"So…" She eyed him, noting the pallor to his cheeks and his lack of excitement. The boy
was staring at the floor, a fine tremor running through his body.
Shaking her head, she said gently, "We don't have to do this, Owen."
He raised his head hopefully, but then his expression and shoulders drooped again just
as quickly. "If we don't, my friends will tease me until I die," he said glumly. "We have
to do it."
Elvi frowned, thinking that peer pressure sucked. But there was no way she wanted to
bite someone who was so obviously terrified of the very idea.
"They don't have to know," she assured him and moved to her desk. Opening the top
drawer, she pulled out the box of special bandages for just this sort of occasion.
Choosing one with Happy Birthday stamped on it in purple, she slid it from the pack
and held it up. "Put this on and we'll both just pretend it happened. No one has to
know I didn't bite you."
Owen stared at the Band‐Aid as if it were a life raft, but asked uncertainly, "What do I
say when they ask me what it was like?"
Elvi shrugged. "Just tell them you don't kiss and tell."
His eyes widened with new interest. "There's kissing?"
"No," she said quickly and then chuckled softly at his disappointment. "It's just an old
expression that means you won't be indiscreet enough to tell."
"Oh." He sounded disappointed. Apparently if there was no kissing, he wasn't
interested. She suspected if she'd said yes, there was kissing, he might have changed
his mind and decided to go through with it, but while biting was one thing, she was not
going around kissing teenage boys. She might look twenty‐five, but Elvi felt every
minute of her sixty‐two years… Which was rather odd when she thought about it.
Before she'd turned, Elvi had always felt like a sixteen‐year‐old trapped in an old
woman's collapsing body. While her body had aged on the outside, gaining wrinkles
and weakening with age, she'd never really changed inside. She'd still felt like the same
young, hopeful woman she'd been at sixteen, eighteen, and twenty. Now that she'd
turned, however, she felt like a sixty‐two‐year‐old fraud hiding in a young woman's
body. It seemed she couldn't win for losing.
"Here, put this on your neck." Elvi tossed him the bandage and then moved to her desk
to pick up her glass again. She automatically began to gulp it. The flavor had horrified
her at first even as she'd craved it. It no longer bothered her, but she wouldn't do
anything as crass as savor the flavor in front of Owen. She already knew from Mabel's
reactions that it was just gross to actually appear to enjoy the taste of blood, but as it
was her only source of nutrition, she couldn't help it.
"What's it taste like?" Owen asked curiously.
Elvi lowered the glass and considered how to answer the question. She finally said,
"Surely you've cut a finger or your hand and stuck it in your mouth at some point or
other?"
"Yeah," he admitted.
"Well." Elvi shrugged and set the glass down to pour in the rest of the blood. "Then
you know what it tastes like."
Owen grimaced. "Doesn't it taste different now that you're a vampire?"
"A bit," she admitted reluctantly. Uncomfortable with the conversation and the fact
that it reminded her that she was now something of a freak, Elvi gestured to the door.
"You should go eat your cake. I made it myself."
Owen nodded and moved to the door, then paused to glance back.
"Thank you," he offered and ran a finger over the bandage on his neck. "For this."
"You're welcome, Owen. Happy Birthday."
"Thanks," he grinned and reached for the doorknob, adding, "and good luck tonight."
Elvi had started to turn away, but paused and glanced after him with confusion. "What
do you mean 'good luck tonight'?"
Owen appeared surprised at the question. "You know… the vampire guys that came to
town."
"What?" Elvi stared blankly.
Owen frowned at her confusion. "You know… that guy who was in here and his
friends." When her expression didn't change, he looked worried and murmured, "I
know it was supposed to be a secret the last few weeks, but I thought Mabel would
have told you by now. I mean they're here. She has to tell you."
"Who are here?" Elvi asked, setting her glass down and moving around the desk.
Owen hesitated. Finally, he said, "I don't think I should tell you. I think it's supposed to
be a surprise."
" What's supposed to be a surprise?" she asked, growing impatient. "I don't like
surprises, Owen. Just tell me."