11: Cemetery Books and Candy Bars
I had missed more than I had anticipated. Three days to be exact. Apparently Tylenol is stronger on vampires than humans. They should really put a warning label on these types of things! They obviously had some prejudice feelings towards vampires or something. Vamp-racists. Damn them all.
My parents had already flown the coop for their three month vacation/business trip. Yeah, I know. Would it have killed them to wake me up? Jameson was fixing me a huge breakfast by the time I finally came around. I could smell eggs and bacon from my bedroom.
After putting on a straight jacket vast and Tripp pants, I threw myself in the general direction of the dining room. Three days of excessive sleeping can do that to a guy.
A plate was already set on my side of the table. My stomach was not disappointed. The pewter plate was fully loaded with French toast, sausages and gourmet pancakes in the shape of bats. I shoveled it down in record time, like a starved animal.
"So where have you been, Master Alexander?" Jameson had walked in, holding a frying pan with eggs benedict sizzling. I eyed the pan greedily. Jameson was a good cook.
"Hibernating," I said in between mouthfuls. He pushed on the eggs benedict after I scooted my bacon aside eagerly. After drowning my breakfast in maple syrup we had imported from Canada, I attacked with gusto. He looked down at my ravenous display of behavior in disturbed amazement.
"You mean all this time you've been sleeping?"
"Yeah," I said with difficulty, because I had just stuffed the last of the French toast in my mouth. "Hey, Jameson. Do you know where I can buy a book around here?"
"Carlson's Book Store," he said, as if everybody held this as common knowledge.
"Excellent." I grinned and handed him my empty plate. I had found something to do today.
"Oh, and if you're going out can you pick something up for me?" Jameson asked.
I groaned. "Jameson, you remember the last time you sent me out to pick up your ointment! I was hit on by an old lady! Who was in her bunny slippers waiting in line to purchase Friskies cat food!" I shuddered at the memory. That lady was a relentless woman. I was always weary of old women now, especially ones with bizarre cat fetishes.
He glared at me. "Not that. I was just hoping that you could purchase a pack of candles. You can by them at 7-Eleven."
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I took the Mercedes out for the first time in weeks. Jameson had given me explicit orders that if I were ever to so much as look in it's direction again, he'd send word to my parents immediately. Too bad when he wasn't paying attention I decided to conveniently forget those words.
Nothing that interesting happened. I abided the law and watched my speed carefully, and skirted around threatening old ladies that were scootering past. But that was all, really.
Carlson's Book Store was a small shop that I would have overlooked if Jameson hadn't given me directions. It was a brick hut more then a store, really.
The bell rang as I opened the door. Rows of shelves were lined up before me as I strolled down the aisles. I wondered if they had any books on Benson Hill cemetery. Grandma had to be mentioned in there; she had been the most generous donor when she had been alive.
They had it ---wedged behind several books on "How to Apply the Perfect Shade of Pink Lipstick" (blech, who would read that garbage?)--- in the front of the store. The only one around in that area was a lady who looked like she spent way too much time on a tanning bed. She looked at me incredulously. I supposed that would be natural, because I am abnormally pale, even to other vampires. But it was still very rude of her to do it so blatantly. I made it a point to ignore her as I leafed through the pages. Interesting. I was going to do a report on this because in order to pass home school, some participation was definitely required.
It was a rather big book considering it was about such a minuscule cemetery. Its width was around the same size as my middle finger. (that's about four to five inches) I shuddered to think what an impact it would make if I dropped it on my foot. That would definitely smart.
I bought it for further study and shoved it in my black book bag that I had brought along. When I stepped out into the dusk, I slipped on my Ray Bans sunglasses and ventured off to find some random 7-Eleven from which I could scrape a few candles from.
Those Ray Bans really were a good choice to wear tonight; the fluorescent lights coupled with the white linoleum of 7-Eleven were blinding me. My skin burned when I stepped in there. It was simply torturous for me to make another step. But I bravely walked on to the candles and grabbed the biggest box they had, risking my life.
