Bite Me! (4 page)

R
etail therapy was so good that I didn't even mind waking up at six o'clock the next morning. The first day of senior year. And now that Malia was back, our circle of three was complete. All was right in my world.

Except for the whole stepbrother / ex-boyfriend thing, and that disastrous make-out session with Noah. But really, did that stuff matter?

I think not.

The house was a big buzzing box of chaos. The twins had recruited Oz to assist them in torturing Rayden. Ana ran through the kitchen, holding a piece of paper that Oz had just handed her, while Ainsley stood in a kitchen chair
holding Rayden's backpack over her head.

“Which one do you want more?” Ana asked a red-faced Rayden. “Your love note from Samantha Burk or your backpack?”

“I'll get them both,” Rayden snapped. He turned to his little brother. “And I'll deal with you after school.”

Oz's dark eyes went wide, and his freckles paled. Despite the hint of brotherly terror, he stuck to his guns. “C'mon, Ray, don't be such a sore loser just because you got outsmarted by two girls and your baby brother.”

“That's enough,” Rick said as he entered. He was dressed just as the big-time CEO of some fancy pots and pans company should be dressed—expensively. “Girls, give Rayden his stuff back, and Oz, you need to be careful. Remember what happened the last time you crossed the line with your brother?”

Oz frowned and nodded while Rayden smirked. “Yeah, Roscoe. Don't mess with me—unless you wanna wake up in a bed of spiders again—”

“That's enough, Rayden,” Rick warned.

Spiders? I shuddered. I had to remember not to piss the little turd off. If he ever put spiders in my bed, I'd bite first, and worry about Mom later.

Ainsley climbed down from the chair and handed
Rayden his backpack, but Ana didn't move. She opened the note and started to read. “‘My little love pumpkin…'”

“It doesn't say that!” Rayden said, lunging for Ana.

“Anastasia Simone Ashe, give him his letter,” Mom said. She walked into the kitchen, squeezed Rick's hand, and gave him a quick kiss. “Nice suit,” she said to Rick. Then she turned back toward Ana. “I mean it. Hand it over. You're going to have to mind your boundaries, young lady.”

“But Mom—”

“But nothing. We discussed this. We expect there to be an adjustment time, but you need to do your part to expedite things. Make things smoother. And sneaking into your brother's room and pilfering his stuff is not the way to do it. Am I understood?”

Ana nodded with an appropriately remorseful look on her face. She walked over to Rayden and handed him the note. “Here you go, ‘love pumpkin.'”

“She didn't call me that, you skinny twerp!” he growled.

“Okay, okay. That's enough,” Rick said. “Where's Ryan? You guys are going to be late if you don't leave soon.”

“He left already,” Oz said, pulling his Pop-Tart out
of the toaster. “He was picking up his new girlfriend this morning. He said we could ride with AJ.”

“He said that? He said he was picking up his girlfriend?” I asked.

“Yup.
And
he said he'd give me ten bucks if I made sure you got that message,” Oz said with his mouth full.

Ryan was now officially on my shit list. Any guilt I had over my make-out session with Noah was gone. Well, any guilt associated with Ryan was gone. The whole “coulda-possibly-sucked-the-life-force-outta-the-boy” guilt was kinda hard to shake—even if he did turn into an asshole afterward.

“I'll give you twenty if you promise to knee him with all your might in the—”

“All right, AJ,” Mom said, effectively cutting me off. “Now, there's no way you can take all the kids in your car, so I'll take Oz and the girls since their schools are on my way to the hospital. You can take Rayden. Okay?”

“Fine,” I said, shrugging into my backpack and draining the hemoshake cleverly disguised as a V8 that I'd brought downstairs with me. “Let's go, Ray. But you have to sit in the back, because I'm picking up Bridget.”

“Bridget Craig?” he asked with a squeaky voice and stars in his eyes.

“Yeah.” I grinned at him. “Don't even waste your time, kid. She's a senior, you're a freshman. That's the stuff dreams are made of.”

