Eleventh Grade Burns (9 page)

Once class finally ended, Otis bid them all goodbye, and Vlad ducked out the door. He was just opening his locker when Joss walked by. Joss muttered under his breath, “Don’t you just love the color pink in the late summer sun, Vlad?”

Vlad whipped around, knowing Joss was making a snide observation about Meredith, but before he could do or say anything, Henry had picked Joss up by the collar and slammed him against the lockers. Joss merely smiled.

Mr. Hunjo ripped the boys apart. His voice boomed out into the hallway. “McMillan! And ... McMillan! Office! Now!”

Joss blew a kiss at Henry, taunting him. Henry’s fist flew through the air, but Joss ducked it effortlessly. Mr. Hunjo grabbed them each by the collar and dragged them down the hall, barking that he had had just about enough out of the both of them.

To be honest, so had Vlad. He was already tired of Joss’s presence, and Henry had been absurdly overprotective lately. After all, if anybody deserved to take a swing at Joss, Vlad did, but Henry was trying to beat him to the punch, literally. Actually, he had once already.

Shutting his locker door, Vlad headed out the front doors. After a glance around for Eddie Poe and his all too present camera, he hurried to the side of the building. Several kids were walking by, so he had to stand there and look casual until the coast was clear. Once it was, Vlad did something he’d never done before—he floated up to the belfry in broad daylight. When he reached the window, he landed lightly on the balls of his feet and stepped inside.

The room was just as he’d left it. His father’s leather chair was placed against the wall to his left, a small table covered with half-melted candles nestled beside it. Two large book-cases had been painstakingly lifted in pieces to Vlad’s sanctuary and reassembled. The books that had once graced the room in high stacks were now lining the shelves neatly, but for one or two that Vlad had shoved haphazardly on top of the others on his way out after a long night of reading. Beside the bookcase Vlad had hung the framed picture of his father. He could see Tomas’s face no matter where he stood in the room, and he rather liked that. He smiled briefly at the picture as he dropped his backpack to the floor. “Hi, Dad.”

He pulled his journal from his backpack—pausing only briefly to remember the night Meredith had given it to him—and a pen. After plopping down in his dad’s chair and rereading every entry he could find about Joss, he flipped to an empty page and began formulating the best way to take a slayer peacefully out of commission.

After an hour of staring at the blank page, Vlad gave up and closed the book.

V
LAD CLOSED HIS LOCKER after anatomy and physiology and released a very deep breath. So far, he’d managed to avoid both Joss and Meredith all day long, and he was nearing the home stretch, quite literally—one more class and he’d be home. Two days of high school down. Only about five million to go.

Beside him, Melissa and Henry were mashed together in a make-out session that wasn’t quite hidden by Henry’s open locker door. Two teachers had passed by and said nothing to the slobbering couple. Vlad frowned, hoping they’d get caught. It wasn’t that he wanted Henry to get in trouble, but it seemed at least a little unfair that he and Meredith had gotten caught and subsequently punished after innocently kissing in a broom closet last year, but Henry and Melissa were practically swallowing each other in public and nobody seemed to care. Just one of the perks of being popular, Vlad surmised. Still, it was annoying.

A girl that Vlad didn’t recognize walked by, raising an eyebrow at the attached couple. Vlad smirked and jabbed a thumb at them. “Zombies. Can’t you tell?”

The girl laughed and walked away, and Vlad’s shoulders straightened just a little.

Finally, likely because they remembered they needed to breathe, Melissa and Henry parted. It sounded a bit like two suction cups being pulled apart.

Henry breathlessly whispered, “About tonight . . .”

Melissa pulled a small compact mirror from her purse and slathered on some lip gloss, shaking her head. “Sorry. Gotta cancel. But maybe Friday. I don’t know.”

Vlad watched Henry’s ego visibly deflate. It was all he could do to bite his tongue.

As Melissa wandered off to join her friends—Meredith included, Vlad couldn’t help but notice—Henry muttered, “So, Friday then.”

After debating whether or not he should let him spend the rest of the day like this, Vlad decided that he couldn’t stomach the barrage of high fives that would inevitably accompany Henry all the way to class, so he said, “You’ve got lip gloss on your cheek, dude, and Passion Pink is not your color.”

