"Becky loves to talk," my dad began. "I had no idea she was so fascinated with Las Vegas. Next time I'll bring her. She tells me you guys have been watching vampire movies all evening."
"Yeah..."
"Revenge of Dracula for the fiftieth time?"
"No. It's a new one. It's called Vampire Kisses."
"Is it good?"
"I give it two thumbs up!"
Chapter 16 Chocolate-and-Vanilla Swirl
Becky and I were eating ice-cream cones-- Vanilla Royale and Chocolate Attack--outside Shirley's Bakery the next day.
"Alexander's the dreamiest! I can still feel his lips tingling against my cheek," I said. "Becky, for the first time I don't want to run away from this town, 'cause at the top of Benson Hill lives my Gothic dream guy. I can't stop thinking about him. I only wish you'd met him, too, then you'd know how spectacular he is!"
Suddenly a red Camaro pulled up.
"Matt saw Becky's truck parked outside Freaky Mansion last night," Trevor proclaimed in his ornery way as he sauntered over. He stared into Becky's face and asked, "Trying to spray paint the Mansion, Igor?"
"No," I defended, smiling, still thinking about last night. I wasn't going to let Trevor spoil my wonderful mood.
"So you weren't up to trouble, Werewolf Girl?" Trevor asked, continuing to stare at Becky.
Becky looked scared.
"Let's go, Trev," Matt said.
"We'd love to chat with you lovely gentlemen, but we're in the middle of a corporate meeting," I told him. "So you'll have to leave a message with my secretary."
"Is Shirley putting Prozac in her ice cream now?" Trevor said, laughing. "I don't think you'd know what a gentleman was if he bit you on the neck!"
I continued to lick the edge of my cone.
"Or was it you up there?" Trevor guessed. "You're always up to trouble." "Maybe it was Becky's parents; it's their truck. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out."
"I just thought that maybe you and Becky were dating the Osbournes! Oh, I forgot, he just bites the heads off bats--he doesn't turn into them."
"I think I hear your mother calling," I said.
"They're just like you, you know, miserably pale, and social outcasts. They haven't even tried to join the country club yet. But then again we don't accept vampires."
"Vampires?" I laughed uneasily. "Who says that?"
"Everyone, pinhead! The Sterling vampires. The dude hangs out in the cemetery. But I think they're just escaped lunatics like you. They're total freaks."
"C'mon, Trev, let's get out of here already. We've got practice," Matt said.
"Now I see who wears the pants in your relationship," I said. "But I forgot, your pants wound up on my locker."
Trevor grabbed the cone from my hand.
"Hey, give it back!" I shouted. Trevor had managed to spoil my blissful mood after all.
He took a huge lick.
"Great, now it has disgusting snob germs. You can keep it," I said.
"Baby, it had germs the moment you looked at it."
"Let's go, Becky," I said, tugging her arm.
"Leaving so soon?" "I thought I was done with you!" I shouted.
"Done? You're always trying to break my heart, aren't you? Does this mean our engagement is off?"
"Let's go, Trev," Matt said. "We've got things to do."
"You know you love this, Monster Girl. If it wasn't for me, no one would pay attention to you."
"And I'd be the luckiest girl in the world."
"I'll see you in the car," Matt impatiently told Trevor.
"I'll be right there," Trevor replied, then leaned into me. "If you want to be the luckiest girl in the world, you'll go with me to the Snow Ball."
Trevor was asking me to a dance? And of all dances, the Snow Ball? The big school dance where plastic icicles and snowflakes hung from the gym rafters, and fake snow covered the gym floor? He'd show up with me on his arm in front of all his friends? The soccer snobs and the hundred-dollar-haircut girls? It had to be a big joke. I'd be gussied up, waiting at my house, and he'd stand me up, or he'd dump a bucket of red goo on me like in Carrie. But even if he was serious, even if by some miracle Trevor really did like me, I couldn't go to the ball with him. Not now that I had met Alexander Sterling.
"It'll be a night you'll never forget," he said seductively.
"I'm sure it will, but I don't want to have nightmares for the rest of my life."
"Just can't tear yourself away from Nick at Nite."
"No. I'm already going."
Trevor sneered. "Stag? Or with an inflatable doll?"
"I have a date." Becky gasped, but she and Trevor weren't the only ones surprised by my rash words.
"In your dreams! I was only asking you out of pity. No one else would show up with you, unless he was dead."
"Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?"
"I'm leaving," Matt shouted from the car. "Are you coming?"
"Thanks for the ice cream, psycho," Trevor said, getting into the Camaro. "But next time remember, I prefer Rocky Road."
I watched my double-dip Chocolate Attack screech away.
"I'd offer you mine, but I know you don't like pure vanilla," Becky said consolingly.
"Thanks, but I have bigger things than ice cream to worry about. Like getting a date!"
Every time the phone rang, my heart jumped. Was it Alexander? And when it wasn't him my heart would break into a million pieces. It had been two long days since I had seen my Gothic mate. I was so preoccupied with Alexander, dreaming of the next time we'd be together, nothing else mattered. I didn't wash the spot where his tender love lips had pressed against my flesh. I was acting like I was straight out of a Gidget movie! What had happened to me? I was losing my edge! For the first time in my life I was really afraid. Afraid of never seeing him again and afraid of being rejected.
If I asked Alexander to the dance, he might freak out. He might say, "With you?" or "No way, not a lame, school dance. I'm so beyond that! And I thought you were, too." I was beyond that, even though I'd never gone to any dances to actually get beyond them. I wouldn't be going to homecoming or the prom or any of the other dances scheduled throughout the school year. I would stay home with Becky and watch the Munsters on TV. But Trevor's challenge had forced me to fight back, with a weapon that I didn't even have: Alexander.
This feeling of not being able to eat or sleep was new to me. To hang my heart on every ring of the phone, to scream at the top of my lungs for Billy Boy not to tie up the line with his addictive web surfing, not to be able to watch Nosferatu without crying, or to listen to a silly, sappy, drippy, lovesick Celine Dion song without thinking she had written it just for me--I wanted it all to go away.