Crave (14 page)

“Trust me, Savannah. What I said about the council is the
truth. It is better that you do not dance, or play any sports, either. One day you will thank me.”

Distracted, I frowned at the ceiling, seeing the man's face again. His eyes…hadn't they been that same weird shade of silver like both Dad's and my eyes turned? “You make the council sound all-powerful or something.”

“They are powerful. Extremely so.”

A horrible, crazy idea formed, and the words slipped out before I could reconsider asking. “Powerful enough to send someone to talk to a few judges at a dance audition?” I expected him to laugh and tell me how ridiculous that was.

Instead, the silence stretched on and on.

I sat up with a jerk, nauseous, my head swimming. Oh, no. No way was I
that
important to a bunch of immortal vampires I'd never even met, no matter what I might or might not be turning into. I'd assumed the man was there to convince the judges to let someone on the team. Not to keep someone off it.

“You told me once that you'd never lie to me, Dad. So tell me the truth now. Your council wouldn't do something like that, would they?”

He didn't reply.

“Dad?” I gripped the phone tighter, making the plastic creak in protest. “Did they?”

“I did warn you that they would step in if you forced them to.”

Fury raced through me, quick and hot. “I can't believe this! You didn't even
try
to tell them that I could control myself, did you? Why didn't you tell them that I would be careful, that I could learn to blend in?”

“The council are very cautious, Savannah. They do not like any threats to the secrecy of our world, and they are not tolerant of risk. There was nothing I could say to convince them
that you might learn to control your abilities well enough to blend in with the humans on a dance team.”

I took a deep breath and tried to rein in my anger. But I couldn't remove the edge from my voice. “Did you even try to convince them?”

“You must understand, my reports are not in verbal form. They simply read my mind. Sometimes they allow me to verbally add information to help interpret those images and memories. But they feel that what they read from others' minds is the purest, most objective and truthful form of reporting possible. They saw how your dancing stood out from your classmates' at the recital, and the risk was high enough that they made their decision. You are not to dance either with your school dance team, on any other dance team or at any dance studio.”

I gritted my teeth. “And if I keep taking dance classes at Miss Catherine's anyways?”

Silence filled the phone for a minute that seemed to stretch into thirty before he replied. “That would be very unwise. Both for your own safety, as well as your family's.”

My mouth fell open. “Are you saying…”

“I am saying that they are determined. That nothing is allowed to risk the exposure of our world. And that they will do anything—and I do mean anything—that is necessary to protect the secrecy of that world.”

Holy crap. They would actually threaten my entire family. Just to keep me from dancing. This went way beyond paranoia.

“So may I please have your promise that you will abstain from any further extracurricular physical activities?”

“Uhh…” Shock made my thoughts fuzzy. “I have to finish out the year in pre-drill class. It counts for my P.E. credit.”

“And school ends in two weeks?”

I managed a grunt of agreement.

“Does this pre-drill class require any additional public performances?”

I shook my head then realized he couldn't see it. “No.”

“That should be permissible, then. They only want to avoid public displays of your growing abilities. However, you must try very hard to hide your talents even in class before your peers. We do not want them to begin to question you, either.”

Unbelievable. This was ridiculous.

Another silence filled the phone before Dad sighed. “Savannah…I still have not heard you promise me that you will stop dancing after school ends.”

Shock gave way to fury again. This man on the phone with me wasn't my father; he was just a spy for the council sent to do their bidding, calling for updates on how I was changing. He didn't care about me. Why should I care about him or help him do his job?

And yet, I couldn't endanger my real family, either.

Grinding my back teeth, I took a deep breath then let it out. “Fine. Yes, Michael, I promise, no more dancing. Or anything else that involves public displays of my
abilities.
Will that make your council happy?”

“Yes. I believe it will. But since when did you start calling me by my first name?”

“When you stopped being my dad. Then again, you never really were, were you? So tell your council that I'll obey their rules. But if they want reports on how I'm doing, they'll have to settle for getting them from Nanna or Mom. Because I don't want to talk to you anymore.”

I hung up the phone, my whole body shaking. And then I burst into tears.

A few minutes later, Mom called on her way home from a
meeting with a customer. “Did you just tell your father that you refuse to speak to him ever again?”

“Yes.”

