Vampire Crush(14)
Author: A.M. Robinson

"Eighth," James says. "But close. What’s up?"

Back in the day he and Danny were on all of the same teams, and at least three times a week I would come home to find them in the backyard throwing some sort of ball at each other – or trying to take a ball from each other. It was never entirely clear. What is clear, however, is that James doesn’t seem all that happy to see his long-lost friend.

"Not much," Danny says. "I totally beat that campaign in Halo 2. On Legendary."

"That’s awesome."

Danny nods proudly. "Yeah, I know. Why are you sitting over here all by yourself? Everyone knows it smells funky in this corner. Hey, Amanda! Guess who’s here?" he yells across the cafeteria, and then turns back to James. "She’d totally go out with you again."

"Cool," James says. "I’m actually talking with Sophie right now, but I might come by later."

There’s an awkward silence as Danny notices me for the first time. He blinks. I smile dorkily and give a little salute that I will regret for the rest of my life.

"Well, okay man," he says, standing up. "But we should hang out. Play some Halo for old times’ sake."

"Sure."

They do another hand dance. I wait until Danny’s safely ensconced back at his table to speak. "You could have gone to sit with them," I say, even though a part of me is ridiculously pleased that he is staying put.

"I came here to talk to you, not Danny Baumann," he says. Our eyes catch, and my chest suddenly feels too tight. I look away for a moment, only to spot something that makes it feel even tighter: Lindsay Allen, striding toward us, ecstatic.

Snatching up my notebook, I frantically brush all of the Post-it Notes she left in James’s locker beneath it. "Help me," I plead.

"What – "

"Hey! Who’s this?" Lindsay asks eagerly. She holds out her hand, already a tiny ambassador. "I’m Lindsay. Let me know if you want a tour. Student Council is in charge of them."

"Ted," I blurt before James can answer. "His name is Ted. Comes from Tennessee. Hates tours."

Two pairs of eyes study me, but James’s green ones hold mine the longest. Finally, he reaches to shake her hand.

"I’m Ted," he says, affecting a slight twang. "And tours give me hives."

Either Lindsay’s pissed that her offer to show him the Wall of Mathletes has been rebuffed, or she’s not buying it.

"Really? I’ve been spending a lot of time in the attendance office lately, and I haven’t seen your name on any of the incoming new-student forms."

"It was a very sudden move. One day my parents are happy nestled in the hills of Appalachia, and the next day they want to go work for Google." James gives an exaggerated shrug. "What can you do?"

"I see. What city did you say you were from?"

"Uh, Columbus."

Lindsay squints, and I can tell that she’s trying to remember if there really is a Columbus, Tennessee. Nashville, I want to yell. Why didn’t you pick Nashville? Or Memphis? Dammit, James, know your capitals! Not that it would have made this plan any less transparent.

"Ted wouldn’t be short for ‘James,’ would it?" she asks.

"Nope."

It’s obvious that Lindsay doesn’t know how to confront an unwilling interview subject. She frowns at the tile and then looks at me, her eyes filled with confusion, betrayal, and a glimmer of anger.

"See you in Journalism, Sophie. Mr. Amado will be surprised to hear that he missed a new student," she says, her voice so cold that it kills me, and then walks away.

I am a ball of slime, the giant kind that families in minivans pull over to see on their summer vacation. Up until now I’ve been picking at my lunch, but now I shove it away, sending a few fries sailing off the edge.

"So what was that about?" James asks with a practiced casualness.

"Nothing," I mutter.

"You just gave me an alternate identity. Not that I mind that much, but you gave me a bad one. Ted, Sophie. From Tennessee."

Might as well admit it. "She’s the girl who wants to interview you."

"I got that much," James says and then arches into a proud stretch. "It’s cute how protective you are of me."

"You wish," I say, but it’s halfhearted. "Here’s the deal. She’s my competition to be editor in chief, and you’re her last interviewee. If she has hers finished by today while I’m still missing two, I might as well give up now. It’s stupid and childish and petty. I know. But it wouldn’t be a problem if Vlad and Marisabel would just talk to me," I finish, slamming my fists down on the table in frustration.

James says nothing. I try to gauge his expression, nervous that he’s going to think I’ve turned into a horrible person. This unnerves me almost as much as my recent Mean Girl impression. When he finally speaks, it’s not a question that I was expecting.

"Your last two interviewees are Vlad and Marisabel?"

My relief at not being judged brings out the whole enchilada. "Yes. But not only won’t they talk to me, they scare the crap out of me. They’re not normal students. I overheard a very strange conversation yesterday. And Vlad’s dating my sister. And possibly dating his sister, too."

James looks at me, alarmed. "Sophie, stay away from them. Tell Caroline to steer clear, too."

His vehemence startles me. "Why?"

"Never mind why," he snaps. Before I can express my outrage at being bullied, he drops the heavy-handed act and leans forward. "What if I get them to answer the questions? You already have them written down."

"That’s nice of you to offer," I say. "But why are they going to pay any more attention to you than they gave to me?"

There is another long pause. "Because I know them."

"You mean you met them this morning?"

"No, I mean they went to my last school," he says quickly – too quickly – while looking everywhere other than straight at me.

For a second I can only blink at him stupidly. "Are you telling me that they’re your friends?" I ask.

"No!" he snaps. "I don’t want anything to do with them."

"But I don’t understand," I insist. "Six people from your old school follow another boy to your hometown, and it’s not connected? That’s ridiculous. It’s too much of a coincidence. And they’re up to something; I know it. The other day – "

James grabs my hand, surprising me enough that I stop talking. I can feel his fingers, firm but cool, against the underside of my palm.

"Sophie," he says, his voice low and insistent. "I need you to trust me when I tell you to stop. I mean it. I don’t want you drawn into this. I want to let what’s going to happen happen, and then I just want to try to go back. Back to like it was before. Before I moved, before my parents . . ."