Deadly Offer (4 page)

If that were me, thought Althea, I’d blush scarlet. But Celeste is just shuffling on.

Then Althea herself went white as paste.

Celeste was not blushing. How could she?

To blush, you needed blood.

Becky laughed with intense excitement, as if she and Althea were going on a grand expedition, instead of just to McDonald’s. Twisting and turning, Becky told every giddy detail of her day. Her black hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail, and with every syllable, every move, seemingly every thought, both Becky and her ponytail bounced.

Althea tried to concentrate on what Becky was saying, to realize that she was going to McDonald’s with the crowd, but she kept seeing Celeste’s shoe inching toward the edge of the last step, trying to find bottom.

“Lighten up!” Becky commanded her.

As if it were orders from a general, Althea obeyed.

It was only two miles to McDonald’s, and yet, by the time they were in the parking lot, Althea was younger, happier, and noisier. She, too, bounced out of the car. She, too, jumped up and down clapping as Ryan drove in to join them.

Ryan had been joined by a boy named Scottie, whom Althea hardly knew. It was a treat to see these two muscular young men get out of Ryan’s car. First, Scottie dove over the seat back, landing like a beached whale half on the floor and half on the seat. Then, lumbering to his knees, head thrust forward, he opened the right rear door. This door, too, had its problems. Scottie emerged very carefully.

“Hey!” shouted Ryan, diving over after Scottie. “Don’t close that door on my face.”

“Oh,” said Scottie. “Well, I guess I could wait another second or two. But I’m a fast-track kind of guy. I don’t like to hang around, Ryan.”

Ryan slid out. First, one long jeans-wrapped leg. Then an arm, a broad chest, a dark and handsome head of hair, and finally the other leg.

Althea had intended to daydream about Michael, but now she found her thoughts encompassed by Ryan. Ryan was a weight lifter who talked of how many pounds he could bench press, and he knew all his muscles by name.

Everybody had a cheeseburger except Ryan, who ordered three Big Macs. He ate each in only four bites, his teeth dividing each huge burger like pie.

“Well, that’s what’s new in my life,” Becky said, wrapping up a discussion Althea had missed while admiring Ryan’s eating habits and muscles. “Althea, your turn to talk. Hold up your end of the conversation. What’s new in your life?”

Ryan, Becky, and Scottie waited. They went on swallowing milk shakes. Waiting to hear what was new in her life.

What’s new in my life? thought Althea. I’ve gotten to know a vampire quite well. His skin is the color of mushrooms. I don’t know how he gets in touch with me. What do you think of Celeste, in her altered state? Do you know that I did that? This girl with whom you are having a cheeseburger—she hands people over to vampires?

Ryan and Scottie frowned slightly. Becky looked irritated.

Althea struggled to think of things to talk about. Had anything happened in class? After school? Had she gone shopping? Or even cleaned her room?

It seemed to Althea that, except for the vampire, she had no life.

Suddenly, to her horror, the vampire was standing there. Her throat closed up. Her eyes glazed.

He’s not here! she thought. He can’t come into a McDonald’s! Certainly not in broad daylight. This is not fair. The backyard is one thing, but—

She opened her eyes.

He was not there.

Her nerves had fabricated him.

She breathed again, and realized to her shame that the solitary sigh was her only contribution to the conversation around her.

Becky giggled. “Well, that was exciting, Althea,” she said. “We must chat about this again one day.”

“Don’t pick on her,” said Ryan. “You’re so mean, Becky.”

“She’s not mean,” said Althea quickly. “I’m slow.”

Ryan took this opportunity to discuss his telescope. Weight lifting was his daytime activity; stars were his nighttime activity. Scottie took this opportunity to mention several things that normal teenage boys enjoyed doing at night, as opposed to something lame and pitiful like studying satellite orbits.

“Here’s what I say,” said Becky. “I say we have a party at Althea’s, because it’s new, and we haven’t partied there, and I’m sick of all the old places. Ryan can set up his telescope in that tower room, while we dance on those big old porches.”

Althea’s smile trembled. She had fulfilled her obligation to the vampire. She could do as she pleased. And yet … she had not shut the shutters. Was he still there? Where was that dark path, exactly? Could he touch other people? Would Becky … ?

