New Moan Read online

  Kristina had the most amazing expression on her face, like she was really shocked by what I’d said. Most likely she was surprised by the leadership qualities I was showing. That’s right, friend Kristina, I’m an even more incredible and complex person than you’d already realized.

  Mr. Haines was holding Kristina’s hand and shouting something to Justin about an ambulance. He seemed really panicked; not used to being in a crisis situation, I guessed. He did at least manage to keep his manners when he politely declined my offer of assistance, telling me that I’d done enough already and to go back inside, where I would be safely out of the way. What a gentleman.

  I headed for the changing rooms, waving to Kristina as she was lifted, twitching, onto the gurney. ‘See you at lunchtime, Krissie!’

  The bell started ringing as I finished getting dressed. I hurried outside, eager to seem eager to catch up on all the cafeteria gossip, and ran right into one of the boys from English class.

  ‘Heffa, bright angel, you look really, um, fair in those harem pants. O, that I were the seat of those pants, that I might touch your cheeks! Forsooth, there is a rave party next Saturday in the old abandoned Indian casino out at La Trine. Do you want to go? With me?’

  Another proposition? This was starting to get really old. First Justin after English, and now this kid, who didn’t even have a name as far as I knew. Why were all the guys at the Academy getting all up in my face with this romantic stuff? I thought I could see a way out of this one, though.

  ‘A rave party? I’d love to, just give me your name and phone number and I’ll call you to confirm.’

  ‘M-my name? It’s, umm …’ After struggling with this thought for a moment, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and I walked on.

  I’d had just about enough of Arabian Nights Day, but my suffering wasn’t over yet. Outside the cafeteria, there was a gaggle of guys trying really hard to look like they weren’t waiting for someone. When the first of them spotted me, he waved his arm frantically towards me, gibbering, ‘What’s that, yonder to lunch break come? It’s time for eats, and Heffa is the Sun Machine!’

  That started the others off, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by coyly smiling boys. Some of them were clutching sheets of notepaper and blurting out random words like ‘wherefore’, ‘prithee’ and ‘juggernauts’, while others grabbed at my hair or tried to clasp my hands to their chest. As their scrawny teenage bodies crowded up against me, I started to feel dizzy, and also totally violated.

  ‘Please, respect my boundaries!’ I shouted. I don’t know exactly how I managed it, but eventually the careful placement of my knees and elbows in a selection of sensitive areas enabled me to get clear of them long enough for me to make a run for it. I dashed back to the sanctuary of the girls’ locker room and collapsed on a bench, straining to get my breath back.

  This was getting ridiculous. I’d known Chip was interested in me since I’d first arrived, but now it seemed like every guy in school was desperate for my attention. Movies, dinners, trips to ‘Inspiration Point’ … I was being bombarded with romantic offers from all sides, and I honestly had no idea why.

  Spatula was a small town, but surely there were plenty of prettier girls than me available, I mused as I straightened myself out. My flowing, lustrous locks had been mussed up by my crazed suitors, and my clothes had been yanked this way and that, so they were hanging off my tight young body in a dangerously revealing way.

  I looked at my bland, unremarkable face in the mirror. My elegantly sculpted eyebrows frowned and my limpid eyes flashed confusion from beneath my long, fluttering lashes. Pursing my full red lips, I sighed, ‘You’re so plain, Heffa, it has to be their Y hormones or something. I bet Kristina would be getting exactly the same treatment if she wasn’t tucked up safe and sound in the I.C.U.’

  But why were they suddenly so keen today? My outfit was very flattering, but I looked great no matter what I wore. Wait a second, where was my copy of that Romero and Juilliard play? The boys had been eating that up in class earlier, perhaps that had something to do with it.

  Forty minutes later, things were starting to make sense. I was Juliet, obviously. Like me, she was simple, and loving, and liked watching men fight to the death for her favor. One thing still bothered me, though: how could I convince the guys in school to start dueling over me? The play wasn’t too clear on this, there was just a load of ‘blah blah’ and then the swords came out. I pushed the book back into my bag. I’d have to puzzle it out later; afternoon classes were about to start.

