“Yes,” Vince said. “Hold on. I want to borrow something from Mel.”
The Big Blue Bus dropped Vince and me off at Santa Monica Pier two hours after William’s phone call. I straightened the straps on my backpack as we got off.
Any kid who grows up in the area has made at least one trip to Pacific Park. Mom is particularly fond of the sunsets over the ocean, when Pacific Park is lit up in the night. Right now things were beginning to dim, and the lights of the Ferris wheel were reflected in the water in perfect upside-downness. I figured Ned would be setting out toward Santa Monica by now, but even at vampire speeds, it would take him a while to get here.
“Where do you think William would be hiding?” Vince asked.
“He’s not hiding.” I pointed at the Ferris wheel. The LED lights showed a giant blue bat on the Ferris wheel. Over the top? Yes. William was turning out to be a vampire of questionable taste.
Now that school was out, Santa Monica Pier was in full swing for summer. Pacific Park is located on the bustling pier. There was a concert for kids tonight, we discovered, as we walked in the front, which explained so many families. One of the kids pointed at the silver bat Vince carried casually over one shoulder. Vince waved at the kid, and swung the bat for his amusement.
William waited in front of the solar-powered Ferris wheel, a gutsy thing for a vampire. Crowds of families avoided him, like he wasn’t quite there. The science geek in me appreciated the solar power, and my artsy side thought the LED lights, which could be changed into whatever configuration Pacific Park wanted, was just another example of how science could make art better. I intended for me, Marty, and Vince to all come back here this summer to appreciate it. I wasn’t about to let William take her away from me.
“Nice bat,” said Vince.
“You too,” said William.
“How did you manage that?” I squinted up, sheltering my eyes from the LED lights.
William shrugged. “You know. Bit the operator. He’ll do as I say.”
Music faded in from somewhere, playing tag with the noise from the crowd. William gave Vince an appraising
look, like he was something William had found on the bottom of his loafer. “Are you here to play white knight and rescue the girl?”
Vince arched an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Good. I intend to kill you. I intend to kill you both.”
“So,” I said. “Apart from being Larissa’s tool, what is your problem?”
“What?”
“Well, Coral can get along with everyone. Ned knows how to behave himself. What is the big, bad chip on
your shoulder?”
William’s lips became a tiny line. “You have no idea what it’s like, to live this long.”
Vince shook his head. “Here we go.”
I nodded. “Alone, so alone.”
William stamped his foot. “Not funny!”
I smirked. “If you get turned into a vampire and you are a brat, you stay a brat.”
“Abby, maybe we shouldn’t antagonize William.”
Vince was right. “Where’s Marty?”
“Safe. For now.”
I didn’t want to ask this next question. “Have you turned her?” I didn’t want to be responsible for Marty being a vampire.
“No!” William looked pained. “I wouldn’t want to have Marty around all the time. She’s a dork.”
Poor Marty. Rejected by an uncool vampire. I was ready to get mad, but I considered the source. “Ball’s in your court,” I said.
“What do you want?” asked Vince.
“Abby and I are going to have a little race to prove who’s the best skater.”
“What is this thing with you vampires wanting to show everyone up?” I said.
“I had a great setup, everything I wanted, and you ruined it. I’m not going to forgive you for that. Are you in or not?”
“Sure, sure. But Pacific Park isn’t a good place. Look at all these people.”
“That’s what makes it the best place. A good skater can avoid lots of obstacles.”
“That’s right.” I was wishing pretty hard for my inline skates. Vince and I had rushed out of Big Mel’s with our traditionals. “You have skates?”
“I have skates,” said William. “If you win, you get Marty.”
“I’m racing too,” said Vince. “Twice as many chances.”
William shrugged. “It won’t make any difference. We start down at the beach.”
William was right. The chances of either of us winning a race against him were pretty small. Why? Well, his lightning reflexes. Vampires could just plain old get up to higher speeds than we mortals could. That meant we were going to have to brain our way out of this.
The skate path waved along the beach in an s-curve. In the distance, Pacific Pier lit up the night, contrasting with the last few stripes of daylight, charcoal and blue, reflected in the water. Living in California can be like living in a painting. Vince sat down, peeled off his Reeboks and put on his sneaker skates. William was wearing a pair of black inlines that looked pretty serious. He caught me looking at them. “They’re called Sizzlers,” he said.
“I’ll look into those.” I laced up my not-built-for-speed white skates from the fifties. Also slowing me down would be my backpack, which I should take off for speed, but which I wasn’t going to take off since I was racing a vampire.
Off in the distance, music from the concert echoed from under the pier, a mishmash of noise that didn’t sound like waves, didn’t sound like music. The path disappeared under the pier, into a cordoned area where railings were half-finished, behind orange construction cones designed to keep kids out, not writing their names in the cement the wood would be laid over later. The exposed rail ends poked out, just waiting for a vampire.
I started to look at the
