After calling Becky and describing my adventure in thrilling detail, I suffered from major insomnia. It wasn't nightfall keeping me awake, though; it was a guy with the deepest, darkest, dreamiest eyes that I had ever seen. My heart was spinning as much as my head. He was beautiful. His hair, his face, his lips. Absolutely amazing was the image of his extended hand--wearing my ring! Why didn't he try to call the police? Why was he wearing my ring? Was he really a vampire? When would I see him again? I already missed Gothic Guy. I was swinging high on the swing set the next morning at Evans Park, waiting for Becky, my head still dizzy from the previous night's encounter. I skidded to a stop when she finally arrived and I told her the whole incredible story again.
"You're lucky he didn't kill you!"
"Are you kidding? He was magnificent! I'd wait forever to meet someone half as cool!"
"So do you believe the rumors now?" "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it could be true. There are so many signs. The drawing of Dracula, the candles, the sunglassses, the covered mirrors, the family tree."
"The mother's allergy to garlic and that the Sterlings have only been seen at night," Becky added.
"And what about the imported earth? Vampires always bring dirt from their native country."
"Are you going to call CNN?" she teased.
"Not yet. I need more proof."
"Would that involve trying to get me over that gate again?"
I began swinging, remembering Anne Rice, Bram Stoker, Bela Lugosi, The Hunger, Lost Boys, and all the Nosferatus that had ever graced the world with their wonderful smiles and slicked-back hair.
"No! It doesn't involve you at all," I finally answered her.
She let out a sigh of relief.
"There's really only one way to prove it, right? And then we can finally tell these gossip mongers to end their rumors for good. Then these Gothic angels can sleep peacefully, whether they go to bed during the night or day!" I joked.
"So what are you going to do, watch to see if he changes into a bat?"
"No. I'm going to watch to see if I do!"
"You can't change into a bat from watching him."
"I'll have to do more than look at him! There's only one way to tell if he's really a vampire."
"Yeah?" "It'll be in his bite!" I screamed with excitement.
"You're going to have him bite you? Are you crazy?"
"Curiously crazy."
"But what happens if he is one? You'll turn into a vampire! Then what'll you do?"
"Then," I said, smiling, "I'll call CNN."
I sauntered home from Evans Park daydreaming about seeing my prince of darkness, when I spotted a black Mercedes turning the corner at the far end of my street.
I ran after it, as fast as I could, but combat boots can't compete with spinning wheels and motorized acceleration, even with Creepy driving.
At home I was greeted by a mischievously smiling Nerd Boy.
"I've got something for you!" he teased.
"Don't play games. I'm not in the mood."
"Seems as though the mail is now being delivered on Sundays. And the Sunday mailman is that weird butler from the Halloween Mansion!"
"What?"
"He delivered a letter for you!"
"Give it!"
"It'll cost you!" "It'll cost you your head," I yelled, trying to jump on him.
He took off running and I followed in red-hot pursuit. "I'll get it. It's just a question of whether you're dead or alive when I do!"
If only I'd stayed home, Creepy Man would have given me the letter instead of Nerd Boy. Good thing my parents were out at lunch. They would have freaked if they'd seen a million-year-old man coming to the door and asking for me.
Nerd Boy waved the red envelope in front of my face, taunting me at every turn. Suddenly he ran upstairs. I grabbed his leg from behind and he fell. I pulled him toward me, but the envelope was in his outstretched arm, too far for me to grab.
I made a sharklike face to let him know I would bite his leg off if I had to, something you can do to a sibling and not go to jail. Panic set in, and he used his free foot to push my hands loose from his bony leg. He slammed his bedroom door in my face and turned the lock.
I banged and banged. My hands hurt but I wouldn't feel the throbbing till later, I was so mad.
"'Dear Raven,'" he pretended to read through the door. '"I love you and want you to be my witchy wife so we can have scary butler babies. Love, Weirdo Butler.'"
"Give that to me! Now! Don't you know what I'm capable of? Just ask the soccer team. I can make life a living hell for you!"
"I'll give it back on one condition."
"How much?"
"I don't want money."
"Then what?"
"That you promise..."
"What, already?" "That you promise to stop calling me 'Nerd Boy'!"
There was silence on both sides of the door.
I felt a pang in my heart. Guilt? Pathos? I guess I never realized that my little nickname could have been hurting him so much all these years. That I had already made his life a living hell.
"Then what should I call you?"
"How about my name?"
"What would that be?" I teased.
"Billy."
"Uh, well...okay. You give me the letter, and I won't call you Nerd Boy--for a year."
"Forever."
"Forever?"
"Forever!"
"Okay. For...ever."
He cracked the door open and slipped the envelope out. He peered at me with his deep-brown baby-brother eyes.
"Here. I didn't open it."
"Thanks. You shouldn't have made me chase you. I've had a long day!"
"It's only twelve o'clock!"
"Exactly!" Now I had the red envelope safely in my hands. "Thanks, Nerd Boy." I couldn't help it. It was habit.
"You promised!" he yelled, slamming the door. I knocked again. This time I felt the pain from the previous banging.
"What, Witch Girl?" he yelled. "Anyone would be a nerd compared to you! Leave me alone and go back to your cave!"
I found the door unlocked and stepped inside. It had been years since I'd been in his room. There were pictures of Michael Jordan and Wayne Gretzky on the wall and fifty billion computer games stacked on his floor and desk beside his computer. Nerd Boy was actually pretty interesting.
"Thanks for the letter," I said.
He just sat mousing at his computer, ignoring me.
"Billy!" I shouted. He quickly looked up, with shocked eyes. "I said, Thanks.' But I can't hug you. We'll save that for TV."
I threw myself on my bed, my black down comforter soft against my arms, and stared at the blank red envelope. It could say anything inside like: "Stay off our property or we'll sue you and your parents."
But at least I had the threat safely in my hands.
I gently opened the envelope, fearing the worst.
It was an invitation! "Mr. Alexander Sterling requests the company of Ms. Raven Madison at his home December 1 at 8:00 P.M. for dinner."
How did he know my name? How did he know where I lived? And was this real? No seventeen-year-old guy in this town, state, or country invited girls over like this. It was straight out of some Merchant-Ivory-Emma Thompson movie where people have stuffy British accents and are sandwiched into corsets and never say the word "love." It was so medieval, old-fashioned, out of this world. It was so romantic my flesh tingled all over.
I looked at the envelope for any other message, but that's all there was. It didn't even say "R.S.V.P." What nerve! He expected I would come, and he was right. I had waited for this all my life.
