Vampires Never Get Old - Zoraida Cordova Page 0,15
I ask. I’m shaking. When did I start shaking? “Can I go see her?”
Delia rubs at her arms. “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk about it there.”
And I know. Right then I know exactly what’s she going to say. And I don’t want to hear it, because hearing it makes it true.
I stumble back to my car. Delia Day is calling my name. I make it down the drive, back onto the street. I don’t know where I’m going, what I’m running from, what I’m running to. All I know is I’m running.
* * *
The funeral is short. Mom was adopted and didn’t have any brothers or sisters. After she grew up, she lost touch with her adopted family, and my dad was never a presence in our lives, so it really was just her and me.
And now it’s just me.
Nobody comes to the funeral except Delia from the hospital and the county assessor to hand me an envelope I don’t want to open and a few folks from the church I don’t even know but who seem all right. Landry sends her condolences, but she’s at the diner, working.
Once everyone’s gone and it’s just me and the fresh grave and the twilight of nightfall, he shows up. He’s wearing the same boots, the same denim, the same hat, which he holds in his slender hands. The breeze ruffles his black hair almost playfully. It just turns mine into a windblown mess.
“Where’s the rest of them?” I ask before he’s even close.
He stops next to me, eyes on my mother’s grave. “Thought maybe it would be best if it’s just you and me.”
I look over. Stare at the slope of his nose, the fullness of his mouth. My breath hitches, and he smiles.
“The Boys can be a little much,” he admits. “Sorry if they scared you.”
“They saved me,” I say in a rush. “You saved me.”
“Jason Winters won’t bother you anymore.” He says it with such conviction that I almost believe him. But Jason’s been bullying me since I was in fourth grade. He’s not going to stop just because a couple of cowboys told him to.
“He’ll just wait until you’re gone,” I say quietly, feeling like I’m disappointing him by saying it.
He looks at me, eyes crinkling. “You really are something, Lukas.” His voice is wistful, maybe amused, but I don’t think he means it as an insult.
We stand there in silence until I say, “I’m alone now.”
“You don’t have to be.”
It’s what I wanted him to say, but I didn’t dare hope. I want to shout at him to take me away, get me out of this town, away from the diner and the bullies and my empty house. But instead I ask, “What do I have to do?”
“Share a meal.”
“What does that mean?”
He looks down, beats his hat against his thigh. “What do you think it means, Lukas?”
I close my eyes. “How? How do I…?”
He touches my shoulder briefly. “We’ll take care of that. Just be at the diner tonight at closing. You come if you want to join us. If you don’t, no harm and we’ll be on our way.”
“You’ll leave?” I ask, startled, my mouth suddenly dry. “Just like that?”
“Only if you want. You called us, remember? And we only stay where we’re wanted.”
Relief floods through me, traitorous and unasked for. I can’t imagine Silas gone now. What I’d do. Where I’d go. Something about him makes me feel safe, feel wanted. Feel not so alone.
The wind moves through the gravestones, tossing the leaves around. He slips his hat back on.
“The diner,” he repeats. “Closing.”
And then he’s gone.
* * *
I pull into Landry’s parking lot at a quarter to midnight. The lights are low, and the place looks locked up, only there are people moving around inside, so I know somebody’s in there. I spot a figure lurking by the door and I think it must be Silas, but as I get closer, I can see it’s Dru. He’s got a baseball bat and is swinging it idly as he waits. I remember Brandon saying something about the Finley guy being a big baseball player, and things click together.
Dru looks at me, long and hard, pale skin cold in the lamplight and dark red hair slicked back. Last time I saw him he was wearing a baseball cap, but tonight he’s bareheaded. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
“Why?” he asks suddenly, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak.