Life as a Teenage Vampire Read online

  by Amanda Meuwissen

  Life as a Teenage Vampire

  Copyright © 2016 - Amanda Meuwissen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Editor - Willow Wood

  Cover design - Alexandra Ishchenko

  Book layout - Mario Hernandez

  Author Photo - Kyle Olson

  ISBN-13: 978-1-943619-32-0

  ISBN-10: 1-943619-32-8

  First U. S. Edition: October 2016

  Printed in the United States of America

  For Kaitlin and Anjali

  Possibly my biggest fans. Thank you.

  by Amanda Meuwissen

  Chapter 1

  We watched in anticipation, expecting the teddy bear to explode, but it didn’t rise up into the air so much as hop slightly and then fizzle as it caught on fire.

  “Shit!” Connor cried.

  I scrambled for the hose. “I thought you got the recipe from your dad!”

  “I did! Do you know how many things he’s set on fire?”

  Connor ran to turn the hose on as I aimed it, holding steady once the first burst of pressure poured through. At least we’d been prepared—mostly.

  “Connor? Emery? What are you two doing out there?” Connor’s mom called from inside the house. “You’re going to be late for school!”

  “Coming, Mom!” Connor turned panicked eyes on me, which looked more honey-colored than brown whenever they went that wide, but he soon choked out a laugh. He turned the hose off again. “That bear never looked better. Maybe if you’d blown it up before giving it to Liz, she wouldn’t have dumped you.”

  I rolled my eyes as I let the hose drop back to the grass. The overlarge teddy bear’s now blackened fur was only slightly smoldering. Plus, it looked like rain soon. We’d just finished Easter Break, so having no snow on the ground this time of year was a blessing in Minnesota. Of course, the change in weather also meant I was due for another sinus infection. I sniffled miserably.

  “I think Liz did me a favor,” I said. “We were never right for each other.” I was just tired of starting over—especially with only a couple months left of senior year.

  “Ah, so blowing up the bear finally made you realize that, huh? I’m a genius.” Connor came over and gave my shoulder a firm smack with his left hand. The dark teal prosthetic was one of the lighter designs he’d come up with recently.

  “I’ll never doubt your methods again, man,” I muttered.

  We shared a meaningful grin.

  Connor always knew how to make me feel better after a break up. Usually it involved building something, like a new prototype for his robotics course, or a new design for his left arm that his mom would never actually let him wear to school, but today’s break up remedy had been chemistry. Connor wasn’t nearly as adept at chemistry.

  “What are we going to do with that?” I pointed at the charred bear. We’d planned to rake up the blown up bits of fluff and toss them into the garbage before we left for school. Not as good of an idea when the bear was smoking.

  Connor scratched his buzzed, dark blond head a moment, then grabbed the empty recycling bin from next to his family’s garbage can and carefully set it on top of the bear. It didn’t completely cover it—it was a large bear. I’d won it at the indoor carnival for Liz only a few weeks back, but she’d told me to hang onto it for her. I should have taken the hint then.

  “It’ll be fine ‘til after school,” Connor said. “Not hot enough to melt the bin—I don’t think. I’ll take care of it later.”

  “Thanks. I have work after class.”

  “Mr. Leonard is making you go?” Connor gaped at me as we grabbed our bags and headed out the back gate to his car.

  His mom waved at us as she pulled out of the driveway in her Subaru. Georgia Daniels had the same dark blonde hair as her son, the same small dusting of freckles over her cheeks, but with pale blue eyes behind bronze-framed glasses.

  “Arm?” she called out her open window.

  Connor held up his prosthetic.

  She nodded and headed off down the street.

  “Geesh, they raise me on Japanese video games and wonder why I want a gun arm someday. She keeps threatening to homeschool me if I wear the Rocket-Punch one out of the house.”

  We climbed into Connor’s hand-me-down white Thunderbird, which was in fairly good shape for its age, having belonged to his sister first, despite the one headlight that didn’t pop up. He was a better driver than me even when he wasn’t wearing his arm.

  Connor was born without his left arm from just below the elbow. He and his dad had been building their own prosthetics for years, though Connor had surpassed his dad’s skill level at about age twelve.

  I groaned as I checked my phone for any last minute messages from my folks and saw that the battery was already at two-thirds life. “I hate this thing. It’ll be dead by practice at this rate.”

  “You seriously need a new phone, Em.”

  “It’s happening! Dad finally caved to buy me one. He promised it doesn’t have to count as a graduation present.”

  “Lucky.”

  “Anyway, Mom said I should go to the Leonards, if you don’t mind dropping me off later. If I wasn’t coming from school, she’d probably send me with a casserole or something.”

  “What, no hot dish and bars?” Connor snickered in his best approximation of a terribly over the top Minnesotan accent.

  “Mr. Leonard’s a nice guy; I want to go. I can’t imagine staying in that big house alone.”

