Not Another Vampire Story
By
Sakurapu
Published by:
WordLink on Smashwords
Not Another Vampire Story
Copyright © 2011 by Sakurapu
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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Not Another Vampire Story
Chapter One: Two Weeks and Counting
Silvia turned the first page in her new manga and sighed. Only two weeks until school started. She wasn't ready for summer break to be over. And she certainly wasn't ready for eighth grade.
At least she had all her core classes with Holly. It would totally suck not to.
She anchored the graphic novel with one elbow and used both hands to tighten her hair tie, then flipped her ponytail of strawberry blonde hair out her face before it got caught in her bubblegum.
Once school started she'd have to start matching her clothes again, wearing socks and shoes, and make sure her hair was combed.
"Get your wet swimsuit off the carpet!" Julia screeched.
The foot in Silvia's side was more than a nudge, but not quite a kick. Silvia looked up -- way up -- at her older sister's irate face. Usually the face was nice to look at, all blonde hair like a halo around her, stunning blue eyes with perfect mascara, topping a faultless figure not suffering too much for the lack of top-notch fashion.
Sylvia sat up on the living room floor, careful not to get her book wet, and rearranged her beach towel better under her soggy bottom. She'd never look like that at seventeen years-old. Not in a million years.
"Mom says you're wearing a bra this year to school," Julia said when she caught her younger sister's blunt stare at her t-shirt. She smiled in satisfaction at Sylvia's grimace.
"I don't need one. How will it stay down? I've got nothing to put in it!" Sylvia leaned against the sofa behind her.
"Just a training bra, Sylvi." Julia touched her hair, glimpsing herself in the oval mirror by the living room door.
"I don't have anything to train."
Julia applied a pink lipstick to her lips, making a test pucker. "I don't understand your infatuation with those comic books."
"They're graphic novels, and they are the art form in Japan."
Julia wiped a small extra bit of color from her lips. "Whatever. Where's the point in reading --" she focused in the mirror at the manga in Sylvia’s hands, "-- Girl Got Game? And it's not just the books. The music, too. You'd think you were going to grow up and be Japanese or something."
Sylvia blew a bubble and the oscillating pedestal fan blew her hair into it as it popped. She wiped her hair away with her hand, which jerked the gum clear out of her mouth.
Julia shook her head. "Serves you right, gum-head."
Sylvia set the book down and gave her attention to the hair now matted with dull pink watermelon gum that had long ago lost its flavor. The more she fingered the gooey mess the worse it got.
"Get the scissors and I'll cut it out." Julia looked out the narrow window by the door. "Hurry up."
"I'll do it myself." Sylvia frowned, cross-eyed, at the sticky glopped-up hair near her face.
Julia made a final check of her reflection. "My date's here. Behave yourself. Mom will be home at eight."
"You behave yourself," Sylvia returned, rising to her knees to see what she could of her sister's new boyfriend through the narrow window. Not much to see; just the top of dark hair of someone standing by the curb. She assumed there was a car nearby, out of sight. "Another one bites the dust."
Julia gave her a mocking look. "He is absolutely gorgeous, I'll have you know."
"That's why you're so anxious to show him off to us?" Sylvia grinned.
Julia grabbed her purse from the chair, throwing a look to her sister. "Oh, by the way, your package came -- three hours ago. KAT-TUN, is it?"
Sylvia made a face of horror. "You're just telling me now?"
Julia stepped out. "Bye!"
Sylvia threw a pillow from the sofa at the closing door.
The package was on the phone stand in the kitchen, under a stack of mail for her mom. Sylvia dug through this and held the mailer up, smiling. KAT-TUN's latest CD. She found the scissors from a kitchen drawer and carefully opened the package, and then with even more caution snipped the gum dangling from her hair.
She smiled at the photo on the CD cover. She gave her favorite member of the Jpop group a soft kiss. "Ahh. Junno."
Chapter Two: Stripping by the Pool
Holly had some of the frills Sylvia didn't. While Sylvia's blonde hair had a reddish cast that bounced out of control unless tamed by a tight ponytail, Holly's half African-American descent gave her dark hair a texture that yielded well to the relaxer her mother used on it. Since summer had begun and Sylvia started hanging out at her mother's boyfriend's pool, her skin was nearly as dark as Holly's light brown tint.
Holly had at first stood out in their small elementary school's fifth grade in central Ohio, but after she started middle school -- and Jamie Goddard had called her chocolate milk, 'the delicious kind' -- she'd got over the stigma. It didn't hurt that Jamie Goddard was one of the better-looking boys in sixth grade at the time, and still was last year in seventh, or that he was constantly giving her little nudges in math class and always finagled his way into being her partner in science class. He'd shortened her nickname to simply Chocolate.
Sometimes Sylvia thought no one at school wanted a glass of white milk with big reddish hair and blue eyes.
"I don't know how you don't see it," Holly said as they lounged at the pool in the backyard of Brian's house the next afternoon. Being friends with Sylvia had its perks, and one was the rich boyfriend her mom had. Pools, pizza parties, big screen television -- all of it -- and in one of the newer ranch-style houses in one of the nicer subdivisions.
"I think Junno is so much sweeter. He is so underestimated." Sylvia bent her knees and sat back in the lounge chair by the crystal blue pool waters, the warm late August sun hot on her skin. To their side a CD player rested on the table, sheltered from the sun by a mock palm tree umbrella that covered a three foot circle, Obachan Rock coming from its speakers. Two glasses of soda were warming in the day's heat despite the moderate palm shade.
"You weren't saying that when he was blonde and had the blue contacts in." She smiled at Sylvia's frown.
"I don't want to think about those months."
Holly sighed, adjusting her yellow two piece swimsuit bottom where a wedgie was creeping up. "Nishikido Ryo is perfect. You'll see it soon."
"Oh, he's hot, but Junno is my first choice."
"Hmph. Ryo is in two bands; Kanjani8 and News. That should tell you something, girl."
Sylvia stood up and twisted to look at the back of her legs. She groaned, running a hand over her teal blue bikini bottom. The backs of her thighs had big sweat spots where she'd been sitting for half an hour in the chair. "Is there any way to sit that won't leave red marks?"
"Don't think so. You could stand on your head."
Sylvia waved her off. "I'm going in to get my CD. My turn."
