Belfry Did It Better

Why would a vampire go to prom? Why would any of them go to prom? I zoned out while I glanced over the notes for my upcoming Eekonomics final. That and Dead Languages were the only two I was concerned about out of my remaining four, and I massaged my eyelids generously. I'd shirked on makeup for a good reason; it was hot enough to warrant the skirt and sunblock, but not cool enough for me to care. Bram snuck bites of his bag of gummy coagulations while the announcements droned on over the intercom. Ugh, if they could invest in a web-design class – and that didn't mean one with Little Miss Spider – they could run something someone actually cared about. The newspaper was crap, and listening to Abbey going on made me want to put a silver bullet in my head. It wouldn't kill me, but it would put me down for long enough to get a decent nap out of it. I hated daylight schedules. I hated final exams. I hated late spring heat, and my ignorant classmates, and, to emphasize what I heard, I hated prom.

Bram glanced my way with implications glimmering in his eyes, implications that made my lips lift involuntarily. At Belfry Prep, we didn't believe in prom. There was a fall formal, our version of Homecoming, and a Spring Masquerade. As often as I hoped the traditionalists would shove it like a garlic bulb, those dances were some of the happiest days of my life. Belfry had been the happiest time of my life. Open classrooms, educated teachers, budget? What budget? We had the world. Everything was precious metal, beautiful and pristine – and our music choices didn't suck.

"Look," he muttered, flashing his Black-Scary beneath the ledge of the desks. The prom polls only had Holt as DJ, that transfer girl Catty Noir, or Operetta as our music choices. He flipped; vegan food? Oh for fuck's sake. And what were the rest of us supposed to chew on, our jewelry? That was going to be a train wreck we could avoid for the second year in a row. I rolled my eyes and flipped the page. Judas, my eyes were crossing and my attention span was shot to shit. I needed enough caffeine to send me to the emergency room and something to chew on. Blessedly, he switched hands with his phone and smacked my pen away when it tilted toward my lips. I smirked; none of our classmates had any idea how much it sucked to have the kind of biting fixation that vampires had. At least he helped me avoid an uncommon cold or two. Before Rotter turned on the lights, I lifted my head. Bram popped a gummy clot between my lips, and I leaned my head on his shoulder gratefully.

God, some afternoons, I hated high school.

Toralei and I met up after Eekon to take part in a routine that had become as usual for us as the dorks across the hall gathering to gossip.

"Hey, fang face," she quipped from her locker down the way.

"Bite me, Calico."

Pleasantries exchanged, she turned and leaned on the door to close it. "Hack's plotting a pop quiz before the final."

"Great." Fucking great, actually, like I didn't have enough to deal with. "I pulled Dead Languages up to a seventy-three. I can officially fail the final and not care. I even calculated with a twenty-three percent, and I'd still have a sixty-eight for the semester."

Her tail twitched in approval that she tried to hide. I dumped my singular book and draped an arm over her pleather-clad shoulders. My fingers itched to rub the dainty spots of black behind her ears, but she didn't take too kindly to melting for a rub in public spaces. Still, her tail snaked beneath my waist cincher to flick affectionately along the hem of my shirt. I gave her ear a fleeting itch. Anyone who said animals weren't therapeutic must not understand what homicidal tendencies arise in a high school where you're one of the few actually qualified to graduate.

"Hey, you wanna Carrie that goodie-two-shoes Frankie Stein at prom?" Her twinkling, emerald eyes lifted. She could do a great puss-in-boots face when she wanted to have her way, but I was too tired to have any of it. We walked upstairs arm-in-arm to meet our fellow cohorts in the hall at the halfway point between our classes, and I rubbed her fuzzy skin absently. I loved that movie, but she wasn't dumb enough to make it funny. Naïve, sure, but nowhere near as dumb. "Maybe Draculaura, she'll drop like a brick."

Harsh laughter burst from her to hide the purr that tinted it. She might've pretended to be annoyed by the affection, but she was as much of a liar as the werewolves. Sure, Howleen called it demeaning when I itched behind her ear, but that didn't stop her foot from thumping for a solid ten minutes before the itch went away. "I'm not going to prom. It's a waste of money for the cheap little thing they're going to throw together. If I'm going to fork out a concert ticket's worth, it better be for more than a student DJ and a macaroni bar."

She snorted, but her tail bristled. I leaned on the ledge of one of the cathedral windows and waited for Bram with my fingers at the base of her skull. She could guilt me all she wanted to, I still saw no point. Monster High's prom would never compare to Belfry Prep, or a vampire house party, for that matter. Hell, I'd heard through the grapevine that Clawd Wolf's older sibling had thrown one hell of a house party before – anything beat MH prom.