  “Especially after someone was murdered in it,” Connor said.

  We both shuddered.

  Mrs. Leonard’s murder was big news for such a small town. I’d worked for the Leonards since I was fifteen. They were both good people, and paid me way too much for the little yard work and landscaping I did. It was still hard to believe that Mr. Leonard had found his wife with a hole in her chest only a few days ago. Not even a bullet hole—bigger.

  “Maybe it was gardening sheers,” Connor said as we headed toward the school.

  “Huh?”

  “The murder weapon.”

  “I hope not, or they might look at me as a suspect.” I’d meant it as a joke, but the possibility of that happening bottomed out my stomach. “No,” I shook my head, “I heard it was rounder than that.”

  “From who? Did Tim say something?”

  I tossed Connor my best ‘are you shitting me’ expression. Connor and I lived next door to each other. Tim Ashby—Chief of Police—lived across the street. And while he was friends with both of our parents, he never let anything official slip. Ever.

  “Point taken,” Connor said.

  “I just heard a few rumors, but who knows what’s true. And before you even ask,” I hurried on when I saw Connor take a deep breath, “there is no way I am pushing Mr. Leonard for details. If he brings anything up, I’ll listen, otherwise I’m planning on keeping him on happier topics. I don’t think he’s left the house all week other than for trips to the police station.”

  Connor shuddered again and gripped the steering wheel tighter, the geometric shapes of his teal fingers curling as closely around the rub
ber as his flesh and blood ones.

  We pulled into the high school parking lot a few minutes later, and I immediately groaned. Almost 1000 kids in our high school and over 200 in our graduating class, and somehow we’d arrived at the same time as Liz. I watched her get out of her blue Corolla across from us, then averted my eyes before she could catch me staring.

  “You could always switch teams,” Connor said as he shifted into PARK. “But then you’d have to join me in lamenting the absolute travesty of how few viable males we have at our school, and we’d end up torching the place before graduation. I swear I am one conspirator away…”

  “What about Nick?” I said. We’d waited an appropriate amount of time for Liz to get ahead of us without looking suspicious, and finally made for the school. “You guys have been spending a lot of time together lately.”

  “Well, yeah, because we’re both doing backstage for the play. But…meh,” Connor said dismissively. “He’s not a bad guy. Good looking, sure. Totally my bro. But date him? No thanks. It’s not that all the guys here suck, okay, I’m just not interested in anyone.” He stared straight ahead, not even passing me a sideways glance. He always got touchy when his love life came up, but as much as I wanted to pry, his tight shoulders told me to lay off.

  “We’ll just have to wallow in singleness together then,” I said. “Again.”

  The truth was, Connor wasn’t wrong. There were plenty of cool people at our school. Our class was small enough that everyone knew each other but still big enough that we weren’t all friends. And yet, when I considered dating someone new, it felt like there were no options left.

  “Hey, Mavus! Excuse me, Mister Sped Out of the Auditorium the Second Practice Was Over Last Night.”

  I whirled around to discover Aurora Frank hot on my heels with a piece of paper outstretched in her hand. Aurora was stage manager for the spring play—actually, she’d been stage manager for the fall musical and the one-act play for as long as I could remember—which basically meant she owned my soul for several months out of the year, ever since I’d ditched football halfway through Sophomore season to do theater instead.

  The play was probably the best we could have hoped for during senior year—Noises Off by Michael Frayn. The rotating set had Aurora a little on edge.

  I reached for the paper she was offering only for her to press it hard into my chest. “New schedule for tonight, Mavus. Mark wants you there at 6:30 during the dinner break to practice the glue scene with Tyler again. I hope you’re wearing boxers with buttons today.” She grinned prettily as she left the paper—and me scrambling to keep it from falling to the ground—while flipping her long auburn hair over her shoulder. It swished all the way down her back. Her almond eyes were intensely dark, and scared the hell out of me when narrowed my direction.

  Somehow, Connor always took her in stride. “Slave driver,” he said, and stuck out his tongue.

  I spent a large portion of the play with my pants around my ankles, so having boxers on with an actual firm closure was a necessity. I’d forgotten a few times and had to do the scene only pretending to drop my pants for decency’s sake, which was apparently getting more on Aurora’s nerves than our director’s.

  I clutched the now crumpled paper and searched my brain. What shorts had I put on that morning? “Totally the right boxers this time, promise. And I didn’t speed out on purpose last night, I’m fighting a bad cold! But I can do 6:30. I’ll just be half dead come Saturday morning…” I grumbled.

  “You better,” she warned me.

  “What, show up half-dead?” Connor said.

  She glared at him. Then at me. “Be on time.”

  “Unnnng.” A groan sounded, followed by the full form of Jules Miller half-collapsing with her forehead into Aurora’s shoulder. A muffled, “Too much Warcraft,” followed after.

  Aurora resisted the urge to flip her hair again, and patted Jules’ shoulder mechanically.