  The Sun Machine had been switched off and the sky was gray and lifeless once more. I used the gloom to my advantage, sticking to the shadows as I headed to my class in ‘Improvised and Scripted Dialog’. I avoided any unwelcome attention, but stealth is not the BFF of punctuality, and I was a few minutes late for class. The teacher, Mr. David, was not impressed.

  ‘Ah, Miss Lump, how good of you to join us,’ he intoned sarcastically. I stood open-mouthed, struggling to think of a snappy response. I really needed to ace this class. ‘Those who arrived on time already have partners for today’s exercise, Heffa. Luckily for you, you are not the only member of the group who possesses neither manners nor a watch. Please step over here, and join Mr. Kelledy.’

  And there he was in the corner: Teddy Kelledy, taut yet majestic, scowling at me with those deep, lilac eyes. His mouth had the tiniest hint of a smile and I was sure he was laughing at me. His attention made me feel instantly self-conscious and clumsy as I shuffled over to him. Please let me get through this class without accidentally causing anyone a critical chest wound …

  He spoke first. ‘I do have a watch, actually, but I wouldn’t dream of wearing it to school. It cost more than Mr. David makes in a year.’

  His confident self-regard seemed friendly enough, and he hadn’t hurled on me yet; maybe this wouldn’t be a total catastrophe after all.

  ‘You weren’t in class this morning. I thought maybe you’d skipped today?’ I tried to make my inquiry sound casual.

  ‘No, it was just because it was so bright today. Oh no, I mean, er, I wasn’t feeling so bright today. You know how it is, some mornings you cease your restless nocturnal prowling and you feel as if someone gave you a lobotomy overnight, you know? You ever get that, Heffa?’

  ‘I guess …?’

  ‘So I decided to stay at home and catch up on some reading. I’d hardly looked at this month’s GQ. Did I miss anything in English?’

  ‘Well, actually, we studied a new play, Roboto and Juliet. Have you heard of it?’

  ‘The most famous love story of all time? The very archetype and paradigm of doomed teenage love, replete with exquisite Shakespearean meter, inspiration for a million lesser imitations since it was first performed in the 1590s?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, at first I thought it was totally dumb, but then I tried actually reading it and I really empathized with Juliet, looking out her window, yearning, wondering where Romano is. Do you ever feel anything like that, Teddy?’

  He looked confused. I tried to point him in the right direction. ‘Feel anything like Juliet’s passion? Or Romeo’s, maybe?’

  My hand had moved towards his, and was now mere millimeters away from touching his long, slender fingers. He was looking at me, his cobalt eyes betraying no emotion other than bafflement.

  ‘Passion? Yes, Heffa, I think I do. Like when I’ve got an animal by the throat and I’m about to rip its …’

  Mr. David was suddenly between us, patting our shoulders enthusiastically. ‘Not bad, not bad at all. Heffa, you obviously enjoyed using literary references to talk about your own life, but your choice of material could be a bit more original. Teddy, I think we should have a quick chat about taking a hint …’

  As the bell rang, he led Teddy off to the other side of the room and began an earnest conversation, which failed to dislodge Teddy’s bemused expression. I was also feeling a bit puzzled by my day, thankfully now finished, and I wandered back t
o the parking lot in a daze, wondering what Teddy would have said if he hadn’t been interrupted.

  I had to admit, I found him intriguing. He was very pretty, of course, but there was more to it than that. He had a kind of naive, vacant simplicity that was unlike the other boys I’d met, but at the same time there was an undercurrent of power and danger. Kind of like an experimental robotic killing machine that had escaped from a government lab and was trying to live among normal people. Could that be it? Was Teddy really some kind of metal monster looking for love in his own clumsy, murderous way? It seemed as likely as anything else at this point.

  A voice behind me made me jump. ‘Hi Heffa!’ Chip.

  ‘Yes?’ I reciprocated.

  ‘Look, as a friend, I just wanted to warn you about that Kelledy kid. I saw you talking this afternoon, and I’m telling you, you should stay away from him. He’s trouble.’

  ‘You don’t even know him, why the heck would you say that?’

