Seven Minutes to Midnight

27

When I woke up in the morning, I was lying in my own bed, in my clothes, alone. I had fallen asleep the night before in Lane's arms. Somehow he must have carried me upstairs without waking me and put me to bed. Yet I am a light sleeper.

I was certain that everything that had happened the night before was completely real. As in, nothing supernatural. In fact, I wondered if anything supernatural had ever happened. Was there some way I had imagined Lane speaking in my head? That I had heard what I wanted to hear? That Lane was only pretending to be a vampire, and my two best friends were pretending along with him.

Then I heard my mother come home from her overnight shift and I had to rush to get ready for school.

At Frank's locker Lane and I exchanged a knowing glance that made my cheeks hot. But he said nothing. I knew it was probably for Veronica's sake that Lane didn't say anything. But he visited me again on Tuesday night, and every night that week.

I had almost forgotten about Lane's power, I was so busy falling in love with him.

TO BE CONTINUED

To: vegangrrl_15@ [redacted]

From: amyvaughn@ [redacted]

Subject: Delete After Reading (Part 4)

Draft saved 2017 July 22, 20:23:43

Sorry, I thought I heard a noise at the door. It's hard to reminisce about good times when things are not so good now. You might be able to tell I'm a bit jumpy. I am concerned that I won't be able to finish this narrative before he arrives.

Yes, things with Lane and me were good. He kept to his word and I no longer felt controlled by him, nor did I feel that he was controlling Veronica or Frank. Veronica and I started getting together to make clothes again, and occasionally Frank and Lane would join us. Lane and I would meet eyes across the room as he and Frank played video games, and Veronica and I designed outfits. Even though the weather was warming into June, I got on a knitting streak and churned out hats with cat ears and devil horns, scarves with long glittering black fringe, and fingerless gloves with skull patterns. When we were alone, Veronica would ask questions like, "Do you think Lane is hotter than Edward? How about Lestat?" She didn't seem to know that Lane had kissed me, but didn't seem bothered that he no longer showed interest in her except when we met at the graveyard and pretended to be vampires.

Lane had decided that we all needed practice in the art of drinking blood. Sometimes he would instruct Frank to "drink" from Veronica and then would take the opportunity to "drink" from me—only, however, if I gave him permission, usually in an intimate whispered exchange heard by neither Frank nor Veronica. I would then pretend to be as standoffish as I was before, then fall under Lane's spell. It became a game for me, how overly dramatic I could be. Lane was not really drinking my blood, and often I could feel his lips smiling against my neck as I swooned, outperforming any 1920s silent film starlet. My real goal was to get Veronica and/or Frank to laugh at me, but never broke character, not even the time when I accidentally smacked Lane in the face during one of my elaborate arm sweeps and we collapsed to the ground, laughing. Despite Veronica's obsession with Lane, she never seemed unhappy when Lane paired her off with Frank.

I never questioned Veronica's willingness to have Frank kiss her. Frank's acne had cleared up, and he had started shaving that stubble and washing his hair. He was far from Lane's perfection, but I noticed Veronica flirting with Frank like old times. Lane still occasionally sucked on Veronica's neck in what I assumed was out of pity. Those times I would glare at Frank to make sure he knew I did not want him anywhere near my neck, and we would stand around uncomfortably. Frank either glared at Veronica the entire time, his face hiding none of his betrayed feelings, or else he stared vacantly off into the distance and refused to respond when I attempted conversation.

As for myself, I tried to hide my jealousy—I considered Lane mine, now—but later in the night, he would come to my house, sometimes even climbing up onto the porch roof and tapping on my window until I let him in, and I would let him know he belonged to me alone. Usually we kissed in various states of undress, sometimes only lying together on the couch, his cool arms locked around me, watching vampire movies. Lane thought the movies were funny, but never explained it to me. Usually I was too busy memorizing the texture of his hair or the way his muscles lay on his stomach to care. And really, most vampire movies are laughable. Once we watched a marathon of werewolf movies which had Lane and I both cracking up.

Even though I shared no classes with Mara, the Animal Rights Club girl, I watched her in the hallways and during lunch whenever I could. There was nothing supernatural about her at all. She was a bit overenthusiastic about the wolf thing, to the annoyance of our peers who didn't want to be bothered to sign petitions to stop the clear cutting of some endangered species' habitat or donate to the animal shelter. Her other friends from the club often watched me... but once, on a whim, I smiled at them and waved, and they responded in kind, not by growling.

As the weeks slid by, I lapsed back into that normal mode of thought—there was no such thing as werewolves and vampires, and it was all just a game.

Until it wasn't.

EDITED: 2/24/18