“Hon, I know you're upset about giving up dancing for the council, but—”

“No, not for the council, Mom. For you and Nanna. They threatened you guys, and he passed on the message for them! A real dad would never do that. He's not my father anymore. He's just some guy who helped create me, then spent the last fifteen years spying on me.”

“That's not true. We don't know exactly what's going on with the council. We have to trust that your father is trying to do what's best for you and our family.”

I seriously doubted that. “Fine, whatever. But that doesn't mean I have to talk to him.”

She sighed. “You can't just cut your father out of your life—”

“Watch me.”

“The council—”

“I'm giving up everything I wanted because of that council! And from now on, that's
all
they're getting from me.”

Silence filled the phone. “Fine. I'll start passing on the updates to him while you cool off.”

But I didn't think I would be getting over this anytime soon. He'd hurt me way too many times, and I just couldn't take it anymore. Cutting him out of my life today hurt. But it was also freeing, like throwing off a heavy backpack I'd carried around for way too long.

I went out to the backyard to dance in the dark where no one but the moon and stars could see me. It might have been childish, but it was either dance or sit in my bedroom and scream. At least the council couldn't stop me from doing
this.

Slowly, I spun in a circle and stared up at the stars. But even
that couldn't distract me from the two thoughts that kept echoing through my mind…

I'd just agreed to no more dancing. Ever.

How would I ever fit in at JHS now?

Savannah

The following Tuesday, I found the answer. Mrs. Daniels had posted a notice on the dance-room doors inviting all pre-drill girls who hadn't made the dance team to apply for Charmers team manager. The applications were due Friday, and the new managers would be announced the following Monday. A quick glance through her open office door showed a stack of applications on the corner of her desk, just waiting for anyone to pick one up.

I was actually tempted.

On the one hand, becoming a Charmers manager would be totally masochistic. I'd have to watch the dancers practice every day while I stood around on the sidelines fetching stuff.

But on the other hand…what else did I have to do? I couldn't dance anymore. I'd promised not to do any other sports, either. I wasn't into art, chess, debate or the school yearbook. At least if I became a Charmers manager, I could be around dancing on a daily basis, if not directly participating
in it. Which should keep the vamp council off my back, too, since I would technically be keeping my promise to them.

And at least I'd have something to do with all my extra time next year.

Before I could change my mind, I grabbed an application packet.

 

That afternoon, I rode home with Nanna in silence, the Charmers manager application burning a hole in my backpack. After supper while Nanna was gardening in the backyard, I found myself wandering through the house lost in thought about it.

Tiny prickles of sensation spread over my arms, as if I were at school and Tristan was around. Weird. Frowning, I went to the patio door to tell Nanna about it, then stopped.

She'd turned the gardening tools into a magically automated army of helpers.

It was past sunset out there, but moonlight flooded the huge garden that took up most of the backyard, giving me plenty of light, enough to see a small basket and a pair of garden clippers floating just above the plants nearest the house, the clippers darting here and there to snip off herbs that then drifted into the basket. Even in the moonlight, the clippers's neon-orange handles contrasted sharply with the surrounding greenery. Nanna had painted them herself so she wouldn't lose them in the yard. A Martha Stewart tip. Nanna was crazy about Martha.

Somehow, I doubted Martha had ever considered using magic to automate
her
tools while gathering herbs under the full moon, though.

Nanna was several yards away, kneeling on a cushion while she took more clippings. To her right, a shovel stabbed at some weeds near the fence that had turned into small bushes.

And she didn't even seem to need to look at her tools in order to magically tell them what to do. I'd always wondered how she had managed such a huge garden all year long by herself.

I slid open the patio door. Nanna glanced over her shoulder at me. “Oh! Hi, sweetie.” She waved a hand, and all the tools fell to the ground lifeless.

“Aw, you don't have to stop them for me. That was really cool, Nanna! I didn't know you could do all that! How do you keep them going without even looking?”

Smiling, she resumed cutting some herbs in front of her. “Trade secrets, dear. I wish I could tell you, but…”

I sighed. “Clann rules.”

She nodded.

“Well, you could at least keep going. I mean, you don't have to tell me how or anything. Just watching them was fun.” And it was. For a minute there, I'd felt just like a little kid again, wanting to giggle and clap.