“Sometimes dreams come true,” he said.

 

Bridge got into the car, saw Rayden in the backseat, and asked, “Why'd you bring the boil along?”

“Because Ryan had to go pick up his ‘girlfriend' this morning.”

“What an idiot. You don't need him.”

I wound our way through the neighborhood, hung a left on Park Street, took the next right on Highland, and drove a few more blocks to Valley Springs High, home of the fighting Rangers.

The parking lot was mostly full, but I found a space near the science building. And it wasn't even an illegal spot. Not really. Besides, I hate parking two blocks away in the overflow lot.

“I have practice after school today,” I said to Bridget, ignoring Rayden as he got out of the car. “You can either catch a ride home with someone else or meet me at the soccer fields.”

“Grady's gonna take me home,” she said with a big grin.

“Oh, really?”

“You know it,” Bridget said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Now, let's go. We look too cute not to make an impression.”

We did look good. I had on a new jean skirt that was probably too short for dress code standards, but if anyone questioned it, I could fake my way out.

Rayden followed us like a lost puppy as we walked up the steps into the main building. I felt sorry for the kid. I remembered my freshman year, much to my dismay. It wasn't easy, especially if you didn't know anyone.

And since his brother had abandoned him, it really wouldn't be fair to leave him treading water in the ocean of high school sharks.

“C'mon,” I said, motioning him up to walk with Bridget and me. “I'm gonna give you the one secret you need to survive. Be the BMOC, even if you're not. Act it. Hold your head up and don't say anything today, even if someone speaks to you. Use your face to communicate. If you do have to speak, use short sentences. No more than three words. Be cocky but don't overdo it. Got it?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Okay, see, don't do that. Don't be eager. When you need to answer yes, then you either raise your eyebrow and
give the ‘WTF' look, or you nod once. Curt and to the point. No more eager beaver.”

He gave me a brisk nod. It wasn't great, but it was a start.

“Okay, good. Now go find your friends. But remember, the less you say, the more mysterious you are.”

He nodded again and walked away.

“Seriously, you think that's gonna help him?” Bridget asked.

“Um, it can't hurt. Look at him. He's a walking goob.”

“Ryan was a goob once, too. Remember?”

Yeah, I remembered. He was a total dweeb. His arms were longer than they should've been. He wore braces—always with bright green bands—which made it look like he'd just snacked on Kermit the Frog. But something happened that summer between our sophomore and junior year. I couldn't really articulate exactly how he was different, but I will tell you when he came to school that August, I nearly lost my virginity just dreaming about him.

“Maybe with my help, Rayden won't have to go through the awkwards like his brother did.”

The halls were alive with noise and excitement. Most of the girls were dressed to kill, and all the boys looked
like they needed a cold shower.

“Check that out,” Bridget said, pointing down the hall. “He's so obvious.”

There was Ryan with his arm around Lindsey. They were leaning against the lockers, laughing it up. If he was trying to make sure I got the picture—message received.

“I can't believe she's smiling again. This is like a world record for her.”

“
I
was smiling when Ryan Fraser was
my
boyfriend,” I said.

“Yeah, but you smile for other reasons, too. She smiles when someone else has a crappier day than she does.”

“Some people just don't see the silver lining. And honestly, I feel sorry for her. She's his rebound. When he dumps her, she'll never think another positive thought again.”

“Is that what Noah was to you, your rebound?”

“Of course. But the difference between me and Noah and Ryan and Lindsey is, I was also Noah's rebound. He's no more over Tiffany than I'm over Ryan.”

“How is that better?” Bridget asked.

“I don't know, it just is. But none of that matters now, because Noah's not even a rebound anymore. He's a reject.”

“You're gonna have to spill the beans about Saturday night sooner or later.”

“I will. Later. I wonder if Malia's here yet.” I took one last look down the hall at Ryan. This was gonna be hard. Every bone in my body wanted to reach out for him, but I knew it couldn't happen.

