How Do I Love Thee

Two

***Not Edited * * *

        The hair on Brett's neck prickled. He waited for Shayla to laugh, or say "Just kidding," but she did not. His logic kicked in--perhaps she'd said what she said for shock value, using it as just another way to mystify him. He said, "All right, so you're a vampire. Does that mean I'm in trouble? Are you going to bite my neck and turn me into a vampire too?"

        "Being a vampire isn't always about blood," Shayla said. "Vampires have other traits as well."

        Brett was getting irritated. Why were girls so oblique? Why couldn't they say what they meant? "And those traits would be--?" He waited for her to fill in the blank.

        "Since you seem to know so much about mythology and fairy tales, you tell me."

        He told himself he should walk away, that Shayla was a nutcase. But he knew he wouldn't. In truth, this was the first interesting thing that had happened to him since his mother had dragged him to Massachusetts. He did say, "This is getting old, Shayla."

        "So you don't know?" She asked, egging him on.

        Vampires are repelled by garlic," he said in a rush, rising to her challenge. "And by the Christian cross. They havea crypt that they return every morning. Is that it? You sleep in a coffin?"

        She clapped her hands gleefully, charming him all over again. "All Ln that's true. Except that I wear this." She lifted a silver chain from beneath the neckline of her clothing, and moonlight glimmered off the surface of an ornate cross. "And I love garlic," she added, then looked up at him expectantly.

        "So it's the crypt thing then, huh? You sleep in a crypton by day and only come out at night. So, how ist that...sleeping in such a small space, I mean?"

        "That's a misconception. Crypts can be very large. They aren't always the size of a coffin. Sometimes they're the size of a mansion."

        "What's that suppose to mean?"

        She shook her head, as if she were dealing with a dolt. "Brett, Brett...I thought you were going to be smart. You still haven't figured it out, have you?"

        He gritted his teeth. "It's two in the morning . I'm sharper in the daytime."

        "Daylight, yes. Now you have it."

        He felt oddly rewarded, as if she'd patted him on the head.

        She turned to walk away.

        He tagged after her. "Wait. I--um--I'm still thinking." He caught up with her in the middle of the field, where the moon had turned the world chalky whiteand a breeze made the tall grass whisper. "If a vampire is caught out in the sunlight, he burns. Worse, he can burst into flame and incinerate." Brett snapped his fingers. "Spontaneous combustion!" He grinned, feeling pleasd with himself. "Is that the reason you're a vampire? You burn in the sun?"

        Her face was expressionless, her eyes clear as water. She trailed the scarf across his forearm, making his skin shiver, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

        "Goodbye, Brett Noland."

        Before he could move, she had turned and sprinted into a stand of trees. "Wait!" he yelled. Night birds fluttered in the tree branches with the unexpected sound. A rabbit dart3d fromthe edge of the field. Clumsily, Brett tried to follow, but by the time he'd made it to the trees, there was no sign of her.  All that remained was the sweet, lingering scent of her fragrance in the shadows where the moonlight didn't reach.

        Brett returned to the clearing in the woodes every night for a week, but Shayla did not reappear. He waited for up to an hour each night, only to wake shivering because the temperature had dropped.

        He sat at the kitchn table Saturday, hu ched over his third bowl of cereal, yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open. Suddenly his mother slapped the tabletop, startling him awake.

        "What's wrong with you, Brett? You're like a zombie these days. Are you feeling okay, beause if you're not-"
        If you only knew, Mom, he thought. "I feel fine." He leaned back over the bowl.

        "You're really making me angry, Brett."

        "What did I do?"

        "Nothing, Brett. Which is precisely the problem. You're doing nothing!"

        "Ah, geez, Mom, get off my case." He pushed his chair so that it balanced on the back legs.

        "Don't use that tone of voice with me. And sit down properly." She started clearing the table. "How long are you going to keep punishing me for moving up here?" She didn't wait for his answer. "I want a shot at a better life, Brett, and this move was for the both of our sakes. You want to go to college next year. Just how did you think I was going to affored that, making the kind of money I was making in Key West?"

        "I didn't ask you to send me to college. Maybe I don't want to go to college. I'm not out of high school yet."

        "You have to plan for things you want, Brett. It's been you and me for a long time, and so far we've gotten on pretty well."

        Brett rolled his eyes. "Thirteen years, yeah, Mom, I can count. And you've told me enough."

        "Then get with the program! You still have to go to high school and register, and we have to check in at Boston Children's Hospital. I'll handle the hospital appointments because I'll have to take work off. Can you call and make the appointment to register with the school? You can schedule it for my lunch hour." He didn't respond. "Don't you want to see where you'll be going to school in September?"

        "I can hardly contain myself."

        She spun him around, hovered over him. He saw fire in her eyes. "Listen to me, Brett. I love you, but you're going to have to meet me halfway. I can't give my full concentration to my job if I'm worried about you all the time."

        "What do you want me to do, Mom?" He felt guilty because, looking into her face, he saw that she was tired and stressed.

        " I have nothing to do all day. No friends, no nothing."

        She straightened. "Get a job. Believe me, that will really pass the time."

        "No car."

        "You can drop me at work Monday morning and keep the car all day."

        Her offer surprised him. She usually wasn't so generous with their only car because she thought he drove around aimlessly and used too much gas--"...and gas isn't cheap."

        "You'd let me do that?"

        "If you'll promise to be responsible. And if you'll promise to go by the school and take care of registering before it completely shuts down for the summer."

        After leaving his mother at work on Monday, Brett drove slowly along the coastal highway. A thick grey fog hung over the road, and he wanted to be careful. He didn't want an accident to foul up his driving privileges, or his mother's trust in him. Wheels meant freedom.

        He turned on the radio, found a station that didn't play corny oldies, his mother's favorites, and considered how to best spend the day. He didn't have to pick up his mother until five. He glanced out the side window and saw a road that had been cut through solid granite. It led to a house perched at the top of a jutting cliff. The house, built of dark brown clapboard, had a turret and a walkway with a banister across the roof. The great house hovered far above the fog, but despite the gloom, he saw no lights in the windows. The place looked abandoned.

        "Who'd want to live in a house like that?" he asked a loud. No...not a house--a mansion. Brett sat straighter. What had Shayla said to him? A crypt the size of a mansion! "Yes," he helped. He was going to find the mysteries Shayla whether she wanted him to or not.