Girls That Growl Read online

  GIRLS THAT GROWL

  Mari Mancusi

  Prologue

  Rayne McDonald

  Vampire & Vampire Slayer

  8 Peace Lane

  St. Patrick’s Cemetery

  Oakridge, MA

  (617)555-1432

  Mr. Joss Whedon

  Producer of Buffy, Angel, and various other rocking shows

  Mutant Enemy Productions

  Hollywood, CA

  Dear Joss:

  How’s things in the Whedonverse? Pretty dull, I bet, now that Buffy and Angel have bitten it and Firefly’s flown. I mean, how wonderful can Wonder Woman be? Yeah, I’d be willing to guess you’re just sitting around, twiddling your thumbs, dying to find the perfect project to sink your teeth into, right?

  Well, Joss, look no further! Have I got a project for you! This would make an excellent TV show. Or even a movie. Or hey, why not both? (In case they bury the series on Friday nights and we end up having to push some DVDs.) It’s got vampires and vampire slayers and best of all, it’s absolutely true!

  My name is Rayne McDonald and last year I signed up to become a vampire. I got myself on the waiting list, took my Vamp Certification class, etc., etc. But then, the night I was supposed to be transformed into a creature of the night, this idiot vampire assigned to be my blood mate made a huge mistake and bit my identical twin sister, Sunshine, instead. (Yes, Sunshine and Rayne. Think of all the joke potential in our names alone, Joss!)

  Anyway, at the time, Sunny had no idea vampires even existed (sad to say she’s not a Buffy fan either) and she was so not happy to find out she was now morphing into one against her will. So she teamed up with the hottie vampire who bit her (Magnus, current master of our local coven) and the two of them managed to find the Holy Grail (!!) and remortalize her just in time for the prom. In the meantime, Sunny and Magnus fell in love and are presently doing the interspecies dating thing. (Think Buffy and Angel, though I’m guessing they can get it on without him going all evil and destroying the world. But since my sister is still a virgin, one never knows for sure …)

  Good stuff, huh? But hold on to your pop culture clichés, Joss, it gets even better. The next week, this crazy antivampire company called Slayer Inc. suddenly informed me that I’m their new vampire slayer! Me! The girl voted most likely to become a blood sucker is now supposed to slay them for a living. (Not that they pay me. Grr.) I tried to refuse, of course, but they insisted it’s my destiny and threatened to kill me with some crazy nanovirus if I didn’t take the gig. So what choice did I have, right?

  So, during my first assignment—to kill an evil vamp who is manufacturing a blood disease that would weaken the vampire population and allow him to take over as master—I hook up with this uber-hot goth vampire Jareth. At first I don’t like the guy much, but eventually he grows on me. You know, like Spike does with Buffy. (Except Jareth didn’t go and withstand trials and torture to redeem his lost soul like Spike did for the Buffster. Do you think I should have held out for that?)

  In any case, together, Jareth and I were able to take down the Big Bad, as Buffy would say, and save the vampire world as we know it. Problem is, before we did, Maverick managed to infect me with the virus. To save my life, Jareth bit me and turned me into a vampire. By doing so, he also became infected.

  So now the two of us are essentially gimped vampires. We don’t have superstrength, or superhearing, or super anything, really (well, besides my superGoth fashion sense, which I must admit is pretty darn super), but we do have some advantages. Unlike other vampires, we can go out during the day. And that makes us extremely valuable to the vampire community. (And great for a hit show on the CW!)

  As for Slayer Inc., they figured that having an actual vampire on the payroll could bring down their corporate image, so they put me on disability and started training the next girl. I still technically work for them freelance until the new Slayer is fully trained. But hopefully there won’t be any actual assignments. After all, I’m entering junior year in high school. I’ve got a hot new boyfriend. And I’m finally a member of the Blood Coven. Yay me!

  So tell me, does this not sound like a series that will rock the socks of every teen in America? Come on, Joss. You know you want to become part of the Raynieverse.

