Vampire High Sophomore Year - By Douglas Rees Page 0,9

about the fish, though,” Justin said. “Wouldn’t fit in in a place like this.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Turk said. “Angelfish are aggressive, aren’t they?”

“Well, if you don’t feed ’em the tubifex worms, they can start chasing other fish around the tank,” Justin said. “They get hungry for protein.”

“Perfect,” Turk said. “If the deal’s still on, I want two big black ones. I’ll put the tank over there and keep the light on at night.”

“Uh, okay,” Justin said. “Two big black ones it is.”

He looked like he was afraid he was turning over a couple of children to an unfit foster mother. Or maybe a wicked witch. But Justin would never go back on a promise.

And then a weird thing happened. All of a sudden, Ileana and Turk started to have this long talk about art. It seemed long. (It didn’t really go on more than ten minutes.) A lot of words tumbled into the room, like chiaroscuro, and Fauvism, and Rothko. And for those minutes, the rest of us weren’t there.

And when they were over, Turk went over to her easel and pulled off the painting and handed it to Ileana.

“Here,” she said. “You get it.”

“I would not have asked,” Ileana said. “But thank you. Will you sign it?”

Turk did, with a little sort of twist beside her name that I guess was supposed to be the snake.

Mom suggested coffee, and we all went back downstairs.

I kept waiting for my cousin to do something else insulting, like ask Ileana and Justin to fly around the room, but she didn’t. In fact, I had the feeling that, somehow, up in that attic, she and Ileana had connected. Ileana loved anything that came from people’s imaginations. And Turk had plenty of that.

So we finished the coffee and Ileana and Justin left, and Turk went back up to her belfry.

Mom followed her up there to try to talk her into accepting some pillows and blankets, since she wouldn’t accept a normal room with furniture.

“That could have been so much worse,” Dad said, and poured himself another glass of wine.

“Lucky us,” I said.

Dad was right. Compared to what Turk was capable of in the trouble department, it hadn’t gone badly. Now if I could just get through the next three years at Vlad Dracul.

5

There’s a thing the jenti do that’s called the Rustle. It’s nothing you can really hear. But if you hang around them long enough, you can tell when it’s happening. It’s a way they have of telling each other something is changing. Asking, “Have you noticed?” and “What do you think about it?” without ever moving their lips. Jenti may act as though they couldn’t care less what’s going on, but they always know when something is.

And Turk was something to Rustle about. As soon as she pulled up in her little black Volksbug and parked in a slot that was big enough for a stretch limo, and the four of us got out, it started.

New kid, coming in with Ileana (the Princess) Antonescu, and Cody (the Original Gadje) Elliot, and Justin (World’s First Swimming Jenti) Warrener, and who does she think she is, one of us? And if she doesn’t, what does she think she is?

It was a fair question. Turk had decked herself out in black leather, even though the day was hot, and from her ears and around her neck dangled shards of mirror that flashed and glittered every time she moved. She wore the jewel Ileana had given her hanging on her forehead, and on her neck she’d drawn two black dots and the words OPEN HERE.

Rustle, Rustle, Rustle.

“What’s with all the cars?” Turk said. “Why don’t they just fly to school?”

“There’s an old law against flying inside the town limits,” Justin said. “Goes back to before there were airplanes. Not really enforced anymore. Still, it’s not done very much.”

“If it were me, I’d fly everywhere,” Turk said.

“A lot of folks would think you were showing off,” Justin said.

“Damn right,” Turk said. “I would be. Why not?”

“We jenti say, ‘Gold hidden is gold kept,’” Ileana said.

“Gold’s no good unless you spend it,” Turk said.

Because Turk was brand-new, she had an appointment with Mr. Horvath, the principal, as soon as we hit the door.

“Maybe I should wait for her,” I said to Ileana and Justin when she went in.

“Good idea,” Justin said. “See you in English.”

“And at dinner,” Ileana said. Lunch at Vlad Dracul was always called dinner, and was laid out like a banquet.

The gong for