Josie Griffin Is Not a Vampire

I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or dive in and ask more questions. On the one hand, telling me they were vampires, werewolves, faeries, and Greek gods was capital
C
crazy, but on the other, it was fascinating. What would make a group of kids act like this? Boredom, drugs, too many bad novels and movies? Then again, they seemed so serious about it all.

“So?” Tarren said, staring at me with those intense green eyes. “What are you?”

I decided at that moment to go undercover because the truth was, I hadn’t had this much fun in months but I knew if I was going to stick it out with them, I would have to play along. “I’m a…” I glanced from person to person. Avis crossed his arms and stared hard at me. Johann frowned while I hesitated. “Werepire,” I blurted out.

“A werepire?” Tarren said, drawing back. “Sounds like a word I would say.”

“It’s a mix,” I told her, as if I were offended. “My mom’s a shape-shifter and my dad’s a vampire, so I’m a werepire.”

They all looked at one another. “I’ve never heard of that,” Tarren said.

“Can we interbreed?” Avis asked Johann.

“What powers do you have?” Helios asked me.

“None,” I said. “Because of the cross-breeding. I’m like a mule.”

ALWAYS LEARNING

PEARSON

JOSIE GRIFFIN
IS
NOT
A VAMPIRE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Me, My Elf & I

j
osie Griffin?” The judge looked down her nose, over the rims of her small rectangular glasses. I popped up from my seat and sent my chair clattering backward.

“Yes, Your Honor,” I said as sweetly and innocently as I could muster. Kevin must have been laughing his butt off, seeing me like this. A flowery blouse buttoned up to my chin and a skirt down below my knees. I had my nose ring out and my hair (its natural dingy blondish-brown again) pulled into a low ponytail, exposing the dots of sweat lining my forehead. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of glancing his way, though. I was sure he was all slicked out in a jacket and tie like some young Republican. Jerk.
He has a fake ID and steals stupid things like potato chips and beef jerky and regularly buys pot from a guy in an ice-cream truck,
I wanted to yell.
And he should be slapped for how terrible he kisses!
But of course, I didn’t say any of that because my lawyer had warned me to be docile as a doorknob that day.

The judge glanced through her notes one last time, then she removed her glasses and stared at me. “Seems to me, Miss Griffin, that you’ve been a pretty good kid up until now.”

I nodded and tried to look like the old version of me. The polite girl who was a cheerleader, the editor of the school newspaper, the straight-A student, the one who volunteered for Habitat for Humanity and organized bake sales for earthquake victims. The one my mom kept bemoaning got lost somewhere this summer after Kevin stomped on my heart and I stopped caring so much about the world.

“I guess you could call this a crime of passion,” the judge said while glancing at Kevin’s table.

Gag. I wanted to roll my eyes and say,
He wishes
, but I kept it to myself, something I should have done a month ago before I got myself into this mess.

She looked back at me. “Do you have anything you’d like to say to the court?”

I cleared my throat. Ms. Sheldon, my lawyer (who looked more like a hockey player in a pencil skirt than a legal professional), had prepared me for this moment and my parents made me rehearse it like a thousand times the night before as if I were prepping for the talent portion of a Miss Repentant American competition.
Chin up, Josie!
Mom would say.
Confident, but not so cocky. Try to look at least a little contrite.

“Your Honor, I apologize for my actions,” I said in my sweetest, most innocent voice, the one I’d used a million times to talk people into joining school committees or volunteering for good causes, or not grounding me when I broke curfew. “I know that I was wrong. I should not have bashed Kevin McDaniel’s windshield in with a baseball bat. I was upset and emotional over his treatment of me, but that’s no excuse for my behavior. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever been in trouble.” Okay, so that wasn’t
exactly
true, but technically I’d never been in trouble with the law, so my lawyer said it was okay to say it under oath. “And I promise you, it will not happen again. I’ve learned my lesson and I would like to get through my senior year without another incident so I can go to college.”

Judge Levitz sighed and looked back down at her papers. “Very well. Judge rules you shall pay damages in the order of nine hundred and fifty dollars to Mr. McDaniel for repair to his car, plus court fees in the sum of fifty dollars. You shall also be on probation for one year and perform thirty hours of community service. If your record remains clean for one year, you may petition the court for expungement of the charges from your permanent record. However, to ensure that you can control your temper in the future I am sentencing you…”

I stumbled backward.
Sentencing me?

