RESURRECTED (9 page)

“That was no adrenaline rush! And that was not Conversion Syndrome!” Caitlin shot back, his voice rising.

“She had a high fever. She was in an altered state. It was like a form of sleepwalking,” he pleaded.

“That was
not
sleepwalking!”

“It doesn’t matter what you call it. Why harp on it? There is
nothing
wrong with our daughter!” Caleb yelled back, his voice rising several levels. His voice echoed in the big empty chamber, and the few people standing on the periphery turned their way.

Caitlin saw them looking, as did Caleb, and they both turned and looked away, embarrassed.

“I wish I could believe that,” Caitlin said, softly. “I really do. She might be okay for now. But she’s not okay. She needs help. And I’m going to find it for her. No matter what you say, or what she says.”

“Help for what?” Caleb retorted. “What exactly is it that you think she needs help from?”

“You know what it is. You know what I said. You can choose not to believe it, but you know it’s true.”

She saw hesitation in Caleb’s eyes size, but still, he pressed the question

“
What
is true?”

Finally, Caitlin lost it.

“OUR DAUGHTER IS A VAMPIRE!”

Caitlin’s shout rose to the glass ceiling, echoed throughout the room—and every person turned and stared.

Caleb turned and looked at them all, then lowered his head, embarrassed. Finally, he stepped up, and looked at Caitlin, right in the eyes. She stood there, shaking, rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do, how to feel.

Slowly, disapprovingly, he shook his head.

“The doctor was right,” he said. “You do need help.”

*

Caitlin, in a daze, drove slowly, Scarlet in the passenger seat, as she took her to school. Caleb had left for work, leaving Caitlin to drop her off, and she and Scarlet had been driving in silence for the last few minutes, as Caitlin watched the road, trying to process it all, while Scarlet sat in the front seat, glued to her phone, texting with several of her friends.

“Major damage control, mom,” she said. “I so wish you hadn’t called all my friends,” she sighed.

Caitlin didn’t know how to respond.

Scarlet checked her phone again. “I can still make second period,” she said. “That’s perfect. I don’t have my first test until fourth. I’m staying late today, don’t forget—soccer,” she said in a rush, as Caitlin pulled up before the main doors of the school.

Scarlet leaned over and kissed Caitlin on the cheek, as she opened the door. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Really. Whatever it was, it was no big deal. Love you,” she said in a rush, jumping out before Caitlin could respond and rushing up the steps to the front doors of the school.

Caitlin watched her go with a sinking feeling in her chest. She felt so sad, so helpless, so terrified.

There went Scarlet, her only daughter, the person she loved most in the world. She wanted to protect her. And to protect others.

She watched her go, all alone, up the steps to the empty school, and she wanted more than anything to believe that things were normal. But deep down, she knew they were not. As Scarlet closed the doors behind her, entered that building filled with thousands of kids, Caitlin couldn’t help but wonder: were those other kids in there trapped with her? How long would it be until the plague of vampirism spread?

Scarlet ran across the wide stone plaza and up the series of steps to the front doors of her school. As she did, she clutched her light, fall jacket to herself. She wish she’d worn something warmer; just a few days ago, it was like 70, but now, it felt more like 50. October was so unpredictable, she thought. Especially now, at the end, with just a few days before Halloween. She made a mental note in her head that when she got home, she would have to go down to the basement and switch out her late summer wardrobe for her fall one.

Scarlet glanced over her shoulder as she grabbed the front doors, hoping her mom had left. It was so embarrassing, her sitting there like that, watching her, as if she were still in second grade. She cringed as she saw her mom still watching. She hoped that no other kids were watching this, especially given that the school was empty, everyone already in class. She felt so conspicuous.

She didn’t really blame her mom for watching her like that, and felt sorry she had scared her—

but at the same time she just wanted to put it behind her. Her mom worried too much, and she just wanted her to realize that she was fine, that she was always fine. That even though she was just 16, she was basically a grown woman now, independent, and more than capable of handling herself.

