Tenth Grade Bleeds (9 page)

There was no sign of Eddie, something that improved Vlad's troubled mood.

He passed houses, a small creek, and eventually found his way to Requiem Ravine, where the cops had found the body of Mr. Craig, Vlad's English teacher. He paused, mourning the loss of such a great mentor and friend, before continuing along the town's borders in an effort to quiet his mind. Within minutes, he'd found his way to an extremely familiar clearing.

Vlad looked around, remembering how D'Ablo had waited for him and Joss here last year. The images of that encounter, and of Joss's betrayal, flooded his mind like dark water. He still couldn't believe that Joss had staked him, or that one of his closest friends would purposely cause him such agonizing pain, and almost take his life. But Joss had. Worse still, he couldn't believe how much he missed Joss's company.

Getting staked had been a hard lesson in choosing one's friends wisely, that was for sure.

The chill of autumn snaked its way inside Vlad's jacket, and he shivered briskly before turning to head home. But on the ground, lying amidst dead leaves and half immersed in muddy earth, Vlad spied a coin. He plucked it from the ground and wiped the dirt away. It was bronze, and on one side had two large initials, written in calligraphy:
S.S.
He flipped it over and noted the symbols on the other side. A crescent moon on the left, the symbol for eternity on the right, and at its center, a wooden stake. Along the top, curving along the crest of the coin, was
Slayer Society.
Along the bottom it read
for the good of mankind.

Vlad frowned in disgust. Joss must have dropped it that night, the night he'd tried unsuccessfully to rid the world of another vampire, the night he'd tried to murder Vlad with a sharp hunk of wood. Furious, he read the inscription again and swore under his breath. As if the Slayers' murderous actions could be so easily disguised as being “for the good of mankind.” As if betraying your friend's trust and putting him in the hospital could make you a humanitarian. Psychotic jerk, maybe. Humanitarian? Not so much.

Vlad almost threw the coin into the ravine, but then he squeezed it tight and placed it in his pocket. It would be a good reminder never to trust anyone so easily again.

He turned on his heel and headed home, the nightmare of Joss staking him replacing the one he'd been trying to forget.

V
LAD TWISTED THE BLACK RIBBON around the knot of an inflated red balloon and tied it before letting the balloon go. It flew up toward the ceiling and then bobbed pathetically at the end of its tether. “How many of these did Nelly say to fill?”

Henry emptied one of the helium-filled balloons into his mouth. When he spoke, he sounded like a deranged Mickey Mouse. “I think she said fifty.”

Vlad shook his head. The room was already so stuffed with balloons, streamers, and party favors that he was pretty sure once they opened the door to let any guests in, the house would explode, draping the entire neighborhood in his favorite colors—black and red. Which, now that he thought of it, wasn't such a bad idea. Bathory could use a bold splash of color. Or two. Or twelve. He called out, hoping his aunt could hear him well enough over the sounds of food preparation. “Nelly, just how many people did you invite? I mean, this seems like a pretty big deal for just me, you, Meredith, and Henry.”

Nelly's voice drifted in from the kitchen, so full of parental pride that it made Vlad's eyes roll. “Vladimir, it's not every day that a boy turns fifteen.”

She was right. But, Vlad noted with a hint of terror rushing through his veins, she also didn't answer his question. Dropping the bag of empty balloons, he rushed into the kitchen and was greeted by warm, sugary smells . . . and enough food to feed an army of teenagers. He stared suspiciously. “Exactly how many people did you invite to my birthday party?”

Nelly glanced at the calendar on the wall, where November 21 was circled in red. Scribbled on the square was
Vlad's B-Day: 38 RSVP
s
.
She stirred something creamy and brown and smiled. “Around forty. Why?”

Vlad's jaw dropped. “Nelly! I don't
know
forty people!”

“Sure you do. You know Henry's family, some of the nurses from the hospital, and the rest are your friends and teachers.”

It took every ounce of his brain to process the fact that she'd invited his teachers, and a small shudder shook through him. “You invited my
teachers
?”

She looked at him, completely oblivious. “What's wrong with that?”

