Breathless (5 page)

“Do you want any help unpacking?” Aunt Janet asked.

“No, thanks, Aunt Janet, I’ll be fine. There’s no orientation stuff until later this afternoon, so I’ve got plenty of time to get settled.”

“Okay,” Aunt Janet said. “Give us a call if you need anything.”

Uncle Roger pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to Leesa. “For any incidentals you might need,” he said.

Leesa hugged her aunt and uncle and walked them to the elevator, where she hugged Aunt Janet one more time. Once the doors closed, she limped back to her room. She pulled the door shut behind her and let out a big sigh. She couldn’t believe she was finally here.

6.  RULE SEVENTEEN

“
O
nce when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book about the jungle,” the Dean of Students told his audience, “and that started a life-long love of books and learning for me. I hope all of you will find the same joy in learning during your stay here at Weston College.”

As Dean Halloway droned on, Leesa wriggled uncomfortably on her folding metal chair, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt her butt. At least she’d scored an aisle seat in the crowded auditorium, she thought as she stretched her legs out into the open space to her right. The dean was a short, sallow, white-haired man she guessed to be around sixty—though he could have been eighty for all she knew. He’d been speaking to the more than six hundred students in this year’s freshman class for twenty minutes now, and Leesa could detect no sign he was anywhere near finished. She wouldn’t have minded if any of what he was saying would be useful, but it was all clichés and platitudes about learning, college life, independence and other such rot. She hoped some of the following speakers would have more practical information to share.

She stole a quick glance at the dorky guy with wild red hair sitting next to her. His eyes were riveted on Dean Halloway, as if he expected the old guy at any moment would share the secrets of the universe, or everlasting life, or at least how a geeky guy like him could manage to get laid. Not that she should talk, being a virgin herself, but she was pretty sure she could find someone to change that if she wanted. Her “condition” would have surprised many of the kids back in high school, since she had dated Will from the basketball team for the better part of senior year, but he’d never gotten past second base with her—or should it be half court in his case? And he had only gotten that far once. She’d often wondered why Will had hung in there so long with so little to show for it.

A smattering of applause drew her attention back to the stage. Dean Halloway had finished his speech and was stepping away from the podium. Leesa joined in some polite applause, wondering how many of her fellow students were applauding his finally having finished. Not the dork next to her, that was for sure. He was clapping so hard as the dean left the stage you’d have thought Kelly Clarkson or Lady Gaga—no, scratch that, he was so not the Lady Gaga type—had just finished a concert. She half expected him to stand up and cheer.

He must have felt her gaze, because he turned his head toward her. “Great speech, huh?”

“Yeah, really great,” Leesa said, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

A pretty Asian girl a few years older than Leesa replaced the dean behind the podium. She was dressed in jeans and a white Weston sweatshirt, which Leesa took to be a good sign after the stuffy dean. The girl flipped her long black hair behind her shoulder and bent the microphone down closer to her mouth.

“Hi, everyone,” she began in a cheerful voice, “I’m Jing-Mei, a senior here at Weston. I know you all enjoyed Dean Halloway’s motivating words”—a roll of her dark eyes showed she knew nothing of the sort and drew a ripple of chuckles from those near the front. “I’m here to give you some tips you may find a bit more useful.”

For the next thirty minutes, Leesa scribbled several pages of notes as Jing-Mei provided tips on how to make the best use of the library, the dining halls and the Student Center. She told them about the cultural and athletic resources available on campus and in Middletown, and how to stay safe in both places. Her bubbly voice and lively sense of humor kept it all interesting.

“And finally, probably the most important advice I can give you is this,” Jing-Mei said, her voice serious now. “Most of you don’t know anyone on campus yet, or at best have a high school acquaintance or two here. So make friends as quickly as you can. Don’t be shy. Approach people in your dorm and in your classes. Try to make a
best
friend. Someone you can do things with, laugh with, even cry to if needed, whether it’s about a class you’re struggling with or about a boyfriend.” She paused for a moment, smiling again. “I guess that last one goes mostly to my fellow coeds. But guys, maybe you’ll need a buddy to brag to about the latest chick you scored, or whatever it is you guys talk about when we girls aren’t around.”