  Love,

  Rayne McDonald

  Vampire & Vampire Slayer

  1

  “So, should I or shouldn’t I?” I groan and throw myself back on my bed. “Sunny, it’s not something I can tell you either way. You have to decide for yourself whether or not you’re ready.”

  “But you’ve been there. Done that.”

  “Yes, and I have the ‘I lost my virginity to a skanky skater kid at camp’ T-shirt. What of it?” I don’t mean to sound flip, but this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. Now that I think about it, this isn’t the tenth time either. And every time she brings it up, I say the same thing. Having sex for the first time is a personal decision no one can make but you.

  “I’m not joking,” Sunny protests, rummaging through my closet. As if she’d actually wear any of the striped tights, lacy skirts, or delicate corsets I’ve stocked it with. We may be identical twins, but she’s strictly a jeans, tank, and flips kind of girl, even if her boyfriend is a vampire coven master. Not that Magnus would win Mr. Goth himself. Which, in my opinion, is such a waste. Why be a vampire if you aren’t going to take advantage of the basic wardrobe?

  “Is Magnus pressuring you?” I ask, trying a new tactic. So help him if he’s dicking my sister around. (Or trying to, as the case may be.) Powerful vampire master or no, I’ll totally find a way to kick his scrawny English ass. “Like, is he saying he’ll break up with you if you don’t put out?” Needless to say, I’ve heard that line before. Stupid guys!

  “No, no!” Sunny says, sounding shocked at the idea. Of course. In her mind, Maggy Waggy walks on water and saves the world before breakfast. “He’s been great. Patient. Supportive. He’s left it totally up to me.”

  “So that should make it easy.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Sunny, come here.” I motion to the bed. She leaves the closet and approaches me. “Sit down. Look me in the eyes and answer this question: Do you or do you not want to have sex with Magnus?”

  Sunny flops back on the bed with an agonizing groan. “Can’t we call it ‘making love’ or something? I mean, ‘sex’ sounds so clinical.”

  I dig my fingernails into my palms, wondering how I can run screaming from the room without offending her too much. I so don’t want to be having this conversation.

  “Sure, whatever, call it what you want, Sun,” I force myself to say brightly. “Making love, screwing, doing the wild thing, hooking up, getting it on. It really doesn’t matter what you want to refer to it as. Just if you feel you’re ready. And if you want to.”

  “I want to,” Sunny whines. “But I’m scared.”

  Okay, that’s it. I’ve made the decision for her. “Fine. Then maybe you should wait. I mean, if you’re this conflicted …”

  “But I love Magnus!”

  How many years in jail do you think I’ll get for killing my sister?

  “Then do it. Or don’t. I don’t care. I don’t even get why you’re asking me anyway. You don’t listen to anything I have to say!” I jump off the bed and head to my computer, loading up iTunes, ready to drown out anymore conversation.

  Okay, fine, I probably sound like the worst twin sister known to mankind, but you’d be losing patience, too, if you had to have this conversation twenty times in one week. Especially if the other nineteen times you tried to impart wise, sisterly advice and she never listened to a word of it. At the end of the day, she’s going to do whatever she decides to do. Hashing it out with me is
only time suckage.

  Sunny sticks out her lower lip in a pout. “Fine,” she says. “Don’t help me.”

  I turn from the computer, my finger still hovering on the PLAY button. “Sunny, if you don’t stop this, I’m going to strangle you to death. And then you won’t have a decision to make.”

  My twin opens her mouth to speak, but luckily at that moment the front door creaks open. Mom must be home. Time for all talk of sex to cease.

  We head downstairs to greet her. She’s got her arms full of groceries from the local Harvest Co-Op. I take a paper bag from her and bring it into the kitchen. Sunny heads to the car to grab what’s left.

  “Thanks,” Mom says as we put the groceries in the cabinets and fridge. I grimace as I pull out some kind of purple, crinkly vegetable I don’t recognize.

  “What is—?”

  Mom shrugs. “I don’t know exactly. But it was on sale.”

