Sucks to Be Moi (Prelude)

Sucks to Be Moi:
More All-True Confessions of Mina
Hamilton
Smith, Teen Vampire (Prelude)

Published by Kimberly Pauley

Copyright 2011 Kimberly Pauley

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free short story. You
are welcome to share it with your friends. This story may be
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provided the book remains in its complete original form.

If you enjoyed this story, please visit my website at
www.kimberlypauley.com
to learn more about the first two books in this series (
Sucks to
Be Me
and
Still Sucks to Be Me
and this ongoing
serialized continuation:
Sucks to Be Moi
). Thank you for
your support.

Sucks to Be Moi
Prelude

Myth: Vampires keep to themselves.

Truth: Hey, we’re as friendly as the next
fanged bloodsucker.

I hate airports. Actually, I hate airport
security. I especially hate that point where you have to empty your
pockets of everything, step through some weird time-machine looking
contraption, and smile politely or risk being frisked by total
strangers. But mostly I hate the part where everyone takes off his
or her shoes.

Having a vampire-ized supersniffer really,
really, really sucks sometimes.

“Whew!” wheezes Uncle Mortie in my ear. “Do I
sense a touch of brie there? Or some Camembert?” He elbows me and
wiggles his eyebrows at a guy standing in front of us in purple and
blue argyle socks with a hole in the heel.

“You’ve just got France on the brain,” I
whisper back a lot more quietly. It’s not like it’s the guy’s fault
we can smell his feet so clearly. “Besides, smells more like Fritos
to me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I detect a whiff
of something cheesy,” says George, bumping me with his hip. I grin
at him and tilt my head up for a quick kiss.

“Yeah, the two of you,” says Uncle Mortie,
holding his nose. “Total cheese, as you would say, Mina.”

“You’re just jealous,” I say, grinning at
him. There’s no way Uncle Mortie is going to spoil my day. After
all, I’m on the way to Paris, France, city of love—with my
boyfriend. Okay,
and
my family too and ye olde vampire
historian, Dr. Jonas, aka Dr. Musty. But I’ll take what I can
get.

On a scale of one to ten, Paris was so
freaking far above Cartville, Louisiana (our last Vampire
Relocation Agency (VRA) selected location) that I couldn’t even
imagine a number high enough. Like a bazillionty times better.
Squared. Quadrupled.

And I actually had dad’s crusty old boss to
thank.

Dr. Jonas had been invited by the
International High Council to continue his research (or, more
likely, his hunt for John and Wayne Carter, the leaders of the evil
human-hating Black Talons) in France, since that was where the
Talons had their roots. Or John and Wayne did. Whatever. I didn’t
really care. I was going to Paris!

“Miss, you can step through now,” says a
uniformed security guy. By the look on his face, it wasn’t the
first time he’d said it. Well, hey, it was Paris. A girl was
entitled to daydream a little, wasn’t she? I’d triple-checked our
tickets and everything. There was no way the VRA was going to mess
up my life this time.

“Sorry,” I say, stepping through and almost
running into a girl with some slightly retro black framed glasses
and shoulder length brown hair in front of me. “I’m going to
Paris!”

The guy doesn’t even crack a hint of a grin.
Obviously he’s taking the continuous orange security level thing a
little too seriously. He motions me forward and then waves for
Uncle Mortie to come through behind me.

“You’re going to Paris too?” The girl smiles
at me. “Me too! I’m going to study abroad this semester!”

I smile back. Take that, touchy security
dude. Some people understand the allure of Paris. “That sounds
awesome!”

“Yeah, my friend Alexander is already there
with our host family. We’ve been planning this for years! I can’t
wait!”

My smile slips a little bit. The girl reminds
me a lot of my best friend Serena. She’s about the same height and
has an identical sparkle in her eye, just like Serena gets whenever
she’s super excited about something. Serena and I even used to
dream about studying abroad, or maybe taking a gap year to travel
Europe together.

But that was before my parents (okay,
technically the Vampire Council) had made me choose whether or not
to become a vampire. Before I’d turned and been relocated to the
middle of nowhere Louisiana. Before Serena had followed me and then
decided she wasn’t ready to turn herself (all the crazy Carter Clan
and Black Talon stuff being a big factor in her decision, not like
I could blame her for not wanting to be sliced and diced). Before
she’d gone back home to her bitterly divorcing parents and nutty
little sister and had her mind (hopefully not completely) wiped by
some vampire goons.

It had only been a couple of months since I’d
last seen her, but I had yet to receive a single email from her.
Before she’d left for California, I’d used my newfound vampire mind
control powers to implant a suggestion so that she was supposed to
email me even if (please, please, please let it not be) the mind
wipe got everything and she really did think I was dead and gone
and not just undead and gone. But absolutely no word from her. Did
my mind control skills suck after all?

“You coming, Mina?” asks George.

I nod and grab my shoes and bag from the
conveyer belt. By the time I wiggle my feet back into my tennis
shoes, the girl is gone. I hadn’t even gotten her name.

###

I’d thought we might get first class seats
since we were traveling with a famous vampire historian, but
apparently the Council had only decided to spring for three good
seats. Mom, Dad, and Dr. Musty were in the high rent section and
Uncle Mortie, George and I were languishing back in coach.

“How’d you get stuck back here with us?” I
ask Uncle Mortie as he settles into the window seat, even though it
was technically my seat according to my ticket.

“Same reason I get stuck at the kid’s table
every Thanksgiving,” says Uncle Mortie, winking. “I’m young at
heart.” He pulls out the Sky Mall catalog and starts browsing.
“Besides, I had to buy my own ticket.”