  ‘Come on, look at the evidence. He’s got those long pointy fingernails.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with being well manicured, it’s metrosexual.’

  ‘And have you seen the way he looks at the school hamsters, like he’s eyeing up his next meal?’

  ‘He just likes fluffy animals; I think that’s adorable, personally.’

  ‘And he doesn’t have a reflection, and he’s got those weird long teeth, and he bites people on the neck quite often, and he tried to get a blood vending machine installed in the cafeteria last year. You don’t think any of this is odd?’

  I knew that Chip liked me, and that he was being mean about Teddy at least partly out of jealousy, but something in his words struck a chord. ‘Chip, are you saying that you think Teddy is … a secret government cyborg?’

  ‘No, you stuck-up simpleton, I’m saying he’s a vampire! A vampire! Vam-pire? Undead fiend? Blood-drinking night-stalker?’

  He was hopping around now, arms held in the air in what I guessed was supposed to be a menacing pose. My head was reeling, but before I could think of a thing to say, Chip seemed to lose his balance. He staggered backwards, and then started flailing his arms wildly as he was pushed away from me by some powerful invisible force, almost as if he had no substance at all. Looking to my left, I saw Teddy, his cheeks puffed out with exertion as he blew Chip into the bushes on the far side of the lot.

  See, Chip, I thought, vampires don’t have super-breath, do they? Shows what you know.

  Teddy’s face relaxed into a wry smile. ‘I could see that he was bothering you, Heffa. I hope you don’t mind me watching you. Er, watching out for you.’

  ‘Oh, no, it’s very gallant of you to rescue me! Thank you, my Romeo. Um, Teddy, I mean.’

  ‘Right then. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Heffa. You take care of yourself now.’

  With a wave, he headed to his car. I stood by mine, watching while he carefully reversed out of his space, executed a neat three-point turn, and drove at a steady 10 mph out onto the road. Careful whereforehow you drive, my Teddy.

  Today had been so confusing. I didn’t even know how to start processing everything that had happened to me. I thought about phoning my mom, but I knew I’d have to listen to her chat inanely about her life for anything up to ten seconds before I could get a word in. What I really needed was a nice relaxing evening of ‘me’ time. I stopped by the Economart on the way home and picked up a stack of magazines, an evening’s worth of gossip and lifestyle tips.

  After quickly making a casserole for dinner, I retreated to my room, and began to wallow happily in the misfortunes of vapid celebrities. I’d read the National Infiltrator, Fairly Vain and Slutz, and was on to Spoiled Teen, when one of their surveys so shocked me I spilled my soda.

  ‘Is the Class Hottie Really a Vampire?’ screamed the headline. I raced through the list of telltale signs. Pointy fangs, pointier fingernails, insatiable lust for blood – I ticked them all. Good gravy, maybe Chip was right after all!

  Could Teddy Kelledy really be a vampire? Maybe that explained why I found him so intriguing, when no one else paid him any attention. Only I, out of everyone in Spatula, had the incredible insight (and magazine) necessary to realize that Teddy was more than he appeared. Though even if he was human, he was still a really hot human; you’d have thought that someone might have given him a second look before I showed up. Why, my groin felt wet and sticky just thinking about him! Wait, no, that was from where I’d spilled the soda.

  The tacky magazine quiz was compelling evidence, but I felt like I needed more to go on. I was sure I’d felt a bond developing between us in class today and the thought that he could be a soulless beast was difficult to reconcile with the toned, pouting image in my mind. If I was going to get closer to Teddy, and perhaps open up to him intimately, I needed to know more about this vampire stuff. I hopped off my bed and headed down to the living room, where my dad was watching the game.

  ‘Dad, I need the TV for my school project, and can you leave the room? I don’t want you distracting me with your mouth-breathing,’ I explained, while I rifled through his surprisingly comprehensive DVD collection.

  After Chump had gone, I slid the first disc into the player and sat on the edge of the sofa, trying to make sense of what I saw.

  Seven hours and three movies later, I flopped into bed. I had watched Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Near Dark, and, just to be on the safe side, The Terminator, and I was as confused as ever.

