Page 89 of The Last Vampire
It’s not Salma, but Zach, who follows me to the table of food. He picks up a dinner roll.
“Let’s talk in Hanover,” I whisper, knowing that William can hear us. “Meet me at noon in that chocolate caféTiffany mentioned.”
Then I walk away before he can say more.
“What is he doing here?” Salma intercepts me before I make it back to the table, Tiffany in tow.
“He apologized.”
“What was his explanation for his rudeness?” Tiffany demands.
“He’s got some health stuff going on with his parents, and that day he was just struggling.”
It’s the first lie to occur to me, and it seems close enough to the truth—after all, he did just find out his parents are gone. But I didn’t even consider how it would affect Salma.
“Oh no,” she says, her eyes growing soft with sympathy. “Are they going to be okay?”
I am such an asshole.
“I—I don’t know, but he doesn’t want to tell people,” I add quickly. “Act like you don’t know.”
In bed at night, I toss and turn, trying to think of a bigger story to feed Zach that will make him forget the one on William. And I keep coming back to Ma.
I’ll have to offer him an exclusive with her. She doesn’t give many interviews these days, so it would be pretty newsworthy. Then of course I’ll have to call Ma and beg her to do this for me.
My roommates are taking forever to get ready in the morning, so they decide to skip breakfast. It’s just the three guys and me at the table, and I notice that William is paying Zach more attention than Trevor.
He must have heard me set the meeting in Hanover. The vampire is probably wondering why.
“We’ll wait for the girls,” Trevor says to me when Minaro announces that the bus has arrived. “You go ahead.”
This time, Director Minaro doesn’t offer us a vote—she simply chooses the movie for us, and I recognize it from the first frame.
The camera zooms in on a reporter speaking on an old television set, the wordsstar-crossed loversprinted on a graphic by her head. William looks at me. “Is this—?”
“Romeo and Juliet,” I say. “Real subtle of Minaro.”
Once again, William is glued to the movie on the screen. It’s a somewhat modern and musically inclined version of the play that Salma and I love.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I look down at a text from Sal:U OK?
Yes,I send back.
“Are you sure?” William asks, his eyes straying from the screen right as the two main characters are looking through the glass of a large fish tank, moments away from locking eyes.
“Keep watching!”
Ms. Floreville comes down the aisle, handing out sandwiches, chips, and water bottles. William puts his away as if he plans to eat it later. I rip open the paper bag and bite into my sandwich, smearing garlic aioli across my mouth, half a tomato slice dangling from my teeth.
William turns his head fully toward me. “Your eating borders on indecent.”
“Jus keep wa-ching,” I mumble with my mouth full.
He turns away in disgust.
The bus ride to Hanover is shorter than the one to Cambridge, so we make it only as far as the wedding scene. We’ll watch the rest of the movie on the ride back.
“You are to return to the bus by five o’clock,” says Minaro, “and check in with me so I can mark you present before taking your seat. We have arranged a meal credit at Hanover Pizza, and each of you can spend up to twenty-five dollars there if you show them the coupon we will be handing you as you get off the bus. Enjoy yourselves!”
