yard. She stopped at a big circle of hawthorn berries several feet before the path opened up into the gravel driveway.

I stopped in my tracks, and Mark copied me. What she saw as a snack was a message to me. A big, bright STOP. My heart started to pound in my chest and I placed my hand against it so that it wouldn't escape.

They finally found us.

Who did? I wasn't sure. Any of them. All of them.

Mark rubbed my back. “What's wrong?”

I pointed to the sign. “Something's wrong.” He walked further toward the driveway. “Stop,” my voice croaked.

“I'm just taking a quick look, Misty.” He peered around the tree line to my house. “There's an SUV parked with your mom's car.”

“Is it black?” Government agencies always used black SUVs, right?

He shook his head. “It's purple, with eye lashes on the headlights.” He sounded disbelieving. “I've seen it before.”

That's when it hit me. Yoga. It must have gone long. That made way more sense than Mom getting busted for spiriting me away each time I had trouble at school. How else would she have time to make the stop sign, anyway? I moved my hand from my heart and took long, deep breaths, trying to calm myself down from the adrenaline of thinking we'd been caught. “Sorry,” I said to Mark.

“What are you apologizing for?” He said, meeting me back where I had stayed.

For overreacting.

I didn't want to explain to him the terror of being swept from state to state at the drop of a hat – or, more appropriate, the drop of a corpse – so I edged around the yard, staying behind the trees.

“Why would she want us to stay away?” he asked. He smiled suddenly. “Couldn't they just leave a sock on the front doorknob?”

I swatted at him. “Gross! And keep your voice down. Janet has really good hearing.”

We snuck through the trees until we were at the back side of the yard, looking on through the bay windows. I inched up and looked around a wide oak. Then I saw him.

“Ugh. She brought Sammy.”

Mark chuckled quietly. “Why wouldn't she want us to come in? I had fun last time.” I turned back to him and saw an evil grin stretched across his face.

Stepping lightly back behind the brush, I shook my head. “He'll have adjusted his approach by now. You don't know his mother. I swear, she's obsessed with the idea of us getting together.”

Mark hmmed. “Well, it might be now or never.”

I scoffed. “Trust me, for him it's never. He'll scare off any girl within a five-mile radius. That wasn't the first time he'd been naked in my room.” Janet hadn't brought him to yoga class since the move, but he had managed to make all sorts of scenes at our last place in the city.

“I was referring to him finding a true mate,” Mark clarified.

Right. Vamps don't just want some toy to screw around with. They – we – need someone to share the secret with. Someone we won't accidentally drain in a fit of lust.

“I don't know why she can't just find someone else for him,” I pouted.

“Misty,” Mark said, too loudly, then caught himself and pulled me further into the woods. “There isn't anyone else,” he whispered. I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he continued. “When's the last time you've seen a female vampire?”

I pointed toward the house, where several were showing Sammy how to position his proud warrior.

Mark rolled his eyes. “I mean closer to our age.”

I considered Mom's coven, which were about thirty at the youngest. Then Mark's who had managed to breed a few girls just several years back. The thought of him wooing any of them brought bile to my throat. “It's just me.”

He nodded. “That's why your mom was so surprised to see the girls. Females are really uncommon now. Ever since covens gave up the hunt for more stable forms of blood – that wasn't fresh – there's been a huge drop in female broods. We don't know why it is, just that it has too do with how long it's out of the body before feeding. Something about it affects the embryo.

I thought back to all my mom's medical journals about blood and diet and wondered if some of those were part of a quest to figure out how she got me.

Mark brought his voice lower, but more urgent. “I think it's sick how much she pushes him on you, especially since he's clearly got boundary issues himself. But I get why she's doing it. And I don't think she'll ever stop. There's probably no one else to push him onto.”

A shiver rand down my spine as I realized how long it could take to get away from him, knowing leaving the coven would break Mom's heart.

“So I stay away,” I say, forgetting to be quiet.

“Yeah,” Mark said, matching my volume. “Until she and your Mom have some sort of falling out.”

I sighed, nodding. “Okay, let's go to your place.”

He perked up. “Really?”

I started walking, not bothering to keep behind the trees anymore. I could feel all the old hatred for Arabelle redirecting to Sammy and Janet, ready to attack either if it came to it. Ready to end the harassment. “Yeah. I know I shouldn't just invite myself, but I don't want to stay out here.” Hiding out in my hollow tree no longer felt like a sanctuary, but a jail cell.

“No, that sounds great.” He followed me and took my hand. “Zane and Claire should be done with their meeting by now. Want me to call and invite them? We can all have dinner.”

“Isn't that a ways to walk in the rain?” They'd have to come all the way from the school and back into town after, with the downpour increasing each hour.

He chuckled again, but happier this time. “They don't mind driving.” Right. Humans liked confined spaces.

I nodded. “I think other people would be good for me right now.”

He nudged me, “And probably some food, too.” I laughed, remembering how he said going hungry can make you hate everyone. That was me to a tee. Now I could finally see enough of what I was missing before to believe it.