Henry’s mood clouded as he rubbed the pink shiny stuff away with the heel of his hand. To Vlad’s immense surprise, he said, “I’m thinking of breaking up with Melissa.”

Vlad just stared at him, hoping that it wasn’t some kind of sick joke. “Really? Why?”

Henry retrieved his English book and shut his locker door. “I feel like she’s using me. All she wants to do is make out when we’re together, which is great and all, but that’s it. Nothing else. No talking. No spending time getting close. Just ... kissing.”

Vlad snapped his mouth shut. Far be it for him to point out the irony to Mr. Make-out-with-any-girl-who’s-willing-and-then-dump-them-right-after. When Henry looked at him, seeking his opinion, Vlad just nodded supportively.

Henry wasn’t buying it. He wrinkled his brow in suspicion. “What is it?”

Vlad shook his head. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to say anything for me to know something’s up. I may not be a mind reader like some people, Vlad, but I know when you’re hiding something. What gives? You think I should reconsider?”

“No!” Vlad backtracked in an attempt to hide his joy at Henry’s decision to break it off with Melissa, which wasn’t easy. “I mean, no, that’s not it at all. I just ... well ... Henry ... haven’t you noticed that you tend to treat girls exactly how Melissa is treating you now?”

Henry stared at him blankly.

Vlad ran a frustrated hand through his hair, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “You’ve probably kissed three-quarters of the girls here at Bathory High, Henry, but have only really dated one. Do you see what I mean?”

Henry nodded with confidence. “I’m a good kisser.”

“No.”

“Trust me, I am.”

“That’s not what I mean, Henry.” He took a deep breath and restrained the urge to strangle his best friend. “I’m just saying that ... look, does it hurt when Melissa wants to kiss you but not spend time getting to know you, even though you want to get to know her and just be with her?”

“Well,
yeah
.” Henry used the same tone he always used to say “Well,
duh
.”

Vlad waited for Henry to piece together the logic in his mind. When he didn’t, Vlad said, “Did it ever occur to you how many girls you’ve made feel the same way you’re feeling now?”

Henry stood there for a moment, blinking. Then his shoulders sank, and all the puzzle pieces slowly fit together for him. “Oh.”

Vlad slapped him on the back. “Chew on that awhile, Romeo. I’m late for mythology. We’ll have to explore this new revelation in our next session.”

He made his way down the hall and moved inside Otis’s classroom casually, not letting anyone who might be watching see his growing tension at what awaited him there. It wasn’t paranoia. He knew he was being waited for, and when he glanced at Joss on the way to his desk, he could see that he was right. Joss was smiling that cool, superior smile that he’d added to his armory ever since his return. Vlad felt himself brace, felt himself ready a glare, but stopped and just looked at Joss, at this boy who had been his friend. For a moment, he forgave Joss for staking him, for threatening him, and for flirting openly with Meredith. For a moment, he just looked at Joss and tried to let him know with his eyes just how badly he wanted things to go back to the way they were.

Joss’s smile slipped, and all the anger and resentment melted away for a microsecond, replaced by regret. Then Joss looked away.

Maybe there was hope. Maybe somehow, through all the hatred and threats and betrayal, maybe their friendship could survive. Maybe Joss—the real Joss, the Joss he knew—could be saved from the Slayer Society somehow.

Or maybe Vlad was just stubbornly clinging to a ridiculous, unfounded sense of hope. He wasn’t sure. But one thing he did know: even though he positively loathed Joss the slayer ... he missed Joss the friend.

Vlad took his seat, fighting the urge to turn around, to talk this all out with Joss and make everything okay again. Sure, he was still furious that Joss had tried to take his life a year and a half before. Sure, he still suffered the occasional nightmare, always accompanied by that fateful whisper: “For you, Cecile.” But what it boiled down to was that Joss had been told all sorts of horrible lies about vampires, and maybe, if Vlad tried hard enough, he could get Joss to see the truth. It was possible, wasn’t it? No matter how unlikely, it was possible. People had been saved from cultlike groups before. Couldn’t Joss be saved too? Couldn’t Vlad save him?

