Free Dance With a Vampire by Ellen Schreiber

Valentine’s motives and location.
    Obviously, Alexander, too, was concerned about Valentine’s location and motives, as I frequently caught him peering out the window.
    When I suggested we put down my homework and return to the cave, Alexander was firm. “It is best that you and Billy stay inside for a night or two while I figure some things out.”
    Alexander occasionally gave me stolen kisses before he returned to glancing out the window, and I pretended to be buried in my textbook.

10 Sleepover
    After an arduous day of quizzes, homework hand-ins, and boring lectures, eighth bell rang. I met Becky by our lockers and, after Matt gave her a quick peck before soccer practice, we were off to her house for a prom fashion show.
    Becky resided on what many of the snotty Dullsvillians called the “wrong side of the tracks.” I, however, thought she had primo real estate. Becky’s backyard was twice the size of Trevor’s and sported sweet apple trees instead of unused Jacuzzis.

    Her farmhouse, built in the 1930s, was the original house her father grew up in. In back of the house, next to the five-acre apple orchard, stood a monstrous silo with vines clinging to it like a giant spiderweb. Adjacent to that sat a red barn filled with tools and a loft suitable for telling ghost stories.
    Becky’s house was also steeped in character, something lacking in many of the “right side of the trackers’” houses, including mine. The wooden house was pale yellow with hunter green shutters. It had screen doors and a stellar wraparound porch with an old-fashioned porch swing.
    Though some of the appliances had been updated, the original yellow flowered wallpaper from her father’s youth remained. A round vinyl booth instead of the typical dinette table and chairs was sandwiched in a kitchen alcove. Black-and-white tiles lined the upstairs bathroom walls and floors. Glass doorknobs glistened on all the doors, instead of brass or pewter ones, and hardwood floors ran throughout the first floor.
    We walked up the squeaky wooden staircase to her bedroom. One wall was slanted, making it feel as if her movie star posters were going to reach out and kiss you.
    Becky pulled out a wedge that kept her closet door shut. Depending on the weather, the door buckled and wouldn’t remain closed, which provided hours of fun for us when we were kids, imagining her room was haunted. She took out a garment bag, unzipping it to reveal a vintage floor-length blue strapless gown.
    “It’s gorgeous!” I exclaimed.
    I searched through Becky’s jewelry box while she tried on her dress.
    My best friend had transformed into a princess right in front of my eyes. “You look beautiful. Matt is going to drop dead when he sees you.”
    “You think?”
    “I know,” I corrected.
    “Should I wear my hair up in a twist?” she asked, pulling her layered locks off her neck.
    “I don’t know much about hair,” I said. “If it were me, I’d streak it blue to match the dress.
    But I think the way you have it up looks fabulous.”
    For the next hour we finalized her jewelry selection (faux pearl earrings and matching necklace) and shades of makeup (coral blush, passion pink lipstick with matching gloss, and indigo blue eye shadow).
    Becky and I were starving, so on the drive to my home, we stopped off at Hatsy’s Diner, where we stuffed our faces with cheese fries and Vanilla Cokes and talked nonstop about our heartthrobs. Since my best friend and I had acquired boyfriends, we hadn’t had the time to be as glued to each other as we had been in the past. Now that we had recharged our batteries, we got in some major girl time and gossiped for hours. She finally dropped me off after sunset.
    I opened the front door to find the first floor empty of family members and the phone ringing.
    “I’ll get it,” I hollered.
    I dropped my backpack on the kitchen counter and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
    “Raven,” Alexander said from the other end. My name