CHAPTER 25
Okay, so it wasn’t actually a plan. More like a vague idea.
Or, not even an idea, really. More like a compulsion. But, hey, compulsive people succeed, right? I mean, I’ve always been compulsive about my grades, and look where it got me (the valedictorian thing, not the undead thing).
Anyway, the point was, I was obsessed with the idea of revenge. I couldn’t kill Stephen (or, rather, I apparently could, I just didn’t know how), and I couldn’t kill his little vampy cohorts.
But in high school, there are better ways to get revenge than death. I mean, reputation is everything. Especially for the Tamara-Stephen-Chris-Stacy crowd. I might not be able to whack their little undead butts, but if I could knock them down a peg or two . . . well, that would certainly make me a happy camper.
It wasn’t much, but it was all I had to work with. So I went over to the computer in the corner of the journalism room and navigated over to the Waterloo Watch blog.
Sure enough, there was my photo of Tamara, all kissy face with Kevin’s brother, her boobs practically falling out of the thin little tank top she was wearing.
The picture was posted under a huge headline: IT’S NOT PEER PRESSURE OR QUESTIONABLE VALUES IF HE’S CUTE. And then under the picture was Jenny’s sarcastic little blurb comparing Tamara’s various Voice of Waterloo speeches with her suck-face-a-thon in the bar.
The comments, I noticed, had topped one hundred. With six more posting between the time I logged on and the time I refreshed the screen. And the word “hypocrite” (and some other not nice words) was popping up frequently.
Oh yeah. With Tamara, reputation was everything. And hers was spiraling down.
A few people seemed to side with her, though. Including Richie Carter, which I thought was truly weird. And he was using his debate team clout to help bolster her reputation.
Not good.
Still, the picture (and the hypocrite comments) were a start. And the recording would be the icing on the cake.
Not that I had time to worry about getting the file to Jenny at the moment. The first period bell had already rung, and Clayton was gathering his backpack and shoving mine into my arms. “Smile,” he demanded.
“Why?” I asked, but did as I was told.
He leaned in and inspected my teeth. “Okay. You’re good. No fangs. Try to avoid getting hungry, okay? And if you need to feed go to the bathroom or something,” he said as he passed me another soft pack filled with blood, glorious blood.
“I’m not an idiot,” I said as I shoved the soft thermos into my book bag. But I understood his concern. My teeth were tingling just from the knowledge that I was carting around a liter or so of blood.
This vamp thing was going to take some getting used to.
“You awake?”
“Totally,” I said, bolstered by the effects of a billion milligrams of caffeine.
“Don’t forget to schedule time in the science lab. You’re going to need it.” He was right about that. Even if I could sneak in some time at the hospital lab by telling Cary, the head technician, that I was working on a school project, I still needed all the lab time I could wrangle.
“No problem,” I said.
“Great.” He looked at his shoes. “So, I guess I’ll see you in journalism? I laid out the paper yesterday, but you need to look it over and write your editorial.”
“Right.” I thought about that, then frowned. The thing is, the paper was my baby, but juggling the paper, my grades, and my undead responsibilities was going to be a tough one.
“Don’t worry,” Clayton said, apparently reading my mind. “We’re not going to let an issue slide. We have to be at school before dawn anyway. We’ll get it all done.”
Again with the “we.” Only now, I was starting to expect it. Which, honestly, was almost as nice as actually hearing it.
We said one of those awkward good-byes, and I raced off to class, already looking forward to seeing Clayton again. My first two periods went by without a hitch. Then I saw Stacy in all her raven-haired glory, not undead. Just brain-dead.
She followed me out of government class and cornered me at my locker. “You’re such a little bitch. Don’t think we don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“The picture,” she said. “On the Watch blog. That has to have been you.” She smiled coldly. “Stephen’s pissed.”
“Yeah? Well, I know the feeling.” If I’d had a heartbeat, it would have been doing double or triple time. Since I didn’t, I was feeling calm, cool, and collected.
Hopefully, that made me a stellar liar.
“You’re pissed?” she repeated. “What do you have to be mad about?”
“Other than the obvious?” I shot back. “Well, for starters, where do you get off accusing me of posting that photo? Do you think Richie and Tony and the rest of those kids like you? Any one of them could have taken that picture, and considering Stephen and Chris and Ennis are feeding off of them, I think they have one heck of a motive to post pictures on the Net.”
“They don’t even know what’s going on,” Stacy said.
“Don’t be so sure,” I spat. “And don’t go around accusing me of doing stupid things. Believe me, pissing Stephen off would be a stupid thing. And I’m not an idiot. That’s why you all wanted me, right?”
She licked her lips, and I could see she was doubting herself.
“So then who did take the picture?”
