Mom’s totally cleaned house. I actually think I see things sparkling.
I don’t know how she managed to work all day and still have time to cook and tidy up. I feel a stab of guilt that we didn’t help her, but what could we do? We had major preps to take care of. She’ll thank us someday. When we save her from becoming a snack. When she gets to live to see us help clean the house another day.
“Everyone take a seat and dinner will be right up,” Mom says, motioning to the table. Wow. Fancy water goblets and matching plates. Who knew we had matching plates? I wonder if she borrowed from the neighbor. And candles! In the center of the table sits a beautiful lilac and candle centerpiece. Did she actually make that? Candles and flowers and matching plates—oh, my! This guy is morphing Mom into Martha Stewart. Too bad he’s an evil dark lord of the night or I’d be welcoming his influence with open arms.
Sunny and I watch as David picks his seat. Then we choose seats right across from him, so we can check out his every move. If he even dares to sneeze, we’re going to catalog it for future study.
Mom sniffs the air, a puzzled look falling across her face. “What’s that smell?” she asks. “Do you guys smell something?”
Ah-ha! I elbow Sunny in the ribs. “Bad breath,” I whisper. “That was a sign of someone being a vampire in The Lost Boys.”
“Puh-leeze. That’s just a movie thing,” Sunny hisses back. “Magnus doesn’t have bad breath.”
Maybe not. I’ve never gotten close enough to smell it. But still, I’m not entirely convinced. And after all, Mom did say she smelled something and it certainly isn’t Sunny and me.
“It smells like a garlic farm in here,” Mom adds.
Okay. Maybe it is Sunny and me.
“Uh, we ordered in some pizza for lunch,” Sunny says. “Extra, extra, extra garlic.”
David wrinkles his nose. “Ugh. Sounds terrible,” he says with a small laugh. Sunny and I exchange glances.
“I agree,” Mom says, giggling like a school girl. I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. She’s got it bad for this guy.
“Actually, I have a garlic allergy,” David says, further damning himself to the dark side. “That’s one of the reasons I shop at the co-op. I can get foods that don’t contain certain ingredients that would cause me to have an allergic reaction.”
I exchange an excited glance at Sunny. A garlic allergy? A little bit of a convenient excuse, don’t you think? Good way to pass off to gullible humans that you’re not a doomed creature of the darkness set to eat our mom.
We’re wise to you, Vamp Nerd.
“Well, you won’t find any garlic in tonight’s dinner,” Mom says, having no clue about my secret last-minute add to the marinade. “Or any preservatives. I don’t trust ingredients I can’t pronounce.”
“I agree. In fact, this may sound crazy, but I’ve always believed that the food industry could be being paid off by the pharmaceutical companies to make people get illnesses like cancer or high blood pressure. The more sick people, the more medication sales.” He chuckles, looking down at his plate. “Probably a little out there, I know.”
Oh, no. Ohhh, no. Mom’s eyes are lighting up like a Christmas tree. Here we go.
“I’ve always said the exact same thing!” she cries. She turns to us. “Haven’t I, girls? In fact, just the other day when Raynie was coloring her hair with some drugstore dye . . .”
I tune her out. I’ve heard her conspiracy theories one too many times. I can’t believe David here thinks the same thing. I didn’t know anyone could be as flaky as Mom. Too bad he’s an evil blood-sucking beast, ’cause they’d be a great fit.
The oven timer dings just as they’re getting to the part where the government is working with alien nations to secretly control the economy of the universe. Mom heads into the kitchen.
“So,” David turns to us, all ready to be Mr. Friendly. “What do you girls enjoy doing for fun?”
I’m about to say, “I slay vampires,” but Sunny beats me to the punch with a much wiser answer. She grabs the cross on her rosary beads and holds it up to David.
“Mostly we pray to God,” she says, smiling sweetly. “Don’t you just love my rosary beads?”
David doesn’t break out into a full sweat or anything, but he suddenly looks mighty nervous.
“Have you given your life to the Lord Jesus?” I ask, taking my cue and grabbing my own cross. “He died to save your soul, you know.” Not that you have one, Vamp Nerd.
David swallows hard. You can totally tell he wants to run screaming from the room. His insides are probably boiling, just from the proximity of the crosses.
He is so definitely a vampire.
I’m just about to ask him if he’d like to say a few Hail Marys with me, but then Mom returns. Which is convenient, in a way, since I actually have no idea how to say a Hail Mary. We borrowed the rosary beads from Old Sister Anne, the retired nun down the street who’s been using them to pray for our family’s soul for years.
“What are you girls wearing?” Mom asks, looking more than a tad confused.
Caught. Sunny turns beet red and I’m sure I’m the same. “Uh, rosary beads?” I say. “You know, for when we . . . confess?” Is that what you do with rosary beads? We were brought up in an ultra-liberal church where most of the choir members are drag queens and are thus ultra-clueless to the tenets of the Catholic church.