Holly sighed, listening to the Kanjani8 song play out as Sylvia disappeared into the house.
Sylvia slid the glass door that led from the deck of Brain's yard into his house. The central air system wasn't on -- one of Brian's few rules -- and the climate inside was warm, but not uncomfortable. The kitchen was to the right, a rec room to the left. A strange layout for a house, Sylvia thought, but her mom said the rec room was probably supposed to be something else, like a dining room, but since Brian didn't really dine it was more of an informal hang-out room. Two sofas, the smaller of the big screen TVs, a few upholstered chairs.
In one of these now was Julia, sitting in her sleek black bikini, gold accents emphasizing all her charm points, as mom would call it, one heel on the chair’s edge as she painted her toenails.
"Terry's coming over, so don't be your usual self." Julia blew on the muted pink nail polish. "Be a girl, okay?"
"Hi, Silly." It came from the corner, followed by a squawk and flutter of feathers.
Sylvia looked to the white cockatiel. "It's Sylvi, you bird-brain."
"I'm telling," the bird chirped. It stepped from foot to foot on its T-bar perch, tether swinging.
"Don't," Julia warned as Sylvia approached the bird with one hand raised. "Leave Blanche alone."
Sylvia scowled at the bird. One good flap of anyone's arm and Blanche would forget her tether, attempt to fly off the perch, and end up dangling by one foot until she could beak-claw her way back to the top.
"Who names a bird Blanche? She can't even say her own name. It's just vulgar." Sylvia put on her sweetest smile and stepped closer to the bird. "Say I'm a Blanche."
"Don't make her." Julia studied her toes, satisfied. "It's supposed to mean white."
Sylvia crossed the room to where her non-school book bag -- i.e., go-to-dad's-house bag -- was on one of the sofas. "So, when's this really hot guy coming over?"
Julia looked at her fingernails, tilting her head and stretching her long fingers. "Any minute. Make sure Holly behaves, too."
Sylvia tossed the empty water bottles and an old math assignment from seventh grade around inside the bag until she found the CD wrapped in a pair of shorts. Her manga were in the second large pocket -- she had her priorities -- where there was no chance of any stray drips ruining their covers. She smiled at the case cover, her eyes only for the top right photo of Junnosuke Taguchi. "Yeah, you know Holly. Stealing guys twice her age. She's bad for that."
Julia shook her head. "Terry's twenty, you twit." A car door was heard from the driveway at the front of the house and she stood. "Now be nice. I think he's here."
"My usual adorable self." Sylvia fiddled with her swimsuit top, wishing there was a little more in the cups to keep it from shifting.
Julia wrapped a beach towel of brilliant reds and deep purple in a swirl pattern around herself, needlessly accentuating her small waist. "Go outside, Sylvi."
"I'm going. Don't lock us out."
"I'm not going to; now split."
Sylvia zipped her bag shut. "When do we get to meet him?"
"A little later. About half an hour, okay?" Julia smoothed her hair back in its ponytail at the back of her hair, sending a waft of peach scent shampoo to her younger sister.
Sylvia rejoined Holly at the poolside, the sun immediately bringing a dry heat to her skin. "Well, he's here."
Holly gave her a bewildered look. "Brian?"
"No, Terry." Sylvia repositioned her lounge chair so it was angled to watch inside the house. "We get to meet him later. He can't be as gorgeous as Julia says."
"I don't know; she's had some pretty hot ones."
Sylvia looked at the CD player. "Want to get your people out or should I?'
"Back off, red. No one touches my Kanjani CDs but me."
"That's what I figured."
Holly pulled out her beloved music CD and Sylvia enclosed the KAT-TUN CD and hit play. She sat down in the lounge chair, sighing. For a moment they each got comfortable in the blazing sun, and then a smile crossed Sylvia's face as a Japanese pop tune began.
"I'm thinking about dropping Girl Got Game," Holly said after a moment.
Sylvia frowned. "Why? You said it was the best manga you'd read in two years."
"It's not. Ever since Chiharu threw Kyo out I just can't sympathize with him anymore. He's not very sensitive." Holly sighed, looking into the house at the two forms they could see through a window moving inside near the kitchen. "She can't help it she has to pose as a boy to play basketball."
Sylvia followed her friend's gaze. Julia was leaning against the kitchen island counter, a definite masculine form close, one hand around her waist. "Well, Kensuke is coming up in the next volume, I think, and he --"
"You said you wouldn't read ahead." Holly's hand whapped Sylvia's shoulder -- right on a spot that was starting to get sun-burnt tender.
"Ow! I didn't." Sylvia rubbed the red area. "I just looked at the spoilers, kind of, online. Not much, Holly." She was about to say more when the song on the CD got her attention. She turned the volume up. "Hold it." She smiled as the verses was sung, and then backed down the sound. "Ah, Junno's line."
Both girls looked to where Julia was still leaning her back on the counter, both of the second figure's arms wrapped around her, their torsos together tight. Holly sighed; Sylvia felt something verging on voyeurism.
"This is kinda weird," she mumbled, but didn't look away. She shook her head, after a moment her eyes leaving the two figures in the house that were intent on each other. "You're dropping Girl completely?"
"I don't know. I was thinking about starting Fruits Basket." Holly was ready for the laughter that erupted from Sylvia. "It's got a big fan-base, girl. And a Kyo."
"A boy-Kyo, Holly." Sylvia giggled, shoving Holly's shoulder, careful not to jar the CD player between them. "I can't believe you."
"Well, I might. I don't know yet." Holly made a disagreeable face at the house. "How long have they been going out?"
"I don't know. Three or four weeks." Sylvia watched the two forms separate and go farther into the kitchen. "She's been absolutely gaga and it's so embarrassing. She never goes asinine over guys."
"He must have something, then."
Sylvia nodded slowly, and then looked up at the relentless sun and back to the shade falling from the palm umbrella. "Let's move to the table. We're losing the shade."
"Take a swim?" Holly suggested as they stood and collected their towels from the lounge chairs.
"Yeah, after I get KAT-TUN out of the sun." Sylvia shook out the towel.
Behind her the glass door slid open and a deep voice called out across the small yard. "Hey, Sylvia, Holly, you ladies want some ice tea?"