"It won't be any fun without someone there to properly enjoy the artistry of my work," she mewed, leaning close for both emphasis and a head scratching. I massaged the part in her hair until she began to purr.

"We could always throw our own. It's not like we can't get a house, a keg and compile CDs."

"A keg?" Her eyes lit up; apparently that was all it took to speak her language.

"Blood, beer, I don't give a damn. Heath's going to spike the punch and get detention into summer school again anyway. Might as well not deny our teenage tendencies."

"Actually, I have a bottle of Bordeaux that requires good company to open; perhaps we can make use of that." Bram draped his arm over my shoulder and rested his chin against the top of my head. I couldn't blush, but my expression brightened involuntarily. "That is, if we keep it a casual affair," he amended.

Toralei's eyes flickered to mine, and mine rose to him. "How casual are we talking? I doubt we're the only ones who want to avoid paying out the fang for a cheap party."

"I like large parties," he replied, "as long as they're contained enough to remain intimate without major repairs needed afterward."

She seemed torn. "What would we do if it was just the five of us?"

"Drink wine, actually watch Carrie? Do you want a whole buffet and a heated blanket too?" Lazy Saturdays were my favorite Saturdays, anyone who went to this place knew why.

"Just remember, you're on social probation with Bloodgood," Purrsephone spoke up. She and her sibling went straight to their leader and leaned on her for affection the same way she had with me. I could imagine a few more I would want to spend the evening with, though I was sure Toralei would rather not.

She shrugged, itched the darker twin behind the ear, and turned to go, "I'll text you. Maybe we can amend the matinée."

I could feel him smirking. Of course, that meant the party was on – Toralei never entertained an idea unless she planned on going through with it. Although we still had a few minutes before class, and I was in no hurry to leave my boyfriend's comfortable hold, my second choice for anti-prom planning burst up the stairs in a frenzy and, upon spotting me, rushed over.

"Gory," Jackson wheezed, temporarily out of breath, "I know you have a boyfriend, but please tell me you're free for prom."

Cain in a hamster ball, he couldn't be serious. I suppose the look on my face gave me away, as he immediately straightened and brushed his bleach-dipped hair back by the fistful. "I can't find anyone!"

"Why don't you ask Frankie? You've only been mooning over her for years," Bram pointed out.

"She's running it," he sighed. "She'll be playing hostess."

It was on the tip of my tongue. He was such a good boy, but I highly doubted he could resist entertaining a dangerous thought for a night, unless Hyde won DJ and he had to work as his alter. Bram relaxed, expecting the words before they left my mouth, yet they still came as a shock to the be-speckled boy keeping stride with us. "Why don't you just come to our party?"

"You want me to come to your party? Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Actually, I'd rather not watch you suffer. I might be a vampire, but that doesn't mean I'm not a merciful goddess."

Bram snorted. I ignored it.

Jackson shoved his glasses up his nose, his cheeks still flushed from rushing up the stairs, and his bag was partially open. I reached out to fix it for him, and he grabbed the clasp before I could. Suspicion lingered on the edge of his gaze, "Was that what you were talking about with Toralei?"

I quirked my head to the side, "I'm offended; if I really wanted to prank you, don't you think I'd do it to your face? I'm not a teenager anymore, Jackson. I don't throw elaborate parties to embarrass boys who brighten my pitiful excursion in public education."

He flushed visibly. It made my fangs prickle with hunger, but the soft curl of his lips forced it to die before it could flourish. Poor thing; did he really think so low of himself?

"I'll think about it, okay? I can always come for a while, right?"

"Of course. You won't be dinner."

His cheeks flushed more deeply, and he scurried off without another word. Bram scoffed and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, "Don't make any promises you yourself can't keep."

I nudged his ribs, "Behave. No one is eating him; for all we know, we're stealing their DJ."

A smile crossed his lips that I hadn't seen since days long past, where mascot-stealing between casketball rivals toyed with our alone time beneath the visiting team's bleachers. It was as though I'd entertained the idea of a frat party – Bram was sold, no matter what ended up on our intimate guest list.

It was probably a good thing he quoted Jordan Baker; if large parties were intimate, we should've been able to have sex in the hallway.

Toralei had more of a handle on party music than I'd expected, and she manned the stereo with a remote from Manny Taur's lap while indulging her vices in a red plastic cup. In the two hours after his parents had left for some gala or other, not to return until dawn, we had managed an entire album that sounded like fax machines having revenge sex before transitioning to dance music headed by a British female rapper. The theme might as well have been Bordello of Blood the way Toralei's friends danced on the coffee table in their bare stockings.

We lingered at the top of the stairs with our own glasses of Type O and Sangria mix, watching the whole spectacle.

