Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (29 page)

I should break up with Jake.
I knew it, and yet I hadn't done it.
Why? What am I waiting for?

"Hey, Jess," Jake said. "I was just calling . . . well, I was wondering if we're still on for the Christmas formal. I haven't seen much of you at school. . ."

"Yeah, I guess I've been busy," I said. "I've been thinking we should get together and talk, though ..."

Outside, I heard the sound of a loud squeal, then laughter. I pulled aside the curtain. Lucius and Faith were in the yard, having a very vigorous snow fight. As I watched, Lucius swept up Faith and plunged her into a pile left by our plow, rubbing snow onto her pink wool hat. "Oh, Lucius," she screamed, kicking at him. "You are such a jerk!"

Yes, Lucius . . . yes, you are.

"Jess—are you there?"

"Oh, sorry, Jake." I let the curtain drop. "I'm here."

"I was asking about the formal, because I have to rent a tux . . .

Outside, more delighted, horrified squeals.

Jake added, a little uncertainly, "I really hope you still want to go, Jess."

What a nice guy. A nice, nice guy. . .

Beneath my window, Faith shrieked, "Don't touch me!" It sounded as though she wanted quite the opposite.

I clutched the phone, forcing myself to pay attention to Jake. Was I
really
sure I wanted to break up with him? Was I going to stop living just because I'd been thrown over by an overbearing foreign exchange student who'd tried to seduce me in his apartment only to admit that it would have been a "mistake"? Was I going to waste my entire senior year lying in bed, worrying about being a vampire, for god's sake?

No, I would not.

"Of course I want to go, Jake," I said, forcing my voice to sound far more cheerful than I felt. "I'm looking forward to it."

Relief flooded his voice. "Great, Jess. I'm going to get my tux tomorrow, then. If you're sure ..."

Will Faith Crosse never stop shrieking in my yard?

"Of course I'm sure, Jake," I said, adding just before we hung up, "It's going to be great."

I stretched back out on my bed, pulling my pillow over my face, covering my ears to shut out how much fun my former blood-pact betrothed and Faith were having outside.

As I lay there hating them both, my teeth began to ache. At first, it was just a small, dull pain, but every time the sound of Faith and Lucius's mock battle carried to my ears, the hurt grew sharper, until it was almost like my teeth were too tightly wedged in my mouth, straining against my gums, and I wanted to claw at them, to pull them out, to find some way, the key, that would release them to become what they so desperately wanted to become.

Rolling off my bed, I rooted in my dresser, searching for my vampire manual, running my finger down the table of contents. There it was: Chapter 9, "Finding Your Way to Fangs!"

I flipped to the proper page.

"Girls will begin to feel their incisors ache as they approach age eighteen, although some 'early bloomers' may notice changes as young as age sixteen! The sensation often, although not exclusively, occurs during times of emotional stress, not unlike your initial thirst for blood. Try to be patient and accept the 'dental discomfort' as part
of
vampiric maturation, just as you learn to accept menstrual cramps as part of your concurrent growth into womanhood. Remember, when you are first bitten, your fangs will be released to expand and blossom, and you will soon forget the temporary twinges that carried you into full vampiredom!"

My fangs could be released by a bite from a vampire. Of course. Lucius had told me about that during our shopping trip. Women couldn't grow fangs until they were bitten. I stashed my guide away.

The good news was, I had a vampire handy in my backyard. The bad news was, I wanted to run a stake through his heart before he had any chance to come near me—not to mention the fact that he didn't seem to give a damn about me anymore. What was a "blossoming" young vampire to do?

Chapter 38

"YOU ARE SO LUCKY that at least one of us reads
Cosmo
and
Vogue,"
Mindy chided me, clomping into my room burdened by at least ten shoe boxes. The pile was so high she couldn't even see around it. "Mindy and her shoe collection to the rescue!"

My best friend dropped the boxes to the floor in a tumbling pile, and her eyes grew wide when she saw me.
"Holy shit, Jessica!"

"Is that. . . good?"

Mindy ran over, grabbed my bare arms, and spun me around, looking me up and down. "You look . . . you look gorgeous."

"Okay," I calmed her down, prying off her fingers one by one. "Take it easy, because this dress cost me practically every penny I earned at the diner over the course of the whole summer."

"It was worth every cent," Mindy said, nodding. "Every freakin' cent."

I glanced in the mirror that hung on the back of my bedroom door. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

"You
are beautiful," Mindy corrected. "The dress just lets the rest of us know. Where did you get it? Because that is
not
some polyester job from the mall."