  Typical. Mom’s an ex-hippie who used to live in an actual commune in upstate New York before my dad whisked her away and impregnated her with twins. She may be all soccer mom wannabe now, but her kitchen remains in the Age of Aquarius. If you can add tofu to a recipe, you can be sure my mom’s done it. Not that it matters much to me anymore. As a vampire, I can’t eat. Which is a relief, when it comes to Mom’s cooking.

  “So girls, I have something I need to talk to you about,” Mom says, sitting down at the table after the groceries are put away. “It’s about David.”

  David is Mom’s boyfriend. Last spring we thought he was an evil vampire and tried to douse him with a Super Soaker amount of holy water. Turns out, he’s actually a guardian for Slayer Inc., the company I’ve been working for. He fell in love with my mom while on assignment to watch over me. They’ve been dating all summer. He’s okay, I guess. But kind of geeky and out there. Which makes him a good match for Mom, but annoying to be around at times. Luckily, he lives across town.

  “He’s going to be living here.”

  What? I look at Sunny and then back at my mom.

  “Live here?” Sunny asks, sounding as incredulous as I feel.

  “He’s moving in? He can’t move in! You barely know the guy.”

  Mom frowns. “Rayne, I will decide that, not you. And besides, it’s only temporary. He’s having his condo renovated and he needs a place to stay.”

  “No way!” I protest. “This house is a Girl’s Only Zone. I mean, there are tampons in the bathroom cabinet. My bras are hanging from the shower curtain rod.”

  “Maybe this will encourage you to pick up after yourselves once in a while,” Mom counters.

  I decide to switch tactics, to avoid being hammered by a clean-up-your-room lecture on top of everything else. “Mom, what kind of moral lesson does this send to your daughters? Shacking up with some random guy!” I feign horror.

  “Why, you’re right, Rayne!” Sunny says, catching on. “Maybe I should see if my boyfriend wants to move in with me. After all, we’ve been dating at least a month longer than Mom and David.”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “Give me a break, girls,” she says, unmoved by our shocked morality. “And besides, he’s not staying in my room.”

  Sunny and I look at one another.

  “Uh, where is he staying then? This is a three-bedroom house.”

  “He’ll be staying in one of your rooms,” Mom explains in the most matter-of-fact tone, though I can see she’s avoiding meeting our eyes. “You’ll have to share a room while he’s here.”

  Oh no. No way.

  We will just have to see about that.

  2

  I can’t believe it’s the first day of school already. Seems like the summer flew by.

  Sure, technically I don’t have to go to school anymore. After all, I’m an immortal vampire. Part of the coven. I could just collapse on a velvet couch and sip blood cocktails from a crystal goblet. But at the same time, if I’m going to live thousands of years, I figure I might as well spend a few finishing high school. Get myself an education. After all, I’ve met more than a few undead dropouts and they’re dreadfully dull at dinner parties.

  Not to mention if I want to stay living with Mom and Sunny I’ve got to keep up the normal teenager act.

  Still, as I walk down the halls of Oakridge High, dressed in a black lacy Lolita dress, fishnets, and platform boots, swinging my Beetlejuice lunchbox, I wonder if this really was such a good idea. I mean, it’s so obvious I don’t fit in here with the rest of the Mean Girls and jock boys. I watch them, as if I’m a fly on the wall, as they excitedly greet each other, first-day-of-school style. The trend slaves in their brightly colored, back-to-the-eighties, horizontal striped shirts, belts, and leggings. The retro grunger girls in their shapeless dresses worn over bell-bottom pants. The preps in their boot-cut denim and fitted collar shirts. Everyone has a style that suits their clique. Maybe in a bigger school there’d be others that look like me. Not here though. Oakridge High sucks.

  Not that I care. I am who I am. And I don’t need three thousand MySpace friends to validate my existence on this planet.

  “Ooh, look! It’s Freak Girl!”

  I do, however, need to be left alone.

  I turn around to see which Oakridge Clone is trying to feel better about her own sorry existence by poking fun at mine. My eyes fall on a cluster of cheerleaders staring at me from across the hall. Of course.

