Vampire Crush by A. M. Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

lawless,” he says. “Yesterday I fought with a young man who said that I was staring at his girlfriend. And I was, but not for the reasons he believed.”
    He points to his earlobe. “She had a hole as big as a button, right here.”
    It’s hard to imagine a place that could make Principal Morgan’s reign seem like anarchy. “Where did you go to school before?”
    He hesitates a second too long. “Here and there.”
    “Where was here and where was there?”
    “Oh, I don’t remember,” he says before leaning over to peek at my notepad. “What other questions do you have?”
    I back off for the moment, and we chat about hobbies. He’s not much into sports, although he knows enough about boxing to punch you in the nose if you trap him in a corner; he’s always loved acting but it has been a while since he has had the opportunity; the speech meets have been wonderful because they’ve given him a reason to dust off his old monologues. Since things have been going so wel , I decide to ease back into more sensitive topics.
    “So, you’re staying with Vlad, right?”
    Nevil e has been the perfect interviewee, receptive to al my questions and nice enough to phrase al his replies in neat little sound bites. But now I see a wal go up behind his eyes, and he does nothing other than give a sharp little nod.
    “How long have you known each other?”
    “A few years.”
    “How did you meet?”
    His eyes slide to the side like a senator who’s just been asked that same question about the new intern. “The usual.”
    “Which is?”
    “Class,” he says quickly.
    “What class?
    “Music class.”
    I hope he is a better actor than improviser. “That’s interesting,” I say. “What do you play? I can’t wait to get Vlad’s side of the story. Oh, maybe we could take pictures of you both with your instruments!” I threaten, knowing that a person would have to be crazy to have something like that published in a high school newspaper.
    “No, I don’t want that!” he panics. “Don’t write that.”
    I hide my smile in my notebook. “I’m sorry?”
    “No, I was thinking of … another friend. George. Yes, George.”
    “How did you meet Vlad then?”
    He leans back, his eyes flicking toward the door. After a discreet cough, he pushes his sleeves up, revealing a smal , strangely iridescent tattoo on the inside of his forearm. Considering he got in a fight after ogling some girl’s ear gauge, I would never have pegged Nevil e as someone who had even a dot of ink. It’s a star with eight points, light in the middle and darkening to a shimmering blue as it approaches the tips. A swirl sits in the center—
    no, wait, not a swirl, an ornate letter “D.”
    “That’s an interesting tattoo,” I say. “What does the ‘D’
    stand for?”
    Nevil e fol ows my gaze and stares at the tattoo as though it’s a scorpion perched on his arm.
    “Ex-girlfriend?” I ask.
    He snorts. “Hardly. There must be something else we can discuss. I wil tel you about the time I played Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream .”
    “What’s the significance of the star?” I ask, refusing to be deterred, but then try to soften the question. “I’m sorry; I’m just real y into tattoos. I’m thinking of getting one, but I real y want it to, you know, mean something.”
    “There is no significance,” he says with a new edge to his voice. “I would be rid of it if I could, but the damned thing won’t come off. They make sure of that.”
    His inflection makes me pause. “You mean tattoo artists?”
    I ask innocently. “Because that’s sort of the point.”
    “No, I mean the—” Nevil e stops, his mouth compressing as though he’s trying to bite something back. He covers it up with an easy smile, but I can tel he’s annoyed with himself. When my eyes flick to his tattoo again, he shoves his sleeve down. “Are we done? I should be heading home.”
    “No,” I say, deciding that it’s time to attack while he’s rattled.