Althea’s body was rigid, as if her blood had stopped circulating—or been drained. “I don’t know if that would work out, Becky. I mean, I’d love to, but—”

“All right, all right,” said Becky, sulkily. “I just think it’s somebody else’s turn, is all. It seems to me the parties are always at my house.”

“That’s because your parents let you do anything all the time, Becky,” Ryan said. “Most people’s parents never let them do anything.” He stuffed his napkins into his cup, stuffed his cup into his burger box, and squashed the whole thing into a remarkably small square. “So, what’s Celeste’s problem?” he said to Becky.

Althea’s stomach knotted up. This was it. This was where they found out, where they understood, where they caught her!

Becky shrugged. “She didn’t want to talk. Said she was tired.”

“She stumbled around the school today like a zombie,” said Scottie.

“She could at least have been polite,” said Becky. “Here she is, a ninth-grader, everybody on the squad has been very nice to her, and she couldn’t even be bothered to let us in on her problem. I asked her if I could help and she shrugged. That did it, that shrug. You can’t have secrets from your teammates. They don’t like it.”

“Let’s not talk about Celeste,” said Ryan. “Let’s talk about you.”

He meant her. Althea. Ryan wanted to talk about Althea. An uncertain, joyous smile began on her lips. Ryan said, “Come on, more. More.” He touched her lip corner with his finger and drew the corner up till Althea laughed out loud.

Celeste won’t be tired long, Althea thought. She’ll perk up in a few days. I’m not going to worry.

Anyway, it’s worth it.

H
OW DARK THE YARD
was.

Althea had not known such darkness existed in the world. There was not a hint of light. Nothing at all that was less than black. And yet she could see where the vampire was and where he wasn’t.

He was half in the hemlocks. Indeed, he seemed half hemlock. His arms were among the needled branches; his hair might have been growing straight from the trees.

“You wanted me?” he said. “How flattering. You want to give a report, perhaps? Tell me how things are going with your new popularity, perhaps? It isn’t necessary, my dear. Since I created this popularity, I know exactly how it is going.”

She had thought he was part of the shutters, that the tower room was his coffin, that his tomb was the house. But no. He was growing out of the trees, the thick, black, towering hemlocks. But maybe that was part of it. The trees themselves were also a tower.

I could cut the trees down, she thought. If I need to, I will cut the trees down.

She wondered why she would need to. She had finished her commitment to the vampire. It was over between them. It was just that she had a complaint to register. She said, “I didn’t think Celeste would be
that
tired.”

The vampire shrugged. The trees lifted and fell with his shoulders, swishing blackly. “I didn’t promise degrees of tiredness,” said the vampire.

Althea wet her lips, and the vampire, laughing, wet his lips.

She put a hand over her heart, and the vampire, laughing, put a hand over his heart.

He said, “All the gestures are blood symbols, did you realize that?”

“But you don’t deal in symbols,” she said.

“No.”

Once more, the air thickened around them. The blackness of earth and sky faded to a predawn gray, and the gray was so thick that Althea thought she would suffocate, that the human body could not absorb clouds of wool. She panted, struggling for air, and stumbled away from the hemlocks toward the house.

The sun rose.

The tower of the house cast the first shadow of day. A shutter flapped where it had come unfastened. It sounded like a soul unhinged.

The school had its own broadcast studio.

The first week she attended high school, Althea had been awestruck. If you were the president of a club, or the captain of a team, you went on television and announced your meetings and games. What would it feel like to choose your outfit in the morning, knowing that you would be on television?

Kimmie-Jo had not been captain of Varsity Cheerleading when Althea was a freshman; a senior named Katya had held that honor. Katya was tall and lean and looked like an Ethiopian princess. She always wore the most awesome jewelry, and when she was on TV, Althea was overcome with admiration and amazement.

This year Kimmie-Jo made the cheerleaders’ announcements. Her approach was markedly different. No exotic Cleopatra on the Nile, Kimmie-Jo was a bubblehead whose statements of when the game was, or where the practice was, or when Spirit Day would be, always sounded breathless and questioning, as if Kimmie-Jo was not entirely sure and was hoping a really kind football captain would help her out. Really kind football captains always did.

