Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side (11 page)

"Miss Packwood?"

My name jolted me back to reality. Or what I thought was reality. Why did it all seem so uncertain suddenly? "Yes, Mr. Jaegerman?"

"You seemed a little daydream-y." He smiled. "I thought I should bring you back to reality."

"Sorry," I said.
Reality.
Mr. Jaegerman obviously believed in it. He certainly wouldn't believe in unreal things. Like vampires. Or eternal destinies. Or "disgust turned to lust."

Reality was the taste of my plastic pen in my mouth. The sight of the hideous design on Mr. Jaegerman's tie. The feel of the smooth desk under my fingertips.

Yes. Reality.
It was good to be back. It was where I needed to stay.

When I focused back on my notes, though, I realized that I had doodled a rough sketch of a very sharp set of fangs in the margin of my notes. I hadn't even realized I'd done it.

Clutching my pen, I scribbled out the drawing, smothering it in ink, until every line was completely obliterated.

Chapter
14

DEAR UNCLE VASILE,

I write to thank you for releasing the money from my trust, as requested, and for so expeditiously shipping my weapons collection and other miscellaneous furnishings, carpets, etc. I fear I couldn't have endured one more day with those doe-eyed "folk" dolls staring at me from every cheerful, plaid-covered corner of this room. It was like being surrounded by a multicultural army of midgets, all waiting to attack some night as I slept.

I have done the Packwoods the favor of disposing of the entire collection, with the assistance of the medieval maul you were so kind to include. A pair of salt and pepper shakers shaped like dogs wearing chefs' toques have, alas, met their doom, too. Some day the Packwoods will no doubt come to their senses and thank me.

On to the bad news. I fear I've made a slight misstep, having introduced Antanasia to the concept of
vampiric transformation rather abruptly last night. Her reaction was raw fear, followed by denial. Honestly, Vasile, she dismissed my fangs as some sort of parlor trick. Can you imagine? One of nature's most compelling metamorphoses disclaimed as a magic act? God, the girl irks me. So resistant. So
rational.

In short, I have taken no steps forward, and two steps backward.

I will gladly shoulder the blame for my mistake (I should have anticipated Antanasia's reaction
—
my pedagogy was less than subtle), but did I not predict all of this difficulty years ago?

Lying awake in the garage, I often ponder how different things could have been had Antanasia been raised as a true vampire. Not to sound arrogant, Vasile, but I know from past experience that I do
not
repulse women. (Is the Bucharest debutante season underway? Heavy sigh.) And Antanasia, for all her faults (T-shirts rank at the top of that list) . . . well, I can sometimes see flashes of who she could have been. Of what
we
could have been.

Indeed, Antanasia's most vexing quality
—
her aforementioned will
—
is the very thing that would serve her so well as a ruler. She stands up to
me,
Vasile. How many are willing to do that? There is great intelligence in her eyes, too. And a certain mocking laughter
—
a hallmark of our kind. She is beautiful, too, Vasile. Or she would be if she did not try so hard to hide it. If she only
believed
she is beautiful.

At times, it is not impossible to imagine Antanasia in our castle, at my side
—
provided she cultivated better manners,
acquiesced to the concept of
women's
clothes, and straightened that spine. (No one in America exhibits the slightest interest in posture. Standing upright seems to be something of a lost art, like fencing.)

In the wished-for reality that I sometimes envision, our courtship consists of excursions to the opera in Vienna, riding in the Carpathians (she does ride!), and conversing as we linger over meals that actually consist of
food.
That is how I have always approached
—
and succeeded with!
—
the fairer sex in Romania.

But of course daydreams and wishing are wasted, idle exercises that may amuse more effectively than the available television programs (an entire network devoted to the game "poker"
—
need I say more?) but do nothing to alter reality. No amount of horrified shuddering on my part will change the fact that Antanasia is an American girl who apparently requires an American approach. Now I must determine exactly what that means. Some activity involving a "burger and fries," no doubt.

At any rate, that, "in
a
nutshell"
—
to use yet another quaint Americanism (is there no end to them?)
—
is the situation here in "our little democracy," as my faux father figure Ned is so fond of repeatedly calling this ridiculous farm where virtually no agriculture is practiced. Honestly, if ever a place needed the firm hand of a tyrant. . . Fewer beasts in the yard, more in the oven: That would be
my
first decree. But again, wishes change nothing.

Your nephew,

Lucius

P.S. At the risk of testing your patience, I have one more request. I have nearly depleted my supply of Type A. (Basketball practice does make me thirsty. Go team.) Are you familiar with a good domestic source I might tap?

Chapter
15

"YOUR HOROSCOPE SAYS 'today is a good day to take a risk,'" Mindy read, leaning against the lockers, nose buried in her new copy of
Cosmo.