Sylvia and Holly looked to the deck, each sheltering their eyes from the sun to see Julia's latest boyfriend. Dang, the sun only shadowed from the neighbor's house, allowing him to be visible as a dark form on Brian's deck.
"Yeah, thanks," Sylvia shouted back. When Terry went back into the house, she turned to Holly, who was standing akimbo, shaking her head. "What?"
"Listen, red, if you're going to speak to him at least make him come out here where we can ogle him properly." Holly shrugged. "That was our chance."
"Julia said she'd introduce us later." Sylvia cast a look at the house. Actually, that wasn't exactly how Julia had put it.
"She better."
Sylvia turned to look at her legs, past her butt, angling out a foot. Yup. Red marks the size of Frisbees below her butt-cheeks. Great impression, Sylvi, she thought.
Holly was already at the table at the corner of the pool, bending over to pull the lever on the folded umbrella. Sylvia set her towel on one of the three bench seats anchored to the table. Behind her she heard the door slide open again and looked over her shoulder to see Julia and Terry step out onto the deck, she with a tray of drinks.
"They're coming," she said, turning back to Holly.
Suddenly the umbrella flipped up, making Sylvia step back, but not quick enough. The tip of an umbrella spine caught her bikini top, snapping the back strap, ripping the strings behind her neck, and the teal top went zinging over the wooden plank fence and into the neighbor's yard.
For a split second Sylvia didn't move, exposed, and able to only stand immobile as Holly looked back at her in wide-eyed horror. Then a scream burst out of Sylvia, she crossed her arms over her un-tanned self, and dropped to her knees. Holly grabbed a towel and covered Sylvia's shoulders in a James Brown-esque performance.
Sylvia's mouth was still gaping as she looked back to her sister and Terry, who had halted halfway across the yard.
"Sylvia! Stop it!" Julia demanded. Beside her, Terry appeared to be chuckling.
Stop it?! Sylvia thought, slowly rising. She pulled the edges of the towel closer and ran around the pool's side, snagging the KAT-TUN case as she went, dashing past the blur that was Julia and Terry -- whom she no longer wanted too close a look at -- and onto the deck.
She barely opened the door enough to slip through and dashed into the relative safety of the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen. Once there she sat on the toilet lid, panting and still screaming inside her head, knees shaking and what little of her bosom jiggling. She hugged the towel closer. Why now?
In front of Holly, Terry. A knock came to the door, making her jump and yelp.
"It's me," Julia said from the hall. "I'm coming in."
"Stay out," Sylvia said as Julia opened the door and smiled, closing it behind her. "I said stay out."
"Great. My sister, the streaker." She held out Sylvia's bag. "Put a shirt on."
"I don't have one. Only shorts." Sylvia snatched the bag and looked in it anyway.
"Nice first impression." Julia leaned against the door, throwing her an accusatory look.
"I didn't mean it. Geez, Julia, how about --"
"How's Gypsy Rose Lee in there?" came a male voice from the hall.
Sylvia made a confused face. Julia laughed, turning to the door and opening it a crack.
"Stop it!" Sylvia cried, even though the door was only open two inches.
"Can I help?" Terry asked, still unseen.
"No!" Sylvia answered, but her sister nodded.
"Want to give me a ride home to get an extra shirt?"
There was a fumbling, a pleased, flirty look crossing Julia's face, and then a navy t-shirt was reached in through the slot of an opening at the door. "Will this do?"
"Thanks." Julia shut the door, smiling. She turned to Sylvia. "Here."
Sylvia took the shirt with two fingers, still clutching the towel. She smelled the shirt. Actually, kind of nice cologne, she decided. She freed a few more fingers to check the size of the shirt. No slouch, Terry. She frowned at Julia. "You told him my name is Gypsy?"
Julia shook her head. "Oh, you unlearned fool. Gypsy Rose Lee was a notorious stripper from the burlesque days."
"What?!"
Julia opened the door, making Sylvia clutch the towel again. "Hurry out, little sis."
Chapter Three: Starting Again
Two days later Sylvia had stopped blushing. Her impromptu striptease act by the pool was still on her mind, but she'd stopped clutching the extra material on her pajamas in her sleep and waking up in a cold sweat.
Holly hadn't forgot it, but Sylvia had enough damage on her friend to make sure Holly didn't breathe a word to anyone they knew. Besides, she knew where Holly kept her Kanjani8 CDs.
Just as the dust settled and life tried to return to normal for Sylvia, Julia decided it was time for Terry to come to dinner at the Burns house. She even convinced their mom to make lasagna and Caesar salad. The garlic bread they bought from Dahlia's Artisan breads, Julia's favorite.
Holly was supposed to be gone by the time Terry arrived Thursday evening, but she was lagging, hoping to get a glimpse of Julia's new guy. She lounged near Sylvia's bed, belly down on the carpet and feet swinging in the air as KAT-TUN's Freedom played in the bedroom. Sylvia sat cross-legged across from her on the floor, eyes moving dreamily over the CD case, smiling at Junno.
Holly gave the CD player a look of disgust as the mellow tune bopped along. "What the hell is this, Sylvi? The soundtrack to the Kirby game or something?"
Sylvia frowned, holding the case closer. "No."
"Sure sounds like it." Holly turned back to her volume of Fruits Basket.
"It's not juvenile at all. It’s so soft. Smooth. You should appreciate that."
Holly shook her head, straightened hair barely moving. "It sounds like it belongs in an arcade game."
Sylvia looked to the clock on the desk, what little of it she could see. So the room was a mess. It was summer. Stacks of paperback books she'd meant to read during break lined one wall, while her manga collection -- pristine condition -- was categorized by author and release on the only organized shelf in the room.
"Speaking of juvenile," she said, nudging Holly's book with her toe -- a recently trimmed, blood red painted toenail, to be precise -- and quickly pulling it back. "I tried the first one. Tohru's not the sharpest knife in the drawer."
"But she's such a sweetheart. She looks out for everyone." Holly moved the manga from Sylvia's abusive foot. "She's got Yuki's attention, you bet, and Kyo's."
"They're just tired of their standard charcoal-rich diet. Besides, there're all those secrets they each carry. What a rip." Sylvia leaned her back on the half-made bed, sighing. "Can't even bump up against any of them; they'll turn all zodiac. Where's the fun in that?"
