While Aunt Libby gathered her belongings for the theater and the sun made its final descent, I sat cross-legged on her futon and made notes in my journal.
My investigation was almost complete. In only a few hours, I would be reunited with Alexander. Once he understood I loved him no matter who or what he was, we could go back to Dullsville and we'd be able to be together.
Then I wondered what exactly that would mean. Would he want me to be like him in every way I could? And if faced with the choice, would I really want to choose the lifestyle I'd always dreamed of?
To quiet my mind, I made more notes:
Positives of Being a Vampire
1. Save on electric bills.
2. Could always sleep in late--very late.
3. Wouldn't have to worry about keeping a low-carb diet. "Are you sure you want to stay alone?" Aunt Libby asked, holding her makeup bag.
"I am sixteen."
"Your parents let you stay by yourself?"
"I could have been babysitting at twelve, if anyone in Dullsville would have hired me."
"Well, there's plenty of food in the fridge," she offered, heading for the door. "I'll call at intermission to check in."
Aunt Libby may have been laid back when it came to her own lifestyle, but when I was under her roof she was just like my dad. I guess she would have been like my father and left her hippie days behind if she had had kids, too.
I quickly changed into my Hot Gothics fashion merch--black- and-white-striped tights and a torn black minidress revealing a blood- red chemise. I applied my standard black lipstick and dark eye shadow. I barely had enough time to put a red rose body tattoo on my neck.
I checked to make sure the container of garlic was tightly sealed, as I didn't want to expose Alexander to the two-inch weapon I'd use to ward off any lurking vampires. I must have brushed my hair and rearranged my red extensions a million times before I rushed out the door and waited at the bus stop for the number seven.
With every passing number eleven or sixteen, I paced the bus stop. I was considering returning to my aunt's apartment and calling a cab when I saw the number seven turn onto the street and slowly lumber toward me. Anxiously, I boarded the crowded bus, a mixture of granola heads and urbanites, slipped my cash into the change receptacle, and grabbed the slippery aluminum pole. I held on to the pole for dear life, trying to keep my balance and avoid bumping into the other passengers as the bus jolted with every acceleration. As soon as the number seven lurched forward and reached the speed limit, it began to slow down again, stopping at every bus stop in town. I checked my watch. It would have been quicker if I'd walked.
After letting off a few dozen passengers and picking up a few more, the bus driver turned the corner and passed my destination-- Lennox Hill Road.
I ran toward the front of the bus.
"You passed Lennox Hill Road!" I called in a panic as the bus driver continued accelerating.
"There is no bus stop there," he said to me, looking in his rearview mirror.
"But that's my destination," I argued.
"I only stop at bus stops," he recited, continuing to drive.
"If it's a dollar fifty to get on the bus, how much is it to get off?"
I heard a few of the passengers laugh behind me.
"Pull the cord," the woman said, pointing to a white wire that ran above the bus windows.
I reached across her and pulled the wire hard.
A few seconds later, the bus driver slowed down and pulled over.
"See that?" he asked, pointing to a square sign on a pole with the number seven next to the curb. "That's a bus stop."
I gave him a dirty look and jumped off the bus, dodging an elderly couple trying to board. I ran down the road the bus had just driven up until I reached Lennox Hill Road. I turned the corner and walked past gigantic pristine estates with lush green lawns and purple and yellow flowers until I found an unkempt, overgrown weed-filled lawn. A decaying house sat on it at the end of a cold and ominous cul- de-sac. It looked as if a storm cloud were hovering over it. I had finally arrived at the stately gothic manor house.
Gargoyles sat on top of the jagged wrought-iron gates. Untamed bushes lined the front of the manor. The dead grass crunched beneath my boots. A broken birdbath sat in the center of the lawn. Moss and ivy grew on the roof like a gothic Chia Pet. I skipped along a fractured rock path, which led to an arched wooden front door.