At First Bite (12 page)

“But you did,” Marc speaks up, his eyes fiery. “You attacked Paige, didn’t you? And Mr. Bernal, too.”

Mr. Harker nods, looking close to tears. I can’t tell if he’s truly remorseful or just a very good actor. “As well as the young surfer on the beach,” he mumbles. “My hunger was too great.”

“Sorry to hear that,” snaps another Council member, a brunette woman about my mom’s age who looks capable of knocking Mr. Harker out cold. “You can tell us more about your actions, and those of your friends, when we leave here.” She steps forward menacingly.

“How are we going to do this?” Arabella asks Mrs. Hirsh. “People will notice the director being escorted out in the middle of the play.”

She’s right. Especially since the ball scene has ended, and cast members are starting to crowd into the wings. They don’t see what’s going on down the hallway right now, but they might soon.

Wait.

The ball scene has ended. Suddenly, I realize what part of the play we’re up to — the bat puppets are supposed to fly out onstage.

I glance up at the control booth. Wendy is otherwise occupied, so she’ll have no idea that we won’t use the prop bats.

Quickly, I whisper my plan to everyone.

“Excellent idea,” Mrs. Hirsh whispers. “Marc, you’ll have to join us,” she adds. “We’ll need backup. Ashlee, you stay here.”

Then they all start bat-shifting, one by one: Arabella, the bearded guy, the brunette woman, Beau, and Mrs. Hirsh. Then Marc — I’m impressed by how well he does it. Mr. Harker shifts as well — he has no choice — but this time he looks defeated, not vicious.

Listening to the play, I give the signal, and they all fly forward. I race after them, watching from the stage-left wings as they swoop out onto the stage in a big black mass. Sasha really does look like she wants to faint, so it’s probably easy for her to scream and swoon backward. The audience bursts into applause, no doubt impressed by how realistic the bats look.

But the audience doesn’t seem to notice how one of the bats is hemmed in — sandwiched between the two biggest and burliest bats. They also don’t seem to mind that the bats soar over their heads and out
of the auditorium. I know that they will then fly out into the night. I also know, from what Mrs. Hirsh told us yesterday, that they will bring Mr. Harker to the Vampire Disciplinary Committee, where he will be dealt with properly.

I let out a big breath. I back out of the wings and run into James and Carmen. They’re asking me where Mr. Harker is and exclaiming over how great the bats looked, but I’m too exhausted to answer. I know I should be manning the costume room, but for a minute, I need a little break.

So when no one’s looking, I hurry down the narrow hallway, past the mannequin, and into the prop closet. I shut the door and look around. There, hidden behind some wooden stools and the bag of bat puppets, is Marc’s Sanga! cooler. I open it, grab a frosty container, and take a long, relieved sip.

I think I’ve earned it.

When the play is over, the audience gives the cast a standing ovation. As I watch from the wings, I feel like they’re cheering for me, Sasha, Marc, and all the vampires who came to the rescue.

But I can’t relax completely: Marc hasn’t returned yet, and I hope everything went okay.

The audience is still whistling and clapping when Ms. Anderson joins the cast onstage.

“I’m not sure where the esteemed director, Mr. Harker, is,” she says, glancing into the wings, “but I’d like to thank him, and the wonderful cast and crew, for a stellar performance. I suppose vampires can be fun after all!” I smile wryly as more cheers erupt from the crowd. “I’d also like to invite everyone to
the cafeteria for some celebratory cookies and punch,” Ms. Anderson adds.

The cast streams into the wings, beaming, hugging, and congratulating each other. I immediately run up to Sasha and give her a huge hug.

“We did it, right?” she whispers, hugging me back. “It looked like the bats were carting him off.”

I nod, frowning. “But I’m worried,” I whisper. “Wouldn’t Marc come back here? Or your mom? Do you think something went wrong?”

Sasha shakes her head. “They’ll be at the party,” she says confidently. “Marc wouldn’t miss an opportunity for cookies. Come on,” she adds, hiking up her long green skirt. “I even know a shortcut.”

