Not Another Vampire Story - 10
10. Day at the Beach
PG13. Tween, humor, middle school, angst, vampires, serial, teen, fiction, summer. #ReadFree
Suggested Music: Beachy music on AudioNetwork
It’s Labor Day weekend, one last freedom before the grind of school suffocates summer fun, so it’s off to the beach—after Sylvia finds what she doesn’t expect in Terry’s apartment.
Sylvia began to feel badly that she hadn't said anything to Julia about Terry yet. It wasn't that she didn't want to; she did, she did. But there was no natural opening in Julia's perfect life for Sylvia to throw mud in her water.
So the days passed during the first week of school, with Sylvia wearing a red mark on her face the size of a slap, and then the weekend—Labor Day weekend—was upon them. Mom had plans with Brian, and their dad had plans with little Miss Too-Young-For-Him. Julia and Sylvia didn't like the little blonde thing their dad had picked up since the divorce, and she was so easy to poke fun at that Julia found it boring.
"You have to come, so don't fight it," Julia was saying for the third time as Sylvia lay on her stomach across her older sister's bed, headphones muting all sounds expect Junno's voice—and the rest of the KAT-TUN group.
"What?" Sylvia said again. Wearing the red mark from the dodge ball smack-down and breaking in a new bra were wearing her down and she took any opportunity to relieve herself of the new undergarment. Like now.
Julia bent over her sister and pulled an earphone loose. "Terry's house. Today. You. Holly. Beach. Got it?" She released the headphone and it thumped back into place over Sylvia's ear.
"Ow." Sylvia sat up and rubbed her ear.
"Aw, Junno get hurt?" Julia rifled through her top dresser drawer.
"What are you so grumpy about?" Sylvia frowned, glancing around at her sister's pristine room, everything in its place, not a sock dangling or book mis-shelved.
"Taking you and Holly to the beach for Labor Day is not my idea of a good time."
"It's not mine either."
"Then go to Dad's."
"I'd rather go to science lab." Sylvia shifted positions to sit on her knees and pulled at her tank top where, much to her surprise, something was swaying beneath it, something where usually there was nothing. It was something that had been freed from the bra, and it hadn't—either of them—had swayed before. Maybe that was the magic of a bra. Things developed in them after they were worn. She gave herself a more thorough study.
"What are you doing?" Julia stood facing Sylvia, her hands on the hips of her hemmed jean shorts, watching her sister looking at her chest.
"I think I have something now." Sylvia sat down, crossing her legs Indian-style, and looked into her tank top again.
"Of course you have something. That's why you're wearing a bra, toady." Julia turned back to her pillaging of the dresser. "Wear something nice, but beach-worthy. Holly, too."
"Why does Holly have to go?"
"Don't you want her to?" Julia held up a dark blue lace cover-up, then rolled it and tucked it into her beach bag.
"Well, yeah, but with Terry. . ." Sylvia looked to her sister as the older girl's blue eyes shot to her.
"What about Terry?" There was no mistaking the defensive venom in her tone.
Sylvia managed a meek smile, her interest in the newly discovered cleavage gone. "Is there room?"
"Of course. Now get packed and call Holly. He'll be here in an hour."
Sylvia trudged to her bedroom and flopped face down on her bed, covering her head with her pillow. The beach would be crowded, and fresh memories from watching Jaws two weeks ago were still fresh on her mind—never mind the beach was at a lake and not the ocean. At least the concession stand should have a vast array of ice cream.
Her stomach churned.
Ice cream at the beach held a special memory faux pas for her.
She and Holly had decided to be beach babes last summer after watching a marathon of old beach movies, letting some of their—mostly Holly's—newfound curves see some light of day. Sylvia had made up what she lacked in the bikini top department with napkins, taking long moments to make her new cups look smooth and natural.
It had worked, with both girls getting a few whistles, flirty grins, and Hey babes, until their ice cream tripple scoops were half melted. Three boys a few years older than them had shuffled by with a Frisbee, waving and whistling.
Holly had waved back, and in her enthusiasm, a wad of napkins had fallen out of her left bikini cup. She had quickly buried the napkin in the sand with her foot.
But not before the boys had seen it.
An awkward bust of early teen male chortling had broken out.
Sylvia was still standing there slack-jawed behind her ice cream when Holly vigorously waved the boys away—and in the movement, her elbow had tipped Sylvia's bent arm.
And shoved Sylvia's mid-bite metly ice cream right into her nose.
The boys had howled with laughter as they left, with one calling back: "Ha! Need a napkin?!"
Sylvia could only look with shock at Holly, even as her ice cream slid off the cone and plopped onto her foot.
"Sorry, Red," had come Holly's meek murmur.
On the bed, Sylvia crawled out from the pillow, and memory, and sat up. She hadn't even known Holly was stuffing that day. That had been their last try at stuffing anything.
She groaned, and got up, grabbing her phone.
Holly showed up on their doorstep twenty minutes later, including the ten minute walk-time. She beamed, a toothy grin that was promising embarrassing slip-ups over the course of the day. Sylvia pulled her into the house and shut the front door.