He was moving on, just like I'd told him to. Now it was my turn.

“She said she hadn't registered yet, so she's probably in the office. You wanna walk over to meet her?”

“No, we only have a couple of minutes before the bell. I can't be tardy on the first day. Where's your locker and who do you have for first period?” I asked.

“You're never tardy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “First period is Mr. Phelps, Western Civ. And my locker is eight seventy-six.”

“Cool. My locker is eight ninety-seven, and I have Advanced Anatomy with Mrs. Simmons for first period.”

“Ugh, blood and bones right after breakfast.”

“That's right up my alley, thank you very much.”

A
fter Advanced Anatomy, I headed to AP Lit. I thought the worst thing about my lit class was the teacher. Mrs. Crandall and I were far from best friends.

But as Mrs. Crandall called roll I realized the worst thing was that I shared AP Lit with Ryan
and
Noah.

When she got to Noah's name, there was no response and the class began to murmur.

“Does anyone know where Mr. James is?” she asked. “It's not like him to miss class.”

“I heard he was sick,” Mary Griffiths said.

“I heard he was picked up from O'Reily's by ambulance Sunday morning,” Blake Courtney said.

Loud whispers spread through the class like a sound wave. I leaned across the row and whispered to Blake, “Ambulance? Seriously?”

“Yeah, I heard he was beaten up and left unconscious under a tree.”

My stomach churned. I looked back at Ryan, who sat ramrod stiff with his hands in his lap. He stared over my head, refusing to make eye contact.

“Well, until I get official notification from the office, he's unexcused,” Mrs. Crandall huffed. “You children must learn responsibility. You can't get through life expecting your mommas and daddies to do everything for you. Spoiled. The lot of you.” She eyed me with her one good eye. “And I'll be watching you, Ariel Jane. There will be no cheating in my class this year.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but felt a kick to my chair. I looked back at Ryan, and this time he didn't avoid my gaze. He gave me a warning look, and even though everything in me wanted to do the exact opposite, I bit my lip and held my tongue.

That woman made my slow-flowing blood boil. And Mom wasn't a big fan of the old rat, either. I'd thought Mom was going to come out of her skin when she got called to the counselor's office last year because
Mrs. Crandall wanted to have me suspended for cheating.

I had made an A on a test. The only A in all her classes. According to Mrs. Crandall, nobody should've scored higher than a C. Basically, I had some nerve scoring so well on the Shakespeare unit test—especially when Mrs. Crandall's idea of teaching was reading straight from the textbook.

Mom's response: “She's always been an A student. If she cheated, then prove it. If you can't, then we're done here.” And she up and left, dragging me out the door with her.

Obviously, Mrs. Crandall couldn't prove it, because I never got suspended. But in her mind, I was guilty and that was all that mattered.

“Before we get started today, I've been asked by this year's senior class sponsor, Mr. Charles, to announce that the sign-up sheets for class elections are located on a table outside the main office. Please indicate by the end of today if you're planning to declare.”

Mr. Charles was this year's sponsor? Awesome. I had already planned to run, but knowing that the hot man on campus was the class sponsor was extra incentive. Mr. Charles was tall and so fine that he could turn me into mush with just one wink of his big green eyes. Many a
high school girl (and a few boys) have dreamed of making headlines with Mr. Charles. I wasn't one of them. Well, not really. Sure, he was fun to look at, but he was a teacher. And kinda too old for me. Total ick factor.

This was Mr. Charles's second semester at Valley Springs. He taught World History, but in his classes, you got so much more than useless dates and factoids. And I'm not just talking about his looks. Mr. Charles was an expert in occult mythology and he loved to interject bits of his specialty into all of his classes. It almost made history interesting. Almost.

Last year, during our study of the Roman Empire, we learned about a theory that vampires were descendants of Judas Iscariot. Apparently, people believed that after Judas betrayed Jesus he killed himself, and, as a punishment for his suicide, became the first vampire. Can you imagine Judas waking up and realizing he had to serve eternal damnation as a bloodsucker?