7-Eleven wasn't packed tonight, like most of the places I visited often weren't. I was beginning to think that Dullsvillians were kind of like robots; they turned off by flipping a switch. The night life was scarce. No hip clubs. Nothin'.
I jumped on line behind someone, not really looking where I was going because I was distracted by advertisements and tabloids lining the counter. "I Gave Birth to a Two-Headed Vampire Baby" jumped out at me. I rolled my eyes in complete disgust. The things humans came up with were truly absurd. Anything for attention.
"Well, it must be true then!" A girl's voice came from in front of me. "Vampires do exist. I read it in National Liar." She and her friend giggled like school children.
I felt a spark of anger at what she said, and looked up at her to tell her off. And that's when all my anger drained away as my eyes popped out from behind my sunglasses and my jaw dropped.
Why? Because out of all the 7-Elevens in Dullsville, Raven Madison was in this one! With me, more importantly! She was holding a bottle of orange soda and nudging the brunette next to her playfully. Raven was breathtaking in her black spandex dress, which enunciated every curve, every delicate line in her form, her clunky black plastic bracelets which clung loosely to her feminine wrist, and black lipstick graced her soft looking lips, a vision of Gothic beauty.
She noticed me at almost the same time I noticed her, and whirled around to look at me in the face. I concentrated very hard on staring the Kit Kats down.
"Aren't you the guy----" She whispered, out of breath, like she had spotted Ozzy Osbourne.
"Next," the clerk ---who's name was Kris, judging by his name tag--- ordered, and I came up to the counter to purchase the candles and then get the heck outta there.
I tried to make my escape by losing Raven between two ladies ---one of them the tanning bed addict at Carlson's--- and managed to get out of 7-Eleven unscathed and unquestioned, escaping to the safety of my Mercedes. I am sorry to say that I was less cautious of the speed limit on my return trip. I pressed ninety miles per hour, almost running over a woman who looked suspiciously like cat-food-lady. She dived to the side at the last moment, causing me to laugh manically all the way back.
Revenge was sweet. Dearly sweet.
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"Here are your stupid candles," I grumbled, and threw them at Jameson, who had opened the door for me. He took note of my bad mood.
"Bad night?" He commented. His voice suggested he was taken aback by my hostile behavior. To bad. I grunted.
I saw the sun peek out behind some of the trees from the window. The moon would rise at anytime. And sure enough, I saw it floating over head.
"I saw her again," I explained. "And I split before I could talk to her."
Jameson tut-tutted and shook his head. "You'll never get her if you don't try."
"And what makes you so sure that if I'd try, I'd get her?" I demanded.
"Well for one, you have grown women falling for you. At least cat women." I scowled, and he changed tactic. "Just trust me on this. Try."
I sat down on a chair nearby. "It's okay. It's just a crush, is all. Nothing serious." Then why is it my heart was screaming in protest?
Jameson glared at me. "You better ask her out! Try to be a normal seventeen year old and not some hundred year old man!"
"For me, this is normal," I said. "Is there anything odd about that?'
He looked at me for a moment. "Yes," he stated matter-of-factly.
We got a good laugh out of that one. But my laugh was rather forced, because I knew he really thought that.
"Oh, and by the way ---have this. It seems about your size." Jameson held out his hand to give me something. I reached for it, and pulled back a spider ring, gleaming in the dim light.
It was the best gift I had ever received.
I grinned. "Thanks, Jameson!" I modeled it for him.
"It looks better on you then it does me," Jameson admitted.
I laughed and started to walk up the stairs to my room, but he stopped me. "Hold on, Master Alexander," Jameson called. "I'm going out for a little while. Don't blow up the house while I'm gone, okay?"
"I'll try to keep that in mind while I'm playing with dynamite."
I heard the door slam and lock. With Jameson out of the way, I rushed to my lonely attic room to blast the Smiths, and to daydream about several important things, mostly revolving around a girl who intimidated yet enthralled me with only her presence.