He stared at her, mouth agape. It was like the real Nelly had been abducted by little green men with a fondness for registered nurses who couldn't cook. “Nelly, I spend all day with them. What makes you think I want to see any of them at my house?”

Nelly tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl and rested it on the counter. “Some of your teachers are very nice.”

“Yes, and some of them are descendants of Hitler himself.” Exasperated, Vlad threw his hands in the air. “Besides, do you have any idea what a high school faux pas that is? You might as well knit me a sweater that says KICK MY BUTT on it.”

Nelly cast him a knowing look. “Need I remind you that last time I invited your teacher over, he turned out to be your uncle?”

Vlad huffed quietly. “All right. But if I find out I'm related to Mr. Cartel, I'm going to g-g-g-go jump off a bridge.”

Nelly sighed. “Well, I wouldn't worry too much. Most of your teachers didn't RSVP anyway. It'll mostly be all of your friends.”

Vlad raised an eyebrow. “How long have you been my guardian, Nelly?”

“Five years, this spring. But what does that have to do with—”

“And in all that time, haven't you ever noticed that I only have one real friend? Henry?” Saying it aloud made Vlad's stomach shrink. Suddenly he felt incredibly pathetic. And he wasn't just saying it aloud. He was saying it loudly—his voice had risen until he was almost yelling. And he wasn't even sure why, apart from the fact that the one person who should know him better than anyone didn't seem to know him at all.

Nelly met Vlad's eyes, her voice dropping to a tone that was sweet, calm—patient, even. “Henry is not your
only
friend. He's your
best
friend. You've had others, Vladimir. Like Meredith. And that nice Joss boy last year.”

Her expression darkened. “Well, up until that unfortunate wooden stake incident, anyway.”

Oh yeah. Joss had been a great friend. If Vlad ever wanted to become a pincushion, he knew just who to call. “That's not the point.”

“The point, Vladimir, is that you have a terrible habit of comparing everyone to Henry, and if they don't measure up, you don't give them a chance to even be your friend. Not everyone can show you the loyalty that Henry has, you know. You boys have a special bond. It's unfair to compare other people to that. They don't have a fighting chance to even come close to offering you the friendship that Henry has.”

Vlad bit his lip, quieting down. If only she knew that Henry was bound by an act of teeth and blood to be Vlad's loyal slave, his drudge. Maybe she wouldn't be so keen on the idea of their friendship then. And what about that other stuff? Did she have a point? Vlad mulled it over for a bit before deciding she was wrong. It wasn't that he had avoided close friendship with other people besides Henry. It was as if, deep down, they knew he wasn't like them. They knew he was different. And maybe, in a weird way, they were afraid of that.

Her eyes brimmed with concern. “I realize the guest list might not be exactly what you'd have come up with, but could you please just allow me a little time to dote on you and brag to the world that my s . . . well, that you're turning fifteen?”

All the tension melted out of Vlad when he realized what Nelly had been saying. Not about making friends or doting on him or any of that stuff. Nelly had been about to call him her son.

His heart throbbed until it had squeezed its way up into his esophagus. When he met her eyes, he didn't know exactly how he should feel. On one hand, Nelly had been every bit like a mother to him, ever since the day the fire had brought them together as a family. On the other, no one could or ever would replace his real mom.

Vlad cleared his throat and did the only thing he could. He nodded, turned, and walked out of the room.

When he got back to the living room, Henry sucked in another lungful of helium and said, “What's wrong, dude?”

Vlad shook his head, clearing away his troubled thoughts. Well, most of them anyway. “Nothing. Let's just get this crap cleaned up so we can cut the dumb cake and throw the stupid confetti and celebrate the fact that I've survived fifteen years.”

“Hey, for most people, that's not such a feat. But for you . . . well, let's see. In the past few years, you've managed to outwit a psychotic vampire who chased you down with the help of thugs the size of dump trucks, as well as a stake-wielding slayer, bent on your demise, who actually stabbed you through the chest. Not to mention various math classes and the great feat of getting the girl of your dreams to go out with you.” Henry smiled, slapping Vlad on the back. “I think we definitely have reason to celebrate.”

