"I think you have a case of either `testitis' or 'I Didn't Do My Homework Syndrome.' It's common in the spring."
"But I feel awful!"
"You probably just need a good night's rest."
"I think I need to go home," I choked out. "You are keeping me against my will. I have a stomachache and headache, and my throat hurts," I said, talking through my nose.
"We can't release you unless you have a fever," she said, returning the thermometer to the glass cabinet.
"Haven't you heard of preventive medicine?"
"You do look like you haven't slept. Well, you'll have to get approval from Principal Reed," she said with a sigh, exhausted.
Great. New rules to be broken.
I stepped into Principal Reed's office with a note from Nurse William.
I fake sneezed and coughed.
"You've used up all your school sick days," he said, perusing my file. "You've requested to leave school one hundred and thirty days out of the one hundred and forty days of school so far."
"So thirty-one might be the magic number?" "Well, you do look awful," he finally said, and signed my school release form.
"Thanks!" I said sarcastically.
I wasn't planning on appearing so convincing.
"I'm sorry, Raven," my mom said as she pulled our SUV into the driveway. "I feel terrible leaving you alone, but I have an off-site meeting that's been scheduled for months."
She walked me to the front door and gave me a quick hug as I stepped inside. "Funny," I began. "I'm feeling better already." I closed the door, and as soon as I saw my mom drive down the street, I grabbed my usual vampire detectors--garlic powder and a compact mirror belonging to Ruby White of Armstrong Travel--and headed straight for Trevor's.
No wonder vampires didn't venture out in daylight. I hungered for the safe haven of shade from trees and hovering clouds and thirsted for the warm blanket of nightfall. The hot sun began to bake my pale skin as I rode my bike up the Mitchells' driveway and passed a Ferguson and Son's Painting pickup parked in front of their four-car garage. I laid the bike against the side of the screened-in porch and rang the Mitchells' bell. Their dog began to bark from the backyard.
When no one answered, I rang the bell again.
Suddenly a small, elderly white-haired man carrying a ladder came out of the garage. "Hi, Mr. Ferguson," I said, running over to the familiar painter. "Is Trevor home?"
The elderly worker looked at me oddly.
"It's me, Raven," I said, pulling down my shades.
"Hi, Raven. Shouldn't you be at school?" he wondered.
"I'm on lunch break," I replied.
"I didn't think they let kids go home for lunch anymore. In my day, there was no such thing as school lunch," he began. "We had to--"
"Really, I'd love to hear all about it, but I don't have much time--"
"I just dispatched my sons for takeout. If I'd known you were coming...," he began politely.
"That's very sweet of you, but I just need to see Trevor."
"It's probably not a good day for a visit. He's been in his room since sunrise."
Sunrise? I wondered.
"Well, I'll just be a minute," I said, walking past him toward the garage.