"Are you going to call CNN?" she teased.
"Not yet. I need more proof."
"Would that involve trying to get me over that gate again?"
I began swinging, remembering Anne Rice, Bram Stoker, Bela Lugosi, The Hunger, Lost Boys, and all the Nosferatus that had ever graced the world with their wonderful smiles and slicked-back hair.
"No! It doesn't involve you at all," I finally answered her.
She let out a sigh of relief.
"There's really only one way to prove it, right? And then we can finally tell these gossip mongers to end their rumors for good. Then these Gothic angels can sleep peacefully, whether they go to bed during the night or day!" I joked.
"So what are you going to do, watch to see if he changes into a bat?"
"No. I'm going to watch to see if I do!"
"You can't change into a bat from watching him."
"I'll have to do more than look at him! There's only one way to tell if he's really a vampire."
"Yeah?"
"It'll be in his bite!" I screamed with excitement.
"You're going to have him bite you? Are you crazy?"
"Curiously crazy."
"But what happens if he is one? You'll turn into a vampire! Then what'll you do?"
"Then," I said, smiling, "I'll call CNN."
I sauntered home from Evans Park daydreaming about seeing my prince of darkness, when I spotted a black Mercedes turning the corner at the far end of my street.
I ran after it, as fast as I could, but combat boots can't compete with spinning wheels and motorized acceleration, even with Creepy driving.
At home I was greeted by a mischievously smiling Nerd Boy.
"I've got something for you!" he teased.
"Don't play games. I'm not in the mood."
"Seems as though the mail is now being delivered on Sundays. And the Sunday mailman is that weird butler from the Halloween Mansion!"
"What?"
"He delivered a letter for you!"
"Give it!"
"It'll cost you!"
"It'll cost you your head," I yelled, trying to jump on him.
He took off running and I followed in red-hot pursuit. "I'll get it. It's just a question of whether you're dead or alive when I do!"
If only I'd stayed home, Creepy Man would have given me the letter instead of Nerd Boy. Good thing my parents were out at lunch. They would have freaked if they'd seen a million-year-old man coming to the door and asking for me.
Nerd Boy waved the red envelope in front of my face, taunting me at every turn. Suddenly he ran upstairs. I grabbed his leg from behind and he fell. I pulled him toward me, but the envelope was in his outstretched arm, too far for me to grab.
I made a sharklike face to let him know I would bite his leg off if I had to, something you can do to a sibling and not go to jail. Panic set in, and he used his free foot to push my hands loose from his bony leg. He slammed his bedroom door in my face and turned the lock.
I banged and banged. My hands hurt but I wouldn't feel the throbbing till later, I was so mad.
"'Dear Raven,'" he pretended to read through the door. '"I love you and want you to be my witchy wife so we can have scary butler babies. Love, Weirdo Butler.'"
"Give that to me! Now! Don't you know what I'm capable of? Just ask the soccer team. I can make life a living hell for you!"
"I'll give it back on one condition."
"How much?"
"I don't want money."
"Then what?"
"That you promise…"
"What, already?"
"That you promise to stop calling me 'Nerd Boy'!"
There was silence on both sides of the door.
I felt a pang in my heart. Guilt? Pathos? I guess I never realized that my little nickname could have been hurting him so much all these years. That I had already made his life a living hell.
"Then what should I call you?"
"How about my name?"
"What would that be?" I teased.
"Billy."
"Uh, well…okay. You give me the letter, and I won't call you Nerd Boy—for a year."