Deadly Offer (2 page)

It seemed that Ryan’s car had only one working door out of four and that to get in and out, you had to use the rear right passenger door. (Althea imagined herself in the crowd, giggling as she doubled over to squeeze in the back, crawling over boys’ legs, gear stick, and parking brake to reach the front seat.)

It seemed that Kimmie-Jo had backed her new car into a tree. The car’s trunk now had an interesting configuration, along with a tree print. (Althea imagined herself in the car with Kimmie-Jo when it happened, screaming, “What will your parents say? You’re dead, Kimmie-Jo!” giggling, and suggesting they go to Dairy Queen and have ice cream first, and
then
deal with Kimmie-Jo’s parents.)

Michael, however, had a car that was not only new to
him,
it was actually new. His father had bought it for his seventeenth birthday present last week. How like Michael, thought Althea, staring with adoration, forgetting to pretend she was neither watching nor listening.

Celeste said sadly, “I’m only fourteen. I won’t be able to drive my own car forever and ever and ever.”

Althea’s heart hardened. I’m sixteen, and I have nothing! thought Althea.

“That’s okay,” said Michael, smiling at Celeste. “We’ll give you a ride when you need one.”

He had such a fine smile. Brotherly, welcoming—and yet sexy. He smiled like that at ninth-grader Celeste! For no reason except that Celeste was on Varsity. Cheerleading!

Althea walked straight into the group.

She expected to feel the prickles of their distaste, to have Kimmie-Jo and Michael and Ryan and Celeste look at her with amazement. An intruder. A pushy unwanted nobody.

But Ryan said, “Hi, Althea. How are you?”

Ryan knew her name? She was stunned. “Fine, thank you,” she said.

“You live in that huge spooky house at the bottom of the hill, don’t you?” said Celeste. Celeste shuddered pleasurably. Her pretty golden hair quivered, and the boys smiled gently at her. “They say it’s haunted. Have you ever seen ghosts, Althea?”

Althea did not like to lie. “I have never seen a ghost,” she said carefully.

“Your house isn’t haunted?” said Celeste, with evident disappointment.

“Of course not.” Althea sensed the group getting ready to move. They were always in transit, these popular people, drifting like a flock of bright-feathered birds from one perch to another. She needed to hold on to them. Or, at least, on to Celeste. She made a quick offering. A dangerous offering, because it trembled on the edge of truth. But it was all Althea had. “We do have a Shuttered Room, though.”

“What does that mean?” Celeste had a pretty, little giggle and a trick of biting her lower lip as she giggled, taking her breath in funny little snatches. The boys looked on adoringly.

“There’s a room in the attic,” Althea explained. “The circular tower. You may have seen it when you’ve driven by. The tower room has three windows, none of which are ever opened. There are shutters on the inside of the windows and shutters on the outside.”

“What’s the room for?” asked Michael.

“It’s for staying away from.”

“Oh, wow,” said Celeste, entirely satisfied. “I knew that house was haunted.”

“It is not haunted,” said Althea rather sharply. “It’s simply that nobody is supposed to enter the Shuttered Room.”

“What happens when somebody does?” asked Michael.

She paused.

She had an answer to that now, of course. For she, a month ago, had done just that. Against all rules, against all tradition, she had touched the shutters. And now she knew what happened.

If you were to open the inside shutters, you would hear a whistling gurgle, the sound of somebody struggling for air, the sound of a living person in a locked coffin.

If you were to open the outside shutters, the wind would whirl into the tower, and the tower air would whirl out, and in the exchange of old air for new, something passed, something changed.

The vampire was set free.

She did not know where he came from: inside the tower or outside. She did not know where he stayed: inside the tower or outside. But the shutters were the key to his prison—and he was the key to hers.

The vampire could set Althea free. Free from the hostile cafeteria, free from loneliness.
You give me Celeste, and I will give you popularity.

Althea fastened her eyes on Celeste. Althea’s whispery tremor, deep in her throat, sounded frightening and mysterious. “Nobody ever has. It’s a family tradition. The shutters in the Shuttered Room stay shuttered.” She smiled, first at Celeste, then at Michael.

The kids laughed, repeating the rule like a tongue twister.
Susie sells seashells on the seashore. The shutters in the Shuttered Room stay shuttered.

