This Totally Bites! (5 page)

I tiptoed into the dark, ice-cold room. I hoped no one had followed me. My heart was racing and I wiped my clammy palms on my skirt. I was scared, but I knew I had to go ahead with this. There was no turning back now.

Then, through the blackness, they peered at me: the glowing red eyes. The
hungry
eyes. I had to make myself walk toward them. I had to —

Beep. Beep. Beep!

I reached out and slapped my alarm, burying my face in my pillow.

Wait,
I thought, halfway between sleep and waking.
My alarm? It’s morning?

I jolted up, breathless. Sure enough, my room was filled with light. I didn’t even think about the
fact that I’d just had my nightmare again. I had to try to catch Great-aunt Margo! Was I too late?

I scrambled out of bed and raced to the guest room. Sure enough, my great-aunt’s bed was neatly made, and there was no trace of her.

“She left me a note. She headed out before dawn to get an early start again,” Mom explained when I dashed into the kitchen, seeking answers. “Margo’s so dedicated.”

Before dawn.
I shivered.

“But the museum doesn’t open until seven for staff, right?” I asked, tugging on my pajama sleeves and staring at Mom intently. “What could she be doing?”

“Well, I imagine she gets breakfast first and maybe walks around a little,” Mom said with a shrug as she poured herself a mug of coffee. “She hasn’t been to New York in thirteen years, after all. She probably wants to soak up the city.”

“Wait — Great-aunt Margo has been here before?” I asked, doing a quick calculation in my head. “Before I was born?”

“Yup,” Dad said, glancing up from his cereal bowl. “Mom was pregnant with you at the time.
Margo had come to New York to do some research on bats, but she didn’t stay with us back then, since we lived in a much smaller apartment.”

Weird. Did Margo’s last visit have something to do with the fact that
I
was a vampire? Had she put some sort of spell on Mom while she was pregnant with me?

“Do you have any photos of Great-aunt Margo from then?” I asked, an idea occurring to me. “Or any photos of her
at all?
From when she was my age?”

“Hmm,” Mom said, tipping her head to one side. “I actually don’t have many photos of Margo. I have some of her as a little girl, but nothing besides that.”

Of course not,
I thought, gulping. There
wouldn’t
be any photos of Great-aunt Margo past the age of twelve. All my suspicions were confirmed.

“You know what, though?” Dad said, putting down his spoon. “I’d bet anything that Margo looked a lot like Emma-Rose when she was young. Did you notice that, Lilly?” he asked Mom. “The resemblance between the two of them is almost … spooky.”

You have no idea, Dad. You have no idea.

“I did notice,” Mom said, smiling at me. “And my mother used to tell me that Margo was always considered their town’s great beauty. Hear that, Emma-Rose?”

Me? A beauty? I snorted, glancing down at my tangled hair and pj’s.

“It’s true,” Mom added. “My mother told me that Margo always had young gentleman suitors chasing after her, but she chose not to get married.”

Maybe because she couldn’t tell any young gentleman the truth about who she was?
I wondered. For some reason, I thought of Henry Green, and then pushed his face out of my mind.

“What’s with all the interest in Margo, honey?” Dad asked me. “I mean, it’s very sweet that you care so much about your great-aunt, but it’s a little unlike you.”

“Um,” I began, feeling trapped. For a second, I thought about opening up and telling my parents the whole spine-chilling truth. But then I remembered how Mom hadn’t listened to me on Tuesday morning. And if the three of us got into a discussion about it now, I’d definitely be late for school.

School!
I realized, inspired.

“The genealogy project!” I burst out. “I mean … yeah, the genealogy project,” I said more calmly, because Mom and Dad were looking at me in that worried way again. “For social studies class. I forgot to tell you both about it. We’re supposed to research our family history and stuff. So I kind of wanted to interview Great-aunt Margo.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said, sipping her coffee. “You may want to wait until after the opening, though. Margo and I will both be swamped until next Friday.”

“That reminds me — I have to get my tux dry-cleaned today,” Dad said, standing up. “Anything you ladies need dry-cleaned for the gala?”

I bit my lip. In all the insanity of the week, the gala had slipped my mind. I still hadn’t decided if I was going to miss it in order to attend the Halloween dance.

The dance.
My stomach fell as I remembered that there was a student council meeting that afternoon. Great. That was the
last
thing I needed now. Not that I ever needed — or wanted — student council.