The room erupted in laughter. Leesa found herself laughing as well, but with a touch of sadness inside her. Except for Bradley, she’d never had a best friend—how could she, with a mom like hers at home? And Bradley was family, so he didn’t really count. But Mom was three thousand miles away now, so maybe things could be different here—there was no reason she couldn’t bring a friend back to her room. She smiled. Now if she could just figure out how to go about making a best friend. “Don’t be shy” was easier said than done.

There was one more speaker, a guy this time, the senior class president. Though not as entertaining as Jing-Mei, Leesa found a few of his tips useful, so she jotted them down. He finished by inviting them all to an informal reception in the adjacent room.

Leesa stood near the edge of the huge meeting room, the fingers of her right hand twirling in her hair, hoping she didn’t look as uncomfortable as she felt. Throngs of students milled about, chattering and laughing as they got to know one another. Jing-Mei’s voice echoed in Leesa’s head—
Don’t be shy, make friends
. She knew she should join one of the groups, but she had no idea how to insinuate herself into an already formed cluster. Her fingers began to dance more rapidly in her hair as she watched the other kids mingle.

“Wow, you’re really cute,” a female voice beside her said.

Leesa turned to see a short, slender girl smiling up at her. “Huh?” was all she could manage in reply.

“I said you’re really cute.”

Leesa forced her fingers away from her hair as she studied the girl. Her straight black hair, highlighted with burgundy streaks, was clipped an inch or two above her shoulders. Dark red lipstick accentuated her bright smile, and her left cheek was pierced above her upper lip with a tiny ruby-colored jewel stud. A small port-wine stain shaped eerily like California marred the otherwise smooth skin of her right cheek. The color of the strange birthmark almost exactly matched the streaks in her hair.

Stop staring, Leesa admonished herself, pulling her eyes from the blemish and taking in the girl’s outfit instead. And it was quite an outfit—a light brown short jacket worn over black cotton shorts, with tight white leggings cut off a few inches below her knees protruding from beneath the shorts. A pair of black leather boots almost reached the bottom of the leggings. It was an outfit Leesa knew she could never even begin to piece together—too out there for her taste, anyway—but it worked for this girl.

“Thanks,” Leesa said, unsure how to react. “So are you,” she added after a few seconds, her discomfort obvious.

“Don’t worry, I’m not into girls, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the girl said, laughing. “I like guys
way
too much.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking that, really,” Leesa said.

“Rule seventeen: always make friends with a really cute girl. There’s bound to be more guys around than she can handle, so maybe I can scoop up some of the leftovers.”

“Oh, I see,” Leesa said, though she was unsure exactly what “rule seventeen” meant. Maybe it was just another one of those things most girls knew that she was clueless about. “I’m probably not a very good choice for that.”

The girl cocked a dark eyebrow. “Cute
and
unassuming. Perfect.” She held out her hand. “I’m Kelly, but everyone calls me Cali, cuz of the birthmark. Don’t worry, I’m not self-conscious about it. I figure it makes me stand out.” She grinned and made a quick pirouette, displaying her outfit. “You can probably tell I don’t mind standing out.”

Make friends
, Leesa heard again in her head. Cali certainly seemed cool enough and was definitely outgoing—maybe some of it would rub off on her. God knows she could use some of both. She shook Cali’s hand. “I’m Leesa. Nice to meet you.”

“You from San Diego?” Cali asked, taking in Leesa’s gray zippered hoodie with
San Diego
written in blue cursive letters across the front.

“Yeah,” Leesa replied.

“Why the hell’d you leave San Diego for this place?”