Mr. Charles also pointed out that Judas betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver and perhaps that was where the myth about vampire aversion to silver originated. And maybe even their supposed aversion to crosses.

I learned something new about my people that day.

Mrs. Crandall began to pass out this year's syllabus,
droning on about how there would be no grading on a curve because we were advanced students, blah, blah, blah.

I felt Ryan before I heard him. He leaned up to my ear and his breath was an electric shock to my system. Chills spilled like a waterfall down my back, and the birthmark on my neck began to burn.

“I guess you plan on running for president again this year, especially now that Mr. ‘I'm So Hot' is the sponsor,” he whispered.

“Green really isn't your color, Ryan. But you do look good wearing Lindsey Rockport. Why don't you focus on wearing her out for a while and leave the other stuff to those of us who have on big-girl panties.”

“Miss Ashe. We are not going to tolerate your incessant interruptions. Take your books and leave my class. I'm sure Mrs. Blanchard will be thrilled to see you already,” Mrs. Crandall snapped.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Don't take that tone with me, young lady. Go.”

I stood, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and told Ryan to
eat shit and die
with my eyes. Then I reached for a syllabus.

“No, ma'am. You'll just have to do without,” she said.
“Maybe you'll learn to keep your mouth shut when you come back tomorrow.
If
you get to come back tomorrow.”

The intercom beeped before I left the room, and the school secretary's voice crackled through. “Mrs. Crandall, can you please send AJ Ashe to the office?”

“What a coincidence,” Mrs. Crandall sneered. “She was just on her way.”

Hm. Maybe my not-really-illegal parking spot just got me a really big parking ticket.

The door slammed shut behind me as I made my way down the hall toward the main office. The halls were eerily quiet since everyone was in class but me.

Honestly. Who got in trouble on the first day of the school year? I was the good girl. The overachiever. The girl who excelled at everything. I didn't smoke, didn't drink (well, wouldn't drink again), and didn't skip school. And I wasn't a ho. (The bra action with, now, two boys should not count against me.) How could one teacher hate me for the same reasons all the other teachers loved me?

Mrs. Blanchard's office was located in the main building at the front of campus. As I entered the administration area, I noticed a couple of teachers and office personnel talking quietly in a huddle, worried looks on their faces.

I knocked on the door before I entered, startling them
all. Mrs. Blanchard was in the group, along with Mrs. Grimm, the assistant principal. Both the girls' and boys' soccer coaches were there. Coach Landers looked like his world had just split in two.

“We're not quite ready for you, AJ,” Mrs. Grimm, the assistant principal, said. “Please wait outside.”

What was going on?

There were two chairs set up outside the office, along with the registration table for class officer. I wandered over to the table to put my name in the running. A dozen other kids—all girls—had already signed up to run for several of the offices. Nobody had signed up for president yet.

As I was writing my name under the president column, I concentrated on the hushed voices mumbling on the other side of the wall. I might not have complete control over my vampire abilities, but one thing I had learned very early on was how to hone in on my hearing. Admittedly, I mostly used my extra-sharp hearing for gossip gathering, but every once in a while it came in handy for other purposes. Like eavesdropping in the office to see how much trouble I was in.

I focused on my ears, and my senses opened as the soft hum of voices turned to conversation.

“This is going to be a huge blow to the student body.
We have to call an assembly,” Mrs. Blanchard said.

“I agree, but I need to tell my kids first. The soccer team is going to be devastated,” Coach Landers croaked.

“What about additional counselors?” Miss Mandy, the office manager, asked.

“The hospital contacted a group for us. They'll be here after lunch. We'll announce the assembly for one o'clock. Coach Landers, we'll also make an announcement for the soccer team to report to the gym immediately so you can prepare them. Now, who wants to break the news?”

“I will,” Mrs. Grimm said. “It needs to come from either myself or the principal. And since Mr. Ward is with the family, I think I should be the one.” Her voice broke. “I can't believe Noah James is dead.”