He looked up as Otis hurriedly entered the room. After a second, the door closed behind Otis, who paused and closed his eyes for a moment, as if berating himself. Vlad thought back to the last day of school his eighth grade year, when the door had mysteriously closed just when it seemed Otis had wanted it to. He mulled over the two moments, so similar-looking, and wondered if Otis had a skill he’d not yet shared with Vlad. Flipping open his mythology book to where they’d left off yesterday, he decided to ask his uncle after class if the ability to move objects with but a thought were possible. But he didn’t know if Otis would own up to it, even if his theory was correct.

He was mulling this over when he felt a distinct, familiar poke in his back. Sharp. Wood. A stake. Joss had a stake.

Without thinking, without considering any other possibility at all, Vlad stood and whipped around, yanking what Joss held in his hand away and shoving him over, sending his desk tumbling onto its side. It was only then that Vlad realized that Joss had been poking him with a pencil. He dropped it on the floor and glanced at Otis. “Sorry. I ... sorry.”

Otis pursed his lips. “Office. Both of you.”

The word had barely formed in his mind before Joss stood and spoke it aloud. “What?”

Otis barked, “OFFICE!”

Not daring to question, Vlad huffed down the hall, keeping Joss in his peripheral vision the entire time. He hated that he wanted to fix the friendship they’d had, hated that he wanted very much to rescue Joss from the twisted web of the Slayer Society, and completely loathed the idea of trying to reason with Joss when he was acting like a lunatic. He tried to ignore it, but there it was, burning a hole through his chest—what Vlad wanted more than anything, but couldn’t have: for him and Joss to be buds again. What’s more, he wanted to beat some sense into Joss, and that wasn’t a wise idea either. Especially since they’d probably just earned at least one afternoon of detention.

Principal Snelgrove met them in the outer office. “I don’t care what happened. I don’t want excuses. I don’t want blame games. You’ll both have in-school suspension tomorrow. I will not tolerate fighting! Is that understood?”

Vlad nodded. Snelgrove growled at Joss, “I said is that understood, Mr. McMillan?”

Finally, Joss nodded too. “Yes, sir.”

The rest of the day was a blur. Suspension? It didn’t matter if it was in school or not, Nelly was going to kill him. And Otis ... what was he thinking, sending them to the office? He had to know it was Joss’s fault.

One thing was for sure. Vlad was done tiptoeing around something he’d wanted to ask Otis for years now.

Once the final bell had rung, Vlad grabbed his backpack from his locker and headed to Otis’s classroom, where he perched on the edge of his uncle’s desk, watching Otis tuck things neatly into his old leather doctor’s bag. Making sure to speak quietly, calmly, Vlad said, “Otis, how do you close doors without touching them?”

Otis snapped his eyes to Vlad, looking very much caught. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, as if coming to the conclusion that his nephew deserved an answer, he said, “It’s something that I realized I could do only about six years ago ... after I’d fed on vampire blood.”

Vlad felt like he’d been punched in the chest. He mulled over a few theories, then settled on the obvious choice. “Dorian’s idea?”

Otis breathed out a sigh and ran a trembling hand through his hair. “After Tomas left Elysia, I was lost. Dorian took me under his wing, tried to show me what more life had to offer. It was foolish of me—I knew the kind of man Dorian was ... is—but I went along with him to a party full of vampires and humans. We killed the humans, drank them dry. And in my drunken state of bloodlust, I relented to Dorian’s will and fed on a vampire as well. Dorian finished him off.”

Vlad gasped, and not just at Otis’s actions. “He killed a vampire?”

Otis closed his bag and met Vlad’s eyes. “Yes, but the Council of Elders won’t touch him. No law can. Dorian is ... protected.”

Vlad mulled this over for a bit. He couldn’t imagine Otis feeding on a roomful of people. But then, he couldn’t imagine Otis feeding on anyone. He’d only ever seen his uncle feed on one person, on Henry and that was out of necessity not greed. “What was it like, feeding on a vampire?”

“It was wrong. And wonderful. Nothing compares. It was powerful ... like pure light inside my veins.” Otis’s eyes went wide, then horrified at the memory of however that blood had made him feel. “Dorian’s palate disgusts me, but I understand his tastes.”

“And the telekinesis?”

“It started the next day. I try not to use it in front of other vampires, for fear they’ll learn that I’ve fed from one of our own. I don’t know if it’s a common side effect or not.” Otis wet his lips. “Have you experienced anything like that since I gave you my blood after Joss staked you?”