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  Celeste made a face. Even pouting, she was very pretty. “Way out of town, Althea. Miles and miles. I hate living there. I can never go anywhere unless somebody’s willing to drive me. They’re always willing the first time, but they make that trip once and they’re not so willing a second time.”

  She’s confiding in me, Althea thought. She’s treating me like a friend.

  Maybe she would not have to deliver Celeste to the vampire after all! She and Celeste would become friends, and that would be the door through which Althea entered popularity.

  “Ryan came once, and after that, he’s just been ‘busy.’” Celeste sighed deeply, very sorry for herself. “And Becky—well, she came once, and when I asked her to drive me again, she frowned and said my parents would have to bring me to the party.”

  Had she been asked to a party of Becky’s, Althea would have slogged across swamps and swum rivers. She was supposed to feel sorry for Celeste, all because Celeste had to get party transportation from relatives? “That’s rough,” said Althea sympathetically.

  “And you heard Michael say he’d drive me, but he’s dating Constance, of course, and I can hardly ask him to pick up Constance first and then come for me.”

  So Michael was dating Constance. Constance was one of those overwhelming people who was simply brilliant at simply everything. There was not an activity in which she did not shine, not a subject in which she was not a scholar, not a sport in which she did not excel. Constance was lovely and willowy, strong and interesting, funny and sweet.

  Of course Michael was dating Constance.

  Althea was exhausted by the mere thought of Constance.

  Celeste gave several more examples of how unpleasant it was to live so many miles out in the country. It became increasingly difficult to grieve for somebody who had been asked to three events last weekend and could get transportation to just two of them.

  “After school today,” said. Althea, “would you like to come over to my house?”

  Celeste gave Althea a dazzling, sparkling smile. It was a smile on a par with Michael’s: a world-class welcome of a smile. Althea warmed inside, forgave Celeste for whining, and thought of friendship.

  “You’re so sweet, Althea,” said Celeste. “That’s so nice of you. But I have cheerleading practice, of course.”

  Chapter 3

  AFTER SCHOOL ALTHEA DID not go home. She drove around town in a jealous rage. Street after street passed beneath her tires, like some great black, bleak grid of life.

  If only Celeste had not said of course!

  It was that of course that was the knife in the back.

  A light turned yellow, and in her present mood she wanted to slam down the accelerator, roar through the intersection, leave a patch on the pavement, and fill the faces of bystanders with foul exhaust.

  But she drove carefully, as she had been taught. Then, like lightning filling the sky with sheets of silver, she remembered something: Celeste was too young to drive. But Althea was not.

  I have a license. And a car. Why, I’d be happy to drive Celeste home. Or to a party. Or anywhere else that Celeste might choose. Briefly, anyway. Until …

  … well …

  And of course, after that, Celeste would be too tired. It wouldn’t matter anyhow.

  You have cheerleading practice, of course, thought Althea. Celeste, my friend, I have a car, of course. And a Shuttered Room, of course. And a vampire.

  Althea turned left. Then right. She gripped the steering wheel like the compass of life. Three miles and she was back in the school parking lot.

  Beyond the buildings and the tennis courts; the football team was practicing. Boys were lined up on each side of the field, hurling themselves at one another. From that distance it was impossible to tell which heavily padded body was which.

  The school had many ells and additions. Althea circled the building, looking for cheerleading practice.

  The grass had just been mowed, and the air smelled wonderful, like hay and countryside.

  She remembered the vampire’s smell. When he did whatever he did, would Celeste notice the smell first, or would she—?

  Stop! thought Althea. Don’t think about the details.

  Around the next brick wall was a small paved courtyard, and there they were, all twelve of them.

  Mrs. Roundman, their coach, was not pleased. “Not even half trying!” she was shouting. “Not one of you! You are all so lazy! What is cheerleading—an activity for melted marshmallows? You act as if you’d run out of energy spreading peanut butter on bread! Call yourselves cheerleaders? Ha!”

