I walked home after school. The car? Forget about it. I went on foot now, just like I'd done in middle school. Maybe Mom thought the car was too much of a privilege for a grounded kid, or maybe she thought I'd use it to go somewhere evil. Either way, I was getting a lot more sunshine these days than I really wanted.

When I got home, I let myself in through the front door. As I crossed the threshold, something inside me recoiled. As though the door might suddenly swing shut and hit me in the face. I stood frozen there for a moment, and then I made myself place a foot inside the door. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was violating something by walking into my own home. I realized then that there had always been a part of me that felt that way, a whisper in my mind that said I didn't belong here anymore. That same whisper made me feel like an intruder in the houses of my friends. And now I understood what that whisper was. It was the barrier that enshrined the homes of humans. It kept me outside without an invitation and made me feel like a squatter even with one.

This, of everything that had happened at Sidney's rental house, was the idea that I still didn't want to accept. Something truly fantastic had taken place this morning, and I don't mean truly awesome. I mean metaphysical. Unbelievable. Everything about this vampire curse, while unexpected and borderline ridiculous, still seemed like it might make scientific sense if only I had the knowledge and the tools to examine myself. Parva had injected something into me that---I don't know---had altered my DNA enough that I was no longer the same species. Whatever was in my coding now prevented zits and let me see like a cat and hear like a bat and pick up scent like a bloodhound. It made me faster. Stronger. Let me influence and even control my prey, maybe thanks to inhuman pheromones. And whatever fueled it came from human blood. I was making up theories in my head, and I had no way of proving if any of them were true. But all of them seemed potentially true.

Except this. I couldn't get into a house without being invited.

I'd gone into several houses since being bitten. Had I been invited into all of them? I remembered asking Emily directly if I could come in, and she'd allowed it. At Porter's house, Sid had explicitly said "come in" to me, although she called me Neo. That didn't seem to matter.

What about my own house? Mom? I feel like she herded me in. Maybe even physically pushed me.

Could this all be psychological? Maybe. What the hell did I know? Maybe it was magic. Maybe I could control Sidney because I was a psychic now. That was a better explanation than the pheromone theory, but at least I could wrap my head around the pheromone theory. The other was fantastical nonsense, fit for movies but not real life.

Mom was standing at the counter packing her meal for work when I walked into the kitchen. I greeted her and dropped my backpack on the table. Then I took off the sunglasses and put them in the front zipper pocket. That kept me from losing them. I had a habit of losing stuff, actually. Half the time I walked around in a mental fog and barely noticed when I put things down. Becoming a vampire hadn't changed that one bit. If anything, it was worse. Back when I was a human, my brain and my body were at least a little more integrated. Now I was always one or the other. Thinking human or acting vampire. There was no middle ground.

Case in point: I was so lost in thought I utterly missed the fact that Mom didn't greet me back. It wasn't until she zipped up her lunch bag and turned toward me that I noticed her eyes. They were red and swollen, as though she'd been crying.

“What's wrong?” I said.

“Why don't you tell me?” Her voice was tight. She was trying to control it. “That's the same question I've been asking you since Saturday.”

“What happened?”

“You missed school yesterday, Nathaniel.”

“I did?” I swear, I wasn't trying to lie my way out of it. I was just surprised that she was coming at me with this now. So much had happened since then that I'd forgotten.

“The school texted me,” Mom said. She picked up her phone from the counter and used the finger of her other hand to scroll. She'd never learned to do it with her thumb. “You were absent yesterday and you missed fifth period today.”

I was an idiot. Of course the school texted the parents. Except I'd never skipped school before, so it wasn't something I ever thought about.

“Do you have an explanation for any of this?” Mom said.

What could I say? She didn't want to be lied to.

Mom put her phone down on the counter and turned away from me. I wondered if she was crying again, but when she faced me again, her eyes were clear.

“You have an appointment with a counselor. It's next week after school.”

“A what?”

“He specializes in teenagers. He's supposed to be very good.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Don't use the Lord's name in vain, Nathaniel.”

She had to be kidding me. A counselor? What the hell was a counselor supposed to help me with? And why now? Why not eight years ago, after Dad left?

I said, “I don't need a counselor, Mom.”

“I'd rather hear that from him, thank you very much.”

“Is this because I missed school? I got my assignments. I'm going to turn them in.”

“So you did skip.”

“Yes, I skipped. Isn't that what the text said?”

Her eyes narrowed at my lack of respect. I didn't intend to be disrespectful, but I was trapped, and feeling trapped made me angry. I couldn't tell my mom the truth. But I couldn't stay away from the girls, either. And, deeper than that, was the way Mom's disappointment affected me. It shamed me, and I hated that.

Mom said, “Skipping school is completely unacceptable. And two days in a row? Why would you do something like that?”

“I didn't have a choice,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because you grounded me!”