He knew Henry was right, but he still wasn't in much of a celebratory mood. After all, Otis had made it clear that he likely wouldn't be visiting until after he'd located that ritual, so the odds that he'd see Otis tonight were small. And with Vlad's present troubles reaching his uncle by telepathy, right now a conversation with Otis was all he wanted to be having—not some lame party where he was expected to be nice to people he didn't necessarily know or even like. But . . . there
was
Meredith . . . and he couldn't deny that the allure of presents was pretty enticing.

Henry scooped up the extra decorations and placed them in the big cardboard box on the floor. Vlad followed his lead, his thoughts never too far away from the evening ahead, and the fact that Nelly had very nearly referred to him as her son.

Less than an hour later, the doorbell rang.

Vlad and Henry exchanged glances, and Nelly called from the kitchen. “Vladimir, answer that, please. It could be your guests!”

Vlad snorted. He was fairly certain it was his guests, but that didn't make him get to the door any faster. However, he was thankful when he did, because he could see a very familiar outline standing on the other side of the frosted glass. He smiled and opened the door to Meredith, who was bundled up in her fluffy pink coat, the faux-fur collar pulled up to her ears. Meredith's lips looked almost blue. “It's f-f-freezing out here.”

But there was no time to think of a witty retort, because soon the porch was full of people and Vlad was busy greeting them all and taking their coats. At one point, he couldn't even see the people he was greeting anymore, and the coats were stacked so high that he resembled a walking pile of laundry. Henry took over and Vlad stumbled his way up the stairs to lay the coats on Nelly's bed. Afterward, he raced back down the stairs and stared in awe at the gifts that were piled in towers on the coffee table, looking like a city in miniature. He moved through the crowd, searching for the one gift he really, really wanted for his birthday, but he couldn't see Otis anywhere. Finally, he located Nelly in the kitchen and asked, “Have you seen Otis yet, Nelly? I thought maybe . . .”

But the expression on her face was all the answer he needed. Otis hadn't come, wasn't coming. Vlad's heart sank down to his stomach. He wasn't angry, just disappointed. He put on a fake smile. “That's okay. I'm sure we'll see him over winter break.”

Nelly smiled too—hers looked just as doubtful as Vlad's felt. “I'm sure we will, Vladimir. Why don't we cut the cake and you can open your presents?”

That did cheer him up, because any sentence that has “cake” and “presents” in it is worthy of a smile. Nelly gathered as many people as she could into the kitchen, including Meredith and Henry, who sat on either side of Vlad at the long plank table, and they all sang “Happy Birthday” off-key until Vlad's ears had blushed so deeply they turned purple. Then Nelly cut the cake and started serving. Vlad and Henry and Meredith talked and laughed and devoured three slices each of Nelly's fluffy, sweet cake until finally, Meredith said the magic words. “You should open your presents, Vlad.”

Vlad grabbed Meredith's hand and led her back into the living room, through balloons and streamers and a crowd that looked like much more than forty people, stopping now and again to say hello to people he knew. By the time they reached the coffee table, the towering city of gifts had doubled in size. Vlad gawked. “I don't know where to start.”

Meredith smiled sweetly and plucked a thin blue box from the bottom of the stack. The tower wavered, but remained standing. “This one's from me.”

Vlad squeezed her hand once before letting go and ripping through the paper. He lifted the lid and gasped. Inside was a lovely leather journal. On the cover was inscribed
The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod.
Vlad met her eyes. “It's perfect. How did you know?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Well, I noticed that composition notebook you're always scribbling in is looking pretty ratty. So I thought you could use a new one. It's refillable.”

If Nelly hadn't been standing a few feet away, Vlad would have kissed Meredith on the spot. Instead, he blushed and said, “ Thank you.”

Nelly slid a large box out from beneath the coffee table, and Vlad knew he must be dreaming. He tore open the wrapping, and sure enough, Nelly had gotten him an Xbox 360. “Nelly! This is so cool! Thank you!”