Leesa wasn’t ready to talk about Bradley yet, and definitely not about one-fanged vampires. She shrugged. “Just wanted a change, I guess.”

“If I lived in California, I’d never leave.” Cali tapped her birthmark with her fingertip. “Bet I’d fit in great with this thing.”

“Where’re you from?” Leesa asked.

“East Hampton. Right across the river.”

“There must be other kids from your school here then,” Leesa said.

“A few, yeah.” Avril Lavigne’s powerful voice suddenly erupted from Cali’s small purple and brown embroidered handbag. “
He was a skater boy, she said see you later, boy
….”

Leesa thought of the boring default ringtone on her cell. Personalizing ringtones was something she’d never gotten around to doing.

“My high school boyfriend,” Cali said, leaving the phone in her bag. “I’ll talk to him later. He hasn’t gotten it into his head yet that I’m a college girl now.”

Leesa wasn’t surprised Cali’s old boyfriend was probably a skater guy. “How come you’re not hanging with the kids from your school?”

“Pul-eeze!” Cali said, grinning. “They are so not cool enough.”

Leesa’s heart sank. If Cali was looking for cool, she was talking to the wrong girl.

“They’re not cute enough, either.” Cali added. She studied Leesa’s face for a moment. “You’re not even wearing makeup, are you?”

Leesa’s hand moved reflexively to her cheek. Makeup was another of the many things her mom never taught her, so she seldom used it. “No, I’m not,” she said.

“Wow,” Cali said, shaking her head but keeping whatever other thoughts she had about the matter to herself. “I’m thirsty. Wanna grab a soda?”

“Sure,” Leesa said, relieved to change the subject. She limped a few steps alongside Cali, who stopped when she noticed Leesa’s limp.

“What’s wrong with your leg?”

Leesa looked down at her foot. “I’m missing a small piece of bone,” she explained. “It’s no big deal. I was born like that.”

Cali looked at Leesa’s leg more closely. “Does it hurt?”

“Nope, not at all. And I can walk as fast as the next person,” Leesa added defensively. “I do a couple of miles almost every day.”

“Cool.” Cali tapped her port-wine stain again. “Makes us a good pair. We each got our own little thing. Besides, nothing draws guys faster than a pretty girl who looks like she needs help.”

“Ha! Sorry to disappoint you, Cali, but it sure didn’t seem like that in high school.”

“Bah, I bet you just didn’t notice.” Cali took in Leesa’s sweatshirt, black T-shirt and plain jeans. “We jazz up your outfits a bit, you’ll see. The guys’ll be flocking around you.”

“I’m not really looking for all that much attention,” Leesa said.

“Maybe not,” Cali said with a grin, “but I am.” She grabbed Leesa by the arm. “C’mon, I’m still thirsty.”

They each got a diet soda, then spent the next hour chatting. By the time the reception ended, Leesa felt like she’d known Cali forever. Even better, Cali also lived in Ohmsford, on the second floor, so they walked home together and spent another hour talking in Cali’s room until Leesa decided to call it a night. She headed up to her room, very pleased to have already made a new friend.

7.  VAMPIRE

A
screaming comes across the sky, and Stefan de Kula tasted it with every inch of his slender body.
Destiratu
! he thought, throwing his head back and spreading his arms to fully drink in the magical energies. Only the merest hint so far—faint ripples on his skin, a tiny burning in his blood—yet a delicious hunger nonetheless, one that would grow stronger and more delicious should the
Destiratu
continue to form. No vampire could resist it, not even those who had lost their desire to hunt for human blood. Too many of his fellows were content to remain in the shadows, unwilling to draw attention by taking humans, subsisting instead on the blood of deer and lesser animals. But Stefan was young, less than four centuries from the glorious day Lord Ricard had ushered him into the ranks of the undead, and he had never lost his thirst for human blood. Only the commands of his elders held him in check, allowing him to take just enough human prey to barely satisfy his lust.