At First Bite (10 page)

“Well, Sasha?” Mr. Harker asks. Everyone turns to see her response.

For the first time since I’ve known her, Sasha seems at a loss for words. She bites her lip and tugs on a stray curl.

“Um … I
could
give Wendy a crash course in stage-managing,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “And, uh, I guess I do have all the lines memorized, because I’m always checking the script. I’ve never acted before, but …”

“Oh, just do it, Sasha!” Gordon says, surprising everyone. I’d had no idea he was even listening.

A smile creeps across Sasha’s face. “Okay,” she says. She throws up her hands, bracelets clanking. “For as long as Paige can’t do it, I’ll play Vera.”

Marc gives his twin a fist bump, and even Wendy looks pleased. I’m surprised to feel a burst of gladness. It’s not that I’m happy Paige is out of the picture. But it’s hard to deny that Sasha will be a much better Vera.

“Woot!” James shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Uh, I hope Paige gets better real soon, though,” he adds, looking away from Carmen’s glare.

“Excellent,” Mr. Harker says, clapping his hands. “Okay, gang. Before we start rehearsing, the whole cast needs to go backstage with Ashlee for your fittings.”

I nod but feel a twinge of terror. I’ll be going back to where I discovered Paige. The whole cast turns pale, so I know they’re thinking the same thing.

If Mr. Harker notices our hesitation, he doesn’t address it. “Tomorrow morning,” he continues, “I’ll bring the costumes to be tailored at the dry cleaners. But since some of the alterations might take a while, we won’t be able to hold a dress rehearsal.” A groan goes up among the cast. “I know, I know,” he says. “But we’ll have a quick run-through during lunch on Friday.”

The cast and crew break up, buzzing about Paige and Sasha. Meanwhile, I take a deep breath. What if there’s another body sprawled on the floor of the costume room? I wish I knew where Dark Ones were lingering, and when they planned to strike next.
Marc was right,
I realize.
We need to do something before there’s another attack.

I’m making myself walk up the steps to the stage when Sasha appears beside me.

“Hey,” she says, giving me a cautious smile. “Thanks. For suggesting me. I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Well …” I shrug, feeling embarrassed. “You were the obvious choice. And,” I add, looking down at my patterned tights, “I owed you one … for, you know, saving my life and all. In the bathroom?” It occurs to me then that I could tell Sasha the story behind my accident that day. She knows about bat-shifting. She would understand.

Sasha laughs as we go backstage. “I don’t think I technically saved your life, Ashlee. But sure, I suppose we’re even now.” As I nervously open the door to the costume room, she adds, “I bet you picked out some awesome dresses for Vera.”

“Oh — thanks,” I say, flattered.

It’s the strangest thing, but with Sasha next to me, I’m not scared in the costume room. I realize something: Sasha may not be popular, but she’s … pleasant. Nice to be around.

Maybe I’m being ridiculous, avoiding her and Marc. I need to talk to
someone
about the Dark Ones, especially now that Arabella’s not getting back to me. I know Marc would be helpful, and if Sasha gets involved — that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Maybe I should take Marc up on his invitation from yesterday.

Maybe.

The next afternoon, fate — or, rather, Mr. Harker — makes the decision for me. I’m standing at my locker at the end of the day, and he jogs up to me, out of breath and carrying a bulky garment bag.

“Ashlee,” he says, looking stressed, “can you do me a huge favor? I just picked up Vera’s costumes from the tailor, but I have a doctor’s appointment. Would you be able to give the dresses directly to Sasha now? I want to be sure she has time to try them on, in case there need to be last-minute fixes before the show.”

“Um, sure,” I say, knowing that, as wardrobe master, I can’t say no.

Mr. Harker thanks me, hands me the garment bag, and hurries off.

I glance around the empty hallway, past the crimson-bright
At First Bite
posters on the walls. I drank a Sanga! in the library before coming to my locker, so it’s on the late side. Sasha’s probably left already, which means I’ll have to bring the costumes to her house.

I feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. I’ve wanted to talk to her and Marc all day but never had a chance. So I gather my courage and shut my locker.

I memorized Marc’s address from the directory, and it’s not a long walk from school. When I arrive at the house, though, I gasp. It’s a full-on mansion, wide and majestic, with a blue pool glistening behind it. I would have
never
guessed that Marc and Sasha were so wealthy. I suddenly feel even more nervous, especially since I’m showing up unannounced.

I hug the garment bag to my chest and ring the bell. A beautiful African-American woman about my mom’s age opens the door. She gives me a warm smile and I immediately see the resemblance between her and Sasha. And Marc has her big, long-lashed brown eyes. She’s clearly their mom.

You’re a vampire!
I want to tell her.
On the Council!
But I struggle to keep the words from leaping off my tongue.

“Hi, I’m Ashlee Lambert,” I say instead. “I’m here to give Sasha her —”

“Her costumes, yes,” the woman says, opening the door all the way. “I’ve heard all about you, Ashlee. Please come in. I’m Mrs. Hirsh.”

I wonder what Marc and Sasha — but mainly Marc — told their mother about me.

