Free Born at Midnight by C. C. Hunter

mom could do this to her. Send her here when only a week ago, her mom had suggested she not spend the night off anywhere because it would be embarrassing for her to let others see her in a sleep-dazed terror.
    Shaking off thoughts of her mom, Kylie looked around the room again. Her afternoon hadn’t been a total waste. She’d unpacked her things, called her mom—aka, the Ice Queen—back, tried to get in touch with a MIA Sara—who still hadn’t called or texted—read the camp rules, and indulged in a good ol’ fashioned meltdown with lots of tears.
    A much-deserved meltdown.
    For sixteen years she’d tried to figure out who she was. And while she’d always known she’d had a ways to go, she’d felt pretty confident in her discoveries. But today she realized not only was she wrong about who she was, but she didn’t even know what she was.
    Talk about an identity crisis.
    Her phone buzzed again. She looked at the caller ID and saw her dad’s name.
    Her dad who’d left her.
    Her dad who hadn’t picked her up at the police station.
    Her dad who hadn’t visited her before she’d been forcibly shipped off to camp.
    Her dad who obviously didn’t love her near as much as she’d thought he did.
    Her dad who in spite of everything, Kylie missed with all her heart.
    If that made her a daddy’s girl, so be it. Besides it was probably just a temporary condition. Sooner or later she’d give up loving him so much like he’d given up on her. Right?
    Her throat locked up. The temptation to answer and beg him to come get her was so strong that she tossed the phone onto the foot of the bed. She listened to the buzz and knew if she answered that call she’d tell him about supernaturals and about her being one of them—about running into Lucas Parker the potential serial killer.
    Keeping secrets from her mom had always felt easy, because it seemed her mom kept her own secrets; but keeping things from her dad was algebra—damn hard.
    So instead of taking the call, she plopped her head on the pillow and gave in to another bout of tears. When someone knocked on her bedroom door, Kylie still wore the watery evidence of tears on her cheeks.
    Before Kylie could decide what to do, the door opened and a nose peeked through the crack. “Are you awake?”
    Since Kylie sat up on the bed and saw Miranda’s eyes right above the nose, Kylie didn’t lie. “Yes.”
    Miranda stepped in—uninvited.
    “Hey, I just…” Miranda’s hazel gaze lit on Kylie’s face and the girl’s mouth dropped open.
    Kylie knew exactly what had the little witch gaping. Kylie envied the girls who could cry and barely smear their mascara, but she lacked that particular skill. When Kylie cried, her fair skin broke out in big red dots and her eyes swelled so much that she didn’t look human.
    Wait. According to Holiday, Kylie wasn’t human. Who knew?
    “Are you okay?” Miranda asked.
    “Fine.” Kylie forced cheeriness into her voice. “Allergies.”
    “Should you go see a nurse? Seriously, you look terrible.”
    Thanks. “No. I’m fine. It’ll go away in a bit.”
    “It’s not contagious, is it?” Miranda stopped a few feet into the room.
    “I sure as heck hope not,” said a voice at the door. A voice that belonged to Della, who still wore her dark shades, and who Kylie had learned during the introductions was a vampire. Yup. A real vampire.
    “I’m not contagious,” Kylie said, and realized she should have said yes so they’d leave her alone.
    Miranda moved in and sat on the foot of the twin bed, and Della followed her but didn’t sit down. Instead, the girl removed her sunglasses and eyeballed Kylie up and down. Her dark expression reminded Kylie of a how a person on a diet stared at a Girl Scout cookie right before it became mouth mush.
    Kylie’s skin crawled at the thought of becoming mush in anyone’s mouth.
    “You are coming to dinner and the campfire, aren’t you?” Miranda asked.
    “Is … is it mandatory?” Kylie