I dove onto my mattress and laced my hands behind my head. I watched a spider devour a fly from the large web it had spun in the corner of my room. It reminded me of that song; 'The Bird and the Worm' by the Used, I think it's called. That music video was awesome.
I sighed and rolled over. I wondered what Mom and Dad were up to. Hold on; on second thought, I decided to avoid that subject because I had a very explicit idea of what they could be doing.
Maybe I should visit the Mansion's library. Jameson had told me that he had fixed it up recently. Would it still look identical to the one in Romania, or did it change?
I wasn't able to explore this thought further however, because that's when I heard doors opening. Jameson couldn't be home that quick, could he? He would come up here and demand that I "turn off that screaming load of garbage" in a few seconds. I braced myself for an argument.
Nothing. Jameson was upstairs, but he wasn't coming to scold me. I heard the door underneath me open and the sound of the soft steps. That was my parents' room Jameson was snooping in! what was he doing in there, anyway? Borrowing my father's shaving cream? Panty Raiding my mother's drawers?
But no, these footsteps ---which were moving on to another part of the house--- were too light to belong to my eight foot tall butler.
My mother? Maybe she had come home early. Maybe Dad had quit his job and they flew back here early.
I whistled. My parents and I had come up with a way to check if we were nearby, which was a whistle that we got separated in a crowd at Disney World before.
No return whistles. My parents weren't here. Jameson was gone. I came up with only one possible answer to all this: the Maxwells.
They had found me. Somehow, they had found me and my hide out. I could only see one silver lining in all this. At least nobody was home with me. At least nobody else was going to get murdered. It would only be me, and the others would be spared.
I shut my stereo off and gently stood up. I wouldn't be killed without a fight. I slipped on my cleats and my spiked jewelry. I even put in my thorn earrings. And then I slipped down the stairs as quickly as I could.
I could hear Jagger thundering down the staircase and towards the front door.
"Oh, no you don't," I growled under my breath. "You're going to face me like a man, right here, right now."
I reached the bottom and headed down the hallway. Keys jingled frantically.
I wheeled around the corner to face . . . Jameson, opening the door, nothing in his hands from his shopping. Apparently, they didn't have what he was looking for.
I would have slumped back in disappointment if it hadn't been for one thing. A gust of wind came in at the exact minute Jameson opened the door, casting a medley of scents in my direction. Among them, I picked up the smell of human. Female human, to be exact. And it was coming from behind the red velvet curtains.
"I'm back," Jameson told me unnecessarily. "Wexley's will be delivering tomorrow as usual. I'm going to retire now." So that's where he had gone off to; the butcher.
I didn't respond, transfixed with the curtains. If I listened hard enough, I could hear the sound of a heart racing. . . .
"You can't get them to shut up when they're three, but when they're seventeen they won't even open they're mouths," he muttered grumpily, passing me. When he stopped near the basement, I heard him say, "Always leaving doors opened." And then he shut the door.
She tore herself away from the curtains she had been hiding under and ran to the door, unbolting all thirteen locks in quick precision. Suddenly, her back stiffened. She turned around slowly to face me.
Raven Madison was standing in my hallway, wearing a black turtleneck, black jeans, black backpack and black lipstick. She was motionless, just as I, studying me.
I extended my hand towards her to calm her down and to beckon her to me. Her deep, dreamy eyes darted to the spider ring that I was still wearing.
She looked back up at my face, her communicative gaze telling me she longed for me. My heart beat sporadically. I wanted to talk to her so badly, but my mouth had gone dry.
And then she was gone. She shot off like a bullet, out the door and across the lawn, scrambling up the gate. She swung a combat booted foot over the side before turning back to look at me. I felt the need to rush over to her and never part. But before I could, she slipped over the side and disappeared.
But her presence still haunted me. The very thought of her scent, the very remembrance of her heart beat . . . . I loved it all.
I loved her.