Holly closed her eyes, inhaling the aroma of tomato, basil, and cheese wafting down the hall. "Lasagna," she breathed.
"Yeah, well, I can't ask you to stay. He's coming over." Sylvia looked to the clock again. "In fact..."
"I'm going." Holly grumbled, slowly getting to her feet and pulling down her short-shorts cuffs, hitching her belt loops higher. "I can't wait for these styles to pass and we can go back to normal waistlines. These make my rolls spill out. I got double muffin-tops."
Sylvia nodded. "I hate all these pinch-points." She watched Holly collect her manga and CDs.
"Give me the four-one-one later."
"Yup."
An hour later the table was set in the modest Burns house dining room with French classic white dishes, matching salad bowls, etched clear tumblers and their best silverware. Sylvia knew this, because she was in charge of arranging the tableware, while her mom and Julia finished the salad and mixed ice tea. The instant kind, with lemon, and lots of ice.
Sylvia had seen a lot of guys pass through Julia's life; rich ones, cute ones, handsome ones, good-hearted but dirt-poor ones. None of them had ever earned a lasagna dinner, however. She wondered how Terry rated such an occasion. And so early in the relationship.
He arrived promptly at seven o'clock, and Julia -- in her best little black dress and strappy heels -- answered the door. Sylvia hung back by the kitchen doorway, her own cargo shorts and pale pink tank top an odd comparison to her sister's attire. Even their mom hadn't gotten into the dress code. She was her usual self, gauze skirt in spectrum colors and fringe-trimmed plum camisole, bare feet, and carved bone and jade necklace of chunky ovals. Their mom had never got past her earthy bohemian college days. Being an assistant professor at Ohio State University didn't help, either.
Terry stepped into the living room, handing Julia a bouquet of tiger lilies, and giving her an easy kiss on the cheek.
"You're right on time," Julia said, taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen.
For a moment, as her sister and Terry headed straight for Sylvia, she felt as if she were facing a train head-on. Julia was leading, her face beaming, hand clenched in his. Terry looked directly at Sylvia, and she felt his brown eyes peer directly into her, like he could see the very bottom of her soul. But he smiled, perfect even teeth, cleanly shaven face, smelling of musk as he stepped nearer.
"Hello, Sylvia," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it before it occurred to her to move. Her first kiss…
Didn’t count, she thought hurriedly.
She only stared at the top of his dark hair -- nearly black -- as he bent over her hand briefly, lips warm against the skin below her knuckles. He looked at her, smiling, wiggling her fingers when she didn't move.
"Hi," she finally squeaked out, hoping he wouldn't say anything about the pool or the wardrobe malfunction. Her cheeks began to grow hot, and she withdrew her hand.
"Hello, Ms. Burns," he sad, turning to her mom as Sylvia flexed her hand, willing circulation to return to her brain. "It smells wonderful in here."
Sylvia watched with dismay as her mom blushed, tossing an 'oh, it's nothin; just a little lasagna' at him, giggling like a bashful milk maid and disappearing back into the kitchen. She saw Julia and Terry take seats in the love seat in the living room, her sister's legs crossed at the ankles, her knees pressing against his. He cupped Julia's hand in his own, looking to Sylvia.
In that flash of a moment Sylvia felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, something she couldn't determine in his grin. Julia was right: he was gorgeous, but not in one of those artificial by-golly-he-has-to-work-at-it ways. He was honestly the best looking guy she'd ever seen.
Sylvia shook her head and snapped Junno's photo back into her head.
"Julia says you're going into eighth grade this year," he said. Beside him Julia gestured to a chair.
"Sit down," she said.
"I gotta help Mom." Sylvia pulled her eyes away from the couple and went to the kitchen. Her mom was fanning herself with an oven mitt, a preoccupied look on her face.
"Boy, he's a looker," her mom said, waving the mitt faster, taking a deep breath.
"Mom, you're embarrassing."
Her mom opened the oven door. "Hot flashes are normal."
Sylvia found a spatula server in the utensil drawer. "Not until menopause, they're not."
Her mom pulled back the tinfoil and steam rolled out of the lasagna pan.
"You let him call you Ms. Burns, not Ms. Collins," Sylvia pointed out. Collins was her mom's maiden -- and now divorced -- name.
"I'll overlook that."
And so it went. Sylvia sat in awe as her mom and Julia both made clever small talk with the guy who'd seen her topless -- well, not full frontal topless; she'd had her back to him -- and whose gentlemanly manners would've shamed the best lady-killer into therapy. Julia sat there, sipping lemon ice tea like a southern belle, her mom like an avant guard Streetcar Named Desire wanna-be, on the enclosed porch in the soft evening breeze.
Like some warped kittens lapping up milk, Sylvia thought, sitting across from them after dinner. In the dark, with Julia half-huddled at Terry's arm, Sylvia caught a glimpse of a small square patch of tan at his arm, just below the navy polo shirt sleeve. The logo on the shirt was one she'd seen before -- she'd worn his t-shirt with the same name.
Dakmarr-Moore Pharmaceuticals.
Which made him Terry Dakmarr, Valterri Dakmarr, actually -- an old family name, he'd explained to their enchanted mom.
When Julia stood up to get dessert, peaches and French vanilla ice cream that was coming to temperature in the kitchen, Sylvia followed.
In the bright light of the kitchen Sylvia could see the look of rapture pasted on Julia's face better. "Good grief, you're like a love-struck fangirl, Julia."
The older girl shrugged, scooping out peaches into four small dessert bowls on the counter. "Why not? He's so nice, and handsome."
"Yeah, well, Mom's being ridiculous." Sylvia drew her finger across the top of the ice cream tub.
Julia swatted her finger with the ice cream scooper. "A few manners wouldn't kill you, Sylvi."
"He's wearing a patch." Sylvia popped her finger of white cream into her mouth. "A nicotine patch. He's a smoker. You hate smokers."
"He's quitting."
She watched Julia top the peaches with ice cream. "He's not perfect."
"I never said he was."
"Yes, you did."
Julia turned to her, leaning closer. "And he doesn't smell like smoke. I dare you to find something else wrong with him. He's scrumptious, and he's mine."
Sylvia shrugged. "Okay. Yeah, but ..." She watched Julia finish adding ice cream. "He doesn't look twenty. He looks older."