“I don’t care,” I said. “All I’m interested in is doing my little project for Stephen.” I took a step toward her, feeling more bold than I’d ever felt in all my years of high school. “So if you’ll move aside.”
“You promise you didn’t post that picture?”
“Cross my heart,” I said. And hope to die. I waited a beat, then said, “I heard about Ennis. Is it true?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Somebody staked him.”
I shivered, the idea still totally creeping me out. “I have to go,” I said, just wanting to get away from her.
“You’ll be at practice, though, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
I grabbed my pretend lunch and headed for the cafeteria. On the way, I noticed Richie Carter and Tim Dalton. I’d seen both at the bar, and both had Band-Aids on their necks. Courtesy of the popular vamps’ Dine On Our Class-mates plan. But why were Richie and friends letting them do it? Honestly, it made no sense.
Not that I could concentrate. Just the thought made me hungry, and I looked longingly after a cute guy in a University of Texas T-shirt and Wranglers. And (I’m embarrassed to admit) the longing had nothing to do with how nice he looked in those tight jeans.
Ugh. Just what I needed. Vampire lust. Not!
I was walking backward—the better to see Wrangler boy—when I stumbled over someone. I heard a cry, then a tumble, and turned around to discover that I’d knocked Elise to the floor.
“I’m sorry!” I squealed, reaching out a hand to help her up as all the kids in the caf started laughing. “I didn’t see you,” I said as I tugged her to her feet.
“So I noticed,” she said, her voice as cold as ice.
I flinched. “What’s up?”
“You promised!”
“I what?” I mean, I hadn’t even seen her in two days, and—
Oh.
“Lunch,” I said, squinting as if she was going to hit me in the face. “And algebra. Oh God, Elise. I really am sorry. Something came up.”
“Sure something came up,” she said. “Something with Stacy and Stephen and the rest of their dumb jock friends.”
“No!” I protested. Then, “Well, yeah. Sorta. But that’s not why I didn’t make lunch. I was—”
What? What was I?
“God, Beth, I always thought you were better than that.”
“I am better than that!”
“Well, you’ve certainly got the right ego for their crowd,” she said. Then she lifted her chin, spun on her heel, and started walking away.
This so wasn’t going well.
Trouble was, the whole thing really was my fault. And even though I had way better things to worry about than Elise’s midterm, I also knew that I was the one who’d screwed up here. Not that I could have helped it, but I should have remembered. Called or e-mailed or something once I made it home Tuesday night. Instead I’d blown her off. And since I couldn’t explain the real reason, I could totally see how she’d be pissed at me.
She was, of course, halfway across the caf by that time. I exhaled loudly, then raced after her, finally cornering her by the lockers. “We need to talk.”
“I was going to take my lunch and sit outside,” she said. “It’s a free country. You can come if you want to.”
“Ah. Right. How ’bout we find a quiet corner somewhere?” I offered a weak smile. “Allergies.”
I thought she was going to argue, but she just skulked away, finally ending up on one of the benches outside the band hall. “Good enough?”
I ignored the challenge. “Sure. Good. Great.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Come on, Elise. I didn’t stand you up. I was home. Sick. Ask Jenny if you don’t believe me. Or Clayton. He knows. He brought me some homework.”
She made a snorting noise. “They’ll probably say anything you want them to.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, especially since I realized I wasn’t really concentrating on her words anymore. Instead, I was bouncing a little on my seat. That, I figured, was from the Vivarin. But the burning in my throat? That was from the scent of Elise.
I twisted a little, trying to get a better look at her. Sure enough, I saw a bandage on her neck. I could even see a little red stain under it. And that tiny little hint of blood was making gallons of saliva in my mouth.
“For cripes sake, Beth, what is your problem?”
I blinked up at her, realizing I’d totally zoned out. “I, um, told you I’d been sick. Just feeling a little woozy. That’s all.”
She rolled her eyes again, then reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of pills. “Iron,” she said. “My doctor says I’m anemic.”
Considering the Band-Aid on her neck, I wasn’t too surprised. “Elise,” I asked. “Are you still hanging around with Chris?”
I expected her to tell me to get a life. Instead, she blushed. “No. I mean, yes. I mean . . .” She sighed. “When I broke up with him, I was pissed, you know? But then later . . .”
“You still like him.” I couldn’t imagine why it was true, but I knew it had to be.
“He’s a jerk now,” she said, her chin high. “But he didn’t use to be. And so I . . . well, I . . .”
“Stalk him?” I suggested, helpfully.
“Something like that,” she mumbled, looking at her sandwich rather than her hands.
“Stay clear of him,” I said, thinking about her neck. “He’s bad news. They all are.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You’d do good to take your own advice.”
Yeah, I thought. I would.