Vampires Never Get Old - Zoraida Cordova Page 0,22
to find sweet, naïve Ms. Garza in a puddle of her own blood, a vampire crouched over her breathless body.
I barrel up the steps and Ms. Garza shrieks as I catch her off guard. Immediately, I throw my body in front of hers.
I glance around, but … not a drop of blood in sight.
“Jo, I told you to stay on the bus,” she says sweetly through gritted teeth as she elbows her way out from behind me.
“I was—” Coming to save your life, I nearly say, but then my gaze catches on the half-full bus of Mustang fans, most of them familiar faces.
“Oh, thank heavens!” says Mr. Bufford, the faculty sponsor for the spirit bus. “Ms. Garza has invited us all to load up on the cheerleading team’s bus. That includes you, Deidra!” he says to the bus driver.
A few whoops come from the back of the bus.
“The city will send a tow truck in the morning,” he continues. “Now, students, please triple-check for your personal items. We’re not doubling back for any cell phones or backpacks.”
Well, I feel colossally ridiculous. I can’t shake the feeling, though. I eye each person on the bus, but it’s too dark for me to notice if anyone is out of place.
As we file onto the bus, I slide back into my seat, and with more people, we’re all forced to double up. Nearly all the passengers from the other bus find seats without me having to give up my coveted half bench until Ms. Garza says, “Oh, here we are! Alma, you can sit with Jolene.”
A tall, thin girl with light tan skin and black silky hair woven into a fishtail braid halfway down her back sits beside me. Her skin brushes mine and I suck in a breath, sounding off a hiss. The same glamour that protects the Home from mortal eyes hides the delicate pointed fangs in her otherwise perfect smile. Another perk of the job: I’m immune to glamour.
When I was a kid, there was a small church just outside town that dabbled in snake handling. You know, the kind of assholes who think it’s a good idea to toss snakes back and forth to show that God will protect them from being bitten. Sure, maybe there is a God and maybe he does protect people, but I don’t think there’s anything in the Bible about protecting stupid. One night, Mom and Aunt Gemma went over there to scope things out, and I remember listening from the hallway as they talked in the kitchen. “It felt like a nightmare,” Mama said. “Like we were watching a whole bunch of oblivious people dance at the edge of a cliff.”
And that’s exactly how this feels as Ms. Garza hovers above us in the aisle and Ms. Rhodes fires up the bus. “Jo, this is Alma. She’s new to Sweetwater. I had her just yesterday in fourth period for the first time. Isn’t that right, Alma?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the girl says sweetly.
“Welcome to Sweetwater,” I say, spitting out each syllable.
“What a … warm welcome,” replies Alma, as Ms. Garza settles in beside Mr. Bufford.
The moment we take off and the road noise is loud enough to drown out our voices, I turn to her. “I should kill you.”
She laughs, “Excuse me?” she asks. “Where are your manners?”
“You heard me.” She’s playing coy, but she knows exactly who I am. These instincts I’m gifted with aren’t a one-way street.
“Discretion,” she says. “Isn’t that one of your slayer pillars? I’m sure whoever you call boss would be just delighted to hear you slaughtered one of my kind in a yellow school bus full of mortals.”
“You’re from the Home,” I deduce. “Leaving or going?”
“And how do you know I’m not some passerby? Maybe I’m just slowly draining my way to LA?”
I scoff. “Yeah, on board a Sweetwater High spirit bus?”
She huffs, throwing herself against the back of our seat in a way that is so completely human and familiar that it’s unsettling. This thing used to be a person, and my stomach clenches with guilt as I wonder about the person she might have been.
“Or maybe I just miss being among the living? Maybe I just want to be a normal teenager for a night?” she says, her voice girlish.
The silence between us dangles there for a moment, before I let out a nervous laugh. She doesn’t make me nervous. Why would I be nervous? I’ve never been made nervous by a vampire.