"I went back to that snooty store where I got my dress for Halloween," I said. This time, it had been up to me to boss Leigh Ann around. But I had learned a lot from Lucius. Who knew, just a few months ago, how much could be accomplished simply by holding your chin high and talking down your nose?

"This is, like, real velvet," Mindy said, rubbing the fabric with awe in her voice.

"Yes, the top—the bodice, as Lucius would say—is velvet, and the skirt is hand-loomed Japanese silk." I smoothed my hands over the pure black dress. It was as dark and soft as an August night sky just before a storm. Strapless, the dress was cut straight and hugged my size ten body like the world's best, custom-fitted glove. Not too tight, but just close enough to show off every arc and hollow of my form. Looking in the mirror, I was glad I wasn't too skinny. This wasn't a dress made for a boyish figure.

"I have the perfect shoes," Mindy squealed, digging amid her boxes. She held up a pair of strappy heels, very subdued for Mindy, but just right for the dress. "These will go great."

"Are you sure it's okay if I borrow them . . . ?"

"Yeah," Mindy said, with only the slightest hint of regret or jealousy in her voice. "It's not like I go anywhere. They might as well get some use."

Taking the shoes, I hugged her. "Thanks, Min. You're the best."

"Oh, don't get all sappy," she said. "We still have to do your hair, and it's almost seven o'clock."

"Do you think you could help me with, like, an updo?" I requested. "I want it to be perfect. Even better than at Halloween."

"Do I not read
Cosmo, Vogue,
and
Celebrity Hairstyle?"
Mindy pointed out, reaching for my hairbrush. "You're in good hands, Jessica Packwood."

I hesitated, then reached for the photograph of my birth mother, which I had moved to a small silver frame that I kept on my desk. "Do you think you could make me look a little like . . . her?"

I handed Mindy the picture, and she gawked at it, jaw actually dropping. "Jess . . . this is . . . this has to be . . ." She glanced up at me, clearly astonished. "Was she like a
princess
or something?"

"It's a long story," I said, taking the photo back. I gazed at Mihaela Dragomir. "But she was special. Yes."

"What the hell aren't you telling me here?" Mindy demanded, curious and a little wary. "Something's going on."

"It's just a memento I was given," I explained vaguely, setting the photo on my desk. "Something I couldn't face before..."

"Jess, she looks exactly like you. It's almost eerie."

I flushed with pleasure.
Is she not beautiful. . . powerful. . . regal. . . like YOU?
"Thanks, Mindy, but can we talk about it later? Right now, I'm just desperate for help with my hair."

At the mention of hair, Mindy snapped back to the present and scooped up a big handful of my glossy curls. "I am all over it, Jessica. When I'm done with you, every girl at Woodrow Wilson is going to wish she was you."

About fifteen minutes and a complete pump bottle of hair-spray later, Mindy held up a mirror. My curls were artfully, but chaotically, arranged on my head, like a glorious, lustrous crown, and she'd taken a thick handful and twisted it around the updo, not unlike the silver coronet in the photo of my birth mother. Mindy had done very well. "I will never laugh about
Celebrity Hairstyles
again," I promised.

Downstairs the doorbell rang.

"Jess?" Mindy asked, giving me one last spritz.

"What?" I was still admiring myself in the mirror.

"Is all this for Jake ... or does this have something to do with the fact that Lucius is taking Faith? I know you always say you don't like him. But it still sucks sometimes when somebody who's been into you has a change of heart. . ."

"It's all for me," I interrupted her, squaring my shoulders. The dress, the hair, the shoes . . . they were all about me taking pride in myself. Believing that I was beautiful. Believing that I was worthwhile.

Forget Lucius and Faith Crosse. I intended to have a
presence.

"Well, knock 'em dead," Mindy said, giving me a careful hug, so as not to muss my hair. "You look amazing."

I caught my reflection one last time as I went down to greet Jake.
Amazing.
That was one word for my transformation. I would have added, perhaps,
royal,
too.

In spite of being more than a little sad, and more than a little hurt, and completely confused by the state of my life, the young woman in the mirror managed a smile.

Chapter 39

"YOU LOOK REALLY pretty, Jess," Jake said, handing me some punch.

"You look nice, too, Jake."
Nice.

"It's too bad you've been so swamped lately," he added. "I've kind of missed hanging out with you."

"You know, senior year." I shrugged, sipping my punch.

"I hear ya," Jake agreed. "It's totally busting my butt."

I flinched a little at the crude expression. It seemed like something a . . . a . . . peasant might say.

"I mean, if I don't get a wrestling scholarship, I'll be stuck at community college for two years," he continued. "That's gonna suck. I guess your applications are all out there already."

"I have to go to Grantley," I said. "You know, where my mom teaches. I go for free."