It must be Sasha’s twin intuition at work; when we arrive in the cafeteria, Marc and Mrs. Hirsh are standing by the cookie table, talking. They look totally calm, as if it’s been any ordinary Friday night.

When they spot us, Mrs. Hirsh and Marc wrap Sasha in a three-person hug. Mrs. Hirsh embraces me as well, and Marc, looking embarrassed, gives me a fast fist bump.

“I’m so sorry I was late bringing the Council members backstage,” he says. “The door to the auditorium was jammed and it took forever to get it open.”

“It worked out fine,” I tell him truthfully. After all, if the others hadn’t been late, I wouldn’t have had a chance to bat-shift successfully!

“I’m so glad you girls are okay!” Mrs. Hirsh cries. Luckily, the cafeteria’s still empty so nobody thinks it’s strange that she’s saying this.

“Did everything go well on your end?” I ask.

Mrs. Hirsh nods grimly. “We delivered Mr. Harker to the Disciplinary Committee without incident. As soon as he got there, he started blabbing about the other Dark Ones in Los Angeles. Apparently, a group of them moved here from Arizona and recruited Mr. Harker back in October.”

“Right around the time the play was being cast,” Marc puts in.

“Yes,” Mrs. Hirsh says. “You three were right — he didn’t want to attack humans at first, but he kept getting sick. It’s the curse of the Dark Ones. His buddies, as we suspected, were to blame for the attacks elsewhere in the region. But now that they’ve been identified, the Disciplinary Committee will nab them, too.”

“So, what about Mr. Harker?” Sasha asks, looking a little sad. “I guess he’s never coming back to school, right? I mean, I know he tried to drink
my blood, but he was a good teacher, and a good director.”

Marc rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. He was totally pretentious.”

“We had Mr. Harker sign a statement,” Mrs. Hirsh explains, “that he brought a pet bat into the school, and this bat was responsible for the attacks. It’s the only way to explain the attacks to the school administration, and also to ensure that he is fired.” She rubs Sasha’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetie. He may have been a good teacher, but if he was so easily swayed by the Dark Ones, I don’t think he was a good person, deep down.”

I remember when Arabella said I could never be a Dark One, because I was, as she put it, a “softy.” I may not be a softy, but I think I’m starting to understand what she meant. As a vampire, I can use my powers for good, not evil.

I did that tonight, after all.

Then, as if I’ve conjured her with my thoughts, Arabella pops up beside me. I throw my arms around her, breathing in her crisp floral scent.

“I can’t believe you came to LA,” I say, pulling back to stare at her.

“Of
course
I came,” Arabella says, patting my cheek with her be-ringed hand. “Ash, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t getting back to you. I was out of town. When I saw your e-mail from last night, I immediately got in touch with the Council here.” She nods to Mrs. Hirsh. “They already were aware of the situation, but I knew I had to fly out to see you. Beau decided to come, too.”

She blows a kiss to Beau, who is standing at the punch table.

“I’m so glad,” I tell her, feeling a lump form in my throat.

“And I’m so
proud,”
Arabella tells me, her eyes shining. “Ashlee, I saw what you did. As we were all coming backstage, I saw you bat-shift! You were spectacular.”

“I — I was?” I ask, my face getting warm.

Arabella nods. “I told you that you could do it,” she says, giving me a wise look. “You guys were amazing, too,” she tells Sasha and Marc, who beam.

More people are crowding into the cafeteria, and I glance over my shoulder to see who’s here. When I spot a certain someone, I feel a bolt of surprise. I excuse myself, then make my way through the throng.

“Mom?” I say when I reach her. She turns to me, her face lighting up. “You weren’t sure you’d have time to come!” I exclaim as she kisses my cheek. It’s almost as crazy to see her here as it was to see Arabella.

“I decided to make the time,” Mom replies. “Filming can wait for a night. Honey,” she adds, taking my hand, “I know I told you to try to get onstage, but I think you’re cut out for fashion design. The costumes you chose were amazing.
Perfect.”

