7.The Mullens

7. THE MULLENS

The eggshell colored dawn woke me with its gentleness. My right leg was in my left

armpit. Stuffed Dracula was tucked under my arm comfortingly. Ah, the beginning of another chapter .

I groggily sat up and involuntarily let out a bloodcurdling scream. There was a vampire in my room! And

he was screaming, too.

“What’s that on your face?” Edwart shrieked.

“What? What?” I put my fingers to my cheek and felt something sticky. “Oh, that’s just my night

moisturizing mask.” The mask made me look like a warrior, bravely fighting facial dryness.

I could see from Edwart’s expression that he was trying to understand. So I wouldn’t be embarrassed,

he bent down and took some mud from the bottom of his sneaker and smeared it on his face. He smiled

at me.So sweet , I thought. He howled furiously, gnashing his teeth in anger as he wiped the mud out of

his eyes.So romantic , I thought.

“How did you get in here?” I asked when he was done flailing.

“I told your dad we had to work on a science project,” he said.

“Now? In the morning?” “It’s one p.m., Belle.”

I remembered that last night I had slept with my head on the floor and my legs on the bed, to prepare for

my inevitable life as a bat. At about five a.m. I gave up and slept in a position more fitting to my second

career option: Vampire Yoga instructor.

I looked at him suspiciously, through my magnifying glass. “Have you been coming here in secret, night

after night, to watch me sleep?”

“No! No! Of course not! That would be so weird! I’ve only been here a few minutes.” Then he added

quietly, “You look pretty when you sleep.”

I blushed. My moisturizing mask came with beauty mark stickers, which I had arranged artfully on my

face.

“Thanks. Did I … do or say anything?” I asked. I was a known sleep-biter, which was a problem at

summer camp, and probably why I liked Edwart. I was also a known sleep-talker. I hoped I hadn’t

revealed anything embarrassing, like the fact that sometimes I fall down.

“You said my name,” he said with a little smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, it was either that or ‘Edwin,’ but why would you say ‘Edwin?’” he laughed.

Suddenly last night’s dream came to me. It was about the one person I’d like to have dinner with, living

or dead: U.S. Secretary of War under Lincoln, Edwin Stanton.

“Yeah … weird!” I said guiltily as I got out of bed and went over to the mirror above my desk. My hair

looked like a tangled, puffy mess. I decided to leave it. Very Retro 80s chic. “So, what are we going to

do today, Edwart?”

“After the science project, you mean?”

“But I thought you made that up so that you could bypass my dad’s background check into whether you

are good enough to date me?”

“Oh, he still checked me,” Edwart said with a shiver. “First he washed me vertically with one side of his

wiper. Then he dried me horizontally with the other side of his wiper.” He shrugged. “I’d do the same for

my daughter. Anyway, you’re right, there is no science project,” he continued. “But have you ever made

your own volcano? You build a mount of dirt with a hole in it and then you mix red food coloring,

vinegar, and baking soda and pour it in the hole and it actually explodes! It’s so awesome.”

We made two volcanoes, so they could race each other. Edwart kept screaming “Oh my God so cool

so cool!” even as we were gathering dirt. After we were finished cleaning up the kitchen, Edwart sat in

Jim’s chair. It was weird to see him sitting where Jim had been sitting just a few hours earlier, and where,

centuries earlier, Native American werewolves would have lived.

“So my mom really wants to meet you,” Edwart said. “We refer to you as ‘Bellerific.’ My mom and I

have tons of inside jokes like that.”

“I’d love to! But … will she like me?” I asked, just for show, because parents always like me.

“Of course!” he said. “She just wants me to be happy. She wouldn’t care if you were in a coma, or even

severely deformed.”

I thought of my tendency to sleep a lot and my right leg, which is slightly longer than my left. So, Edwart

had noticed my inadequacies.

“Yes, well, take my right leg or leave it,” I said peevishly.“Many boys at school like me.”

He looked down at the ground, down towards my freak leg. I could tell by the way he was silent and

rubbed his head that he accepted me and my leg just the way it was.

“Do you want to go over now?” he asked after a few minutes of silent contemplation, probably about

how lucky he was to be dating a normal human.

I figured that if what Edwart said about his parents was true, they wouldn’t care if I was still wearing my

onesie pajamas.

Edwart liked to drive my U-HAUL. I think this was because there was plenty of room for the large

rolling backpack he carried around with him everywhere. We drove down to the end of my street, past

Last Chance Batteries, past No Return Videos, and past This Is Absolutely The End Books. Edwart got

on the highway and drove by several exits. I started getting impatient. I was finally about to ask him if he

liked me for me or for my paper cuts when Edwart turned the truck around.

