Team Human (4 page)

I didn't point out that Austen's books were published before Francis was born. And not just because I knew Cathy already knew that.

“He's a gentleman. I've never met a gentleman before. But I'm not in love, Mel. I promise.”

I left it at that and clutched her promise to my heart. We had been best friends for a very long time. I hated the idea of anyone ruining that. And I certainly wasn't going to let some overly polite vampire anthropologist come between us.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Great Rat Disaster

N
ext day at school, I was on my best behavior. I said not a single snarky thing to, near, or about Francis.

My ability to say nothing mean to Francis was enhanced by not having many classes with him on Tuesdays.

Almost all day long I stared straight ahead and kept my mouth shut and nobly resisted the urge to go hide with Anna in the library.

Cathy looked so happy we were all getting along. Her eyes were like huge dark shining pools—a calm ocean at night.

Frankly, they made me feel a bit seasick.

Francis was still there by Cathy's side at lunchtime and still asking us an insane catalog of questions about the range of our smelling abilities, if we remembered bonding with our mothers, and what were the first stories we had learned. So many questions begging for brilliant retorts. It was painful to stay quiet. Ty even squeezed my hand to show that he could see I was trying hard. I mean, Ty. I love him, but he's not the most observant guy in the universe.

The whole thing put me off my lunch. I grabbed an apple and shoved it into my bag for later, when I would inevitably be too hungry to think.

When we were walking down the stairs toward the first floor, Francis asked me about my allergies, and I thought of so many snappy retorts that I began to feel as if he was torturing me on purpose, but I said firmly, “That's an awfully personal question, Francis, and I don't feel comfortable answering it.”

“Very amusing, Melanie,” Francis said, which is not my name, though people always assume that Mel is short for Melanie.

I will not tell you my full name, but I will tell you that my brother is called Lancelot.

It's so unfair that firstborn Kristin got a normal name and then our parents went all experimental on their two youngest children. We were too little and helpless to resist such atrocities. Thus as far as the rest of the world (except for Cathy) knows, my name is simply Mel.

“A true lady would never dream of discussing her health in mixed company,” I told him.

“Is everything humorous to you?” Francis inquired with some asperity.

That would be Francis-speak for “snippy.”

“Not everything,” I said. “But it's really the only way to deal with you.”

Francis's lip curled. “I deal with you, as you put it, by remaining courteous despite your ill-judged attempts at humor.”

“Everyone else laughs at my jokes,” I said. “Oh sorry, I forgot. You can't do that, can you?”

Cathy's breath hissed in, sharp as if she'd seen someone hurt. Ty took a step away to avoid being contaminated by me. Those were the only sounds in a dead silence.

I knew I was completely out of line. You can't say that to a vampire. It's like mocking kids with glasses for not having twenty-twenty vision.

Sure, vampires live forever. Yes, they're (mostly) beautiful, and since they can collect blood at the hospital they don't have to hurt anyone. But as I may have noted once or twice previously, there are drawbacks—did I mention no chocolate?—and the worst is that they don't feel things like we do. They don't cry and they don't laugh.

One of the few vampires who let herself be interviewed on the subject described transitioning as being reborn into a shadow world, where nothing is quite as real or could really affect her. She seemed to think that was a good thing. (See? What kind of person would want to be a vampire?)

I realize that pointing out Francis's inability to laugh makes me sound like a member of a vampire hate group. I swear I don't think it's because vampires have no souls. I believe in the scientific explanation: that it's an evolutionary protection vampires developed so they could deal with all the stress and pain of long lives. Basically, they're stretching emotions out so they will last.

I wouldn't be a vampire for ten million dollars. I'd rather live laughing for one year than live without laughing for a hundred.

But that doesn't make saying so to a vampire any less nasty.

I was opening my mouth to apologize to Francis when the stampede began. There was a crash and somebody screamed. Then many people screamed. We started hastily down the stairs and were hit with a jostling, yelling crowd of people coming up the stairs at us.