“…to six weeks…”

I gripped the chair behind me and nearly gasped. Was she sending me to juvie?

“…of anger management group therapy.”

I stood up straight. “Huh?”

The judge looked at me annoyed. “What’s that?”

Ms. Sheldon grabbed my elbow. “Nothing, Your Honor,” she said, squeezing my arm. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Case adjourned,” the judge said.

My mom threw herself at me as we headed into the hallway. “Oh thank god!” She sighed as she clung to me. “For a minute there I thought she was putting you in juvenile detention.”

I tried to look unconcerned even though my heart had just started beating normally again.

“It’s a little harsh,” Ms. Sheldon said as she swung her raincoat around her broad shoulders and pushed us through the crowded hallway. “I didn’t expect her to give you community service
and
anger management. One or the other I could understand, but both? Sheesh.” She chucked me on the shoulder and I nearly tripped. “Sorry about that, kid.”

How lame,
I thought as I unbuttoned the top of my stupid blouse, which was about to strangle me. “Anger management therapy? Will I have to talk about my feelings with a bunch of hotheads?” I asked and Ms. Sheldon nodded. Oh well. At least it would be good material for JosieHatestheWorld, my blog where I chronicle all the crap that goes on in my life every day.

“Hey,” my dad said. His forehead, which you could see more and more of those days, was bright red. “You ought to be grateful, missy. What you did…”

“I know, I know, Dad. Please. I’ve been through enough today.” I untucked my shirt and loosened a few more buttons, exposing the white tank top I had on underneath.

“A thousand dollars! It had to be the ’69 Camaro, didn’t it?” He shook his head and I rolled my eyes because I was so sick of hearing about how I defaced a beautiful vintage Chevy as if it were a Renaissance sculpture. Whatevs. Kevin’s daddy had a whole lot full of those stupid vintage muscle cars. “You will pay me back every red cent,” my dad said.

“I know,” I told him for the ten millionth time since I bashed in Kev’s windshield.

“Jo. Hey, Jo.” Kevin’s voice came from behind me. I stopped and stiffened for two seconds, but I didn’t turn around. I kept weaving through the other people in the hall toward the big red door to freedom. “Jo!” he called again. “Come on, babe.”

The
babe
was what did it. I whipped around and pointed my finger at Kevin McDaniel’s chest. “Don’t you ever call me that again!” I spewed. Then I poked him in the sternum at every syllable. “I. Am. Not. Your. Babe.”

He held up his hands and stepped back, probably afraid I was going to punch him next. He looked like an idiot with his blond hair parted to the side, wearing
some stupid tan sports coat and blue and green striped tie—all of which I’m sure came right out of his father’s closet.

“You look like a used car salesman,” I told him with disgust.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “And you look like yourself again.”

“Bite me,” I said, and just as I was about to turn around, I saw Madison peering out from behind him. She wore a body-hugging purple dress with a raggedy asymmetrical hem and black slashes across the front. “You!” I growled. “I can’t believe you would have the nerve…”

“Josie, I…” Madison started to say, but I shot her the look of death and she shut her mouth.

“And in that dress!” I said.

She looked down at herself, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “What?”

“Zombie Apparel? We used to make fun of that store and all its Goth wannabe fashion victims.” I rolled my eyes. “Then again, you never did have any originality. Which is why you had to steal my boyfriend instead of getting your own!” I stopped. It wouldn’t do me any good to go after my ex-best friend right outside the judge’s chambers.

“Come on, Josie.” Mom caught my elbow and turned me toward the doors. “They aren’t worth any more of your trouble. You’d only regret it.”

Mom pulled me into the gray drizzle of that mid-August
day and I breathed in deeply. “I’m glad that’s over.” I raised my face to the sky, letting the moisture cover my cheeks.

“Me, too.” Mom searched her bag for an umbrella. “I hope we never have to do this again.”

While we stood there, Kevin and Madison came out the door. He had his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. They whispered together as they hurried down the courthouse steps toward another person standing at the bottom under a giant red golf umbrella. Chloe. Bee-yatch. My other ex-best friend who didn’t have the courtesy to mention that Kevin and Madison were screwing around behind my back. The three of them huddled under the umbrella beneath one of the Zombie Apparel billboards that had sprung up like mold around the city in the past few months.