Her smile turned apologetic. “No, I'd better not. Wouldn't want any descendants to get suspicious and wonder whether I'm keeping my promise. Besides, it just seems rude to do magic in front of you when you're not allowed to use it, too.”

Stupid rules.

“You've been awfully quiet today,” she said as she continued to work.

“Mmm.” Which reminded me about the Charmers manager application. And the promises I'd made to my father and the vampire council. Should I even bother asking Nanna for permission to apply? Or would she tell me it was against the vampire council rules just because it was related to dancing?

“Why don't you grab those clippers and help me gather herbs?”

I picked up the now lifeless clippers and basket and brought
them closer to Nanna so we could still talk easily. I took a few cuttings, but kept getting distracted by the view around me. I should come out here at night more often. It was really nice. The air was clean with a hint of dew in it. It felt good to breathe it in, like it was cleaning out my lungs. And hopefully my head.

“Taking cuttings always clears my mind,” she murmured. “Quick, name the plants you see.”

It was an old game she'd taught me ages ago, and it still made me smile. “Lemon verbena. Chamomile. Basil. Wolfs-bane.” I slowly spun in a circle, pointing out every plant I could see in the moonlight around us.

Smiling, she nodded her head in approval, every bit as regal as a queen. “Now…back to what's eating you today. Want to talk about it?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. But don't get mad or anything, okay?”

She gave me a sharp look. “Okay, spit it out.”

“Well, the Charmers are taking applications this week for managers. They're going to pick them this weekend then announce their picks next week.”

“And you want to apply.”

This was where it got tricky. “I…don't know.”

She laughed quietly. “What don't you know about it? Are you unsure you want to do the job, or are you unsure you'd be allowed to do the job?”

“Uh, both?”

Smiling, she sat back on her heels. “Do the managers dance?”

“No. Well, I think sometimes they might get the chance to fill in as alternate dancers. But obviously I'd have to tell the director no if she asked me to.”

Nanna nodded. “And the rest of the job…what would you be doing?”

“Helping the team at fundraisers, practices and performances. Probably a lot of fetching stuff, cleaning up the costume and prop closets. Putting out good-luck notes for the football and basketball players' lockers on game days. Stuff like that.”

“And every day you'd watch them dancing?”

I nodded.

“Would that make you happy?”

I chewed my lower lip for a few seconds, then sighed. “Yes and no. It's as close as I could get to it, at least. And I wouldn't be breaking any rules, right?”

She nodded, tying a clump of plants together before tossing them into the basket.

“And…I guess I'd sort of be a part of the Charmers team.”

Nanna didn't say anything for a long time as she gathered more herbs. Finally she sighed. “This situation your parents put you in…I always knew it would come to something like this, that it would be hard on you, and unfair.”

Her words made my throat tighten. I swallowed hard to try and loosen it.

“I think if you can be okay with the not-dancing-yourself part, then you might like being a manager for the dance team. It'd give you something to do, like a hobby. Maybe it would open up other options for you, too.”

“Like what?” I scowled down at the clippers in my hand, testing their spring-loaded squeeze action.

“Like becoming a dance-team director or choreographer someday. If dancing is still your thing then, of course. There are ways to be a part of the dancing world without personally dancing. There are always ways to deal with the rules life gives you. Just because you can't have one thing in life doesn't mean you have to give it all up.”

I looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

She raised her hands. “I'm just saying, is all.”

“So you think I should do it?”

Slowly she rose to her feet, her knees cracking and popping. I knew from repeated experience that she'd only get annoyed if I offered to help her up. Stubborn Evans women. “I'm saying you've got my permission if you want to apply. It's up to you as to whether you go for it or not.”

“Gee, thanks for the help in deciding.” I shot her a wry grin as we headed for the house.

“And thank you for all the help with the herbs back there.” With an equally wry grin of her own, she nodded at the still mostly empty basket hanging from my forearm.

I laughed. “Sorry. I was too busy thinking.”

At the door, she patted my shoulder. “If you do decide to apply and need help with the application, let me know.”

“Thanks, Nanna.”

She opened the patio door, and we went inside. After we put away the cutting tools on a shelf near the door, she took the baskets of clippings and set to work hanging them to dry over the kitchen sink. I helped her tie my loose clippings into bunches with bits of green and blue yarn she had left over from old crochet projects. Then we got to the last bunch.