I was already standing beside the wall of the stairwell, but now I dropped my schoolbag and flattened myself against the wall so I wouldn't be trampled. The people rushing past screamed in our faces. A junior I recognized from the debate team dropped to her knees beside me. She was up as fast as if she were on the track team. I leaned back harder into the wall, barely avoiding an elbow to the face. Someone kicked my ankle with what felt like a steel-capped boot, and I dug my shoulder blades into the brick, refusing to go down.

“Run!” someone yelled.

Run!
my brain said. I couldn't move. The crowd had thinned enough for me to finally see what they were running from.

Scurrying up the steps like a vast, thick, writhing gray carpet were dozens and dozens of rats.

RUN!
my brain insisted.

I remained frozen, which was the only thing that kept me from screaming like Cathy and Ty. I glimpsed Cathy's face for an instant: It was the pasty white of skim milk. The same color as some of the rats' fur, though mostly they were dirty grays and browns. Their eyes were pink. Moist pink. I tried to push myself through the wall, away from rats and from the mosh pit for the Rodent Concert.

I had never seen so many rats before. For a weird moment I started counting them. It was that or faint, which was obviously unacceptable, both because I had too much pride and because the rats would walk on my face.

I could feel tiny prickling claws and scaly tails against my feet—what a day to wear sandals. I kept counting, getting up to sixty-four rats and then losing count and having to start again, refusing to look down at the ones touching my feet, brushing their fur-clad squirming bodies against my ankles.

I was so jealous of whoever had been wearing those steel-capped boots.

Finally, it was over. No more rats swarming past. They had all got up the stairs or out the doors below, and the shrieking nightmare of a crowd had got to wherever they were going.

I tried not to look at the rats who hadn't escaped the human stampede. There were an awful lot of rat bits strewn across the stairs and floor below.

“Mel,” Ty said. He was getting to his feet a few steps above me with what looked like the beginnings of a nasty fat lip.

Francis and Cathy were standing on the stair railing. Francis was using all his vampire strength and agility to balance perfectly on the thin rail, as if he were a trapeze artist. Cathy stood encircled and safe in the vampire's arms. One of her hands clutched the lapel of his jacket; the other was curled at the nape of his neck.

They weren't looking at me or Ty. They were staring at each other, her eyes huge and fixed on his face with this look: I don't know how to describe it. Beseeching, imploring, adoring.

Horrifying.

It seemed like there was a bubble of silence around them, as if this was a sacred space.

I coughed. Loudly.

Francis started and drew back, just a fraction, so he was not actually touching Cathy, his fingers now hovering at the small of her back, ready to catch her if she fell.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Cathy said softly back. “Thank you.”

“And we're fine down here too!” I said. “Thanks for asking, guys!”

Francis bowed at the waist, placing Cathy on the floor as if she was made of bone china and he had serious doubts about the wisdom of letting her feet touch the ground. He shouldn't have been able to keep his balance doing that, but of course he did, and the next instant he was at Cathy's side. Again, he was not quite touching her, but hovering close.

I realized that Francis wasn't looking at her like she was his favorite lab rat anymore. Cathy was staring at the floor, blushing deep painful crimson, which was—oh no—probably super hot for vampires. There was a terrible, fragile awareness in the air. It was a bit like you imagine that moment in the Bible, right after Adam and Eve ate the apple and said, “We're totally naked—how embarrassing.”

The loudspeakers made their customary crackle and boom.

“This should be good,” Ty said.

“DUE TO FLOODING IN THE BASEMENT, SCHOOL IS CANCELED.”

The rest of the announcement was lost in the shouting, peppered with a few cheers. I imagined all those rats, fleeing a leaky pipe in the basement. I shuddered.

Principal Saunders came up the stairs. “School's canceled,” she announced. “Didn't you hear?”

Her stockings were ripped, one knee was bloody, and there was a long black stain up along her skirt. She stumbled and then nodded at me as if she'd meant to do that.