I soak up her praise, but then I think about the word
perfect.
My mom likes everything to be perfect, and I thought I did, too. But nothing is ever
really
perfect. Take me, Ashlee Samantha Lambert: At first glance, I appear to be a put-together twelve-year-old girl. And, in some ways, I am. But I’m also a vampire who’s still figuring lots of stuff out. I’m far from perfect. And maybe that’s okay.

“Look who else made it,” Mom says, waving. I turn and see Dylan loping over, with the beautiful high school girl at his side.

“Hey, Ash,” Dylan greets me sheepishly, his mouth full of cookies. “This is, um, Diana Chen. My … g-girlfriend,” he chokes, his face the color of my legendary sunburn.

Girlfriend?
He must be joking. I look at Mom, who is smiling approvingly. Then I gape at Diana, expecting her to burst out laughing or throw up.

Instead, she shakes my hand, saying, “Great to meet you, Ashlee. You did an awesome job with the costumes!”

“Yeah, sis,” Dylan says clumsily, clapping me on the shoulder. “Well played.”

“Thanks, bro.” I laugh in surprise. I realize Dylan and I are breaking my golden rule by interacting this way — and then I realize I don’t care. It’s nice to be standing here with my family, like Sasha and Marc are doing across the room. I’m not yet ready to tell Mom or Dylan the truth about myself, but maybe in time I will be. It’s something to consider, at least.

“Oh my God!” a voice cries out. “You’re Judge Julia! From
Justice with Judge Julia
!”

I don’t even have to look to know that it’s Nurse Murray. She’s standing behind me, gawking at Mom.

“Oh, that’s right,” I say, remembering my deal with the nurse. “Mom, this is Nurse Murray. She’d love your autograph.”

“Of course!” Mom says, glowing. She reaches into her purse for a pen and paper. “I’m thrilled to oblige.” It’s obvious she’s loving her moment of celebrity.

“Thank you, Ashlee,” Nurse Murray says, wide-eyed, and I can’t believe I ever suspected her of anything. “You know,” she tells Mom, “I just auditioned for a reality show myself….”

They start chatting, and I glance across the room. Arabella, Beau, and Mrs. Hirsh are talking by the cookie table. Marc and Gordon are standing off to the side, and it looks like Marc is assuring Gordon that no, he’s not deathly ill. I also see that Mr. Hirsh has arrived, presenting Sasha with a big bouquet of flowers. There’s a literal line of people snaking toward him, waiting for
his
autograph (Principal Anderson, of all people, is at the head of it).

Sasha sees me watching and trots over, holding her bouquet. I meet her halfway.

“I overheard Ms. Anderson saying that she wants to take a cast and crew photo,” Sasha murmurs. “Obviously, you and Marc will have to avoid that.”

“Well, are the rest of the cast and crew even here?” I ask, craning my neck to survey the cafeteria. “I see Gordon, but what about Wendy and —”

“Did I hear my name?”

A grinning Wendy has appeared at my side. She’s standing with Carmen and …

Paige.

Aside from the white bandage on her neck, Paige looks like her old self: perfectly made-up and dressed in a trendy outfit. I’m relieved to see her, but it’s funny — I don’t feel that old intimidation.

“Are you all recovered?” I ask her.

“Mostly. I’m a very fast healer,” she replies haughtily. “I still have no idea what happened. But Ms. Anderson just said that Mr. Harker’s pet bat probably bit me?”

“That’s awful,” I say, studiously avoiding looking at Sasha.

“I think they’re going to fire him,” Carmen says. “But then who’ll direct the play?”

“Maybe Nurse Murray,” I offer. “She’s really into drama.”

Paige runs her eyes over Sasha. “You were … good,” she tells her reluctantly. “Really good.” She pauses, smoothing out her lip gloss with her pinkie. “My doctor says I should take it easy for the next couple weeks, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to play Vera at all. But if anyone had to fill in for me, well, you’re not a bad second choice.”

“Gee thanks, Paige,” Sasha says. She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

Now that Paige has set the tone, Carmen and Wendy clearly feel safe to speak up as well.

