Page 52 of The Last Vampire
I don’t know why she’s pure ice with you. I asked her on the bus ride to Harvard and she pretended like she didn’t know what I was talking about. Just give her time. I’ve been getting to know her, and Tiff is actually pretty cool.
I read the message a few times and force my face not to emote.
My time with the vampire is coming at a price.
I’m losing my best friend.
Salma snags her notebook back like she forgot something and tacks on another line:Has W made a move yet?
I hate lying to her, but for her own safety, I have to.
Just flirting. I mean, it’s only been a couple of days. What about you and T?
She sits up and writes a whole paragraph in response:
He’s a great kisser. I like him, but you know me—I don’t do relationships. I think he’s like that, too. Right now, I don’t think anything matters more to him than the LUB. He’s obsessed with reviewing those books. It’s like he just knows there’s something written somewhere.
The green text crosses my thoughts again.
I’ve only been in that basement room once, but since it’s where William awoke, there must be a connection to him.
A couple of hours later, the three of us head down to dinner.
“What’s that?” asks Tiffany as we approach the dining hall.
The wall near the entrance is blanketed with papers, and on closer inspection, I see that they’re the sign-up rosters for every approved club. A pen hovers by each sheet of paper; they hang from ropes taped to the wall.
“I don’t see morning announcements,” says Tiffany after a minute.
“I don’t see occult club, either,” says a disappointed Salma. I scan the names: newspaper, yearbook, drama, chess, debate, film, robotics… and my gaze locks onShakespeare club.
Even more surprising than its ratification is the fact that someone has already signed up.
William Pride
I stare at the name, then I look through the dining hall’s open entryway, in the direction of our table. He’s already seated and looking right back at me.
My belly tingles, probably because I know he’s going to demand his own dinner soon. Just the thought of him biting me again makes my knees tremble, so I shove it to the back of my mind.
I avoid his eyes as I pick up my plate from the table, and I walk over to the buffet. Trevor is standing by the staff table and arguing with Director Minaro.
“But it’s a sport played on every school campus in the country—!”
“And no one is keeping you from playing, Mr. Cross. You are welcome to do that in your spare time on weekends, but it will not satisfy the requirement of participating in at least one school-sanctioned club.”
Zach stands behind Trevor, and Tiffany joins at his side. Other students head over and line up behind them; it looks like a lot of people didn’t get what they wanted.
“They don’t have the equipment at the moment to have televised morning announcements,” huffs Tiffany as her heavy plate clatters onto the table. “She said I’m welcome to set up a table in here and recite the morning’s announcements during breakfast—as if that’s the same thing!” She turns toward Salma. “Why didn’t you fight for your occult club?”
My best friend shrugs.
“Well, you’ll have to sign up forsomething,” says Tiffany. “I’m thinking I’ll join the newspaper.”
“I signed up for the paper, too,” says Zach. “And film club—which you’re all welcome to join.”
I don’t mention Shakespeare club, and William doesn’t, either. In fact, he doesn’t say a word all through dinner. It’s only when we’re finished with our food that Tiffany looks at William’s plate and says, “You eat so little.” The vampire only served himself a couple of slices of pot roast and a tablespoon of mashed potatoes. “Yet you’re so…strong.”
She seems to be searching for the right word and lands on that one. I wonder how the vampire is able to digest food, and I make a mental note to ask him later.