Scarlet burst through the front doors and ran down the hall, her footsteps echoing, her sneakers squeaking on the brightly-polished tile. Her heart raced as she glanced down at her watch and realized second period was almost over. She was so embarrassed: it looked like she’d have to enter class with just a few minutes left; she could already feel the stares. But she didn’t have much choice.

She couldn’t exactly hang out and wait in the hall, especially with the hall monitors patrolling. And she did want to at least make an appearance and maybe grab the homework assignment for the night.

As she hurried down the hall, she wondered once again about what exactly had happened the day before. It really freaked her out, what her parents had told her, that she’d left the house; she couldn’t remember that at all. She put on a brave face for everyone, telling them she was fine—and she did feel fine. But inwardly, she was terrified. She was so nervous that she had no memory of it, of where she might’ve gone. It was terrifying, also, to wake up in the hospital like that. It really shook her. She couldn’t stop obsessing over the black hole in her consciousness, over where she went, what she might’ve done, why they couldn’t find her for so long. Had she done anything stupid? Had she seen any of her friends? Had she seen Blake? Why couldn’t she remember?

Scarlet felt her cheeks flush as she suddenly recalled what her mom had said: that they’d called the police—and even worse, that they’d called her friends. How mortifying. Who did they call exactly? What did they say? And how would she face everyone? What would all her friends think?

And how would she explain it to everyone? She didn’t even really understand what had happened herself.

This day would not be easy, she realized, as she neared the classroom door. There’d be a lot of questioning—and she didn’t have any answers.

Scarlet finally reached the end of what felt like the longest hall in the school, came to the last door, and grabbed the knob. She braced herself and took a deep breath, clutching her books in one hand, and opened it.

“The algorithm for a triangle that does not exceed—”

Her math teacher stopped writing on the chalkboard, and turned and looked at her. Every other kid in the class looked up at her, too. There were about 30 kids in here, the most boring math class Scarlet had ever had, and luckily, she wasn’t friends with most of them.

But there were a few girls in the back that she was friends with, including her best friend, Maria.

Scarlet was relieved to see that Maria had kept her seat open for her. Maria was like a sister to her, like the sister she never had; they had known each other since childhood, and were hardly ever apart.

Hispanic, with long, brown curly hair and brown eyes, Maria looked a bit, Scarlet always thought, like a young Jennifer Lopez. She was always there for Scarlet when she needed her, and Scarlet was always there for her, too.

But also in the back of the room, Scarlet noticed with dread, were two of the mean, popular girls, including her arch-enemy, Vivian. Scarlet got along with almost everyone—with one exception.

Vivian. Five foot nine, with perfectly straight blonde hair, mean blue eyes and a perfect chin and nose, Vivian strutted around the school as if she owned it. A year older than Scarlet, 17, one of the oldest girls in the class, she looked down on everyone. She always wore some kind of variation on a silk blouse, with a small necklace of real, shining pearls. She had pearl earrings to match, and always had perfectly manicured fingernails, in some shade of pink. As beautiful as she was on the outside, she was equally ugly on the inside: she never missed a single opportunity to giggle at someone else, to make fun of them, to take advantage of any moment of weakness.

As Scarlet took another step, right on cue, Vivian let out a loud, mean giggle. That giggle spurred several others to giggle with her, mostly her little group of mean friends. It made a bad situation for Scarlet even worse.

“Sorry I’m late,” Scarlet said to the professor, who was still looking at her with wonder.

“You’re more than late,” he snapped. “The class is almost over. I can’t mark you tardy—I’m going to have to mark you absent.”

“Fine,” Scarlet snapped back at him, then turned and strutted down the aisle, taking the empty seat next to Maria. She hated this math teacher. He was as mean as he was boring. Sometimes she wondered if he and Vivian were distant cousins.

Math was her least favorite subject anyway. She loved to work hard, but if she wasn’t interested, she found it really hard to find the motivation. Her favorite class, by far, was English. She loved to read, and lately, she was finding she loved to write, as well. And her English teacher, Mr. Sparrow, was as nice to her as could be. The complete opposite of this math jerk.

The teacher cleared his throat loudly, conspicuously.