  Several girls were close to tears. Several seemed merely irritated, as if they had better things to do than stand around while Mrs. Roundman had a temper tantrum. And one was amused.

  Mrs. Roundman did not miss this. “Celeste?” she bellowed. “You think this is a joke, perhaps?”

  “No,” said Celeste, trying to smother her laugh. “Of course not, Mrs. Roundman.”

  Althea caught Celeste’s eye and giggled.

  Celeste giggled back like a coconspirator.

  Or a friend.

  I should give her another chance, Althea thought. We could be good friends, I know we could, I can tell by the way she’s sharing that giggle with me.

  “One more chance,” said Mrs. Roundman grimly to her squad. “I said every leg is to reach the same height on the kick, and that’s what I meant.”

  Quite a few other people were watching practice. Two squad members’ boyfriends were leaning against a brick wall, playing cards. A boy Althea did not know was doing his chemistry. His glasses had slid down his nose, and he looked sweet and childish. Three ninth-grade girls looked at their favorite cheerleaders with open adoration. A little knot of kids was sharing a single soda and monitoring one another’s swallows.

  She would have liked to join the card game. Help with the chemistry. Sip the soda. Even join the ninth-graders.

  But after the first brief glance her way, nobody looked at Althea again.

  The cheerleaders worked hard. Kimmie-Jo had the most style, and Celeste was the most beautiful, but Becky gave off an air of joyful celebration. While the other girls were breathless from exertion, Becky seemed breathless from love of cheerleading.

  Finally Mrs. Roundman ended practice and stalked off. Althea did not know what she could be grumpy about. In Althea’s eyes, the squad was perfect.

  Celeste, out of breath and pink-cheeked, dropped to the ground next to Althea. “She’s a bear,” confided Celeste.

  This is what friendship is, Althea thought. Somebody telling you something they wouldn’t tell somebody else. “I can see. Does she always treat you that way?”

  “Or worse. Honestly, I don’t know where they find these coaches!”

  Althea thought Mrs. Roundman was an excellent coach. Certainly the school had the best cheerleaders Althea had ever seen. But she said sympathetically, “Gosh, you must be tired, Celeste.”

  “I’m utterly exhausted. People don’t know how difficult cheerleading is. You don’t get the credit you deserve.” Celeste arched her back like a cat and slowly melted down. A few golden threads of hair across her forehead annoyed her, and she stroked them into place. Rotating her long neck to relax herself, she added, “And what’s more, I have to wait an hour for a ride home. A whole hour! Just sitting here! Till my parents are out of work and can come for me.”

  What a lovely neck she has, Althea thought. It really is swanlike, just the way they say a high-fashion model’s should be. What soft white skin she has.

  Since we’re becoming friends, Althea thought, perhaps I’ll ask her if she has ever thought about modeling. I’ve always wanted to be a model myself. We could go into the city together!

  “I am so bored,” said Celeste.

  Althea looked at her uncertainly.

  “Nobody is around,” Celeste said. “Everybody has left.”

  Not quite everybody, thought Althea. I’m here.

  Celeste ran beautifully
polished fingers through her silken hair. Her nails were pale, pale pink.

  But they could get paler, Althea thought. And I know somebody who would also think that’s a lovely neck. “You poor thing,” said Althea. “Well, I’m heading out right now. Want a ride?”

  Chapter 4

  HIS SKIN HAD DARKENED in patches, like fruit going bad. If she touched it, the skin would feel like a sponge. The fingernails seemed detached. She could pluck them, harvest them, fill a basket with old vampire nails.

  Althea closed her eyes to block out the sight, and then quickly opened them. It was difficult to breathe evenly in his presence, but she knew that if her breathing were ragged and frightened he would enjoy it; it would give him power over her. So she regulated her breathing. She blocked out visions of Celeste being touched by the vampire’s spongy skin, his foul mold against her swan-sweet neck, his smell in her hair. But she had to know. “What happened?” said Althea.

  The vampire looked surprised. “You want details?” His teeth overhung his lower lip, shimmering like pearls, like Celeste’s hair.