“There was a problem with the plumbing and apparently we had rats in the basement,” she said in a firm and authoritative voice that was the opposite of her appearance. “There's nothing to worry about. The exterminator's coming. Go home.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Ty said.

“A principal's job, eh?” She smiled at me, but she was looking at a squashed rat, lying over one of the steps.

“Lucky there are cleaners,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage.

Principal Saunders didn't respond.

Her gaze had shifted to Francis, his fair hair like a halo in the light filtered through the smoked-glass windows. Her eyes were wild for a second and then blank, as if she was too scared to even know how to deal.

She was terrified of him.

She knew something we didn't.

Whatever was wrong with Principal Saunders—and I was more and more convinced that Anna was right, and there was something badly wrong—Francis was involved. I just had to find out how.

Principal Saunders turned and hurried away, the sound of her footsteps uneven as if she kept stumbling.

Cathy had obviously not noticed a thing, her eyes downcast, Francis still standing too close to her.

Since it was the only thing I could do, I bent down and picked up my schoolbag. There was a faint sound inside it, the bag bulging for a moment, and then the long, furry body of a light-gray rat spilled out, hit the floor, and ran. A chewed-up apple rolled after it.

I did what I'd promised myself I wouldn't—I screamed.

I didn't lose it for long, though. Vampires might be terrorizing the principal and hypnotizing my best friend, rats might be invading my school and my bag, but hysterics weren't going to fix any of it. There was nobody around to fix things but me.

I settled my bag on my shoulders, promising myself I'd put it in bleach that night. Right after I bleached myself.

Ty was stifling a laugh. I thought about punching him.

“I can hear you trying to come up with some kind of ‘let the rat out of the bag' joke, Ty,” I said instead. “I have some advice for you: Don't.”

CHAPTER SIX

Home on the Range

K
nowing my parents wouldn't be home for a few more hours, I slammed the front door with all my strength. I was a little disappointed when it didn't break or fall off its hinges, but it was still extremely satisfying. The boom resounded through the house.

My brother, Lancelot, came thundering down the stairs, stood at the bottom, and grinned.

“What do you want, Lottie? How come you're home so early?”

Since I am his big sister, it is my job to torment him with awful nicknames.

I had been contemplating slamming the door again to get rid of the last remnants of a-vampire-is-seducing-my-best-friend rage, but teasing him would also do the trick.

“They're home,” Lancelot said, seconds before Dad came out of his study with his arms crossed and gave me his death glare. Mom was already at the top of the stairs, having presumably emerged from her study. She was also staring at me with laser eyes.

Dad moved past me to inspect the door. “Doesn't seem to be broken,” he said, opening and shutting it to make sure.

“What on earth was that about, Mel?” Mom inquired.

“Bad day,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Then we will talk about it,” Mom said. “My study,” she said, starting to go back upstairs. “Now.”

“How about my study?” Dad said.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “I'm in too bad a mood to walk up the stairs.”

Mom raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She knew neither of us wanted to set foot in her domain. My mom is a slob. She hates housework. She is incapable of putting anything back where she found it. On the rare occasions when she cooks, it's like the kitchen exploded. We must be the only family in the world in which the kids yell at their mom to tidy her room.

“Fine,” she said, stalking down the stairs.

Lancelot stood behind her.

“What do you think you're doing, young man?”

“Following you, Mom.”

“Desist.”

“Don't you want me to hear how you deal with this parent-child crisis so that I'll learn what not to do in order to continue being your best-behaved child?”

“Brat,” I said under my breath.

“No,” Mom said. “I do not. Go kick your soccer ball. Or clean up the kitchen. Or something.” She did not suggest he do his homework, because odds were he'd already done it. Probably months ago. The little weasel is obnoxiously all-around brilliant. Just like his oldest sister, Kristin, the genius who broke her parents' hearts (well, mostly Dad's) by not going to MIT or Harvard. Not that they were opposed to her going to fashion school, but they were upset by the waste of her genius. They were slightly appeased when Kristin claimed that fashion design was all about geometry and history and chemistry and sociology.

