Page 9 of The Last Vampire
We may not be at this school much longer.
“I understand,” says the director. “That is why I ordered you an all-black version of the uniform.”
The frown fades from Salma’s features.
“It is presently being delivered to your room, so that you can wear it to class tomorrow. Are we in agreement?”
Sal nods in assent, and I follow her back to our table, where the others are already seated. No one asks us what that conversation was about, and we eat in silence.
I’m not a fan of the wings, but I finish everything else. Salma scarfs down her fries first, loses interest in her salad after she’s finished all the tofu, and eventually goes in on my fries.
“Where’s everyone from?” asks Zach.
“New York City,” Salma answers for us.
“I’m from Miami,” says Tiffany.
“I know,” says Zach, then he stiffens, like he realizes how creepy that sounds. “I mean, from your reporting. I’m from Chicago.”
Looking far from concerned, Tiffany tips up her chin, as if she’s proud to have a fan/stalker.
“LA,” says Trevor.
“I love Los Angeles,” says Salma, even though I know for a fact she hates it. The last time we flew there with my parents, she complained the whole time about the constant driving and the clogged highways and the “lack of weather.”
“What made you apply here?” It’s unclear if Zach is asking all of us or just Tiffany.
“We don’t have places that look like this in Miami,” says Tiffany with a shrug. “When I saw the pictures, it seemed…special.”
“The photos got me, too,” says Zach. “I felt like… this school wascallingto me.”
“Oh my God, me, too,” she says, looking at him with wide eyes.
I flash to the girls I overheard in the bathroom, and how they used that same word. Could it be coincidence that at least four people felt called to this school?
“I felt it, too,” says Salma, and I turn to her in astonishment. I knew she was intrigued, but I thought it had more to do with getting away from home.
“I didn’t,” says Trevor. “My parents made me apply.”
“Why?” asks Salma.
He flashes her a smirk flanked by adorable dimples. “Probably hoping I could be reformed.”
The corners of my best friend’s mouth curl. Nothing she loves more than an unrepentant bad boy.
“Attention, students.”
Minaro is on her feet again.
“When you are finished with your meal, you may leave everything at the table and exit the dining hall. Feel free to study your map by walking around the manor and becoming familiar with the locations of your classes, but make sure you are back in your rooms by ninePM. The rules are already in effect—anyone caught venturing about after curfew will receive their first strike.”
Students at other tables are on their feet, and as I push back from my chair, Trevor says, “Wait.”
He pins me with his greenish gaze, and I slowly sit back down. Then he looks at the others. “We should figure out our plan before we go.”
“What plan?” asks Salma.
“You know the plan,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows as he stares into her eyes. “The one where we sneak out after curfew to explore this manor’s forbidden parts.”