With a naughty grin that gave glimpses of the mischievous young girl she probably was once upon a time, Nanna waved a finger as if it were a magic wand, and the cuttings drifted to the window and tied themselves into place.

Who knew my grandma was so
cool?

Grinning, I went to my room, flopped on my bed and pictured again the seemingly effortless way she had used magic right there in front of me, like it was as easy as breathing for her. There was no telling what else she could do, too. Did she use magic to make tea or cook or crochet when I wasn't around? She could definitely get a lot more done and faster
that way. It had to be frustrating, or at the very least boring, for her to resist using it even when I could see.

If I could do magic, I'd do it all the time…to finish my homework, to help untangle and style my hair.

Maybe on the Brat Twins and Dylan, too.

Which of course was why I wasn't allowed to do magic.

Stupid rules.

But Nanna said the rules didn't have to stop me from doing everything. Like being a Charmers manager. The Clann and the vamps never said I couldn't do that. And the Clann kids seemed to prefer to rule the cheerleading squads instead of dancing, because not a single descendant was a Charmer. Maybe it was easier for them to get away with using magic in cheerleading without being so obvious?

Then again, from what little I'd seen and heard about the Charmers director, Mrs. Daniels, maybe the real reason no descendants ever made the team was because she wouldn't let them. She seemed like the type of person who wanted total control over her team. And everyone knew how the descendants' parents had a habit of taking over everything their kids were involved in.

Whatever the reason, the Charmers was a Clann-free zone. And that was reason enough for me to want to be a part of it in any way I could.
If
I could handle watching others dance without feeling miserable all the time.

After a few minutes of lying on the bed feeling restless, I gave in to the urge, dug the application out of my backpack and read over it. And felt my jaw drop.

I'd expected one of those simple forms that asked the usual boring questions about me…name, address, phone number, my hobbies and interests, maybe job skills or a short essay or two.

What I found was something way different. And challenging in an intriguing kind of way.

The packet was six pages long and filled with things like, “Suggest a good-luck game-day note for the volleyball teams,” “Create a costume design using a long-sleeve unitard for the base, and only adding costume parts that can be quickly taken off or put on in between dance routines” and “Suggest a Charmers Spring Show theme, then design coordinating stage decoration.”

I had plenty of ideas for the application. But I had only four days to get it all on paper in some kind of way that wouldn't look like a kindergartner did it.

I came back to the kitchen, where Nanna was busy prepping some of the freshly cut herbs for use in her various teas. I held up the application and winced. “Uh, you know how you offered to help?”

 

Nanna was true to her word. With her help, I managed to finish my application notebook just in time for Friday's deadline. But it was close, with a few late nights thrown in at the end to make sure I got it done in time. And I was pretty sure I'd never get out the glue and glitter from under my fingernails.

Mrs. Daniels had said in the packet's directions that she was looking for creativity. Well, she'd gotten it. I'd done every thing possible to demonstrate my creativity in that notebook, from shaping it like the Charmers knee-high white boots to using glitter paint and including paper dolls complete with changeable costume designs. The paper dolls were Mom's idea; hopefully the director would think they were creative instead of childish or crazy.

My name and pre-drill class number were on the cover, so
I felt safe leaving the completed notebook on the director's desk after school on Friday.

Then all I could do was wait until Monday's pre-drill class.

Where I found a list of three names posted on the dance-room door under the heading Next Year's Charmers Managers. Two girls' names I didn't recognize topped the list.

And my name was at the bottom.

I should have been excited. After all, Nanna's and my hard work on the application notebook had won me a spot on the Charmers team, one that the vampire council shouldn't have a problem with. And being a Charmers manager might even turn out to be fun.

But in that moment, I didn't feel much of anything. I'd become a Charmers manager. Right now, all that meant was that I'd have something to do with my free time next year.

 

The weekend after school ended, I met the other two Charmers managers for the first time at the sophomore Charmers summer kick-off party. All thirteen new Charmers plus the managers had crowded into a small, two-story lake house owned by Bethany Brookes's parents on Lake Jacksonville.

I had only been to parties with my best friends and had no clue how to make small talk with strangers. But after introducing themselves, the other two managers, Keisha and Vicki, seemed as uncomfortable to be there as I was. Somehow, that made me feel a little less out of place.