“His victims die,” Noor countered.
He gave a one-shoulderedSo what?shrug. “Not always. In any case, a vampire is an improved version of a human. He is stronger; he has a better sense of smell and of hearing; he can see in the dark. He is more clever and more resourceful than humans. And like pigeons, he goes everywhere. He does not wait to be invited.”
“No,” I said flatly. Le Bec looked at me, raised an eyebrow,and turned away, not interested in my response. I got up and stood in front of him. He didn’t get to ignore me like that. “Vampires just attack. They don’t ask. It doesn’t matter how great what they’re offering is if they force it on people.” I snorted. “And I think what they’re offering is just a different sort of death.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “You do not understand. People do not know what is best for them. They need someone who does—someone who canchangethem.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just, no. Everyone gets to make their own decisions about their lives.”
“No, you are—”
“Also? Vampires don’t exist.”
He gave me a slow grin. “Are you sure about that?”
Before I could tell him he was delusional, he’d grabbed me, forced my chin up, and put his mouth on my neck. I felt his teeth pressing sharply down on my flesh, and I froze. I didn’t lift my arms to push him away. I didn’t scream.
Nick shouted, “Get off her!” and lunged at him as Le Bec yelped and pushed me away, hard. I landed on my back.
Nick had Le Bec by the jacket. “What the hell were you doing?” he yelled. Noor and Martine helped me to my feet and stood close, asking if I was okay. I was so shaken I couldn’t reply.
“It was a joke,” Le Bec mumbled, his hand over his mouth, eyeing me like I’d scorched him.
“Not…funny,” I panted.
“You are so humorless,” he scoffed. “Did you truly think I was a vampire?”
Hearing the contempt in his voice was almost worse than being attacked. He was trying to make me think I was the one who’d done something wrong.
Nick glared at him. “You don’t do that to people,” he growled. “Get out of here right now, and stay away from us.”
Le Bec scowled back. “Americans,” he scoffed. “You are so sensitive. I made a little joke, and you are offended. You think the entire world must adapt itself to your feelings.”
Youssef stepped up beside Nick. “I am also offended,” he said.
“You attacked a friend,” Martine added.
“ ‘Attacked’ is a strong word,” Le Bec drawled. “I was being playful.”
“You were being vicious,” Noor said.
Nick still had hold of Le Bec’s jacket. “You need to leave.” His tone was calm, but Le Bec’s smirk melted. Nick let go and Le Bec stepped back. He flicked his eyes to each of us in turn, calculating what we might do. Finally, he sneered, “As you wish,” and disappeared into one of the corridors. Nick turned to me. “Are you okay?” I didn’t answer, afraid I’d start crying. I didn’t want to cry; I didn’t want Le Bec to have made me cry.
Nick put his arms around me. I could feel him shaking. “I’m so sorry. I would never have brought you down here if I’d known this would happen. I would never put you in danger.”
“Did he hurt you?” Martine asked again. “It looked like he tried to…bite you?”
I nodded. “He tried, but he didn’t.” I felt his teeth on my neck again, and I put my hand over the spot where they’d touched me.
Nick winced. “That’s messed up. Let’s get out of here.” Aswe made our way back to the access hatch, I flinched at every noise and shadow, convinced Le Bec was coming back for me. Even surrounded by friends, I felt vulnerable. When we’d climbed out and were standing on the street aboveground again, I started to shiver. I hugged myself hard and tried to stop. I was fine. I was safe; I was with my friends, not trapped, not alone. Noor noticed me shaking. She zipped open one of her pack’s pockets, searched for a minute, then put something small and flat and bumpy into my hand.
“Eat this,” she said. “It will help.” It was a chocolate bar, the kind with whole hazelnuts. I unwrapped it and took a bite, crunching a nut, and felt tendrils of warmth spread through me.
Chapter 11
Ten Weeks Ago
I love research. I wouldn’t have been on debate team if I didn’t love that feeling of diving into a topic, learning what it’s all about, and then contextualizing it. The world is full of amazing things, and research is one way to discover them. Getting out of your head is another way, which is why I love art, too. It takes you outside yourself. It asks you to do things that might scare you, like dare to put a line down on paper and let it be imperfect. In printmaking, you’re always a guaranteed two steps removed from total control. It makes you flexible. It makes you think. It makes you humble. Every time you set up a plate, you need to remember to set it up in reverse so that it’ll print right-reading. Seems straightforward, but it’s really hard to do it consistently. Ask me how I know. You also don’t have complete control over what the ink’s going to do. If you roll too much onto the plate, your image will havegloppy edges. If you don’t use enough, your image will be a ghost. You can throw out a lot of prints because they don’t look the way they looked in your head. My art teacher used to pull my discards out of the trash and ask me why I’d tossed them. When I’d tell her it was because they didn’t turn out how they were supposed to, she’d say, “Does the composition work? Objectively, is there movement and balance and interesting positive/negative space? Because if there is, then it works. You have to give up the picture you see in your head and evaluate the picture that exists.” I’ve pulled enough bad prints now that turned out to be good prints after all that I know things can turn out the opposite of how you want them to and still be successful. Except if you forget to reverse letters. Then you really do have a bad print, because nobody wants to have to hold their band poster up to a mirror so they can read it.