  “I don’t want details,” said Althea hastily. “Just—well—an overall picture.”

  With a long bony finger, the vampire traced his lips, as if savoring something. How thin his lips were. How bloodless. Although actually he looked somewhat healthier than the last time Althea had encountered him.

  Althea felt a little queasy. What could have made him healthy?

  I did it, she thought. I actually gave a vampire his victim.

  The air around her thickened. It crawled up her legs and crowded against her spine, and her heart, and her head. She could not see the air, but she could feel it, all woolly and damp, whispering, That’s what you did. You are bad, you are evil, Althea.

  She straightened her back and stiffened her jaw. I did what I had to, she thought. And Celeste deserved it. So there.

  The dark drapery that seemed to be the vampire’s clothing shifted and swirled as if it were leaving. But the vampire stood still. The hem of his black cloth blew toward Althea. She stepped back, and the black cloth reached farther, trembling eagerly. The vampire collected it back and wrapped it around himself like a container. To Althea he said, “It was only necessary for Celeste to enter the path of my control. Once you and she circled the house, she was within my light path.”

  “Light? You are dark. You are night.”

  “It is in fact a dark path,” admitted the vampire. “I thought you would better understand a comparison to the rays of the sun.” He smiled again, his teeth the only bright thing on earth, those notched glittering fangs that—Celeste had known.

  Had it hurt? Had Celeste understood? Had Celeste talked to the vampire? Did she know who had led her into the dark path?

  Althea looked off to the side. It was dark this early in the morning. Frost sparkled on the ground. The hemlocks and firs were black as night. The moon was still visible. Stars trembled. There was no wind. The world lay quietly in the shadowy circle of the house and the trees.

  “I was able,” said the vampire, his voice as wet and muggy as a swamp, “to migrate within Celeste’s boundaries.”

  To migrate. It sounded like swallows and robins. It sounded rather pretty and graceful, an annual event.

  She was very relieved. She had thought the word would be puncture, or stab, or even gnaw. But migration. That was peaceful. Perhaps Celeste had not even noticed.

  Yesterday, Celeste had stayed on to have a Coke. Had admired Althea’s bedroom. Shivered at the spookiness of the Shuttered Room. When Althea drove Celeste home, Celeste had chattered about school, about boys and clothes. Celeste had not sounded like a girl caught in a dark path.

  The black cloth escaped from the vampire’s twisted fingernails. Little threads from a frayed edge spun toward her, like a spider’s web, hoping to snag her. The fringe wove itself into more cloth, and grew in Althea’s direction.

  Althea said slowly, “Am I in your dark path?”

  “No. There are some people who are unreachable.”

  He reached me pretty well, thought Althea. I gave him Celeste. What if she knows? What if she says so in school? What if she tells people?

  “You opened the shutters, Althea. You and I, we are evenly matched. We are both in control, and both of us may go only so far. But Celeste, I fear, is in a different category.” He did not look as if he feared a thing. Or ever had. It was not fear that lined his lips, but hunger.

  I’m not in control, Althea thought. If I were in control, I would have made myself popular the day high school began.

  “So, after midnight,” said the vampire, his voice wafting past like fragrance, the sound of his pleasure like perfume, “I visited Celeste.”

  Althea looked quickly down at the ground. It swayed. Or Althea did.

  She reached out for something on which to steady herself, but the only object near her was the vampire. She yanked her arm back and shoved both hands in her jeans’ pockets. Then she spread her feet for a firmer stance. She was glad to be wearing a heavy jacket. Maybe they were evenly matched, but a few extra layers of protection would not hurt. She adjusted the collar on the jacket. Tucked it under her hair. Zipped the fat silvery zipper up to her chin.

  The vampire laughed, and this time she did not turn her head away fast enough, and she saw his laugh, like the curve of the moon. A pale crescent of evil amusement. What have I done? she thought, wanting the wind to come up, the sun to rise.

