THE VAMPIRE UNDERGROUND

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

Brin stood on the driveway, freezing to death, but knowing it would be much colder in the house sitting next to her angry mother. The snowfall had ceased, but the clouds still lingered up above, and at least six inches had pounded the ground since she went to sleep. It was almost 8:30. Anaya was late.  

Maybe she hit some black ice, crashed, catapulting herself through the windshield, Brin thought. Then I’d definitely get to direct the movie.

When an ugly brown van pulled up to her driveway barely a minute later, Brin shook her head in fear.

“Is this safe?” Brin said, walking up to the passenger side window. “In the snow, I mean?”

“It’s Sawyer’s dad’s,” Anaya said. “It’s the only thing we could get that sits six people. Now get in, damn it! We’re behind schedule.”

The cinematographer Sawyer, bundled up for negative degree weather, was in the driver’s seat, while the director Anaya sat next to him. They were in the front presumably so they could discuss the filming, but Brin assumed it was to announce to the rest of the cast and crew who was in charge.

Brin stepped over Chace, who was already dressed in his period clothing. Lavender, on the left side, was also wearing her costume, a faded pink dress and a laughable bonnet secured tightly over her head.

“Hello everyone,” Brin said as she scooted past the actors, finding a seat to herself in the back. She pulled out her iPod immediately, not wanting to have to chat with anybody, at least until they picked up the one member in her group she felt comfortable talking to. 

When they stopped in front of Dylan’s house on the other side of the neighborhood, he was standing on the sidewalk, shivering to death in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I… wasn’t… sure…” Dylan could barely speak. His face appeared frozen.

“What is it, Dylan?” Anaya said, rolling her window down.

“…if we’re… supposed to change now… or when we get to the… location…”

Anaya dropped his period clothes into his hands and motioned for him to get in the car. “Move it!”

Dylan opened the sliding door, threw the clothes in the back—on top of Brin—and struggled stepping over Chace. Dylan slipped and sprawled out over Chace’s lap.

“Oh my God!” Chace shouted. “Cold! You’re so cold!”

“Sorry,” Dylan said. “My bad.”

“Move your ass!” Chace said, grabbing Dylan’s shoulders and pushing him back against Brin. Now Brin had clothes and Dylan on top of her.

“Morning, Brin,” Dylan said, his palm shoved up against her forehead.

“Morning, Dylan. You mind getting the hell off of me?”

“Sure thing.”

He fell to his right and grabbed his period clothes. Then he started rubbing his palms together.

“Do you have any AC up there?” Dylan said.

Anaya didn’t answer him. Instead she said, “All right! Off we go! Bodie Ghost Town, here we come!”

With any other person, especially an established geek or an overjoyed grandmother, these little spoken clichés would’ve sounded hopeful. But with Anaya, they sounded downright vindictive.