“As I was
saying
,” he snapped, “when you’re dealing with a triangle, the equation between…”

“What happened?” Maria whispered, the second Scarlet took her seat.

Scarlet looked around, waiting for everyone to stop looking at her. Finally, they all turned back to their notes. All, of course, except Vivian: she stared at Scarlet, a condescending smile on her face, as cold as ice. Vivian then leaned over and whispered in her friend’s ear, who put her hand to her mouth and giggled. Scarlet could only wonder what she’d said.

“Nothing,” Scarlet whispered back to Maria. Scarlet hated hiding anything from her, but she really didn’t want talk about it—especially not here, with the teacher waiting to pounce.

Scarlet suddenly felt a vibration in her pocket. She looked down, glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and slid up her cell phone, holding it under her desk. She looked down.

U ok?

It was from Maria.

Scarlet saw Maria furtively holding her phone under her desk with one hand, texting with her thumb, and pretending to take notes while she stared at the blackboard.

Scarlet smiled. She copied Maria, raising one hand and pretending to take notes, while with her thumb, she typed back:

Am fine. Thx.

Scarlet had just hit the send button, when suddenly, the bell rang out.

“Okay class, don’t forget, I want chapter three read by tomorrow. And our first quiz is Friday!” the teacher yelled out over the din, as all the kids jumped up, collected their stuff, and headed to the door.

Scarlet got up, collected her things, and walked with Maria out the room.

“OMG, what happened?” Maria asked immediately, barely able to contain herself. “Like, your aunt Polly called me last night. Said they couldn’t find you.” Scarlet’s heart raced, as she debated how to respond. She didn’t want to lie—especially to Maria, who she never held anything back from. But at the same time, she really didn’t know what to say, and she needed to diffuse the situation.

“Yeah, they like totally overreacted,” she said, thinking quick. “I just went out for a few hours, I forgot my phone, and they couldn’t find me.”

Scarlet was a bad liar, and wondered if Maria bought it.

“But I heard this morning you were like in the hospital or something,” Maria replied skeptically.

Scarlet’s heart pounded. That was the downside of living in a small town; she couldn’t escape this.

“Yeah…um…well….I got like really sick yesterday after school, and they made me get checked out. But I’m fine.”

“Okay, cool,” Maria said, and Scarlet felt relieved as it seemed her friend might put it to rest.

They blended out into the loud and crowded hallway, and as they did, Scarlet’s sense of dread deepened. She wondered who else would interrogate her, and started to wonder again where she’d actually gone during that time. What if she’d seen one of her friends? What if one of her friends asked her about something she did? Something she couldn’t remember? What excuse could she give then?

The halls grew more and more crowded as classes emptied out from every direction. Scarlet and Maria headed down the hall, and as they went, two more of their close friends spotted them and hurried over. They were looking at her in an odd way, and Scarlet braced herself for the questions.

“OMG, what happened to you?” Jasmin asked, hurrying up to her. Black, petite, and filled with energy, Jasmin was one of Scarlet’s two other closest friends. At five foot one, with short black hair and large green eyes, Jasmin appeared to be small and frail—but she was actually tough as nails, and prided herself on not being pushed around by anyone and never taking no for an answer. She was fearless, and she always inspired Scarlet, who sometimes wished she could be half as fearless as her.

Scarlet loved her, but she could be gossipy, and she never seemed to be able to stop talking. “I heard like, you went missing,” she continued. “Like your aunt like called me and I heard the cops were at your place!”

“You OK?” Becca asked.

Scarlet’s other friend, Becca, the fourth member of their group, was tall, big-boned, slightly heavyset, with wavy blonde hair. She wasn’t quite as attractive as the others, but she had a big heart, was smart as could be, and was a champion soccer player and one of Scarlet’s closest friend on the team. She’d also had a steady boyfriend for the last two years, unlike the rest of them. Jasmin was dating someone, too, although only for a few months. Which left Scarlet and Maria—

conspicuously—without boyfriends. Maria had just broken up with hers, and Scarlet was hoping Blake would be her boyfriend—though she wasn’t sure if he felt the same.