The bell rang, and the kids dispersed, as even popular groups must, for class or gym or art or library. Michael strode blithely alone down the hall, headed for something special, no doubt; he could not possibly take dull repetitive classes the way she had to. Ryan was bouncier; he lunged in the other direction, as if he had athletic records to set. Kimmie-Jo was sultry, stunning, the way she always was, sitting, walking, or cheering. Becky, another cheerleader, popped out of a classroom door, and Becky and Kimmie-Jo hugged with that relaxed affection popular people show each other. Unpopular people who did that would just be pathetic.

Althea caught up to Celeste and walked on with her. Think companionable thoughts, Althea told herself. Don’t let Celeste see through you. Say something normal. “You know which one my house is,” Althea said, “but I don’t know where you live.”

Celeste made a face. Even pouting, she was very pretty. “Way out of town, Althea. Miles and miles. I hate living there. I can never go anywhere unless somebody’s willing to drive me. They’re always willing the first time, but they make that trip once and they’re not so willing a second time.”

She’s confiding in me, Althea thought. She’s treating me like a friend.

Maybe she would not have to deliver Celeste to the vampire after all! She and Celeste would become friends, and that would be the door through which Althea entered popularity.

“Ryan came once, and after that, he’s just been ‘busy.’” Celeste sighed deeply, very sorry for herself. “And Becky—well, she came once, and when I asked her to drive me again, she frowned and said my parents would have to bring me to the party.”

Had
she
been asked to a party of Becky’s, Althea would have slogged across swamps and swum rivers. She was supposed to feel sorry for Celeste, all because Celeste had to get party transportation from relatives? “That’s rough,” said Althea sympathetically.

“And you heard Michael say he’d drive me, but he’s dating Constance, of course, and I can hardly ask him to pick up Constance first and then come for me.”

So Michael was dating Constance. Constance was one of those overwhelming people who was simply brilliant at simply everything. There was not an activity in which she did not shine, not a subject in which she was not a scholar, not a sport in which she did not excel. Constance was lovely and willowy, strong and interesting, funny and sweet.

Of course Michael was dating Constance.

Althea was exhausted by the mere thought of Constance.

Celeste gave several more examples of how unpleasant it was to live so many miles out in the country. It became increasingly difficult to grieve for somebody who had been asked to three events last weekend and could get transportation to just two of them.

“After school today,” said. Althea, “would you like to come over to my house?”

Celeste gave Althea a dazzling, sparkling smile. It was a smile on a par with Michael’s: a world-class welcome of a smile. Althea warmed inside, forgave Celeste for whining, and thought of friendship.

“You’re so sweet, Althea,” said Celeste. “That’s so nice of you. But I have cheerleading practice, of course.”

A
FTER SCHOOL ALTHEA DID
not go home. She drove around town in a jealous rage. Street after street passed beneath her tires, like some great black, bleak grid of life.

If only Celeste had not said
of course
!

It was that
of course
that was the knife in the back.

A light turned yellow, and in her present mood she wanted to slam down the accelerator, roar through the intersection, leave a patch on the pavement, and fill the faces of bystanders with foul exhaust.

But she drove carefully, as she had been taught. Then, like lightning filling the sky with sheets of silver, she remembered something: Celeste was too young to drive.
But Althea was not.

I have a license. And a car. Why, I’d be happy to drive Celeste home. Or to a party. Or anywhere else that Celeste might choose. Briefly, anyway. Until …

… well …

And
of course,
after that, Celeste would be too tired. It wouldn’t matter anyhow.

You have cheerleading practice, of course, thought Althea. Celeste, my friend, I have a car, of course. And a Shuttered Room, of course. And a vampire.

Althea turned left. Then right. She gripped the steering wheel like the compass of life. Three miles and she was back in the school parking lot.

Beyond the buildings and the tennis courts; the football team was practicing. Boys were lined up on each side of the field, hurling themselves at one another. From that distance it was impossible to tell which heavily padded body was which.

The school had many ells and additions. Althea circled the building, looking for cheerleading practice.

The grass had just been mowed, and the air smelled wonderful, like hay and countryside.

She remembered the vampire’s smell. When he did whatever he did, would Celeste notice the smell first, or would she—?