I take off my sun hat (I’ve been good about wearing it outside) and step inside. The house is full of fancy furniture and fine art, but it also feels cozy and welcoming.

“Sasha! Honey?” Mrs. Hirsh calls, peering up the grand staircase. She shrugs. “Maybe she’s in here with her dad,” she adds, leading me into the living room.

The first thing I spot is a shiny gold statuette on the mantel: It’s an
Oscar!
Who
are
these people? Then I see the man sitting on the sofa, reading from an iPad.

“Sasha and Marc are both upstairs,” he says, looking up with a smile.

He has blond-gray hair and Sasha’s hazel eyes, and I realize that I
know
him. He’s Ben Hirsh, the totally famous, Oscar-winning actor! So
that
was why I’d thought Sasha’s last name had sounded familiar when I’d heard it my first day at S.M.A.

I’m speechless. I’ve never met a real movie star before, and I never expected to find one at Sasha and Marc’s house. I probably should tell him I’m a big fan, but I’ve never seen his movies (they’re mostly, like, boring political dramas). Plus, all I
want
to say is:
You’re famous and you live with two vampires!

“Ben, this is Ashlee,” Mrs. Hirsh explains, resting one hand on my shoulder. Her fingers are ice-cold, but, funnily enough, I feel a sudden warmth. The warmth of recognition. “She’s recently moved here from New York, and she’s working on the play with Marc and Sasha.”

“Ah,
At First Bite?”
Ben Hirsh grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “I still can’t get over the fact that Marc is involved in a play about vampires. I mean, talk about hitting close to ho —”

Mrs. Hirsh stops him short with an intense,
what-are-you-thinking?
look. It’s clear that neither of them know that I’m a vampire. I’m grateful to Marc for keeping my secret, but at the same time something else is stirring inside me. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m feeling starstruck, or safe, or both. All I know is I’m tired of hiding and scrambling and living in fear. And I can’t stop myself from blurting out the truth.

“No, I get it,” I say, my face burning. “You see, the play hits close to home for me, too. I’m —” I look at Mrs. Hirsh. “I’m one of you.”

Stunned silence fills the room, and then a voice calls out:

“Wait,
what?
You’re a vampire?”

I turn and see Sasha standing at the entrance to the living room, her eyes enormous. Marc is right behind her, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I am,” I say, trembling a little. It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud, and it feels surprisingly good.

Then everyone starts talking at once.

“I don’t believe it!” Mr. Hirsh says, jumping to his feet. “What are the chances?”

“Really? Who’s your mentor?” Mrs. Hirsh asks me, surprise etched on her face.

“Arabella Lowe,” I tell her. Then I add, “At least, I hope she still is. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“But — but there were no signs,” Sasha sputters, staring at me. “Nothing to give you away.”

“Well, that time you found me in the bathroom,” I explain, my heart pounding as I grip the garment bag. “I fell because I was having issues with my bat-shifting.”

“Oh, poor dear,” Mrs. Hirsh murmurs, frowning. “Bat-shifting can take some getting used to.”

The only person not talking is Marc, and Sasha suddenly notices.

“You
knew
this, didn’t you?” Sasha cries, spinning around to glare at her brother. “And you told her — about you? About Mom? And you never told us?”

Marc holds up his hands as if to shield himself. “Look, it just sort of happened,” he replies. “Ashlee saw me drinking Sanga!, and we got to talking about Dark Ones….”

“It’s true,” I say quickly, coming to his defense. “I thought Marc was the Dark One who’d been attacking people in our school. Then he explained to me about your mom” — I glance quickly at Mrs. Hirsh — “being on the Council.”

“I wish you’d told me you’d met another vampire at school,” Mrs. Hirsh says to Marc, shaking her head.

“Yes, son,” Mr. Hirsh chimes in. “Especially since you know your mother and the other Council members have been so focused on the attacks.”

“Plus, I thought we told each other everything,” Sasha harrumphs.

Marc shrugs, and his brown eyes meet mine. “I promised Ashlee I’d keep her secret,” he says simply.
His cheeks turn a little red, and I smile at him, blushing, too.

“Actually,” I say, biting my lip. “I came here in part hoping we could talk more about the attacks. I don’t have any new leads, but I’m worried something else is going to happen soon.” I look uncertainly from Marc to his mother.

Mrs. Hirsh glances at her watch. “Unfortunately, Dad and I have dinner at Steven Spielberg’s tonight,” she says, in the same way someone might say they had to pick up groceries. “But, Ashlee,” she adds, “feel free to stay as long as you like. Marc can fill me in later on what you discuss.” She shoots Marc a stern
won’t-you?
look, and he nods.

“You guys go on upstairs,” Mr. Hirsh says. “Mom and I have to get ready, and George Clooney will be here any minute to pick us up.”

Maybe you can get used to being a vampire, but how do you ever get used to hearing
that?