“Yeah, you were great, Sasha,” Wendy says, looking impressed. “Apparently, some agents in the audience were even talking about you. And I didn’t know your dad was Ben Hirsh!”

Sasha shrugs. “I don’t advertise it.”

“It makes sense that you’re such a good actress, then!” Carmen pipes up. “BTW, I loved how you did the fainting scene — oh, um.” She glances guiltily at Paige.

But Paige isn’t paying attention to Carmen. Now she’s studying me. “You know, Ashlee,” she says, “at first I wasn’t wild about your costume picks, but they looked pretty cool onstage. Almost like a fashion show.” Carmen and Wendy nod emphatically, like puppets. “Maybe I misjudged you,” Paige adds, putting special emphasis on each word.

My heart flips over. Paige smiles at me, and I get what she’s saying. That she was wrong to write me off. That I’m really just like her and her friends.

Only …

Am I?

“Actually,” Paige goes on, still smiling at me. “Carmen is hosting an after-after-party at her house
tonight. Very small and exclusive. Would you want to come?” She shoots a glance at Sasha. “You, too,” she adds as an afterthought.

“Please, Ash!” Carmen says, as if she’s been calling me
Ash
all this time.

“You can’t miss it,” Wendy puts in. “It’ll be the party of the year.” She sounds like Eve.

I feel a burst of victory.
It happened!
It happened exactly as I’d wanted it to. Finally, after all my hard work, I’m being offered a slot in the popular crowd.

I look from Paige to Carmen to Wendy. This is my chance. These girls could be my new best friends. I could be where I belong.

But in my gut, I’m not sure I
do
belong in their crowd. After everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours — after everything I’ve been through with Sasha and Marc — something has changed.

I glance at Sasha, and I realize that she’s been a better friend to me than Paige could probably ever be. Sasha has been nothing but kind to me, while Paige and her group have pretty much been nothing but mean. Until now. But there’s no guarantee their sweetness will last. I know that well enough from my friends back home.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can make it tonight,” I tell Paige, and her mouth falls open in shock. This must be the first time anyone has ever turned her down. “I’m pretty beat, so I’d rather do something low-key.” I glance at Sasha. “Maybe we could get In-N-Out burgers and fries and go back to your house?”

Sasha grins at me. “Sounds fab.”

“Fine,” Paige sniffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Your loss. See you around, Ashlee. Sasha.” She nods curtly at us, then marches off, Carmen and Wendy trailing after her.

“What happened to you?” Sasha asks me. “I thought you’d be all over that party.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you misjudged me,” I reply, echoing Paige.

Sasha throws her head back and laughs. I start laughing, too. Something about Sasha’s attitude — her loudness, even her wild clothes — is freeing and fun.

Right then, Marc comes up to us, his eyes sparkling.

“Rumor has it that Ms. Anderson is about to take a cast and crew photo,” he says. He nods toward the cookie table, where the cast members have started grouping together.

“I’m way ahead of you,” Sasha says, elbowing Marc in the ribs. “I told Ashlee that you guys need to hide out or something.”

“Let’s chill by the punch table,” Marc suggests. “They won’t miss us. Meanwhile, you go get ‘em, superstar,” he tells Sasha, giving her a gentle shove.

She sticks her tongue out at him but scurries off.

“Good plan,” I tell Marc, skirting behind a wall of people so that we’re more or less out of sight. I pour us each a glass of cranberry juice. It’s not Sanga!, but it’ll do.

“Hey, you’re the one with the good plans,” he replies, accepting the cup from me. “Seriously, Ashlee,” he says, his brown eyes sincere. “I think it’s awesome how you figured out that Mr. Harker was the Dark One. Not to mention how you came up with that idea to trap him. You’re really smart, you know?”

“Oh … um, thanks,” I say, glancing down and blushing furiously.

Back in New York, a couple boys had told me I was pretty, but no one had ever said I was smart. Which means a whole lot more. And the fact that Marc is the one to say it now makes my whole chest expand and contract. Kind of like my heart is bursting.