Dance with a Vampire (Vampire Kisses 4)

"Hello, Alexander," he said, shaking my boyfriend's hand as if they were football players at a coin toss.

"Hi, Mr. Madison," Alexander managed to say.

"Call me Paul," my dad said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Okay...Paul," Alexander mumbled awkwardly.

"Hi, sweetheart," my dad said, hugging me, then greeted my mom with a kiss on the cheek.

"Your table is ready, Mr. Madison," an �ber-tan college-aged hostess said, holding menus in the shape of cricket bats. For a moment, I paused. I was proud to have my hippie-turned- conservative parents embrace Alexander's and my unconventional ways. Maybe this meant my mom was finally ready to buy me black fishnet stockings and torn mesh tops instead of J.Crew sweaters. My dad might invite Alexander and me to a Nightshade concert instead of a game of tennis. But they were a long way off from really accepting the situation. I was dying to tell them our secret-- that they were about to have dinner with a vampire!

The conservative patrons with their perfect haircuts and impeccably groomed children gazed at us as if Alexander and I were Swamp Thing 1 and Swamp Thing 2. I could see the horror in their crystal blue eyes as they prayed that their coiffed kids wouldn't grow up and put purple streaks in their blond hair.

I was hoping for a quiet booth in the corner, away from gossipmongers and gawkers--a place from which I could easily sneak out of the Cricket Club.

Instead, the hostess showed us to a table in the center of the restaurant.

We started to sit down, and my ultrapale boyfriend politely held out my chair for me. My dad quickly rose and followed Alexander's gentlemanly example for my surprised mother.

"The four of us should eat out more often," my mom said as we settled in. "Alexander brings out the best in your father."

Alexander and I were on display, as if we were in the spotlight on a Broadway stage. The soft candlelight couldn't mask the occasional lingering gaze or whispers from the other pubsters.

However, I had other things on my mind. Aside from worrying about being an outcast, I had to figure out how Alexander and I were going to get to the library before Valentine did.

Or maybe we were already too late. I imagined that, between the stacks of physics and calculus books, Valentine could be gnashing his fangs into my brother's neck. But I had to remain positive. It wasn't likely Valentine would risk being easily spotted. Or would he?

"This is quite a pleasure," my father said genuinely. "Order anything you like. Your mother's paying," he teased.

Just then a slight woman in a black DKNY pantsuit came over and stood beside our table. She had Trevor Mitchell's face. It was his mother.

"Hi, Sarah. Hi, Paul," Mrs. Mitchell said. Her smile stretched so wide that her pink lipstick started to crack.

Mrs. Mitchell studied Alexander, then me, mentally taking notes of anything she could report to her tennis friends.

"This is a coincidence seeing you here," my mother said.

"Or fate," Mrs. Mitchell corrected as she gazed at my boyfriend.

"Oh...you know Alexander Sterling," my mom began.

"No, I've seen him about town, but I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him face-to-face."

Mrs. Mitchell extended her thin, flawless hand, complete with a French manicure and flaunting more dazzling jewelry than a saleswoman on QVC.

Alexander quickly reached his own hand to hers. I felt like he was shaking the hand of the Wicked Witch of the West--without the green skin.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you out in daylight," she stated flatly.

When Alexander and his family moved to Dullsville, Trevor had begun the rumor that the Sterlings were vampires, fueled by Mrs. Mitchell's remarks. I didn't want to give my nemesis's mother any more ammunition for her gossipmongering. Apparently, neither did my mother.

"Alexander's homeschooled," my mother announced.

You go, Sarah Madison, I thought to myself.

"Trevor was seeing a girl from Romania," Mrs. Mitchell said, then turned to Alexander. "I believe she was a friend of yours."

Alexander shrugged his shoulders. "We lived in the same town as the Maxwells, but we didn't see one another much."

"Interesting," Mrs. Mitchell retorted. "Anyway, she seems to have suddenly disappeared."

Then Mrs. Mitchell glared at me and raised one brown-pencil- drawn eyebrow, as if I'd had something to do with Luna's departure-- which I did.

"Well, it was great seeing you," my dad interjected, forcing an end to the horribly awkward conversation.

"Of course. Mr. Mitchell will be arriving soon and I must get back to my table before they take it away. It was a delight to see you all," she said, and headed back to her booth.

"Thank you," I mouthed to my father.

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief, for different reasons, as we placed our blue linen napkins on our laps.

As we perused the menus, I racked my brain for a plan.

Just then a bearded waiter came over, recited the specials with a fake English accent, and dashed off with our drink orders.

"Don't be shy, Alexander," my mother began. "Order whatever you like. They're known for their fish and chips and bangers and mash." "Alexander loves steak," I suggested.

"Then order the steak...This is great, isn't it? We really haven't had a chance to talk. Either you two are heading out for the night or we're surrounded by other parents at parties. It's great to have the chance for a private conversation."

"So what sports are you into?" my dad asked. "Football or basketball?"

I rolled my eyes. "Alexander's an artist, Dad. He's not into sports."

"Oh...," my dad said, fidgeting in his seat, dumbfounded as to how he would communicate with another male now that the subject of athletics was off the table. "Uh...that's okay," he stammered. "Raven's mother used to draw sketches when we first dated."

"I didn't know that," I said.

"What do you draw?" Alexander asked eagerly.

"Oh, that was ages ago. I haven't touched a sketchbook in years. What is your medium?" she asked.

"Oil paint."

"What is your specialty?" my mom inquired.

"Portraits. Family. Memories," Alexander responded mysteriously.

"Vampires," I said proudly.

My parents paused. "I see you have a lot in common," my dad commented.

"Raven's exams are coming up," my mom began, fiddling with her silver bracelet. "She said you were already taking your homeschool exams?" "Yes. I've completed them."