Ten minutes later, Marc, Sasha, and I are ensconced in Sasha’s bedroom. It’s as crazily decorated as I would imagine: leopard-print rug, multicolored scarves instead of curtains, and posters of indie
bands I’ve never heard of on the walls. Marc is sitting in Sasha’s neon orange desk chair, looking on her computer, and I’m sitting cross-legged on her bed, sipping a Sanga! that Marc brought up from the kitchen. Sasha has just emerged from her private bathroom in Vera’s green gown.

She looks amazing. The dress fits perfectly now and the color makes her skin tone glow. I want to tell her as much, but she’s clearly focused on other matters. She plops down beside me on the bed (I cringe, hoping she won’t wrinkle the skirt) and says firmly, “All right, you guys. Tell me
everything.”

I’m still not quite able to believe that Sasha knows my secret now. That her whole family does. But it also feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from my chest.

“I’ve told you from the get-go, sis,” Marc says, reaching for his own Sanga! “I think there’s a Dark One in our school who’s behind the attacks.”

“Same here,” I say, “I read in the Vampire’s Handbook” — I look pointedly at Marc when I say this — “that Dark Ones only attack people who happen to cross their path when they’re hungry. So it doesn’t make sense that someone from the outside would come into our school just to find fresh blood.”

“So who have you suspected so far?” Sasha asks
me, and grins wickedly. “I mean, besides my bloodthirsty brother.”

I chuckle, relieved that Sasha’s no longer sullen. “Nurse Murray was at the top of my list,” I confess, “since she’s new to the school and was the one to find Mr. Bernal.”

Sasha gives me a thoughtful look. “Sounds like the same reason Carmen and Wendy gave for blaming
you
for what happened to Paige,” she says gently.

“I know.” I shift uncomfortably on the bed. “But I don’t think Nurse Murray’s guilty anymore. She wasn’t even in school the day Paige was attacked.”

“We can’t discount anyone, though,” Marc points out. “I’ve considered Nurse Murray, too. I’ve even wondered about Ms. Anderson.”

“Hang on. That’s not a bad idea!” I say excitedly. I can sort of picture our principal, with her ramrod-straight posture and neat gray bob, bat-shifting. “Remember how snippy and bossy she was when Mr. Bernal was discovered?” I add. “She seemed very eager to ship him off to the hospital.”

“Uh-huh,” Marc says, clicking away on his computer. “She could have been the one to recommend sending Paige to the hospital, too. Just to hush up the victims.”

“But why do you assume it’s an adult?” Sasha asks. “It could be any student over age twelve.” She looks at me, shrugging. “After all, I had no clue
you
were a vampire until today. Someone else could be hiding in plain sight.”

“Exactly,” I say my thoughts whirring. “The possibilities are endless. But I think that if anyone can crack this case, it’s us.” I look from Sasha to Marc, knowing it to be true. There’s an energy in the room, a sense that the three of us work well together.

“Here’s what I don’t get, though,” Sasha says, tucking her legs up under her (I cringe again — the dress!). “Obviously,
we’ve
all thought of it, but why has no one else made the connection between these attacks and vampires?”

“They’re getting there,” Marc says, his eyes glued to the computer. “Come here and look at this article in the
Santa Monica Daily Press,”
he adds, motioning for us to join him. We do, leaning over to see the screen.

“Whoa,” Marc says, sitting back against the chair. “I wonder if anyone from school has seen this. Do you think they’ll try to call off the play?”

“I hope not,” I say, my stomach churning. “Plays and movies and books shouldn’t be blamed just because these Dark vampires are determined to do evil things.”

“That could be it, though,” Sasha says, tapping her bottom lip. “The
play.”

“What do you mean?” Marc and I ask at the same time, then grin at each other before facing Sasha again.

“I think someone who’s involved in the play must have been the one to attack Paige,” Sasha explains, beginning to pace back and forth. “After all, Ashlee, you just said that Dark Ones only attack whoever’s right in front of them. So someone must have already been backstage when Paige got there on Tuesday. Then, after biting her, they bolted.”

“You’re right,” I say, cold dread filling my belly. My mind races through the cast and crew, and then pauses on the impossible. “Do you think it could be — Carmen? Or Wendy? Maybe Carmen was acting so upset as a cover-up. Or maybe Wendy was blaming me to get the attention off herself.” I think back to the initiation ceremony in New York. Just as I hadn’t noticed Marc, I could have just as easily overlooked one of those girls.

“Well, they certainly are evil,” Sasha mutters, and I decide not to argue with her. Now’s not the time. “But if they were vampires, Marc would have recognized them at the initiation ceremony, right?” she adds, echoing my thoughts.

Marc shrugs. “It was so dark in that room, and I was freaked out.” I nod at him, remembering that night. “Someone from our school
could
have been there,” he reasons.

Sasha bites her lip, looking hesitantly at her brother. “So maybe it’s someone we’d never imagine. Like …” She drops her voice to a whisper. “Gordon.”

“No way.” Marc shakes his head emphatically. “Gordon would
not
be slick enough to hide the fact that he’s a vampire, let alone a Dark One.” He pauses. “How about James Okada? He’s friends with Paige’s crowd, but he obviously isn’t too bummed that Paige isn’t playing Vera anymore. Maybe he even
wanted
her out of the show?”