Part 5 (1/2)
He grabbed handfuls of candy and stuffed them into his jeans. I watched as my remaining treats were strewn across the lawn. The only candy I could salvage were some boring Smarties and a smashed Mars Bar.
”Still want to be an item?” he asked, his pockets stuffed full with my night's work as he pulled me close. ”Still want to be my girlfriend?”
Suddenly he let me go and started toward the Mansion. ”Now I'll get some real candy.”
I grabbed his arm this time. Who knew what Trevor would do if he reached the door?
”Miss me already?” he asked, startled that I hadn't run away.
”They're out of candy.”
”Well, I'll just see about that!”
”Their lights are off. They went to sleep.”
”This'll wake them up.” He pulled out a can of spray paint from underneath his cape. ”They definitely need someone who knows how to decorate!”
He walked on toward the Mansion. I ran after him.
”No, Trevor. Don't!”
He pushed past me. He was going to vandalize the one thing in this town that was truly beautiful.
”No!” I cried.
He popped the lid and shook the can.
I tried to pull his arm away, but he threw me down.
”Let's see...how about 'Welcome to the neighborhood!'?”
”Don't, Trevor, don't!”
”Or 'Vampires love company!' I'll sign your name.”
Not only was he going to deface their property, he was going to frame me for it. He shook the can once more. And began to spray the Mansion.
I rushed to my feet and pulled back my tennis racket. I used to play with my father, and no game was more important to win than this one. I locked my eyes on the aluminum paint-filled cylinder as if it were a ball, and smacked it as hard as I could. The can spun off into the distance, and, like my usual game, I lost my grip and the racket went flying after it. Trevor let out a yell so loud I thought the whole world would hear. I guess I had hit more than the can.
Suddenly the front door light came on, and I heard the jingle of locks being unlatched.
”We gotta get out of here!” I yelled to Trevor, who was crouching down, holding his wounded hand.
I was ready to make my escape when I felt something I had never felt before: a presence. I turned around and let out a soundless gasp, because fear had taken my breath away. I stood frozen.
There he was. Not Creepy Man. Not Mr. or Mrs. Mansion Family. But Gothic Guy, Gothic Mate, Gothic Prince. He stood before me, like a knight of night!
His long black hair lay heavy on his shoulders. His eyes were dark, deep, lovely, lonely, adoringly intelligent, dreamy. A gateway into his dark soul. He, too, stood motionless, breathing me in. His face was pale like mine and his tight black T-s.h.i.+rt was tucked into his black jeans, which were tucked into monster-chic punk-rock combat boots.
Normally fear is something I feel only when I know my mom's hosting a Mary Kay party and wants to use me as a model. But we were on private property, and my curiosity to meet this strange creature was overwhelmed by my terror of being caught.
The tennis shoes really were a good choice tonight. I could hear Trevor yelling at me as he followed me in flight, ”You monster! You broke my hand!”
I raced through the open gate and climbed into the waiting Camaro.
”Drive me home!” I screamed. ”Now!”
Matt was startled by his unexpected pa.s.senger. He just stared at me, in silent denial.
”Drive me now! Or I'll tell the police you were involved!”
”The police?” he blurted out. ”What's Trevor got us into now?”
I could see the angry Count Trevor running down the driveway, his cape flowing in the wind. He was almost at the gate. Gothic Guy hadn't moved but continued to stare straight at me.
”Drive! Just drive the freakin' car!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The motor started and we peeled away until the Mansion and its unusual occupants were out of view. I turned around and looked out the back window at a shouting Dracula Trevor chasing after us.
”Happy Halloween,” I said to Matt as I let out a sigh of relief.
8
Looking for Trouble
I was making my way to history cla.s.s when I spotted Trevor walking ahead of me. I noticed something unusual about his indoor ensemble- he was wearing a golf glove on his right hand.
”Making a fas.h.i.+on statement?” I teased, catching up to him. ”I guess it's a good thing you don't play soccer with your hands!”
He ignored my comments and continued to walk to cla.s.s.
”Guess you'll have to miss a few sessions of graffiti club,” I joked. ”Since your trigger finger is out of commission.”
He stopped and stared at me coldly. But he thought better of speaking and walked on.
Ouch! I guess I hurt more than his hand.
”I see you made it home safely,” I continued, pursuing him. ”Matt took great care of me. He's a perfect gentleman!”
But then I realized everything. I had taken away Trevor's pride, his girlfriends, and now had forced his best friend to betray him and side with the enemy. I felt sorry for him...almost.
Trevor paused, staring down at me like he was going to explode. But I was distracted by a strange figure talking to the secretary in the princ.i.p.al's office. It was Creepy Man! Standing pale in the bright fluorescent light, his long gray overcoat shrouding his skinny body. And hanging from his pale, bony hand was my dad's tennis racket.