  Of all the losers at Oakridge High, cheerleaders have to be the worst. With their sickly sweet fake smiles, swishy skirts, and bouncy, sun-kissed (aka highlighted from the muddy brown color they were born with) blond hair, cheerleaders think they’re God’s gift to high schools. They expect worship from guys, girls, even teachers. And they get it. And if one isn’t interested in falling on their knees to kiss their perfectly sculpted asses, they might as well catch leprosy. The cheerleaders will guarantee them social outcast status for the rest of the year.

  “Hey, Freak Girl!” calls another cheerleader. They all look alike to me. “I thought vampires couldn’t walk around during the day.”

  I roll my eyes. Of course she has no idea I really AM a vampire. She’s making a clever assumption based on the fact I’m not wearing a stitch of pink.

  “Of course we can,” I retort back. “How else can we sink our teeth into succulent virgins such as yourself— Oh wait! I’m sorry, I must have been thinking of someone else. Someone who hasn’t banged the whole football team.”

  The girl’s eyes narrow. “You’d better watch yourself, Freak Girl.” Yup, that’s her oh-so-clever comeback. No denial either, I note.

  “Oh yeah?” I grin saucily, sauntering up to their gang with my most confident steps. “How come?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll kick your skanky vampire ass.”

  I let out an overly loud laugh. Gotta let them know I’m not afraid. “You and what army?”

  Another cheerleader steps forward. This one I do recognize. Mandy Matterson, my former best friend back in the day. Before she realized that I was nothing but a roadblock in her journey to high school stardom. She’s gone through an extreme makeover since we used to hang—inside and out. Now she’s blond, beautiful, and oh so bitchy. No wonder she’s the current captain of the squad. I can’t believe we were once friends.

  “You think you’re so cool,” Mandy sneers, narrowing her eyes. She wouldn’t admit to our former friendship if she was being tortured and threatened. “But really, you’re just another Oakridge High wannabe.”

  I squeeze my hands into fists, fury burning through every vein. That’s it. I don’t care if it’s the first day of school. Or that I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile, what with my new undead status and all. I start to dive toward her.

  “Rayne!” Someone grabs my arm and yanks me back, just in the nick of time to save Cheerleading Barbie’s perfect Ashlee Simpsonesque “after” nose.

  I turn around, annoyed. If I was a healthy vamp, no mortal human would have been able to stop me like that. Stupid blood virus. I should start lifting weigh
ts.

  I realize it’s my current best friend, Spider, who’s grabbed me. The only person in school who understands me. Which means she should understand my cheerleader rage and let me go.

  “It’s not worth it,” Spider says, not living up to her potential.

  “It is so worth it.” I growl back, glancing over at the three girls, who are staring at me with haughty expressions. As if they really think they can even lay a scratch on my body. Puh-leeze.

  “It’s the first day of school. You really want to sit in detention the first day of school? I thought we were going to the My Chemical Romance concert tonight.”

  I sigh. “You’re right, I guess. But look at those smug losers,” I say, gesturing over to the Barbies. “They deserve to die.”

  “Believe me, I’m not saying they don’t. Just not necessarily before A period,’-‘ Spider says rationally. “Besides, Mr. Teifert is looking for you.”

  Mr. Teifert is the school drama teacher and—as only I know—also president of Slayer Inc. I wonder why he’s looking for me. After all, I’m technically retired from the Slayer biz. The virus made me too weak to perform my duties. But Teifert says once a Slayer, always a Slayer, and you never know when they might need me.

  “Great.” What fun assignment will he have for me this time? “Okay. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  I watch as Spider turns and walks down the hallway, wondering why no one picks on her. After all, she’s not exactly the most normal kid in school either. When she was born, her parents raised her as “gender neutral”—not treating her as a boy or a girl—just a person. She was only allowed to play with gender neutral toys—no Barbies or trucks for Christmas. And she was never put in dresses or allowed to wear baseball caps. The idea behind these avant-garde parenting techniques was that she could choose which gender she preferred when she was old enough to make the decision. But Spider’s always been indecisive. She’s now sixteen and she still hasn’t made up her mind. Her last boyfriend was a drag queen, so I guess she’s getting the best of both worlds.