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interested in excuses,” said the director irritably. “You are late. I do not tolerate lateness.”
    Celeste shuffled down another step.
    The boy next to Althea muttered, “This is a cheerleader? No wonder we don’t win any games.” He rolled his eyes as Celeste tried to focus on the final step down. “Want a cane?” he said cruelly.
    Althea no longer wanted to know the boy’s name. She no longer wanted to know her own name. What have I done? she thought. Celeste was just supposed to be a little bit tired. She hardly even looks alive!
    Althea tried to breathe for Celeste, to suck in rich clear oxygen that would energize her. But Celeste did not breathe deeply. Celeste stumbled and dropped her books.
    The music director sighed hugely, exaggerating patience with this idiot who could not even cross a room. The girl who took attendance said dryly, “While we’re waiting, Celeste, I’ll make announcements. Think you can find the soprano section by then?”
    If that were me, thought Althea, I’d blush scarlet. But Celeste is just shuffling on.
    Then Althea herself went white as paste.
    Celeste was not blushing. How could she?
    To blush, you needed blood.
    Becky laughed with intense excitement, as if she and Althea were going on a grand expedition, instead of just to McDonald’s. Twisting and turning, Becky told every giddy detail of her day. Her black hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail, and with every syllable, every move, seemingly every thought, both Becky and her ponytail bounced.
    Althea tried to concentrate on what Becky was saying, to realize that she was going to McDonald’s with the crowd, but she kept seeing Celeste’s shoe inching toward the edge of the last step, trying to find bottom.
    “Lighten up!” Becky commanded her.
    As if it were orders from a general, Althea obeyed.
    It was only two miles to McDonald’s, and yet, by the time they were in the parking lot, Althea was younger, happier, and noisier. She, too, bounced out of the car. She, too, jumped up and down clapping as Ryan drove in to join them.
    Ryan had been joined by a boy named Scottie, whom Althea hardly knew. It was a treat to see these two muscular young men get out of Ryan’s car. First, Scottie dove over the seat back, landing like a beached whale half on the floor and half on the seat. Then, lumbering to his knees, head thrust forward, he opened the right rear door. This door, too, had its problems. Scottie emerged very carefully.
    “Hey!” shouted Ryan, diving over after Scottie. “Don’t close that door on my face.”
    “Oh,” said Scottie. “Well, I guess I could wait another second or two. But I’m a fast-track kind of guy. I don’t like to hang around, Ryan.”
    Ryan slid out. First, one long jeans-wrapped leg. Then an arm, a broad chest, a dark and handsome head of hair, and finally the other leg.
    Althea had intended to daydream about Michael, but now she found her thoughts encompassed by Ryan. Ryan was a weight lifter who talked of how many pounds he could bench press, and he knew all his muscles by name.
    Everybody had a cheeseburger except Ryan, who ordered three Big Macs. He ate each in only four bites, his teeth dividing each huge burger like pie.
    “Well, that’s what’s new in my life,” Becky said, wrapping up a discussion Althea had missed while admiring Ryan’s eating habits and muscles. “Althea, your turn to talk. Hold up your end of the conversation. What’s new in your life?”
    Ryan, Becky, and Scottie waited. They went on swallowing milk shakes. Waiting to hear what was new in her life.
    What’s new in my life? thought Althea. I’ve gotten to know a vampire quite well. His skin is the color of mushrooms. I don’t know how he gets in touch with me. What do you think of Celeste, in her altered state? Do you know that I did that? This girl with whom you are having a cheeseburger—she hands people over to vampires?
    Ryan and Scottie frowned slightly. Becky looked irritated.
    Althea