Seven Minutes to Midnight

12

By our second meeting at the cemetery with Lane, it had become apparent to me that Frank was intensely jealous of Lane's keen interest in Veronica. I observed this without comment until Veronica brought it up during art class. "Do you think Frank is gay?"

"I don't know. He seems to be, when he's around Lane. But it could also be part of the game."

"It's not a game," Veronica hissed at me. She peeked around to see if anyone was listening in. "Really, Amy, you need to get more serious about this is you want Lane to continue to accept you as one of the fold."

I didn't say anything. I stared down at the painting I was creating, which was supposed to be a self-portrait. My face didn't look quite right.

"It isn't hard, just stop saying it's a game. That's all." Veronica worked on her painting in silence for a few minutes, then said, "Anyway, I'm getting the vibe that Frank is jealous because Lane likes me better. And the only reason he could be jealous is because he's gay."

"I'm not certain that logic is sound," I said.

"Come on, Amy. You think he and Lane were 'just friends' before he introduced us? They were lovers. Gay lovers."

"Can you stop saying 'gay' so loud? There are actual homosexuals in this room. You are most likely offending them."

"Please."

A few more moments filled with only the heavy metal riffs of music from one of the senior art kids' hardcore mix tapes, then Veronica whispered, "I mean, Lane treats him like he's the second in command. If he wasn't gay, he wouldn't be mad. Right?"

"Frank might be second in command, but all we do is watch Lane make out with you. It can get a bit tedious."

A harsh noise escaped Veronica's ruby red lips. "So now you're jealous, too?"

I sighed and didn't answer. Sometimes I knew my logic didn't make sense to Veronica. I wasn't jealous because I wanted Lane for myself—at least I didn't think so. I didn't know anything about love then.

Not that I'm an expert now, by any means.

What I meant, when I said "tedious," was that I often felt like a planet, floating alone in outer space, revolving around a sun, waiting for that moment when I might meet the sun in a fiery crash. It's a poor metaphor, but my time is too short for such things. Our vampire games used to bring Frank and Veronica and me closer together. We felt like a unit. And in the short time Lane had been in charge, I had felt that change. We now looked to him for approval instead of each other.

And Frank and I often saw Veronica receiving more approval than was warranted.

Frank and I worked just as hard at the game—no, to Veronica this was no longer a game. Maybe that was the reason for Lane's lavish attention.

I was, perhaps, the only one in our group that didn't exactly wish for Lane's approval. On some level I did want approval, but something about how I reacted to Lane's presence disturbed me. After the fact, usually. While basking in his glow, I was powerless to feel anything but blind adoration.

I have never been a sheep. I form my own opinions. I most certainly did not like having an opinion formed for me. Lane's effect on me took away my autonomy.

I did not like that.

So, technically, I was not "jealous" of Veronica. I didn't like seeing how far into Lane's spell she had fallen.

Well, maybe I was a little jealous... more because I figured a real vampire would see that I was a better vampire than Veronica. Vampires should be subtle, I thought. More intelligent than most.