[https://img.wattpad.com/b023daf0c76909314e6c58cd11fbe20829fed1ec/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f36524871576a7439314f376651413d3d2d313336383532303837392e313737393439373834323934396331383330373533393137333132372e706e67]

Her eyes widened. Maybe she didn't expect me to explode.

“I'm trying to do everything you want me to do,” I said. “I'm going to turn the work in. I'm still getting straight A's, okay? I'm trying to be responsible.”

“Responsible kids don't miss class.”

“Maybe your problem is that you still think I'm a kid.”

“I think you live in my house and use my electricity and wear the clothes I buy, yes.”

That was a cheap shot. I'd asked to get a job a long time ago and she wouldn't let me. She didn't want anything to distract from my studies, she said. But why? So I could go to college like she wanted me to? Become a doctor or whatever? What did that have to do with me?

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

I said, “You're going to be late for work.”

“I don't need advice from you about not being late, thanks.” She snatched up her purse and her lunch bag and her coat. “You will see the counselor. You've got grown-up secrets? Fine. But breaking my rules and skipping school are completely off the table. So prepare yourself. For every rule you break, that's going to be another appointment. Even if it breaks me. It'll be cheaper than bailing you out of jail.” Then she left. She slammed the door behind her, started up the car, and almost backed out without opening the garage door.

I stood in the kitchen, wanting to scream but not doing it. What the hell was happening to my life? I used to never get into fights with my mom. I was far too respectful for that. And, yes, the vampire secret was between us now, but it wasn't just that. Something inside me desperately wanted to escape. I didn't belong here, in this human domicile owned by a human who was not bonded to me. Now that I recognized the feeling, I couldn't ignore it. I wanted a place of my own, where the girls could visit without climbing trees and I could see my mother only when I felt like it.

I went to my room. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard an ominous sound coming from my bedroom. A heartbeat. I paused on the stairs and listened. Was it Parva? It didn't smell like Parva. How long had it been there? Why did I notice it right away? Must have been too distracted by the argument with Mom.

Then I caught a whiff of Emily's scent. I opened the door to my room and walked in.

Emily sat at my desk with her chemistry book and a pink binder open in front of her. She had her head propped in her hand and her elbow on the desk. Her eyelids were heavy. She must have come in via the tree. I left the window unlocked all the time now.

“I don't understand this proton thing,” she said. This was how she greeted me. I guess we weren't going to talk about the fact that she'd let herself into my room while my mom was home and was doing her homework at my desk.

I took my jacket off and hung it on the doorknob. “What proton thing? The hydrogen ion?”

“Yeah. How is it the same thing?”

We were doing acids and bases in chemistry. I said, “Because hydrogen only has one proton and one electron. So if a hydrogen atom gets ionized and loses its electron, it literally becomes just a proton. That's all it is.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That's how you can recognize an acid. It's full of free protons.”

She slammed her chemistry book shut. “It's actually annoying how smart you are.”

I was still agitated over my fight with Mom. And I wasn't quite sure how I felt about having Emily here. That's not true. I was sure. I wanted her here. All the time, I wanted her here. Even though I was angry and frustrated and embarrassed. And that was the part that confused me. It didn't bother me to let her see me this way, even though she was probably going to use it against me some day.

I paced around my room a little bit. Emily surprised me by saying, “Are you okay? I heard that stuff with your mom.”

“I'm fine.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Do you want---”

“No.” I knew what she was going to ask. I would get that from her at some point tonight, but right now I didn't want to be comforted.

What I wanted was an outlet.

I surprised myself by sitting down at my computer and opening up the text file for the game. I read the story. It was slop. Slop, actually, would have been more interesting, because slop is chunky and full of mysteries. My story was more like a bowl of room-temperature milk. It was that benign. That nonthreatening.

I had more in me than this. A lot more. So why did I insist on censoring everything? Because I didn't want Porter to know what I thought? Who the hell cared?

I did something I never thought I would do. I deleted every copy of the story, even the ones from Porter's flash drive and the cloud. Like that, the story was gone. Gone like my old life. Gone like my dad. Gone like any shred of pride I had left, or the belief that I was too moral or too polite to break rules or hurt anybody.

Then I started over. For two hours I worked on the first chapter of the story I wanted to write. It was dark and witty and uncensored and so truthful I'd catch myself sweating now and then. Once Emily peeked over my shoulder, and I let her read what was in the window. I'm sure she thought I needed a shrink, too, but I didn't care. It was so liberating not to care.

By the time I finished the first chapter, I was exhausted. I left my computer and sat down on the side of my bed. Emily was back at my desk, reading a textbook again and eating a sandwich she must have made for herself. I smelled peanut butter and jelly. I lay down and closed my eyes. Sleep hit me like this, in unexpected bursts. Usually in the afternoon, after school.

“Do you want me to leave?” Emily asked again.

I finally said what I'd been wanting to say to her since the beginning.

