My father chuckled and two small children in Dracula outfits came zooming by. One broadened his cape with his hands and professed to fly toward me.
"I've come to suck your blood!" It was Billy Boy.
"You look heavenly! You're the cutest vampire I've at any point seen," I said.
"Truly? Then I will wear this to school on Monday."
"Gracious, no, you're not," my father chided. "One revolutionary in the family is beyond what I can deal with."
My dad checked out at my mom for help. Billy winked at me and took off.
Jameson got out of the Mansion holding a dark coat.
"Here is your games coat, Mr. Madison," he said, giving the coat to my father. "The kid wouldn't let it go. Something about your little girl's scent."
I was completely humiliated, yet I dissolved inside. "It's great to see you, Miss Raven."
I needed to see Alexander. I needed to see him right then. I needed to see his face, his hair, his eyes. I needed to check whether he actually appeared to be identical, assuming he actually felt our profound love association. Or on the other hand in the event that he thought it was each of the a falsehood.
As though he could peruse my considerations, Jameson said, "Would you come in?"
I strolled inside, grateful that the gathering - or the victory - would be a confidential one. It hushed up inside, no music beating from the loft, and dull, with a couple of candles lighting the way. I checked the parlor, the lounge area, the kitchen and the lobby. I climbed the stupendous flight of stairs.
"Alexander?" I murmured. "Alexander?"
My heart was beating and my psyche frantic. I looked in the washrooms, the library, the main room.
I heard voices from the TV room.
Renfield was ratting to the specialist about Count Dracula. It was during this scene that Alexander had kissed me and I had blacked out. I sat on the lounge chair and observed restlessly briefly, anticipating that he should return. However, I became restless and meandered back out to the foyer.
"Alexander?"
I took a gander at the blurred red-covered flight of stairs prompting the loft. His flight of stairs!
The entryway at the highest point of his noisy steps was shut. His entryway. His room. The room he wouldn't allow me to see. I tenderly thumped on the entryway.
No response. "Alexander?" I thumped once more. "It's me, Raven. Alexander?" Behind that entryway was his reality. The world I had never seen. The world that had every one of the responses to every one of his secrets - how he spent his days, how he spent his evenings. I wound the handle, and the entryway squeaked somewhat open. It wasn't locked. I maintained that more than anything should push it open. To sneak around. However at that point I thought. This is the way the difficulty started: with my sneaking around. Haven't I gotten the hang of anything? So I took a full breath and acted against my drive. I shut the entryway and rushed down the creaky upper room steps and the terrific flight of stairs with another certainty. Once more I stopped at the open front entryway, and feeling a recognizable presence, I pivoted.
There he stood, similar to a Knight of the Night, gazing directly toward me with those dull, profound, beautiful, quieting, desolate, revering, smart, fantastic, deep eyes.
"I never intended to hurt you," I exclaimed. "I'm not what Trevor said. I've generally preferred you, for what your identity is!"
Alexander didn't talk.
"I was so dumb. You're the most fascinating thing that is at any point occurred in Dullsville. You should believe I'm so puerile."
He actually didn't express a word.
"Say something. Let's assume I was absolutely 3rd grade. Let's assume you can't stand me."
"I realize we are more comparable than various."
"You do?" I asked, amazed.
"My grandmother told me."
"She addresses you?" I said, feeling an unexpected chill.
"No, she's dead, senseless! I saw the blossoms."
He arrived at his hand for mine. "There's something I need to show you," he said bafflingly.
"Your room?" I asked, getting his hand. "Indeed, and something in my room. It's at last prepared."
"It?" My creative mind roamed free. What did Alexander do up in his room? Is it true that it was alive or dead?
He drove me up the fabulous flight of stairs and the creaky storage room steps. His steps.
"It's time you knew my insider facts," he said, opening the entryway. "Or if nothing else a large portion of them."
It was dull with the exception of the twilight that radiated through the small loft window. A beat-up, comfortable seat and a twin-sized sleeping pad laid on the floor. A thronw dark blanket uncovered maroon sheets. A bed like some other youngster's. Not a casket. And afterward I saw the artworks. Large Ben with bats flying over the clock face, a palace on a slope, the Eiffel Tower topsy turvy. There was a dim painting of a more seasoned couple in gothic outfits with a tremendous red heart around them. There was Dullsville's burial ground, his grandmother grinning over her headstone.