"If I tell you, Sylvi," Julia's tone now took on a no-nonsense deadliness, "you promise you won't say anything to Mom?"
Ooh, blackmail material, Sylvia thought. She nodded until her ponytail was doing figure-eights in the air. "Promise."
"Promise on your KAT-TUN collection?"
Sylvia made a disgusting face. "Why don't you just make it my first born?"
"Promise?" The ice cream scoop was dripping over the tub, posed in Julia's hand.
"I promise."
A sly smile came to Julia's lips. "He's twenty-three."
Sylvia's eyes opened wide. "No shit?"
"Shut up, you moron." Julia looked to the doorway quickly. Their mom's low laughter came from the porch. "Don't tell anyone, even Holly. Especially Holly."
"Okay, okay." Sylvia thought for a moment, catching and licking off the ice cream scoop as Julia attempted to put it in the sink. "Mom would make you dump him."
"I know. Let's go." Julia handed her two dessert bowls. "Keep your trap shut, Sylvi."
"Okay. I got it."
They made their way back to the screened porch where their mom was smiling to Terry. In those fleeting seconds, in the meek light from the half moon, Sylvia looked full in Terry's face and he returned her a secretive grin.
It was at that moment she knew Julia was in deep.
Chapter Four: Farewell to Summer
Summer wasn't exactly winding down, not yet, but school was starting next Tuesday. Sylvia hated when school began before the Labor Day weekend. They'd have a few days of school, a few days off again, and then resume classes all herky-jerky, and that just ticked everyone off.
But it also meant that Brian would have his last summer party, and that was always fun. They were always a cross between buffet and get-your-own, not sit-down dinners but not cut-offs and halter tops casual. Swimming was encouraged, but so were one-piece swimsuits. That was fine with Sylvia.
There were children here, you know, her mother and Brian said.
Not as many kids as last year, she noticed the day of the party. Brian had three by his first wife and two by his second, all ranging in ages from thirteen to twenty-four, and some of the guests had teens, some younger kids who were at home with sitters or ex-spouses.
Usually Holly was there, too, but not this summer. She was baby-sitting, earning money for the next Kanjani8 CD. The evening promised to be half a snoozer without Holly.
Sylvia made do without her.
The party officially started at four o'clock, but most guests -- and the bartender -- didn't really arrive until eight. Brian's kids from Number One were there at noon because Number One had things to do that weekend. These were thirteen year-old Kristi and fifteen year-old Lane, both whom Sylvia had met before, and weren't too terribly terrible. She wondered if Lane had kept his flaming skull tattoo a secret since last New Year's Eve's party. Probably not; he'd been pretty sore since Christmas. But, if Number One was anything like Sylvia's mom, keeping a secret tattoo might not be too difficult.
Kristi was okay, most of the time, and an absolute angel compared to Number Two's sixteen year-old Josie, who had been known up until the New Year's Eve party as Jailbait. Now that she was sixteen they'd have to find another nickname for her. Several came to mind quickly.
Sylvia pulled on the hem of her fringed skirt, making the sable faux leather straighten momentarily. It wasn't real leather, it wasn't even a clever knock-off of a good original. Not on an assistant professor's salary. The title was mostly just that -- empty impression -- more than money, but her mom seemed content with it. Sylvia and Julia were not so impressed. Her shoes were ones that Julia had passed down, low heel slip-ons with open toes, made of scuff-resistant gold lamé. The skirt was topped with her best tie-dye tank top of vivid blues and purples, and she'd pulled her bushy red-blonde hair up into a high ponytail so tight her scalp screamed. She was ready.
People were already mingling around the pool, couples and singles, middle-aged men with bad pants and worse jewelry and comb-overs, and women with form-fitting, bulge-emphasizing short skirts and slinky spaghetti string tops. The day was hot, even for late summer in the Midwest, and the humidity was taxing everyone. By early evening the heat was set, and the crowd had grown to twice its size. And the music on the speakers inside and outside the house had changed.
Sylvia groaned. Wasn't disco supposed to be dead?
Everyone was taxed by the heat, except for Bob Grady, Brian's neighbor. He was perched on a stool by the portable bar at the side of the pool, not close enough to get wet by an occasional cannonball dive from the diving board, but not so far that anyone lounging at the water's side couldn't hear him. He had one of the better heads of hair among the half dozen men at the bar. He smiled a lot, a sleazy smirk, and had a tendency to stand too close -- especially to the young ladies -- when he spoke. But that was it, Sylvia and Julia had learned. No hands.
Sylvia was just passing the bar as she overheard the account.
"So we're sitting by my pool, me and Janis, the airline stewardess," he said, grinning at his audience of men and a few women, "and it's getting to be one of those moments, all close and cozy, and flinging through the air comes this swimsuit top! Just out of the blue like that. Fling! Right into my lap! Like a sign!"
"Janis'?" It was one of the men, of course. The bartender was listening in, too.
"No. Out of the air, over the fence!"
Sylvia felt the blush start at her cheeks and heat through her hair until she thought her ponytail was going to catch fire. Left, right, left, right, she thought to her feet, trying to put distance between her and the bar stools of people. Bob only spoke louder, more passionately.
"So I'm thinking Oh, yeah, man; come on over, baby, but then I pick it up and look at it, and it's so small I laugh and think This wouldn't hold a damn thing!"
Sylvia quick-timed it to the other end of the pool where the deck door led to the kitchen area inside Brian's house, before she could hear the other men's reactions.
At the kitchen counter sat her peers, or so Brian had called them. His kids, and a few others like-aged that had been towed to the party by their parents. Kristi was applying lip gloss to her already ultra-shiny lips, posing for herself in a compact mirror. Before her was a glass of diet Seven-Up and sliced lemons. To her right was Lane, a little less-lanky than Sylvia remembered him at New Year's Eve, sporting a new shorter cut to his brown hair since New Year's Eve. Across from them, kitchen-side, were two other middle teens leaning their backs to the counter.
Lane pulled a tall counter chair out some so Sylvia could sit down, looking her over carefully. "Have a seat. If you think that skirt will let you."
She hiked herself into the chair, barely able to without adding a slit to the skirt. "Hey."
"Hey yourself." Lane pushed a plate of peanut-rice balls to her. "They're hot."