TV announcements were a time in which to say terrible things about people’s hair or clothing or degree of nervousness. “It’s Kimmie-Jo again! Does that girl bring her own hairdresser to school?”

“Oh, wow, look at that outfit. Kimmie-Jo could be one of those TV lifestyle reporters right now, in those same clothes.”

“That would be a good career for Kimmie-Jo. Clapping and squealing. I think she has that down pretty well.”

Althea never made cruel comments. If she were on the school TV, she would probably hide behind the principal rather than face the camera. She was filled with admiration for kids with nerve enough to appear live on TV. She dreamed of being the kind of girl who didn’t even bother with notes, but chatted away, perfectly relaxed, as if having fun.

This afternoon, Mrs. Roundman came on. She was nicely named. Small, slightly chubby, pink-cheeked, relentlessly energetic. Althea felt that the young Mrs. Santa Claus had probably looked like that, pre-white hair and elves, so to speak.

“Good afternoon.” Mrs. Roundman’s smile vanished quickly, and she became fierce. “We have an unexpected vacancy on Varsity Cheerleading. Tryouts will be limited to those girls who tried out in September. Any girl who wishes to try out must commit four afternoons a week, plus the game schedule. She must have a C average or better. All girls planning to try out, sign up after school. Any girl who cannot come at the appointed hour, see me today with an appropriate excuse.” Mrs. Roundman would never believe an excuse. If you were too busy to try out when Mrs. Roundman wanted tryouts held, you were worthless.

Althea’s class burst into talk. “Who quit the squad?” they cried.

“Who got kicked off, more likely,” said somebody.

“Who was it?” they demanded of Becky.

“Celeste,” said Becky. “Isn’t that weird? She telephoned Mrs. Roundman and said she just didn’t have the energy for the season after all. She said it was taking too much out of her.”

The boys looked doubtful that cheerleading could take that much out of you.

The girls looked doubtful that Celeste had ever wanted to be on the squad anyway, and it was her own dumb fault if she ran out of energy.

Althea tried to look ignorant of what had actually taken a lot out of Celeste. I must look sorrowful and concerned, she thought as she rejoiced.

Becky leaned toward Althea, her dark floppy ponytail quivering. “You should try out,” said Becky to Althea. “You almost made it before, you know.”

Even though she was thrilled at the compliment and the suggestion, Althea was a little bit shocked. Shouldn’t Becky show more concern for Celeste? Hadn’t they been friends? Shared practices and snacks all fall? Althea said uneasily, “Did you talk to Celeste? Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

Becky shrugged. “She’s a quitter. Who needs a quitter? It’s not that kind of squad.”

The class echoed Becky. “She’s a quitter. Who needs a quitter?”

But she had not quit, not really. She had been removed.

Becky said, “I’ll coach you, Althea. You’ll be perfect! You’re exactly my height and figure, too, and Mrs. Roundman is aiming for a better lineup. For example, although Amy’s really good, Mrs. Roundman isn’t going to take Amy, because Amy’s too short. And she won’t take Brooke, because Brooke has to be seven feet tall if she’s an inch.”

Althea cringed. Brooke was sitting right behind them. But of course Becky, being popular, had not bothered to look around first, because she didn’t have to worry about people’s feelings. They had to worry about their own.

“I’m five-eleven,” said Brooke irritably. “And I’m not trying out, anyway. I have a full schedule. I’m much too busy to interrupt it for something as boring as cheerleading.”

Becky and Brooke exchanged several more insults.

Then Brooke turned to Althea and smiled generously. “Good luck,” she said. “You won’t need it, though. You were so good at tryouts. I couldn’t figure out why you didn’t make it.”

The smile caught Althea by surprise. It was so friendly. So honest. Maybe I will have friends who are not in cheerleading as well as friends on the squad, she thought. Maybe my life will be packed, like Brooke’s. Althea smiled tentatively back at Brooke.

Becky and Althea walked down the halls, past the lockers, through the narrow passage to the coaches’ offices, and into the girls’ gym. Only one bleacher had been pulled out, and on that narrow bleached-gold bench sat—so few girls !

Althea couldn’t get over it. Hardly anybody was trying out.
Perhaps,
the vampire had said,
I could arrange for the competition to be missing.

“Wow,” said Becky, “how come nobody’s here, Mrs. Roundman?”