Maybe Gabby was right: Maybe those glowing-eye
nightmares were all about Ashlee Lambert and her pink gavel.

I whispered this realization to Gabby as we sat in the back of Classroom 101 at three thirty that afternoon. Ashlee stood at the front of the room, banging away on the desk and calling everyone to order.

“Of course I’m right,” Gabby said matter-of-factly, tapping out a text to Caitlin on her cell phone. “Aren’t I always?” she added, flashing me a grin as she shut her phone.

I sighed. Gabby had been all chummy with Caitlin at lunch, inviting her over that weekend to play on Carlos’s Wii while he was at his karate class. I’d felt a stab of hurt; Gabby had sworn that she and
I
would get to try out the Wii as soon as Carlos stepped away from it. Plus, although Gabby, Caitlin, Padma, and I are all friends, we are also two units of BFFs: Caitlin and Padma, Gabby and Emma-Rose. Period. That’s how things work. Padma had seemed miffed, too, but she’d kept quiet, and I’d been in too much of a daze to say anything.

I’d spent the whole day in a daze. Yesterday, people must have figured that I was still recovering
from my illness. Today, my teachers all seemed annoyed by my spaciness. I was beginning to worry that vampire or no vampire, I was in danger of flunking the seventh grade.

Henry got up to take attendance, and I felt my cheeks flush. Gabby leaned over to scribble a message in my notebook. I assumed it was about Henry, but instead it read:

Any progress on the great-aunt front?

Nope
, I scribbled back.
She sleeps all day and leaves the apartment BEFORE THE SUN COMES UP
!

I was so focused on writing that when Henry called out “Pale Paley?” I flapped my hand in the air without glancing up.

Doesn’t mean anyth
— Gabby started writing, but then dropped her pencil as a stern voice rang out.

“Emma-Rose! Gabrielle!”

It was Ms. Goldsmith. She stood by our desks, her jaw set.

“Young ladies, I realize we’re not in an official class, but no note-writing during student council,” she said sternly.

Henry raised his eyebrows, and Ashlee and Eve exchanged triumphant smiles. Anger bubbled up in me. It was totally unfair that Ms. Goldsmith let
Ashlee carry out her little antics but scolded Gabby and me.

“Sorry, Ms. Goldsmith,” Gabby said obediently, folding her hands on her desk.

“Sorry,” I echoed through gritted teeth. As I looked up at Ms. Goldsmith, my eye landed on the newspaper tucked under her arm. A headline in the lower right-hand corner read:
IN CENTRAL PARK, MORE ANIMAL ATTACKS PROMPT QUESTIONS.

My heart somersaulted and my mouth went dry. There
had
been more attacks since Tuesday. I was dying to know what kind of questions had been prompted. Had anyone else in New York City seen the bite marks and realized: Vampire?

I thought about asking Ms. Goldsmith to borrow her paper, or nudging Gabby so that she’d see the headline, but I knew better than to push it.

As Ms. Goldsmith went back to her spot on the windowsill, Ashlee wrote
Halloween Dance!!
on the chalkboard, her charm bracelet jangling as always. Today, though, the jangling seemed louder than usual. It was giving me a headache.

“Okay!” Ashlee squealed, spinning around. “Today we need to talk about the most fun thing ever — decorations for the dance.”

“Ooh!” cried Eve, clapping her hands and making
her
charm bracelet jangle. I massaged my forehead.

“Here’s my vision,” Ashlee began dramatically, spreading her hands out. “I call it ‘Halloween Candy.’ We’ll have hot-pink balloons and silver streamers. We’ll set up cotton candy serving stations, and marshmallow-shaped beanbag chairs. And we could have a red carpet down the middle of the gym, like at celebrity events, only the carpet should be hot-pink, to match the balloons.” She paused, then beamed. “Amazing, right?”

“Are you
kidding?”

The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Before I’d even realized I’d spoken. But I
had
spoken.

I’d said, “Are you kidding?” to Princess Ashlee Lambert.

Every single person in the room turned to gawk at me. Me — quiet, meek, Pale Paley, who, up until this moment, hadn’t uttered more than three words at a student council meeting. I could feel Gabby’s eyes boring into me. Henry, Eve, Roger, Ms. Goldsmith, and all the others stared at me, stunned.

Ashlee crossed her arms over her chest. She lifted her chin, glared at me, and, in the cruelest, coldest voice I’d ever heard, asked,
“What
did you say, Emma-Rose?”