  The black drapery flew out behind him, like bat wings. He pulled the cloth back and went on laughing.

  Her breath felt stale and used. It seemed to Althea that her own breath was her soul, rising up a sad and lesser thing than it had been.

  “Dawn is nearly here,” murmured the vampire. He gestured with a finger like foil toward the pink beginning of a new day. “Go to school, my dear. It will begin.”

  “What will?”

  “Being popular, of course. Isn’t that what you wanted?” His words were as whispery as the wind. His skin, the color of mushrooms, faded into the dawn. His black drapery vanished among the hemlocks. The air stayed thick and swampy where he had stood.

  With difficulty she drew a breath. She tasted him and spat the air out, walking backward, covering her mouth, until she was near the garden where the air was fresher.

  In the house, she had little appetite for breakfast. You did what you had to do, she told herself. And it wasn’t so bad. Celeste’s just going to be tired. And you—you get to be popular!

  For so many months Althea had entered high school with her eyes lowered, her posture caved in, to keep from having to see that nobody saw her. Today she walked with eyes lowered and posture caved in because … if they do look at me … will they know what I’ve done … who it is that I talk to in the dark … what I gave him?

  “Althea!” cried a girlish happy voice.

  Althea spun around as if being attacked.

  “Althea, I love your hair like that,” said Becky gaily, catching up to Althea. “It’s all fluffy and kind of—I don’t know—sparkly.”

  Becky. The best cheerleader. The one Althea most wanted to be liked by, and to be like!

  Althea wet her lips with nervousness. “I was out early this morning,” she admitted. “The mist probably settled on my hair.”

  “Up early?” asked Becky. “I’m always up early, too. That’s so neat to meet somebody else who does that. See, my parents always go for a prebreakfast run, down to the lake and back. Their circuit is five miles.” Becky beamed joyously. “Lots of times I go with them.”

  How demented, Althea thought. Running, five miles on purpose, when you could be lying in bed? Althea struggled to return Becky’s exuberant smile.

  “And why were you up early?” Becky asked.

  Althea tried to think of an explanation, but nothing came to mind. “I really like the stars and the night sky,” said Althea. It sounded very lame. Even more so than running five miles.

  She had scarcely noticed that they had
been joined by Ryan. She was dumbfounded when Ryan said, “No kidding! I took astronomy last year, Althea, and I really got into it. You know that the night sky changes continually, so that the constellation you could find in March is not the same as the one you find in November.”

  “You and your constellations,” said Becky indulgently. She gave Ryan a friendly poke. He tugged her ponytail back. “Althea doesn’t care about that, Ryan.”

  “I’d like to learn,” said Althea. “I’m really quite ignorant. I just sort of go outdoors and stare upward. I don’t know anything, really.”

  “Do you have a telescope?” asked Ryan seriously.

  It had never crossed Althea’s mind to want a telescope.

  “Because that tower room in your attic would be such an excellent location,” said Ryan. “I mean, you’re in a really dark part of town.”

  If he knew how dark, he wouldn’t be so eager, Althea thought.

  “No streetlights,” said Ryan, “no lights from all-night car dealerships, nothing to spoil your view of the stars.” He smiled at her. He said, “I have a telescope you could learn on.”

  He’s suggesting that he could come over! Ryan! Ryan of the football team! At my house!

  Becky, bored by stars, said, “Did you get that algebra, Althea? I thought it was really hard.”

  Althea had forgotten that she and Becky were both in second-year algebra. Of course they never sat near each other. Becky sat with another cheerleader named Dusty. Normal people could not have nicknames like Dusty. They would get teased until they actually became dust, or lint, or other underfoot objects. Only a cheerleader could say out loud, with pride, “My name’s Dusty.”

  Ryan said, “I could bring my telescope over. We could put it in the tower room.”

  “The tower room,” Althea repeated. Her hair prickled. No, no, no! She could not ever have anybody in the tower room. The vampire was free, his dark path lit.

  “The one with all the shutters,” Ryan explained, as if Althea were not familiar with it.