  “We got out of play practice at 10:30 last night,” Connor said. “You played?”

  “Only a couple hours to unwind,” Jules mumbled, rolling her head toward us and blinking pale blue eyes. Her blond hair contrasted starkly next to Aurora’s auburn.

  Jules lived in skirts most days, many of which she had made herself. She could bake better than any of our mothers and her own combined, and she was the best first-person shooter and World of Warcraft player I knew. She had the role of blonde bombshell Brooke in the play and totally killed it every practice, no matter how tired she was. She just had a tendency to not sleep—ever. She also spent most of the show in a nightie.

  We were so lucky they’d let us do this play.

  “Come, ladies, we have Jazz Band to attend to.” Connor pushed in between the pair, grabbing each of their arms and dragging them toward the doors with a wistful grin thrown my way. “See you later, Em!”

  Both girls followed along without resistance.

  “6:30, Emery!” Aurora called back at me. She definitely meant business. Connor called me ‘Em’ but everyone else at school always used my last name.

  I sighed and followed after them to head to Honor Choir. So much for having some time to myself between visiting Mr. Leonard and play practice. After the charred bear incident and nearly running into Liz in the parking lot, the day was off to a winning start.

  ~

  Connor

  Connor pulled up to William Leonard’s large home just outside of town to drop Emery off for work. Or maybe it was more charity or a therapy session, since Connor doubted Emery would be doing much work today.

  “Let me know if you need a ride to practice later,” he said as Emery hopped out of the back. Aurora had claimed the front seat.

  “Shoot,” Emery said when his phone gave a telling beep and he fished it out of the front pocket of his backpack. He looked at Connor imploringly through the rolled down window. “I’ll call from the house phone if I need you. This stupid battery is on its last legs.”

  “Good thing you’re getting a new one,” Connor said.

  “Yeah, two-day shipping. Although, nine times out of ten I’m just next door at your place anyway.” He glanced at the house as if nervous to approach it. “Well…later, guys.”

  “See you at practice,” Aurora said. “Six—”

  “6:30, I got it. If I’m not there, I’m either home nursing another sinus infection, or dead.” Emery grinned crookedly at her persistence.

  Connor’s heart seized at the sight. He swallowed back the all too familiar thickness in his throat, and managed to wave as Emery headed for the double doors, framed between two pristine white pillars on the front porch. He didn’t try to hide from Aurora how he followed his best friend’s retreating form.

  At six foot even, with perfectly gelled, dark brown hair and bronze skin from the Middle Eastern roots on his dad’s side, and warm hazel green eyes from his mostly Irish mom, Emery had a glow about him that Connor had been in love with since his first rush of hormones—which had sucked, considering they’d been friends since they were in diapers. Even the ever so subtle pudge Emery had developed after quitting football made Connor’s face flush. Not that dance practice when the musical came around wasn’t slimming.

  “You are the worst stereotype in the world,” Aurora said when they finally pulled back onto the road.

  “Last I checked, my wardrobe is too lame for me to be a stereotype,” Connor said.

  “You know what I mean. High school. Unrequited love for your best friend. Pining and sighing and all that crap.”

  “Ung,” Connor agreed.

  “Break the stereotype, Mr. Daniels,” Aurora said with a twist of her full lips, which were painted bright red, “confess already. Wasn’t that your New Year’s Resolution for, like…the third year in a row?”

  It was.

  “No,” Conno
r said defensively.

  “We have two months of school left.”

  “He—”

  “Just broke up with his girlfriend,” Aurora reminded him.

  “But he—”

  “Has never actually expressed that guys are totally out of the equation, so the least you can do is admit the truth before graduation.”

  Connor sighed into the steering wheel. “I just want one week where something insane doesn’t happen. No strange murders, no idiot freshman writing bomb threats in the girl’s bathroom, no distractions. Just one week…and I’ll tell him.”

  Aurora huffed. “Good luck with that.” She pulled out her school planner, which still had two months left to fill, but as she finished a month, she proceeded to cover the used pages in scans of Sailor Moon manga art. It was now five times as thick as it had been at the start of the year.

  “What are you doing?” Connor asked as she took a pen and began filling out something for next month.

  “Documenting the next time I’m scheduled to bug you about this when you inevitably don’t follow through.”

  If Connor didn’t know how right she was, he would have protested.

  He pulled into the middle school parking lot, across town from the high school, but where the large auditorium was housed for plays and music concerts—despite the fact that the high school used it far more than the middle school did. He sat staring forward a moment after shutting off the Thunderbird.

  “Come on, Con-Man,” Aurora said playfully, accompanied by a swift kiss on the cheek to catch him off guard and prompt a smile. “We have to find the right spot on the stage to turn the set between acts so we don’t hit the wall with one end or let the other fall into the pit.” She winked when Connor turned and caught her gaze. “That would so spoil opening night.”

  Chapter 2