The lab folks wanted to beat the crap out of her, not to mention turn her into cattle.
“Bunch of leeches,” she gritted in a low voice.
“Try living on cans of discontinued slimy green beans for a month and see how you act in front of a buffet table.”
Who needed these obnoxious people? She certainly did not. It was no fun to be one of the Beverly Hillbillies when the jokes and jibes were thrown at her.
Shoot, Dad was a podiatrist, for crying out loud – a doctor! He knew everything about bunions, California Missions, and the Southern Pacific Railroad. Her mom was a famous local artist and a great reader who owned fourteen portable record players and two rare Victrolas, the kind with a crank and wood horn.
As for Poe, she learned how to read when she was scarcely three years old. She received honors and awards for speed-reading by the time she hit the fourth grade. Her mom always said she was one sharp chickie who might one day become a reporter or comic book writer. She could solve math problems with her right hand and compose an essay with the left.
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“Not many people can boast that they are ambidextrous, sweetie,” her mother often reminded her.
Now these so-called living, breathing people treated her like garbage and made her the brunt of their jokes.
“Screw them,” she fumed silently. “I’ll never lift a finger to help anyone. May they choke on all the good cafeteria food they chug down! And they can just–”
“Poe, are you ready for our little talk?” Sainvire asked, leading all three up the escalator and forcing Poe to pay attention.
“Yes,” she said huffily.
Joseph laughed, holding his muscled tummy.
“You’re not sore about the cafeteria incident, are you, Poe?”
Poe glared at him. How could this guy who shared her brother’s name laugh at her, too? Jerk! “What do you think?”
“I’ve never seen the cafeteria so lively. It’s usually like a morgue in there,” Joseph continued, unmindful of Poe’s wounded pride. “We have your appetite to thank for that.”
One more crack and she would truly embarrass herself. She was on the verge of throwing up and worse, crying. She looked away, pretending to scrutinize some paintings from the Trash Can movement of the early 20th century. She could care less about them.
Sainvire stopped smiling, noting the girl’s inability to take a joke. He motioned for his friend to stop the teasing.
“Joseph, it’s almost three in the morning. Poe and I have many things to discuss before dawn.”
Joseph sobered, understanding his flub. “Yes. I have to check on a couple things myself.” He tried to 120
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catch Poe’s eyes, but she wouldn’t look up to meet his.
“Goodnight, Poe. I enjoyed giving you the star tour.”
He gave a little nod to Sainvire and walked away.
Sainvire led Poe up the escalator, mindful of her space. Once they reached the domed lobby, the two headed wordlessly to Sainvire’s private rooms. Poe didn’t even ask. She just proceeded straight for the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She turned on the shower. What followed next was a tragedy. All the good food she’d imbibed gushed out in lumps as soon as she knelt on the tile floor before the toilet seat. Poe reasoned between heaves that the humans should have been cultured enough not to make a big deal of her gluttony.
At the fourth heave, Poe spewed out the very last of the good food. She cried silent but defiant tears. She grieved for Goss and Sister Ann, whose early deaths she could have prevented. She wept for the bruises and cuts she’d received that made her body sore and feverish. She stifled a sob as she remembered the stinging anger and ridicule from her own people. And she threw up the best damn food she’d had in years. In the end, she cried for one of the most god-awful days she’d ever had in her life.
Depleted, Poe blew her nose with toilet paper. She washed her puffy red face and tried to blink the redness away.
“Try to think of something happy, you big cry baby,” she admonished her reflection and started to look for floss. She didn’t want a repeat of a tooth pulling by a thick-fingered Goss using pliers meant for plumbing.
Brushed and flossed and eye veins shrunken to size, Poe felt confident enough to face the vampire.
She needed to be scary to get some respect. She imagined hacking the smiling head of Joseph, the 121