Stop! thought Althea. Don’t think about the details.

Around the next brick wall was a small paved courtyard, and there they were, all twelve of them.

Mrs. Roundman, their coach, was not pleased. “Not even half trying!” she was shouting. “Not one of you! You are all so lazy! What is cheerleading—an activity for melted marshmallows? You act as if you’d run out of energy spreading peanut butter on bread! Call yourselves cheerleaders? Ha!”

Several girls were close to tears. Several seemed merely irritated, as if they had better things to do than stand around while Mrs. Roundman had a temper tantrum. And one was amused.

Mrs. Roundman did not miss this. “Celeste?” she bellowed. “You think this is a joke, perhaps?”

“No,” said Celeste, trying to smother her laugh. “Of course not, Mrs. Roundman.”

Althea caught Celeste’s eye and giggled.

Celeste giggled back like a coconspirator.

Or a friend.

I should give her another chance, Althea thought. We could be good friends, I know we could, I can tell by the way she’s sharing that giggle with me.

“One more chance,” said Mrs. Roundman grimly to her squad. “I said every leg is to reach the same height on the kick, and that’s what I meant.”

Quite a few other people were watching practice. Two squad members’ boyfriends were leaning against a brick wall, playing cards. A boy Althea did not know was doing his chemistry. His glasses had slid down his nose, and he looked sweet and childish. Three ninth-grade girls looked at their favorite cheerleaders with open adoration. A little knot of kids was sharing a single soda and monitoring one another’s swallows.

She would have liked to join the card game. Help with the chemistry. Sip the soda. Even join the ninth-graders.

But after the first brief glance her way, nobody looked at Althea again.

The cheerleaders worked hard. Kimmie-Jo had the most style, and Celeste was the most beautiful, but Becky gave off an air of joyful celebration. While the other girls were breathless from exertion, Becky seemed breathless from love of cheerleading.

Finally Mrs. Roundman ended practice and stalked off. Althea did not know what she could be grumpy about. In Althea’s eyes, the squad was perfect.

Celeste, out of breath and pink-cheeked, dropped to the ground next to Althea. “She’s a bear,” confided Celeste.

This is what friendship is, Althea thought. Somebody telling you something they wouldn’t tell somebody else. “I can see. Does she always treat you that way?”

“Or worse. Honestly, I don’t know where they find these coaches!”

Althea thought Mrs. Roundman was an excellent coach. Certainly the school had the best cheerleaders Althea had ever seen. But she said sympathetically, “Gosh, you must be tired, Celeste.”

“I’m utterly exhausted. People don’t know how difficult cheerleading is. You don’t get the credit you deserve.” Celeste arched her back like a cat and slowly melted down. A few golden threads of hair across her forehead annoyed her, and she stroked them into place. Rotating her long neck to relax herself, she added, “And what’s more, I have to wait an hour for a ride home. A whole hour! Just sitting here! Till my parents are out of work and can come for me.”

What a lovely neck she has, Althea thought. It really is swanlike, just the way they say a high-fashion model’s should be. What soft white skin she has.

Since we’re becoming friends, Althea thought, perhaps I’ll ask her if she has ever thought about modeling. I’ve always wanted to be a model myself. We could go into the city together!

“I am so bored,” said Celeste.

Althea looked at her uncertainly.

“
Nobody
is around,” Celeste said. “Everybody has left.”

Not quite everybody, thought Althea. I’m here.

Celeste ran beautifully polished fingers through her silken hair. Her nails were pale, pale pink.

But they could get paler, Althea thought. And I know somebody who would also think that’s a lovely neck. “You poor thing,” said Althea. “Well, I’m heading out right now. Want a ride?”

H
IS SKIN HAD DARKENED
in patches, like fruit going bad. If she touched it, the skin would feel like a sponge. The fingernails seemed detached. She could pluck them, harvest them, fill a basket with old vampire nails.

Althea closed her eyes to block out the sight, and then quickly opened them. It was difficult to breathe evenly in his presence, but she knew that if her breathing were ragged and frightened he would enjoy it; it would give him power over her. So she regulated her breathing. She blocked out visions of Celeste being touched by the vampire’s spongy skin, his foul mold against her swan-sweet neck, his smell in her hair. But she had to know. “What happened?” said Althea.