She didn't know if he meant spicy or temperature hot. Kristi deemed her lips sufficiently shellacked and stowed her compact and lip gloss in a tiny purse hanging from her shoulder. She pulled at her mini dress skirt, making a face at her brother.
"Is anyone going swimming at this loser-fest or is it just old people and bad jokes?" she asked no one.
"We'll swim when Josie gets here," he said, a smile coming to his eyes. "I'll bet she doesn't wear a one-piece."
There was an exchange of elbows between them and Sylvia decided to take a bite of the peanut ball. She'd just bit off half of it when her cell phone rang and she fumbled for it in her waistband. Holly, of course.
She answered it. "Hey, Holly."
"Well, is he there yet?" Holly wasn't alone; her two babysitting charges could be heard in the background arguing over a Yu-Gi-Oh game. She hadn't seen Terry yet.
"No, he's not."
"Well, when's that stud getting there?"
Sylvia put her hand partly over the phone at Holly's outburst. "Later."
Lane had heard. "Who're you waiting on, Sylvi?"
"I'm not." She chewed the rice and peanut clump quickly as the heat started in her mouth. He'd meant spicy. She looked around at the pitchers of punch on the counter, fanning her hand at her face.
"Told you," he said, reaching for a blue plastic cup and pouring it full.
"Thanks," she said, drinking half of it as Holly said 'hello' for the third time. He said into it, "I'm right here, Holly. I'll call you when they're here and give you an inch by inch description, okay?"
"Don't forget, red. I'm miserable here. I gotta see this one."
"You will. Bye." Sylvia closed the phone and stuck it back into her skirt.
"You know, they make holders for those things," Lane said as Kristi crowded him to push the bowl of chili sauce to her. When she moved, her glittered ponytail almost wiped him in the face. He frowned at the facefull of hair. "Get out, Kristi."
Kristi threw him a look and glanced across the counter to one of the two fourteen year-old boys from other guests. "You guys want to go down to the ice cream place? Lane's buying."
"I am not." Lane shoved her nearly off her chair.
"How far?" one asked, looking from Kristi to Sylvia.
Sylvia returned his stare. They both had two-toned blond hair and earrings in each ear, one a piercing in his eyebrow, and the other with a stud in his lip. Yuck. What a poor selection of almost-manhood, Sylvia thought. Terry hadn't had any piercings, as she recalled.
"Just outside the sub. Two blocks." Kristi batted her eyes, purple eye shadow thick.
"No way, you tramp. You're not going anywhere with anyone I don't know," Lane said, catching her dress skirt as she slid off the chair.
Kristi batted at his hand. "I'll tell Dad about your new tattoo."
Lane frowned. "Shut up."
"Then I'm going." Kristi stuck her tongue out at him.
The blondest of the two boys across the counter made an off-color comment about Kristi's gesture and what she could do to him with it, and Lane reached for him across the count, nearly knocking over the pitcher. With a yelp the blond boy was already in pain as Lane’s hands closed around his shoulder and collar at his throat.
Sylvia popped the last bite of peanut ball into her mouth and saved her punch cup from almost certain death as the scuffle made its way to the end of the counter, with Lane tugging and the blond boy ow-ing about his collar in Lane's hand.
As if the shirt could really hurt, Sylvia thought as she went into the rec room. She took a seat on the sofa nearest the square coffee table, ignoring the scuffle in the kitchen, swallowing a gulp of punch to put out the fire from the peanut-ball. She reached for the devilled eggs on the platter at the table before realizing they were the fancy kind -- all flute-piped filling with scallion and caviar toppings. She decided instead to help herself to the plate of asparagus wrapped in thin strips of ham. She took a small plastic plate from the stack and put two asparaguses on it, and then two stuffed mushrooms from another serving tray.
In the kitchen area someone -- an older someone -- was breaking up the squabble between Lane and the pierced-boy, but Sylvia didn't look there. So, Lane had a new tattoo. She wondered where.
The phone rang again, and she paused before answering it. Yup. Holly, the screen read. It'd only been ten minutes. She wished her camera function worked. Ever since its impromptu dip in the pool last June she’d been without. The sofa cushion suddenly moved and Sylvia looked to see another woman in her mid-thirties sit down, squishing her into a corner to make room for a man in his early forties. Sylvia wiggled away, smiling and nodding at the woman when she turned to her.
"Not bothering you, are we, honey?" she asked, but then turned back to the man before Sylvia could answer.
Sylvia decided to take the call on the third ring, easing farther away from the couple.
"Where the heck are you?" Holly asked as soon as Sylvia said hello.
"Where I was ten minutes ago. No, he's not here yet." Even as the words left Sylvia's mouth, the front door opened and she saw Julia and Terry step in. Well, actually their elbows that she could see around the half blustered wall, but she knew it was them. And she wasn't the only one noticing.
"Well, who is that?" the woman beside her said, pushing away from the man at her side, and straining for a better view into the living room.
Sylvia looked to her, trying not to giggle at the overly made-up eyes and bosom heaved into a bra past the pushed-up stage. "That's my sister, Julia," she said, answering the wrong question on purpose.
"Oh. Who's that with her?"
The man was now clearing his throat, hand grappling with the woman's thumb ring.
"Did you say Julia?" Holly's voice chirped. "Hey, Sylvia?"
Sylvia took a moment to stand up without splitting her skirt and managed to climb over the assorted legs extended from the other sofa, and went to the side wall.
"Yeah, they're here. Oh, he looks good tonight." She fringed the wall, not too closely, as it was stucco and pointy, until she was at the corner of the rec and living rooms.
Julia was decked in her usual, a different little black dress trimmed in gold beading, perky figure graceful in the snug fit, black sandals beaded with rhinestones.
"Hello?"
Sylvia sighed into the phone. "Yeah, I'm here. Dark hair, like black."
"Like black? Nishikido Ryo black, or American guy black?"
Sylvia found herself looking at the phone. "Holly, is there a difference between Asian black and American black hair?"
"You know there is."
"Dark brown eyes, piercing, and --"
"How close are you, red? Right on top of them?"
"No. I just remembered that part." Sylvia moved farther into the living room as Julia and Terry went into the hall leading to the family rooms on the other side of the house. She hung back, watching them turn into a room she knew was a bedroom, the sounds of the party and the out-dated music fading a bit behind her.