"It's the World's Fair," he muttered with the glass to his lips. Sans his jacket, he was ten times the delicious with negative effort. I didn't know how I looked, but I felt quite nice at his side. Liquor spread comfortable warmth through my veins, and coupled with the blood, it processed slowly. It lingered like repressed energy while visions of the popular girls' crumbling prom crossed my mind. Frankie was a nice girl and all, but she could have her vanilla dance. She could have her little childhood royalty and façade of happiness – I had not been the reigning HVIC in almost two years, and I still monopolized the majority.

"This is our song," Bram announced at the tapping beat of a new track. He took my glass, abandoned it beside a vase on a hall table, and led me down the stairs without hesitation. The crowd at the base parted to allow us in. Toralei toasted from the chair and cranked the volume, drawing cheers from her people. It was a sexual beat. That might've been a problem… if we were at Frankie's party.

"Gory!"

Bram's hands slid along the waistband of my new skirt, drawing me closer. His fingertips brushed my spine, tracing up to my shoulder blades. Our fingers laced, he gave me a twirl. My back collided with his chest. Oh hello.

"Gory!"

His soft lips traced my throat. Was the song fast, or was that my heart? Oh hell, it felt human. It felt alive. Maybe this was what they got out of their pitiful party; we were certainly no different tonight. I might've even let them in if they decided to show. I could feel his fangs pricking my skin, begging for permission to pierce. My hips rolled back against his involuntarily, fingers laced through his. Yes – why do you even need to ask?

"Gory!" Jackson appeared right in front of me, the crowd parted by force. Though my head rose, we didn't separate until I saw the entourage behind him. Shit! He brought the whole loser brigade!

"I thought I told you it was an intimate party!" I snapped.

He shifted his arms over his chest. Of all the people to understand an allusion, I was sure the nerd would've been able to.

Frankie popped out from behind him and flashed me a sheepish smile, "Everyone was leaving to come here. Spectra came here to cover, not prom."

Bram's eyes were suddenly fixed on me, though I didn't want to return the glance in case it wasn't out of surprise. After all the trouble she'd gone to, I was surprised to hear the kindness in her voice, and though the people who hated them punctuated the room like accent furniture, it didn't seem like they had any intention of leaving. My deflating ego disappeared under a blanket of fury; how dare he bring people he knew I had no intention of inviting to my party? He knew I hated them, and he let them tag along anyway. Jackson shrank from my eyes, but his crush didn't. She touched his elbow and turned back to us, mismatched eyes glimmering, and led him away. Bram's fingers linked in my shirt as though he could sense that I would've burned the place down with everyone inside to get them to stop interfering. Why those were dorks constantly in the spotlight? There was nothing special about them – maybe their parents were a little more sellout than the rest of ours, but that didn't make them worth any more than the rest of us. The rest of them went off when Frankie did, leaving me glaring down Cleo de Nile.

Of all the people left to add salt to the blood splatter.

She looked over his house guardedly, her eyes straying to the partygoers ranging from the full main room to the kitchen and eventually spilling out onto the lawn before they reached us. By the time her judgment went full circle, he had an actual hold on me to keep me from ripping her eyes out between my nails. We stared each other down for a moment, and then her caramelized lips turned up at the corners. Bram tightened his hold.

"I never thought I'd say this, but you throw a decent party."

Decent was not a compliment, but out of Cleo, she might as well have stood in awe. I stood in awe while her comment fully processed. It wasn't shitty pop music, but it wasn't my choice, I hadn't bothered with the food, Manny brought that, and yet, the unlikely band of lost boys managed to throw a better party than the popular girls? The ones who actually had a budget to throw prom with?

"Where's Draculaura?" A subject change was the first thing to come out; it wasn't like I could thank her without admitting gratitude anyway.

"They got their own limo." She shrugged it off like absolutely nothing was going on, but my boyfriend's hold withdrew. He laughed enthusiastically, like the little pink midget was any of our concern. I had to admit, I was pretty proud of her too. Maybe there was some vampire in her after all.

Normally, I'm not a huge fan of parties. People are annoying, the music is never my taste, and why everyone feels entitled to bring twenty of their closest acquaintances and abandon them in someone else's house is beyond me. I had to admit, Toralei guarded the stereo with her life, and she eventually put on decent music – much later than I hoped, but what could I do? We had until dawn to live like we'd never lived before. I didn't have to socialize, but I did. I danced, I drank, I had a good time. When there was an hour left before dawn, everyone broke for the hills with the promise of his parents coming home. Toralei stayed until it was clean, and after she left, we crashed in his room with the blackout curtains drawn.

Honestly, we could've had an ugly sweater and spiked dragon egg nog Cryptmas party and it still would've been better than prom. Anything was better than prom.

Except finding a pair of tabbies passed out in the closet, but waking them up was still better than going to morning class.