"I can't believe you read that." I laughed, rummaging around for the books I needed to take home. "I mean, do you really need to know '75 Sex Tricks to Drive Him Wild'? Wouldn't twenty or so be enough for anybody?"

Mindy surfaced from the pages, a grin on her face. "They might all come in handy someday. Don't you want to be prepared in the event that you want to 'drive him wild'?"

I flushed, recalling my mom's talk, the dream I'd had about Lucius, the feelings I'd had that night in his apartment when he'd done that stupid trick with his teeth. And Jake, shirtless, standing on the back of that truck . . . "Well, sure. I guess so. But it's not like I'll get to use any 'tricks' soon."

"Hey, you never know." Mindy pointed behind me. "Look who's here."

I turned around, half expecting to see Lucius amid the crowd of students getting ready to go home. Mindy's crush was getting out of control, and if she talked about sex, a mention of Lucius couldn't be far behind. But no, it was Jake, pulling his leather-armed wrestling jacket from his locker. I spun back around, feigning an even greater interest in the contents of my own locker.

"You should go talk to him," Mindy advised, a little too loudly. "Unless you've finally realized that Lucius is the better choice..."

"Lucius is not better, and he's not a 'choice,'" I said.

"Well then, this is your chance to ask Jake to the fall carnival," Mindy said. She held up
Cosmo.
"Listen to your horoscope. Take a risk."

"I know you
read
it,
but you don't really
believe
that 'guided by the stars' stuff, do you?" I pulled out of my locker, cradling my pile of books.

"Of course," Mindy said.

Not you, too, Mindy. . . . Is there not one rational person left in the universe?

"Jake was obviously into you that night at your house," she added. "I mean, he hardly talked to me."

"Really?"

"Jess, I was, like, invisible. Go. Ask him to the carnival. Unless, of course, you're having second thoughts about Lucius . .."

"No, I'm not," I assured her.

"Then ask Jake."

I glanced down at my outfit. Why had I worn my filthy old Chuck Taylors? I hadn't lost those five pounds, either. "Oh, I don't think so ... I look terrible, and . . . well, shouldn't Jake ask me?"

"It's not the Middle Ages," Mindy pointed out. "Girls ask guys out. It happens all the time, which you'd know if you read
Cosmo."

Mindy had a point there. If there was one thing I was sick of, it was having one Chuck-clad foot stuck in the Middle Ages. I wondered what Mindy would think if she knew I supposedly had no choice when it came to my husband, let alone my date for the Woodrow Wilson High School fall carnival. Still, I wasn't convinced that asking Jake was a good plan. "I could go without a date."

"But it's cooler to have a date. And you'd better hurry, because he's leaving."

I turned around again to see Jake slamming his locker door shut. Mindy gave me a little shove. "Go!" Her second thrust gave me no choice. Especially since Jake was walking in our direction.

"Hey." He smiled as I practically crashed into him. "Thanks for the drink the other night."

"Sure."
Brilliant, Jess.
I looked around for Mindy, for support, but she and her
Cosmo
and her 75 Sex Tricks had disappeared.

"I was just talking about you," Jake said. "I hear you're odds-on to win a top spot at 4-H this year."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Faith says your Appaloosa can really jump."

"Faith Crosse said that? Are you sure?" Even though Faith boarded her thoroughbred at my parents' farm, she managed to act like I didn't exist. Like Lucius, she seemed to mistake me for some sort of stable hand. I certainly didn't think she'd ever bothered to watch me ride.

"Yeah. She thinks you're her best competition."

"I'll never beat Faith's thoroughbred," I said. "Not on an Appaloosa. Even one as good as Belle."

"I'm sure you'll do great." Jake hesitated. "Maybe someday I could come watch you ride."

"Really? I mean, that would be great." I smiled, meeting Jake's beautifully bland gaze. His blue eyes were so blessedly . ..simple. Not dark and terrifying and changeable. And his teeth ... so wonderfully average. So un-fanglike. Jake blinked. There was a briefly uncomfortable silence. It was now or never. I took a deep breath. "Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to the carnival?" My heart was thudding so hard that I was afraid I wouldn't catch his answer. "Because I was thinking maybe we could . . . you know, go together."

He paused. "Well, I really wasn't sure—"

Oh, no.
Even half deaf, I heard the hesitation in his voice. He was turning me down. I knew it.
It's the Chucks. It has to be the Chucks. Or the five pounds. . .
"Oh, I understand," I interrupted, cheeks on fire. "It's no big deal."

"No, wait—"

"Hey, Packrat!" A heavy arm thumped down around my shoulders, and I found myself cheek-to-cheek with Frank Dormand, who was hanging on me, a slimy grin on his fat face. Horrified, I tried to slip free, but Frank held tight, giving me a little shake. "Did I just hear you asking Jake here to the carnival? What's up with
that?"