  As I tossed fitfully, I realized I was certain of two things. First, Francis Ford Coppola’s movie blew chunks, and second, if I wanted to know for sure whether Teddy was a vampire, then I’d have to take some drastic action. I’d have to stab him through the heart with a stake. That, or just ask him. One of those two, not sure which, probably best to sleep on it …

  chapter 5

  * * *

  getting some action

  Fridays were half-days at the Spatula Academy of Fictional Excellence. I realized with a mixture of pleasure and pain that this meant less chance of another awkward encounter with Teddy. My brain told me that maybe this was for the best after what I’d begun to suspect about the possibility of Teddy being less alive than was average for boys his age.

  My heart told me different, though. I was feeling better than I had since I first hit the New York Times bestseller list, and I could feel my pulse beat faster every time I thought of his beauty. His smooth hair, his translucent skin, and his neatly pressed pants …

  My heart raced, and the blood was circulating to parts of me I never knew existed. Parts you didn’t see pictures of in any kids’ book either, that’s for darn sure. I could feel myself becoming more and more mature with every passing day. I knew I was right to have come here. I would have to call my mom and tell her, ‘Told you so!’

  Looking at my timetable, I could see that I had only one lesson of narrative significance scheduled for the day. I resolved to go to Spatula Library in the afternoon in the hope that I might find out more about this vampire stuff. I’d learned a lot last night, and I thought that teenage magazines and DVDs probably had the subject comprehensively covered, but you never knew – maybe there’d be a librarian with a convenient interest in the supernatural. I was keen to get there, so I decided to skip quickly ahead to the beginning of class.

  ‘Good morning, I’m Mr. Wellbord, your teacher for “Telling Tales: Genre Studies 101”. As you go through life, you might find yourselves in many different kinds of story, and, to be a success, you need to know how to act appropriately for the type of story you’re in. So, who can name a type of story? Chip?’

  ‘Um, one where there’s a girl who likes two guys, and she doesn’t know which one to choose, but then she has a really wise male friend, who’s a dancer in a nightclub, and he helps her out by pretending to be her husband, to see which one of them gets most jealous, and then she marries them?’

  ‘Right, Chip, that sounds like a Romantic Comedy, probably not a very good one. Anyone else?’

&nbs
p; We were five minutes into the class and Mr. Wellbord hadn’t called on my unique insight yet. Worried for his future career prospects, I raised my hand. Maybe I could learn something about my own situation into the bargain.

  ‘What about stories with monsters in, Mr. Wellbord? Not kiddie ones, I mean the grown-up kind, with things like ghosts, or ghouls, or … vampires?’

  ‘Ah, yes, it’s Heffa Lump, isn’t it? Very good, Heffa, you’ve helpfully brought me on to the main part of this introductory class. We call that type of tale a “horror” story. Very often, teenagers like yourselves can find themselves in horror stories. It’s a good training ground to hone such vital skills as running, screaming, and being eviscerated.’

  This horror stuff sounded promising. ‘Mr. Wellbord, how do you know if you’re in a horror story?’

  ‘Another fine question – maybe you aren’t quite as dim as you look. It’s not always easy to tell, actually. Usually you’ll be doing something completely ordinary, like attending a summer camp, or visiting a creepy old house, or mercilessly persecuting a psychic classmate, and then suddenly, aargh, you’re being hunted down by a ruthless supernatural psychopath with topiary shears or pickaxes for hands, or who knows what else!’

  I looked around the class. The kids were nodding and writing everything down. Mr. Wellbord was certainly giving them what they wanted, but I still wasn’t sure if what Teddy and I had fitted into this kind of scenario. He’d already proved his fangs were sharp enough to be used as weapons in that cock-munching episode the other day, and I’d seen enough flashes of temper to think that ‘ruthless supernatural psychopath’ might be applicable, but I didn’t want to be just another dumb, screaming victim for him. It already felt like he had a special part deep inside me, and I was sure that I was starting to mean something to him, too. Something beyond the chasing and dismembering that these ‘horror’ stories seemed obsessed with.