I felt strangely attracted to this nemesis of mine. I hated that we had any civility between us. But mostly I hated that I'd let my guard down.
I was born that way,I wanted to say. Perhaps a psychologist might trace my wanting to be a vampire back to time spentwith my father watching Dracula movies. And when my brother was born all that changed.Nosferatu kept me company on the lonely nights they were tending to the crying Nerd Boy.
"No," I finally said. "It was when I didn't see my reflection."
"Fine, I'll write that," he said. "Next question. 'Do you still have that same wish you had in kindergarten?'"
"Yes, I'm sixteen and I still want to be a vampire," I said sarcastically. I really was masking my innermost feelings. In fact, that isexactly what I wanted to be.
I knew what Mrs.Naper was getting at. Some people change their minds along their life's path. And some people come into this world knowing exactly what they want to do. I was in the latter group.
" 'Whatdo your parents do? Would you want to follow in their paths?'" he continued.
"What do you think?"
I took out my paper. "I bet I can answer your questions without even asking you. When you were in kindergarten you wanted to be Superman, probably because you watched it on TV and liked being a superhero. But now, you obviously don't want to run around with a pillowcase cape. You want to be a professional soccer player. But you are afraid that once you get out of this small town, where youare Superman, you'll find out there are better players with more speed and quicker moves. And it is that part of you that when doing an assignment like this would write 'real estate developer,' like your father. Because you are afraid of failure and you don't have the courage to write down what you really want to be,"
Trevor was immobilized and turned ghost white. He was blown away, as if by knowing him all these Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter,years I'd read his soul. I wasn't sure if this realization angered him or made him more attracted to me. I wasn't going to stay to find out.
I put the sheet in my backpack and left.
I could only imagine that in the spot regarding what I wanted to be in kindergarten, he crossed out vampire and wrotepsychic.
Chapter 24 Voices from Beyond
Alexander and I were in his attic room. My boyfriend was painting a beautiful picture of the rail yard while I attempted to write my English essay on my mom's laptop. But I was too distracted to begin to write about possible career choices-not only because Alexander was quite the handsome artist, glowing and focused on his creation, but because I could hear the muffled voices of Alexander's parents talking in their bedroom, one floor below.
I could barely make out a few words.Mr. Berkley.Sale .Romania .
"I'll be right back," I said to Alexander, but he was so engrossed in his brushstrokes that I'd probably be back before he even noticed I was gone.
I snuck down the attic stairs and tiptoed past his parents' bedroom. The door was ajar. The bathroom was only a few doors down, and if I hung out inside I'd be able to hear their voices echo off the empty walls.
"Mr. Berkley says we need to put money into renovations before this house will ever sell," I heard Mr.Sterling say as I passed their doorway. I remained by a hallway table just outside their door.
"I think it's perfect the way it is," Mrs. Sterling responded.
"I agree. I'm not changing a thing. My mother built this house the way she wanted it and it will remain that way until there is a new owner."
"Maybe it's the real estate agency we should change," Mrs. Sterling offered.
There was a slight pause.
"Constantine," Mrs. Sterling began in a soft yet concerned voice. "Perhaps we are making a mistake by putting the Mansion up for sale at all."
"I know, Cassandra. I've been wrestling with that, too. This has not been an easy decision. I've tried to explain that to Alexander,But our lives are inEurope . And now it's time for us to return.All of us. Our home has always been inRomania . We are too old to change all that now."
"I guess you are right. But I do worry-"
"I don't understand it," Mr. Sterling added, changing his tone. "Mr. Berkley said not one person has shown interest. He explained that the townspeople have told him awful things about our home. I'm not sure why anyone would say such things. No one, besides theMadisons , has been inside,"
The floorboard underneath me squeaked so loudly, I thought one would be able to hear it inRomania .
The bedroom door creaked open.
Mr. Sterling appeared, and behind him a very tall and statuesque Mrs. Sterling.
The bathroom doorway that once looked so close now seemed miles away.