Something came over me then: a rush of warmth and courage I’d never felt before. I was sure it had to do with the events of the past few days. Considering what I’d witnessed in Great-aunt Margo’s room on Monday night, it was impossible to feel scared by someone like Ashlee. After all, Ashlee was not a real princess, just a regular seventh grader. But I was the descendant of an ancient, noble line!

Call it vampire-girl-power.

I lifted my chin right back and tossed my dark hair over my shoulder.

“I said,” I replied in a clear, even tone. “‘Are you kidding?’ Because, seriously, Ashlee? Hot-pink and silver for a Halloween dance? That’s all wrong.”

Gasps and whispers shot through the classroom. Henry’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and he leaned against the blackboard, as if enjoying a good show. Eve gaped at me, as if she couldn’t believe I had the guts to challenge her leader. Ashlee gaped at me, too, but she quickly collected herself and narrowed her blue eyes.

“Thank you
so
much for sharing your thoughts, Emma-Rose,” she said sarcastically. “Do
you
have any brilliant suggestions for the dance’s color scheme?” She planted her hands on her hips and curled her glossy upper lip, waiting.

My heart was pounding but in a good, strong way. “Actually, I do,” I replied, and in that moment I realized I was full of ideas. I’d been full of them all along, but had never thought to voice my opinions.

“Well, black and orange are the obvious choices, but we could try out some dark reds, too. And,” I continued, my confidence growing as I spoke, “we could get permission to put up some cool wall decals, like skulls or cobwebs or ghosts. We should have a smoke machine, and we could fill up a witch’s cauldron with candy corn. Or apples to bob for! Oh, and the red carpet idea isn’t bad, but we could do even more with that, and have some kids volunteer to be, like, paparazzi and take pictures of all the costumes. It could be a Hollywood Halloween.”

I paused for breath. I didn’t think I’d ever heard myself say so much. But I didn’t feel shy or silly or embarrassed. It had been exciting, letting all my ideas spill out. And it was nice not to be thinking about fangs or dead animals in Central Park.

It was the best I’d felt in days.

The classroom was deathly silent for a moment, and then Gabby turned to me and said in a clear, firm voice, “I think that sounds awesome.”

“Thank you,” I mouthed, and she gave me a thumbs-up sign.

Of course Gabby would side with me, though; that was a given. When no one else spoke, I began to fidget in my seat and wonder if everyone would shoot down my ideas, especially since Ashlee’s face was getting redder by the minute.

But then Henry Green, who’d been standing to the side with his hands in his jeans pockets, stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Not bad, Pale Paley,” he said, with his (annoyingly) cute half smirk. “Not bad at all. Pretty cool, in fact.”

I felt myself blush as I shrugged. Ashlee whipped around to glare at Henry, all but screaming the word
Traitor!

“Yeah,” Roger spoke up from his seat. “I really like candy corn.”

“And I love wall decals!” exclaimed Zora Robinson. “I bet we can buy temporary ones!”

An excited buzz began to ripple through the room now, with kids turning in their seats to smile at me approvingly. My cheeks grew even hotter.

Ashlee turned away from Henry and zeroed in on Eve, who was nibbling on her hot-pink nails. When Eve opened her mouth to speak, everyone leaned forward to listen.

“I … I, um, really like the paparazzi idea?” she said, terror in her eyes.

Ashlee’s jaw dropped.

“All right!” someone yelled from across the room, and a smattering of applause broke out. Someone else chanted, “We want Hollywood Halloween!” and someone else said, “Nice going, Emma-Rose!”

I couldn’t believe it. I stared at Gabby, who also looked shocked but proud.

“Order!” Ashlee cried, pounding her gavel against the desk. “Order!
I
don’t like that idea! Who wants paparazzi at a dance? What’s going on here? I’m the president and I get to decide!”

“I’m sorry, Ashlee,” Ms. Goldsmith finally spoke, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Student council always follows a democratic process, which means the
students vote.” Before Ashlee could argue, Ms. Goldsmith turned around and faced us. “All in favor of the Halloween Candy idea, please raise your hands,” she said.

Ashlee threw her arm into the air with such force she knocked her pink flower ring against the blackboard. Nobody else followed her lead. Hesitantly, Eve raised one hand, but then put it back down on her lap, whispering, “I’m sorry!” to a fuming Ashlee.