Dad opened the study door and ushered me in.

Dad's study is like Dad, warm and old-fashioned and comfortable but also very tidy. There are three walls of bookshelves, almost all of them legal texts. Mom and Dad are both lawyers; they actually met as prosecution and defense at a trial. His desk is large and wooden and at least fifty years old, with tchotchkes on it—dragon, tiger, and phoenix figurines—arranged according to feng shui principles. Dad is very into tradition. And old stuff generally.

His battered Chesterfield sofa onto which I threw myself is probably even older than the desk, while his office chair is sleek and modern and black leather and designed by someone famous. Kristin would be able to tell me who. She's the one who picked it.

Mom sat beside me, and Dad settled on his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. Something he would not have been able to do if we were in Mom's study. There are no clear surfaces in there. Including the floor. Possibly not the ceiling, either. I couldn't be sure: It had been a while since I'd been brave enough to venture in.

“So,” Mom said. “Why are you home so early and what was so bad that you tried to rend our front door from its hinges?”

“Rats,” I said.

“Excuse me?” Dad said.

“There was a rat invasion at school. Hundreds of them, coming up at us from the basement. They canceled school. I'm wearing sandals.”

Both my parents looked at my feet.

“Rats. Scurrying over my toes.”

We all three shuddered.

“My plan coming home was: slam door, have four thousand showers.”

“The rats made you angry?” Dad asked. “Me, I would have been scared.”

“I was. No, Cathy made me angry.”

My parents looked at each other. The last time Cathy and I had had a fight, we'd been about five. I'd given her favorite doll a haircut. Cathy had not appreciated Barbie's new mohawk.

“She's in love with a vampire.”

“The new vampire student?” Dad asked, as if there were some other vampire Cathy could have gone gaga over.

“Yes.”

“But you knew that,” Mom said. “You told me about it last week.”

“Yes, but now it might be more than just a crush. She's got that he's-the-One look in her eye. And stupid Francis the vampire is encouraging her now. He's so much older than her. They have nothing in common. Francis is going to break Cathy's heart.”

“And that's why you slammed the door?” Mom asked.

I nodded.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said. “That's just how love is when you're young. You get hurt. All you can do is be there for her, like she's been there for you.”

Okay, so I knew from personal experience that dating a normal guy can go badly wrong as well.

I nodded reluctantly. “But he's a vampire. Don't you think that makes it a little bit different than any other guy?”

“Not really,” Dad said. “Love is love. It's painful for everyone.”

“Well,” Mom said, “it has its upsides too.” She and Dad exchanged one of their you-are-the-love-of-my-life looks. I tried not to be ill.

She gave me a brief hug. “Is that all that's bothering you?”

“Pretty much.”

“It's just Cathy's love life? Not anything else?” Dad inquired. “How's Anna doing?”

I flinched before I could stop myself. I'd been trying not to think of Anna's pale face and withdrawal from us all, of Dr. Saunders standing at her door like an avenging angel or her terrified stare at Francis today.

But I had to think about it. It was me Anna had come to for help. If Francis was involved in whatever was upsetting Principal Saunders …

Mom's voice went soft. “Are you that worried about her?”

“I'm handling it,” I said.

I was going to handle it. I just wasn't sure how yet.

“Can we change the subject?” I continued. “Want to know what college I'm going to? What I'm going to do with my life? Wait—I can't tell you. Because I still don't know.”

“Honey,” Dad said, leaning forward to ruffle my hair. “As we've both told you, at seventeen it's perfectly normal not to know what you want to do with your life. I didn't decide to be a lawyer until I'd been in IT for almost five years.”

I'd heard all this before. “I know, Dad. I'm not that worried,” I lied.

“You shouldn't be,” Mom said. “You'll do great no matter what you decide to do. Including cleaning up the kitchen, which is your punishment for assaulting the door and our ears. I made lasagna for dinner. Kitchen's a bit of a mess.”