"Julia said behave, Holly." Sylvia raised an eyebrow at her smile. "What's up?"
"I got asked to the dance!"
Sylvia wished she'd have warned her. "Already? It's only the first week of school." Her scowl deepened. "What dance?"
"The first dance; you know, the one that coincides with the high school homecoming dance." Holly's smile widened.
"Jamie?"
A brisk nod from Holly.
Sylvia groaned. "Great. Good."
"What about Matt?"
They settled on the couch as Julia finished preening in her bedroom. Sylvia frowned. "What about Matt? He's my lab partner. That's it."
"What's this about Matt?" Julia stepped into the room, her bag slung over one shoulder.
"There is no Matt; just a lab rat we have in class." Sylvia shot Holly a glare.
"Oh. Not that threadbare thing in the science room, is it?" Julia asked.
"No. This is a different rat." Sylvia got to her feet and went down the hall to her room, Holly at her heels. "I've got to finish packing."
"Terry will be here any minute. Since Holly's already here, I called him; he's on his way over," Julia's voice sailed to them.
"I'm all alone and nobody cares," Sylvia said once in her room, sighing and grabbing her green one-piece swimming suit and cramming it into her beach bag.
"Don't be that way. The dance isn't for another five weeks." Holly stood in front of the mirror at Sylvia's dresser and lifted her bikini top with both hands beneath her oversized t-shirt. "This top always makes me look smooshed."
Sylvia glanced at her friend's reflection, then went back to packing a beach towel. "You don't look smooshed to me."
"What's eating you, Red?" Holly sat on the edge of the bed and watched Sylvia stuff a bottle of suntan lotion into the bag.
"You ever think someone can be too perfect? That there's got to be a flaw somewhere?" The lotion didn't really fit, and Sylvia shoved it in again, trying to pull up the zipper.
"Oh. Terry. He's not perfect, Red." Holly wagged a finger at her. "He's a vampire, remember?"
"I never said he's a vampire; that was just a metaphor-thingy." She pulled the zipper, and it rebelled by splitting midway down. "Shit."
"He's here!" Julia called from the living room. "We're going!"
Terry's apartment was one of four in an apartment house and located two blocks from the edge of town. It was accessed by the community staircase that ran between the upper and lower apartments and a switchback fire-escape from the back. They'd only swung by because he had come straight from a last minute meeting with a client in Akron and hadn't packed yet.
Sylvia and Holly waited in the front room while Terry and Julia went into his bedroom to pack his bag, their voices muffled, hers low and musical. Sylvia and Holly exchanged looks in the front room, and then Holly sat in one of the two slouch-back, black leather arm chairs.
"Sit down, Red," Holly invited, looking over the apartment furnishings. Her eyes lingered on an oil painting of a ship rolling on the high seas over the TV cabinet.
Sylvia shook her head, eyes raised to the tall built-in bookshelves lining the hall wall that were filled with every kind of book imaginable; paperbacks, trade books, hard-covers, old relic-looking ones. Sylvia glanced around at the kitchenette that was merely a tiny kitchen and counter with a pair of stools. It was a small set of rooms, but nice. Leather upholstered furniture and glass coffee table in the front room, walnut stools and stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. It was finished in dark wood paneling and pewter blue paint, making the room seem cooler despite the high temperatures outside.
She looked to Holly still sitting languidly in the chair. "I'm going to use the powder room."
She ducked down the short hallway and found the bathroom before her friend could speak. Down the hallway she could see two bedrooms, one serving as an office, and a closet with a louvered door. Julia and Terry's voices were low from the far bedroom.
She pulled the door shut, clicking the lock. It was a clean bathroom, not what she'd expected from a bachelor. The walls were blue and white swirled wallpaper, the trim in brass and white. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and then opened the medicine cabinet, waiting for the squeak. There was none.
She shrugged and peeked inside.
The usual. Toothpaste, aftershave, cologne, razor and shaving cream, comb, clippers, a small pair of curved scissors, tweezers. She sighed. Being the heir of the world's oldest pharmaceutical company, she'd expected something more—like a basketful of prescription pills.
Being a drug user, Sylvia had expected other paraphernalia. She took down the bottle of aftershave and unscrewed the cap. Yup, she thought, taking a whiff. That was Terry. Same with the cologne.
She replaced the items and bent to look under the vanity cupboard. Plunger, drain-opener, extra bars of musk soap, and a stack of Druggists Monthly magazines. How very dull.
Maybe he kept his stash in his bedroom, or the kitchen. Easy access, baby; never know when you'd need a hit, she thought.
Holly's scream broke through the apartment and Sylvia remembered to shut the vanity cupboard before dodging out to meet her friend in the front room. Holly was on her feet, a photo book in her hands, standing like a statue by the coffee table.
"What's wrong?"
When Holly saw Sylvia, she simply showed her the photo book page.
Sylvia stepped closer, and then her jaw dropped. "Is this for real?"