“I never want you to leave.”

She said, “You're okay with me doing my homework here?”

“Mm-hm.”

“What about studying and hanging out and talking to people on the phone?”

She was challenging me. I said, “Whatever.”

“What if I want to bring friends over someday? What if I want to bring a guy over?”

I hadn't really thought about it, but it didn't sound like a problem. A lot depended on where my mother was at the time and how we made it work.

I said, “That would probably be okay.”

I could feel her brace herself. It was like the bond between us crackled. She said, “What if I slept here?”

I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was humiliated, but her eyes were blazing.

I said, “You can sleep here. You can do whatever you want as long as my mom doesn't catch you.”

“Really? And you don't think that's weird?”

“Only if you do.” Nothing felt weird to me when it came to Emily and Sid. If I could put them in my pocket and carry them around with me, like tiny living comfort objects, that would be peachy.

“I don't sleep well anymore,” she said. “I wake up afraid because I don't know where you are or what you're doing.”

I understood the feeling. All the time, every moment waking or sleeping, I was aware that at least one of my girls was gone. I'd never had them in the same room with me together. Not even once. It was like a buzzing, low-level frequency that always ran right under the surface of my skin, and I hated it.

She said, “The last time I slept well was when you were in my room. It was just for a little while, but . . .” Then she caught herself being too revealing and she said, “This is your fault, anyway. You're the one who bit me.”

There were shadows under her eyes, evidence for her case. What could I say to that? What could I do? I held out a hand to her.

She drew back from the hand. She looked at me, then at my hand again. “I didn't mean I was going to sleep with you.”

I left my hand where it was, hanging in mid-air. She stared at it like it was a cobra. A cobra that she wanted to pet.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Then she swallowed and put what was left of her sandwich back on the plate. She got to her feet and walked toward me. She put her hand in mine, and then she lay down beside me. She was on her back, rigid as a board. I let go of her hand so I could put my arm around her instead. I tried to pull her close. She fought for two, three seconds, and then she yielded like melting cheese. She put her head on my chest. My hand found itself in her hair.

“This is so wrong,” she said.

She didn't have to tell me that. The thing was, I was always experiencing everything through two brains. And not the two brains you're thinking of. I had one brain that was still human, and couldn't help but see how insane this was. How ridiculously improbable it was for me to find myself on a bed with the most beautiful girl in school when, you know, I was skinny and terminally not-cool and I'd never had a girlfriend or kissed anyone and, no, I'm not counting Parva.

But the other brain, the vampire brain, was fantastically satisfied. That brain could only see how right it was to have my Emily here with me. How else could I know she was safe? What better way to get in my skin time with her than to absorb her essence while we slept?

“Did you ever do this with Sidney?” Emily asked.

“Yeah. She was unconscious, though. I don't think she remembers it.”

“Ew. Unconscious people are off-limits.”

“It was after I bit her. We were both out of it.” I had already told her the story, in most of its gruesome detail. “I wouldn't do it again. Not without asking.”

I wondered if that was true, though. It was getting more and more difficult to know what “consent” meant, as it pertained to my relationship with Emily and Sid. It's not like I asked them every time if I could bite them. Sometimes they put up a nominal fight and sometimes they didn't. I'd learned to take none of it seriously.

While talking, I had thoughtlessly taken her hand. I massaged her wrist with my thumb. I had done this before. The warmth and the feeling of her pulse were soothing. But this time I felt something new under her skin, and I lifted her hand so I could look at it more closely.

There were two gray-green lines running vertically along her wrist. I might have thought they were tattoos, except they were solid.

“What are these lines?” I asked.

Emily yawned. “Not sure. They just showed up this morning. I was going to ask my mom about them when I saw her tonight.”

“Do they hurt?” I said.

“Not really,” she said. Her voice was distant. “Just feel funny.”

Then she fell asleep. Even in the arms of Weird Nate. And if she could do it, then I could, too.

We woke up a few hours later, feeling better than we had in days. I took a little blood from her, and then I went back to working on my story. Emily went back to studying, finally refreshed enough to comprehend her chemistry. Occasionally she asked questions, and sometimes I knew the answers. It was surprisingly comfortable.

My mom pulled into the garage just before midnight. Emily packed up quickly and I walked her to the window. She put her backpack on so her hands would be free, and then she surprised me. She put her hands on my shoulders, stood up on tiptoes, and brushed her lips against my cheek.

I'm sure I looked like a giant flaming moron when she pulled away. She was certainly red. She said, “See you tomorrow,” and before I could stammer out an answer she was gone.

I stood there, frozen, listening to Emily escape my house via the tree while my mother came in through the kitchen. Eventually, I wandered away from the window and went back to my computer. I reopened the story file and sat there with my fingers poised over the keyboard.

But it was a horror story. So I had to wait until I was done smiling before I could begin to type.