wall. As he neared the door, a tall, skinny girl popped out of a restroom, not two feet from him. She was three steps across the hall when she froze, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Oliver leaned back against the wall and spectralized, becoming only a shadow against the colorfully painted mural behind him. The girl gazed through him, but still darted quickly back into the art room.
Oliver moved to the doorway and scaled the wall. From the ceiling, he hung down and peered inside. The lights on the left side of the room were on. There were four students: two girls sitting at computers, one boy sitting at a high bench tableâand, off in a dark corner, Emalie. She was holding her old camera under a bright lamp. She had the back open and was fiddling around with it. Her hair was in two braids. She wore her same lime green vest, an olive army jacket beneath it.
Oliver slipped through the door and up onto the classroom ceiling. He headed for the nearby corner and crouched, making himself as small as he could.
The two girls at the computers were giggling. They were chatting online. The boy was reading over some printed pages and editing.
âAll right, everybody,â said an older womanâs voice. Their teacherâs wide frame appeared in the doorway. âItâs time to head home. Make sure you get your articles finished tonight.â
The boy spun and immediately left. The two girls got up and started putting on jackets and hats. Emalie continued to study her camera.
âMs. Davis said itâs time to go, Emalie,â one of the girls said in an unfriendly voice.
Emalie didnât answer.
The girl huffed, then rolled her eyes to her friend.
âSheâs so annoying,â the other girl murmured, then turned back to Emalie. âBe careful you donât run into a vampire down here alone.â The girls laughed as they left. For a moment, Oliver could hear them going on to each other in the hall, âWhatâs her deal? Is she homeless again, or something?â
âWho knows? And whatâs with that ancient camera? Itâs like, afford a digitalâ¦â Their voices faded away.
Emalie muttered softly in a mocking tone, âAfford a digital.â She shook her head.
Oliver stayed in the corner until their sounds and scents had faded. Then he crept a few feet closer, stopping as he reached a display of cut-out snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.
Emalie was still fiddling with her camera. âWhatâs with you?â she muttered at it.
Oliver studied the snowflakes, thinking they were a bit simplistic-looking to be displayed in public. If he had set about making a paper snowflake, it would have been so much more ornate and detailedâthen again, heâd had a few decades more practice with scissors and paper. What are you doing? he suddenly shouted at himself. Why was he thinking about snowflakes when he needed to talk to Emalie? But how to start? Would he try to scare her, or reason with her? Would he tell her that he was a vampire? And how would she react? Maybe, since she was trying to prove that vampires existed, sheâd be excited. Or maybe sheâd be terrified and take off, and what would he do then?
âOh, Emalieââ Ms. Davis had returned to lock the door. âDidnât know you were still here. You really need to get going.â
âSorry,â said Emalie. She stuffed her camera into her beat-up canvas backpack and slid off the stool. As she walked out, Ms. Davis gave her a perplexed glance before reaching in and flicking off the lights.
Oliver dropped to the floor and kicked the nearest stool. A perfectly good opportunity and heâd blown it. Youâre a lamb, just like Bane says! he yelled at himself. Then he looked to the classroom clock: not even five thirty. He still had a while before school started.
Oliver headed back down the hall. He left out the back door and circled around the school. There was Emalie,