She grabbed the book closer, fingers tight. The photo was a black and white still shot from the movie Moon Child, with Hyde and Gackt in full film gear, leaning against a brick wall, and autographed by both stars.
"It's real."
Both girls looked up at Terry's voice as he and Julia entered the room. Holly and Sylvia stared at him dumbfounded as Julia leaned closer to see what they held.
"That was for Moon Child," he said needlessly, grinning at their shattered composure. "Are you fans? Hyde or Gackt?"
Sylvia only nodded, and Holly imitated her. "You met them?"
"I told you he travels out of the country about once a month," Julia said, flipping through the book, pausing on another page. "Hmm. No Junno. Sorry, Sylvi."
Terry nodded, looking to Sylvia, who had regained use of her face once again. "Are you a KAT-TUN fan?"
She nodded, what was becoming her standard head bobble. "Taguchi Junnosuke."
"Never met him," he said, looking at the pages as Julia turned them. "Ready to go?"
The beach seemed like a million miles away, but Terry got them there in forty minutes. Sylvia and Holly sat in the back of the black Mustang, quiet, shocked, limp. Like cold ramen noodles, Sylvia thought.
She'd watched Terry as he drove, what she could see of his dark eyes behind the sunglasses. Most of the time he spent looking askance at Julia in the front seat beside him, and answering the few questions that trickled out of Holly and Sylvia.
All Sylvia could remember was that he knew someone who worked moving the sound equipment for Gackt and a few other musicians. That was all she needed to hear to leave her speechless until they got to the beach.
The beach was swarming with people of all ages, and Sylvia, Holly, Julia, and Terry found a spot close to the water between a tribe of children with grandparents nearby and a harried couple of women with four kids between them.
"I can't believe he has a signed photo of Gackt and Hyde," Holly mumbled for the twentieth time as they shook out their towels on the sand. Farther away from the water, Terry and Julia were doing the same, she with her perfect black and gold accented bikini and he with the classic darks look that turned young and old women's heads alike.
Sylvia and Holly spent a few moments slathering on sunscreen lotion, smelling of coconut oil. "And it actually said Valtieri," Holly said, "not just an autograph."
Sylvia shook her head, looking through her bag with the stuck zipper for her yellow inflatable mattress. "What does 'To one of the few' mean?"
"Who cares? It's signed." Holly sat on her beach towel and found her own orange air mattress. She wiped off the air nozzle and put her mouth over it, blowing a lungful into the plastic.
Sylvia nodded, glancing behind them at Julia rubbing lotion between her palms, Terry's back facing her. He waved to her, and Sylvia shrugged, turning back to her air mattress. "How much you want to bet he won't go in the water? Won't mess up his hair?"
Holly lifted one shoulder, drooling on the air nozzle.
Sylvia took a deep breath and set about filling her own air mattress. Five minutes later and breath slightly heaving, they pushed the mattresses out into an open spot in the water and waded to their knees as the sun was blocked briefly by a thick cloud.
Sylvia straddled the air mattress and sat down, pushing with her feet until they couldn't touch the sand, looking out to the beach over the end of the yellow mattress that was popped out of the water. Holly's orange mattress drifted closer. At the beach she could see Terry's hand gliding over Julia's back as her sister held her long blonde hair up with one hand.
He set the bottle down, stripped off his sunglasses, and suddenly scooped Julia up with both arms bridal style, and proceeded to the water with her.
Sylvia floated on the mattress, watching her giggling sister's half-hearted attempts at making Terry put her down. A second later he paused, then dropped her into the water, and dove under beside her.
"You lost, Red," Holly said, also watching. "Got everything wet."
Sylvia shrugged and almost tipped herself over. "The lotion makes everything so dang slick," she mumbled.
They watched Terry resurface, stand and push back his hair. Holly said it first.
"Now he really looks like a vampire. See that peak at his hairline? Classic vampire." Holly nodded.
"Would you stop with the vampire shit?" Sylvia squinted at her sister's boyfriend. He did look like one of those handsome, mesmerizing vampires that showed up on all the late night TV movies where the woman fawned all over some drop-dead gorgeous bloodsucker. "Bela Lugosi never looked like that."
"Lugosi was just the first; not the only one."
The scene from the bedroom played through Sylvia's mind, the one where Terry had taken Julia in his arms as if he were going to sink his teeth into her very neck. She shook her head. "It's broad daylight. Vampires don't go out in the sun. And there're no such things as vampires, Holly."
"Notice how he never looks directly into the sun?"
Sylvia looked to her friend, screwing her face into a knot. "When was the last time you looked directly into the sun, Holly Sutton?"
Holly frowned, then shrugged. "You know what I mean."
"And he's got perfect teeth."
Holly sighed. "I'll bet everything about him is perfect."
Sylvia shook her head, gently, so she didn't capsize herself, watching her sister enjoying an afternoon of delight with her new boyfriend. "Not everything." She recalled when he'd told her in the kitchen that he knew she knew. "Not everything."
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Thanks to Sakurapu for sharing her story!