I’m so furious I don’t even think. I just drop my books and my bag and run after him, slamming my entire body weight against his retreating back and managing to knock him off balance and onto the floor. My hands take on minds of their own as I punch and slap over and over as he struggles to get out from under me. But he’s no match for my super slayer strength. If only I had my stake. I wonder if it works on Muggles.
The fight only lasts a minute or two before Monsieur Dawson, the French teacher, pulls me off of Mike.
“Arrêtez!” he commands. “Allez au bureau du principal!” The guy never speaks English. Which is kind of annoying for those of us who take Spanish. But in this case, even foreign-language-challenged me has a pretty good idea what he’s saying.
“It’s not my fault. She just jumped me. For no reason. Crazy freak!” Mike says, shooting me daggers.
Angrily I smooth out my skirt and glare back at Mike. Bastard. Now I’ve got detention and Mom’s going to be so pissed at me.
“I’m going to get you for this, you skank freak,” Mike adds as Monsieur Dawson drags him away. “Just you wait.”
I sigh. I just wish I could somehow turn the guy into a vampire so I could stake him through the heart. Him and my father. The two of them should really die.
24
MONDAY, JUNE 11, 8 P.M.
Parents Just Don’t Understand
So of course Mom totally freaks out about my detention. Especially since it was due to fighting. As you can imagine, as a hippie she’s very into peace. And it’s not just peace in the Middle East—that would at least be understandable. She evidently is advocating peace at Oakridge High as well. Puh-leeze. If only she knew what an obnoxious jerk Mike Stevens is. I try to explain how he spit on me, but she starts spouting something about turning the other cheek. As if I want to get spit on my other cheek next time. Ew!
And the worst part is that she doesn’t ground me, she wants to have a “talk.” Ugh. I hate talks. I’d much rather be sent to my room without supper and kept there ’til I grow cobwebs. Locked in a tower like Rapunzel would suit me just fine. Just as long as I don’t have to talk and share my feelings. (And, uh, grow my hair that long. I have a hard enough time with tangles as it is.)
“You’ve been acting very angry lately,” she says, closing the door to my bedroom and joining me on the bed. I stare at my hands. This is so not fair. So, so not fair. “What’s bothering you? Is it your father not showing up for your birthday?” she adds, in that horrible pity voice of hers. Grr. Nothing’s worse than the pity voice.
“No,” I retort. I knew she’d try that. Try to drag Dad into it.
“I know that must have hurt a lot, sweetie. I’m really sorry about that.”
“I’m fine,” I retort, anger welling up inside me, bubbling in my stomach, and making me feel sick. I knew we should have never told her about Dad’s supposed plans to visit.
Mom frowns. “I don’t think so, dear. People who are fine don’t get into fights at school.”
“They do if they’re provoked by asshole football players.”
Mom winces a bit at the swearing, but doesn’t comment on it. “Are you having problems at school, Rayne?” she asks. “I’ve noticed your grades are slipping as well. You went from honor roll to C student this year.”
“Yeah, well I have stupid teachers.” Stupid teachers who always favor the jocks and cheerleaders. Stupid teachers who think just because I dress in black I’m doomed to be a dropout and don’t give me the time of day. I’m smarter than all those losers I go to school with.
“What don’t you like about them?”
Sigh. “Nothing. They’re fine. Forget I said anything.” The less I talk, the shorter this will take. I’m supposed to meet up with Spider and I can’t leave Spider waiting.
“I don’t want to forget you said anything. I want you to tell me what’s wrong.” Mom reaches over to touch me on the shoulder. I shrug away. I know I’m being unfair, but I can’t help it. I know if she touches me, I’ll start crying. And that’s the last thing I want. “I’m your mother, Rayne. And I care about how you’re feeling.”
Yeah, right. She thinks she cares, but she isn’t ready to hear the truth. That her precious daughter is a weirdo. A freak. A social reject with barely any friends and a father who doesn’t even bother to show up to her birthday party.
If only that vampire thing had worked out to begin with. I could be miles away from this miserable existence. I could be living in the lavish underground coven with magic powers and riches beyond belief. My days could have been spent reading the classics. Studying philosophy to enrich my world. No schoolwork. No parents. Nothing but bliss.
Instead, I’m stuck here. In my mundane, horrible existence where no one understands me. Mom will never get it. She’s too innocent to understand my depravity. She’s too sweet to see the chaos that swirls under my skin. And I’m okay with that, actually. It’s better that she live her life in her daisy-strewn optimism than know what a monster she created when she had me.
I think I must take after Dad.
“Rayne, I love you,” Mom says, trying one more tactic. I know she’ll give up soon and in a weird way this disappoints me.
“I know you do, Mom,” I say resignedly.
Mom rises to her feet, her hazel eyes looking a bit watery. I feel terrible for putting her through this. For making her deal with me. Part of me wants to jump up and throw myself in her arms. Let her hold me and comfort me as I cry and tell her how much Dad hurt me by not showing up to my birthday. Take her strength since I have little left of my own.