CHAPTER 11
I’ve always done some of my best thinking in the shower, and right then I had a lot of thinking to do. So I avoided any more of my mom’s wrath and headed straight for my bathroom. I didn’t even bother adjusting the water temperature, either. Just turned the hot on full blast. And you know what? It felt wonderful.
Until I remembered that I was being pummeled with scalding hot water. I should be screaming in pain. I should be leaping out of the shower and desperately trying to switch the water to cold.
I wasn’t. Because, hey, I wasn’t human anymore.
This being dead thing really was going to take some getting used to.
The thing is, I didn’t want to get used to it. I wanted my life back, and I wasn’t even certain if that was possible. I mean, dead is dead, right?
Except that dead isn’t anywhere near as dead as I thought it was, because I was standing in my shower, massaging Aveda’s rosemary mint shampoo into my hair. This was new territory, and I wasn’t even sure how to begin, much less where to begin.
I needed answers. I needed a plan. I needed Obi-Wan or Gandalf or Giles—some mentor-type dude who’d show me the ropes and tell me how to deal. And, more important, how to get my life back. If I even could get my life back.
But most important of all, I wanted to find Stephen Wills. Find him, and get back at him.
I just wasn’t sure how.
And even if I shoved revenge aside . . . how was I going to manage going to class? If my academics nose-dived now, Tisch would never—
Oh.
That’s when it hit me. And, yes, I probably should have put it all together already, but forgive me for being a little freaked out. But right then I realized exactly what the situation was: I was dead.
Dead. Kaput. Out of the game.
I wasn’t going to Tisch. I wasn’t even going down the street to the University of Texas.
Yeah, I was dead and all. But right then, I realized that my life was really over—a revelation that even my incredibly long shower couldn’t change. Still, by the time I got out, I was dirt-free and smelled good.
I stood there, wrapped in a towel, and leaned in close to the mirror to brush my teeth and search for fangs. None. Which was interesting in a what-do-I-do-with-this-information-now sort of way.
But what was really interesting was the fact that I could see my teeth perfectly well. So at least one bit of vampire lore was a complete crock—my reflection was showing up just fine.
That little fact actually made me feel a tiny bit better, and I started brushing my fang-less mouth with renewed vigor. I mean, we’re talking basic laws of physics here. Yes, I’d been turned into a walking, talking creature of the night, but I could accept that (kinda sorta). But what would completely throw me for a loop was if the whole world started working wrong.
Honestly, the kinds of myths that Hollywood foists on an unsuspecting public . . . Of course, when I’m a famous director/screenwriter/producer, I’ll only produce movies of the highest quality. True movies, that really speak to the human condition and—
I stopped brushing, once again remembering that I wouldn’t be going to film school. And if I did manage to make it in Hollywood, all my films were going to be shot at night.
Did I mention that Stephen Wills was on my shit list?
Now clean, I headed into my bedroom and turned on my computer. I think best when I’m making lists, and that’s what I was going to do: make a What Do I Do Now That I’m Dead? list.
I was about to pull up a blank document when the IM box popped up.
SoNotMissTexas: U there?
EdInChief: Am now.
SoNotMissTexas: WHERE hve u been? Worried!!
EdInChief: Have lots to tell you. Later.
No way was I keeping my vampiness from my best friend. But at the same time, I didn’t think that IM’ing the news that I was now undead was the best way to handle the situation.
SoNotMissTexas: ?????????????
EdInChief: What?
SoNotMissTexas: Hello?????? WHAT HAPPENED? Waited 4 you at school today. You never showed. So TELL ME ALREADY. (BTW, the Watcher ragged on Chris and Ennis! Check it out.)
EdInChief: Later
SoNotMissTexas: Which? Blog or telling moi?
EdInChief: Both
SoNotMissTexas: Am coming over . . .
EdInChief: LATER
SoNotMissTexas: See ya in thirty.
And she broke the connection. Honestly, this really wasn’t my day.
I decided not to worry about Jenny. Instead, I stared at my computer screen and tried to come up with a brilliant plan.
So far, nothing.
I clicked over to the Waterloo Watch blog and read what Jenny had written, figuring it might inspire me.
The Watcher has it on good authority that our own beloved (ha-ha) tailback, Ennis Walker, is suffering from some sort of severe neurological disorder. No, seriously! Dozens of witnesses in the caf on Monday watched as he and tag-along linebacker, Chris Freytag, razzed on a student who was doing nothing more than minding his own business. Once again, C&E proved that homophobia is alive and well at Waterloo High (I mean, grow up, you guys!).
Anyway, all of these witnesses saw E’s face twitch and shift and look even grosser than normal (let’s face it, E is not winning Mr. America anytime soon). Clearly some sort of musculature disorder, the Watcher thinks. And now the Watcher is wondering: is this disorder the reason why E is never in morning classes? Has he been given some sort of medical excuse? Because, you know, how can a guy who skips his early classes still make good enough grades to stay on the football team?
Hmmm.
Check back for all the dirt. And don’t forget, the Watcher watches so you don’t have to!