Senior year is supposed to be fun: boys, dances and graduation.
It's significantly harder to enjoy it when you’re dead.
Truth or Dare is supposed to be fun too. It’s not even close to dangerous, so playing at Steph's house didn't seem like a bad idea. My dare? Spend the rest of the night in the graveyard next to her house. It was only a couple of hours until false dawn, my proscribed return time, so no big deal right? Right.
I survived the attack, but it took me a few days to figure out what was going on. I mean vampires might stalk pop culture, but they're just myths. Yeah. Not so much.
School is a lot more difficult when you're a nocturnal creature of the night. I was managing, but I couldn't keep it hidden from my friends for long. After I managed to accidentally save one of our cheerleaders from her drunk and ill-intentioned boyfriend. Steph decided that we should be cool, like superheroes, and fight crime.
Only I’m a vampire, not a hero, and we live in a sleepy New England town, so crime's a little harder to come by. At least it is until a serial killer moves into the area. He’s got the authorities stumped, but then again, the cops don't have a teenage, blood-sucking, non-hero on their team.
It was my last year of high school, and I had plans. I was going to find a boyfriend, go to a few dances, and, though I hadn’t told my mom yet, take some beginning paramedic courses in the spring. I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to do with my life—wasn’t that what college was for?—but I liked the idea of being a hero, like my dad, saving lives everyday. That had been the plan anyway, but a sleepover and a late-night dare had changed all that.
“Megan, time for school,” Mom called up the stairs.
I peeked out the window, squinting at the sunlight glinting off the windshield of my Jeep. It was too damn sunny for me to get from my house to the Jeep without third degree burns—or worse.
My newly sensitive ears could hear the soft brush of her socks on the carpet as she walked up the stairs. I crawled back into bed and did my best to look tired and sick. It wasn’t hard. My skin was pale, and I hadn’t been eating well. If I didn’t let her get a good look at me, she might buy that I had a cold or something. Another thought tickled at the back of my mind. I could make her think I was sick. I shoved the thought away in disgust. I wasn’t going to use mind control on someone I loved.
The door creaked open, and Mom walked in. My heart would have been racing—if it still could.