Sylvia stood at an angle in the hall, able to see into the darkened room without being too obvious. Inside Terry had taken Julia into his arms, her hands on his chest, a moment of kissing. And then his arms pulled her closer, encompassing until she was pressed against him, his lips on her neck, a look of bliss on her face that Sylvia had never seen before.
She took a step back, glad her sister's eyes were closed so she couldn't see her in the hall. She saw Julia's fingers curl against his black polo shirt, and heard something akin to a whimper escape her. They parted some, a lingering kiss once more, and Julia wiped his lower lip of her lipstick, smiling and speaking lowly.
"Like who?" Holly's voice squealed.
Sylvia started, nearly dropped the phone, and ducked into the empty bathroom a few feet away before Julia could spot her. "Shhhh!"
"You're the one who said it, not me."
"What? What did I say?" Sylvia's hands were shaking. Had she been narrating that aloud?
Julia suddenly appeared in the doorway and Sylvia snapped the phone off. "Hey, sis. What're you doing in here?"
"Nothing," Sylvia stammered as her sister stood beside her, flicking on the light and looking at herself in the sink mirror.
"No Holly tonight?" Julia studied her reflection, touching a hair that had become mussed.
"No. Babysitting." She watched Julia smooth her dress, turn and lift one shoulder at her reflection. "Lane is supposed to be here."
"Yeah, I saw him already." Sylvia looked at her sister's neck. Not a mark on her.
"That means his trademark fight."
"I think he already had it."
"Oh?"
"Some metro-sexual guy. Pincushion." Sylvia's mouth felt dry. "You'll see him out there. Probably has a black-eye by now."
Julia smiled, looking over Sylvia's attire. "Cute outfit."
"Thanks." Sylvia wished her heart would stop beating so loudly, before Julia could hear it. The phone rang in her hand and she gripped it with both hands. "Probably Holly."
Julia gave her a smile. "See you at the pool, sis."
"Yup."
Julia left and Sylvia peeked down the hall to make sure she was gone before closing the door and answering the phone. "Hey, Holly," she said meekly, leaning against the bathroom vanity."
"What's the big idea dropping me?"
"Sorry."
"What's going on?"
"Sorry." Sylvia sighed. "Okay?"
"What was all that about?"
"What did I say?'
"Hmph," Holly said, miffed. "'Leaning over her, ravishing like a Dracula.' What kind of description is that, red?"
Good grief, had she really said that aloud? "That's not what I meant, Holly. I'll catch you up later."
"Wait a minute, Sylvi --"
"I'll call you later." Sylvia clicked off the phone. She took a deep breath, wondering why on earth she'd made such a description about Terry. It wasn't what she'd seen. It must have been all those stupid, cheaply made movies she'd seen on late night TV. Maybe it was the half-ecstatic expression on her sister's face.
She opened the door and peered down the hall at the bedroom, inching forward, and then stopped abruptly. Inside the darkened room she saw Terry standing near the dresser, his shadowy reflection in the mirror seeming hazy, highlighted by the bright moonlight from the window. To her surprise he looked unlike she'd seen him before. His face was the same, but his complexion appeared drained, almost pale, nearly gaunt, making his hair seem that much darker. The mirror reflected his eyes, a strange vapid veneer to them.
And in his hand he held a syringe, his fingers tight, guiding the plunger, the needle in his other arm, crooked and steadied against at his side, a rubber band wrapped and tied near his elbow. His jaw was set, a somber expression on his face.
Sylvia stood motionless, watching in horror as he finished shooting up. He removed the rubber band at his arm and rummaged around in a small bag on the dresser. She saw him go to the window, his fingers opening and closing a few times, the movement exposing the patch on his skin near his sleeve. In the light of the moon he appeared to regain some of his lost color.
Sylvia slowly backed down the hall, her shoes catching on the carpet. She nearly stumbled, and then turned, making her way quickly back to the disco music.
Chapter Five: No Visuals, Please
Having gym first period was Sylvia's worst nightmare, or at least one of her nightmares. She was quite sure losing her bikini top at the pool was the worst. And she didn't even have Holly to share her misery of gym. Holly had art, with Jamie, first hour.
"Heads up, Burns!" someone shouted as Sylvia turned in time to get the whop of the red rubber dodge ball on her left cheek. The bone-jarring impact was followed by a stinging that promised needing a skin graft after lunch.
"Ow!" she shrieked, and then moaned, her hand going to her face, dropping the fifteen foot-long beaded jumping rope. The rope was whisked across the floor by Tish in mid-swing at the opposite end, cutting the feet out from under Annie and Sarah that were skipping in tandem in-between. They fell in a heap as Tish pulled the rope back like a bullwhip from sheer momentum.
"What's going on?" Mr. Lincoln crossed the maple gym floor to where half the girls in class were holding assorted injuries. Annie and Sarah were in a crumple of legs and knees, holding ankles and tailbones, and Tish had received a smarting flip from the rope's recoil. Mr. Lincoln looked them all over briefly, and then headed to Sylvia first.
"What'd you do?" His hand turned her chin jerkily, fast enough to make a secondary whiplash injury. He was a tiny man, petit, if he'd been female, and had all the soft and soothing qualities that came with his type-A personality.
"I didn't do anything," Sylvia grumbled, making a face that only led to the cheek feeling like a black mark at a traffic light. "One of them brutes," she said, indicating the dozen eighth grade boys trying to hurt each other with the dodge balls.
"You're fine. Walk it off, and then hit the locker room." Mr. Lincoln turned his attention to the other girls.
Sylvia held her wounded cheek and quickly walked it off directly to the locker room across the gym. Once there she got a better look at the mark in the wide mirror over the row of sinks, and golly, it was a big one, she thought. Half a palm in size, bologna red, and hot as a sunburn. She frowned into the sink and ran the cold water tap until it was mediocre cool and held some to her face, then bent to stick her face under the faucet.
"I think he meant the girls' locker room."
Sylvia stood up too quickly at the male voice behind her, a somewhat cracking voice, and scraped her cheek on the faucet. She spun around to see Matt standing a few feet away, grinning and skinny in his gym shorts and t-shirt. She frowned as much as possible, then cranked a wad of paper toweling out of the dispenser and held it to her dripping cheek.