Oh. Yeah. That made sense. George and Dad
were going to Paris to actually, you know,
work
. Mom and I
were along for the ride. Uncle Mortie had decided to tag along
because he’d always want to go to France (and it gave him a free
place to stay, since we were going to be living with Dr. Musty in
some chalet or something he owned there). Also, Uncle Mortie had a
thing for French women.

Actually, he had a thing for women. Period.
The French accent would just be a bonus. Not to mention the food.
It would be a miracle if Uncle Mortie didn’t decide to stay
permanently. My mom had already confided her fear of that happening
to me.

“Hey! This is my flight too!” It’s the same
girl from security again. She sits down next to me, sticking her
book bag under the seat in front of her.

“I’m Mina,” I say. “Mina Smith.” It still
feels weird to say “Smith” instead of “Hamilton” but I’m getting
used to it. I only screw it up every other time now.

“Astrid Villareal,” she says. She has maybe a
hint of a Spanish accent. “Nice to meet you.” She leans over and
pulls a few things out of her bag: a battered copy of the first
Blue Bloods
book (oh geez, a vampire fan), an iPod, and a
notebook.

“This is my boyfriend, George,” I say. George
leans across me to shake hands with her. She giggles a little and
her cheeks flush the slightest bit. I don’t blame her. Becoming a
vampire turned George into a seriously good-looking guy, especially
his eyes. Today they were the luminous clear blue of deep water.
Not that he wasn’t attractive before or anything. He’s just cuter
now.

He’s lucky I think he’s adorable even when
he’s reading one his boring old history books, since that’s what he
picks up as soon as it’s polite to do so. He takes all the research
stuff so seriously, like my Dad. I guess I should look on the
bright side that my boyfriend and my Dad get along really well, but
sometimes I swear they get on too well. It’s kind of weird.
Shouldn’t my dad be, like, cleaning a shotgun whenever George comes
around or something?

“Are you studying abroad too? Or just going
on vacation?” asks Astrid.

I’m not really sure how to answer that. I
honestly don’t know what I’m going to be doing about school. I only
made it through to Homecoming at Cartville High. We’d stayed in New
Orleans with Uncle Mortie through Christmas break after we’d pretty
much half-emptied Cartville of the Carter Clan. Was Mom going to
stick to her word and make me finish my senior year of high school
even though it was really kind of unnecessary? I mean, the VRA
could always whip me up a diploma if I needed one.

“My dad’s job,” I finally say. That’s true,
anyway.

“Oh, wow,” she says. “So you’re actually
moving to France! That’s so cool.”

We chat through our crappy airplane dinner
(spongy yet strangely greasy chicken, teeny salad, and a stale
brownie that I only eat enough of to not be suspicious) and I learn
that:

a) she wants to travel the world and France
has been her dream destination ever since she was a little girl,
and

b) she has two brothers (who are both
seriously jealous of her going) and a little sister (who was
looking forward to ransacking her room when she was gone), and

c) besides French, she also speaks Spanish
(duh, she’s from Mexico originally) and some Japanese.

Astrid isn’t actually that much younger than
me, but all of a sudden I feel kind of ancient. And monolingual.
I’d taken French for a couple of years in school, but I still
totally suck at it. It’s pretty much English or nothing for me.

But mostly I feel kind of weird.
Vampire-weird. As she’s telling me about all the things she’s
planning on doing in France (the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre
Couer, walking the Seine) and all the stuff about her family (who
all sound really nice and normal), I couldn’t help but think about
my family and what we were planning on doing. You know,
“researching” a couple of bloodthirsty evil vampire brothers and a
shady organization of human-hating vampires.

Sure, I was planning on doing some
sightseeing too, but I knew Mom had already looked into some
continuing education shape shifting classes for us to sign up for.
I was pretty sure
that
wasn’t on Astrid’s class
schedule.

After talking about her friend Alexander and
her French host family for a while, Astrid settles down to sleep. I
close my eyes and pretend to sleep too until I’m sure she’s out.
Uncle Mortie is watching a movie and George is still reading, even
with the lights off. Score one for vampire eyesight. Astrid had let
me borrow her iPod and notebook (she’d written out a cheat sheet of
handy French phrases…she was so much more prepared than I was), so
I plug in and listen to her favorite bands, the Black Eyed Peas and
Linkin Park, while everyone on the plane dozes around us.

###

Astrid wakes up when the breakfast cart comes
around about an hour before we are supposed to land in Paris.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say. “Slept like a baby.” Take
that, Grandma Wolfington (my old vampire indoctrinator), I
can
lie convincingly.

“I’m going to freshen up,” says Astrid. “I
feel like my teeth have fuzz.” She squeezes out of our row and goes
to the back of the plane.

“So, are you excited?” I ask George. He had
been so engrossed in his book that we’d only talked a tiny bit
during the trip. Apparently, Dr. Musty’s travels through Outer
Mongolia were more interesting than me, his girlfriend.

“Of course,” says George. “Did you know that
the Parisian Council has one of the most extensive vampire
libraries in the world? I can’t wait to go!”

That was totally not what I was talking
about. “I meant about Paris, bookbrain.” I punched him in the arm,
perhaps a little harder than I meant to. “You know, berets and
baguettes and the Eiffel Tower.”

“Oh, yeah, Paris too.” George grins at me, a
6.8 on the grin-o-meter, one side of his mouth slightly higher than
the other so he looks positively devilish. But in a cute way.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got some fun stuff planned for us too,
Mina.”

Hmmmm, that sounds promising.

“Oh. My. God.” says Astrid, practically
hyperventilating. She flops into her seat after stepping on my foot
as she squeezes through. “You would not believe what just happened
to me!”