"Any time," he said as she quickly slipped past him and back out to the gym floor and into the girls' locker room ten feet away, separated only by two water fountains. What kind of lousy set up were locker rooms ten feet apart, she wondered, weaving among the few other girls now at the benches between the rows of olive green lockers. Shouldn't there be a set of bleachers between the rooms?
Sarah was sitting on the bench between the lockers and holding an ice pack to her ankle. "Why'd you just let go, Sylvi?"
"I didn't just let go. I got hit in the face by a ball." Sylvia dried her cheek and tossed the paper towel in a waste basket.
Annie was leaning against the wall by the tall mirror amid the lockers, an ice pack between the block wall and her tailbone. "Is that what happened to your face?"
"Yes." Sylvia found her narrow green locker and tried to remember the combination to it.
Sarah frowned, wincing as she looked at Sylvia's face. "That looks like it hurts."
"Yeah."
Second hour was math, and they finally got real assignments, being the third day of school, and third hour was science, in which they were assigned partners for a project due at the end of September. Holly got Jamie, of course, and Sylvia got Matt, naturally.
It wasn't until lunch after fourth hour that Holly got a chance to get the details on Sylvia's glowing left cheek. Holly just shook her head.
"You gotta be quicker, red."
Sylvia gave her a dirty look. "Maybe they coulda said my name first, not just heads up." She squeezed a mound of mayonnaise out of the packet on her chicken patty sandwich and replaced the bun. "You know?"
Holly nodded. They'd picked a corner table of the cafeteria, one of the power positions in the room, where they could look out over the seventh grade tables on the other side. All this -- all nine seventh grade tables -- were their new fiefdom, and they would rule it from the domain of the eighth grade tables. But they would be gentle masters, especially to the untrained sixth graders in the halls.
Holly leaned closer, positioning a straw in her peach nectar bottle, away from the others sitting at the table at the other end. She’d gotten a brief glimpse of Terry as he drove Julia to school, but a glimpse had been enough, worth at least a thousand words. "I think he's gorgeous. Not Dracula-like at all. Where was your head last week?"
The words hit a sour note with Sylvia as she flattened the top bun on her chicken sandwich. "If you'd seen what I did, you'd understand. It was just a metaphor, anyway. I didn't really mean he looked vampirish; just, you know, all hanging on her, and had his ..." She didn't want to say the words. Julia was her sister, after all.
"Pouncing?" Holly added hopefully, eyes wide, munching methodically on a French fry.
"He wasn't moving fast enough to pounce." Sylvia took a bite of the sandwich.
"Did she move away?"
Sylvia shook her head, mouth full. "Would you?"
Holly sighed, a dreamy look crossing her face. "No."
"It was just the body language, you know?" Sylvia washed down the bite with the carton of tepid milk. She hadn't told Holly about the rest of what she'd seen at the party that night; of Terry and the needle later in the back bedroom. She hadn't said anything to Julia, either.
"I thought he had good teeth." Holly shrugged, sticking two French fries in her mouth.
Sylvia saw Jamie finish loading his plate in the lunch line and search the room for Holly. He found her easily, being the second tallest boy in eighth grade, his brown eyes smiling when he spotted her. Sylvia sighed. She wished someone smiled that way when they saw her. He made his way toward their table. She nodded. "He does have good teeth."
"He didn't smell like smoke to me." Holly was oblivious to Jamie's approach, intent on her taco salad. It was actually more iceberg lettuce with sparse taco flavored meat-type stuff on top, sprinkled with shredded cheddar and whatever crumbs the lunch ladies had scraped up from the bottom of the tortilla chip bags. With enough taco sauce and sour cream, Holly had made it appear almost passable.
Sylvia moved her tray a bit when Jamie slid his across the table, his gaze on Holly. "He does smell good. All musk and cologne."
Jamie's eyes snapped to Sylvia, and then Holly. "Who smells good?"
Sylvia wanted to answer, but she was in the middle of taking a bite from the chicken sandwich. Holly answered first.
"Julia's new guy." She sipped her peach drink with the straw, cocking her head to the side, looking askance at him. "Sylvi thinks he looks like Dracula."
Sylvia swallowed, coughed, burped, and blushed in order. "I didn't say it that way, Holly."
Jamie's attention left the pile of food on his tray to look at her better. "Holy shit. What happened to your face?"
Sylvia wished blushing would take some of the color out of her burning cheek. "Dodge ball."
He nodded and opened the first of many ketchup packets. "Ouch."
Sylvia nudged Holly with her elbow. "I didn't mean it that way. Not like all rabid and stuff."
Holly turned her attention to her. "Like a vampire but not Dracula?"
"Dracula was actually based on the historical Vlad the Impaler, a real figure in medieval times who was noted for his lust for blood." Jamie squeezed ketchup onto his first of two hamburgers. He smiled, reaching for the two packets of mustard by his twin cartons of milk.
"Not like that." Sylvia took a drink of milk so she could clarify what she meant.
"Bela Lugosi was the most popular vampire actor on TV." Jamie nodded and took an enormous bite from the first burger. "The special effects in his movies where he changed into a bat were cutting edge, for his time."
Sylvia groaned, recognizing the name of the actor. "He doesn't look like Lugosi at all; I just meant he has dark hair -- perfect dark hair -- and really deep brown eyes, and he's tall, and the way, well, he ..." Jamie was leaning over his tray now, waiting for her to continue. Holly had edged closer, too. "I didn't mean vampire at all; I just meant really really intent on, well, on Julia."
Jamie grinned. "Why wouldn't he be? Julia's a looker."
Holly kicked him beneath the table. "She's way older than you, Bucko."
He nodded, taking another bite from the burger, fiddling with his two orders of French fries until they were in a pile on the tray. "I don't mind." He found another stash of ketchup packets by his milks. "You're only seeing him as a predator because she's your sister."
"I didn't say predator," Sylvia said. She finished her sandwich and pulled her sliced peach cup closer. "And he is nice to her."
"He's a smooth one." Holly offered the last half of her fries to Sylvia, who shook her head, and then Jamie, who smiled and took them willingly. "The whole package, red."
Jamie made a disagreeable face at the statement. "Don't be looking at packages, Chocolate."
Sylvia pulled the plastic off the fruit cup and stirred the peaches with her spork, frowning at the bright yellow pieces. "Yeah, Terry's really got it all."
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