“This is such a fun car!” he exclaimed, honking at the drivers near us. Suddenly, a large Safeway truck

came up in the next lane. It blew its horn in response.

“Uh oh,” Edwart said. “He’s too big for us.” Edwart put his foot down on the gas and we zoomed back

towards Switchblade.

“That was dangerous, right?” Edwart asked me nervously. “I’m dangerous, right?”

“Of course, Edwart,” I said, thinking less about his driving and more about his teeth ripping through my

skin.

A few minutes later we pulled into the driveway of a house a couple blocks from mine, but on the

wealthy-vampire side of town.

“Well, we’re here,” Edwart said, getting out and slapping the side of the U-HAUL, “You and me,” he

said, pressing his face to the truck at the level of the lumberjack’s ankle. “We’ll beat ‘em every time.”

As soon as we were inside, Edwart’s family rushed to greet me. What seemed like thirty people circled

me, chattering away.

“Oh my god, you smell good.”

“Good smell, good smell.”

“(She really does smell good.)”

“Do you mind if I put my nose right on you? Right on your arm?”

“More smelly smelly please.”

“If I could destroy every part of my brain except the part that smelled your smell, I would do it. I would

do it in a second.”

“Let’s go, Belle,” Edwart whispered and grabbed my hand. We pushed through the ravenous vampires

and out the front door.

“So that went well!” I said outside in the U-HAUL. I sniffed my hair. Idid smell good.

“No, no, that wasn’t my house,” Edwart said, starting the truck. “I don’t know even know those people!

Sometimes I get addresses confused.”

We drove to a bigger mansion. As we walked up to its porch, I noticed that the house wasn’t cleverly

camouflaged with the woods behind it, like I first thought—it was made entirely of glass. I looked around

in shock. The walkway was glass, the mailbox was glass, and the welcome mat was glass. I decided not

to wipe my feet.

“Our house is clear. We don’t keep any secrets,” Edwart explained. “Anyone can look in at any time

and see what we’re doing.”

I imagined Edwart’s family sitting in the living room, drinking blood cocktails.

“Do your neighbors say anything?” I asked.

“Well, they keep their blinds down. They say it’s ‘indecent,’ but my dad is such a good plastic surgeon

that no one really cares.”

Edwart’s dad, Dr. Claudius Mullen, opened the door when we rang. Claudius was well respected in

Switchblade for his Angelina Jolie lips. People say he operated on himself for hours. I had to admit, the

result was stunning.

Eva Mullen, Edwart’s mom, came running up behind him.

“Edwart, my darling!” she cried.

“Mom, meet Belle.”

“Oh you’re lovely! Much lovelier than I thought. Edwart’s so weird, you know.”

Trust me. I thought.I know .

“You look like a 1920s movie star!” I blurted. Early horror films were my favorite.

“Thank you, Belle,” Dr. Mullen said. “It’s my work. The eyes, of course, are hers. The heart is a

transplant.”

Sothat’s why vampires are so beautiful. And cruel.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, imagining how good they’d all look in our wedding photos. For a minute I

felt worried thinking of the joint-family pictures, but then I thought, it won’t be a problem; I’ll ask Jim to

be the photographer.

“And that’s not all the work I’ve done on this family,” Dr. Mullen continued. “You see Edwart’s

handsome forehead?”

“Dad!”Edwart whined.

The Mullens were silent.

I suddenly felt awkward, like I didn’t know what to do with my thumbs. So I took out my phone and

texted “sup?” to Lucy. I wondered if she had my number, or if the random set of digits I guessed was her

number.

When I looked up, Eva and Claudius were also texting.

I glanced around the room for something to compliment when it came time to communicate by speaking

again. I was just about to remark on an exquisite electrical outlet in the corner, when I noticed the grand

piano.

“Nice piano,” I said, imagining how good it would look in wedding photos, provided that Jim wasn’t

lurking in the background. “Do you play?”

“Oh no,” Eva Mullen said, “But Edwart does!”

“A little,” Edwart said, sheepishly.

“Go ahead, play!” Eva said. She picked up the triangle that was lying on the piano and handed it to

Edwart. He started banging on it. It sounded like construction work very early in the morning.

“Whoops. I messed up. Let me start over,” he said.

He started banging again.

“Wait. Uh. I haven’t practiced in a while. Let me start over.”

Edwart continued to bang the triangle. Eva closed her eyes and raised her arms, swaying rhythmically to

Edwart’s music. Edwart held the triangle up high, in what appeared to be a grand finish, but then he

brought it down hard, hitting the top of the piano. He continued to bang the piano, putting the entire force

of his slim body into each smash. The piano shook. The room vibrated.

When he was finished I subtly removed my hands from my ears.

“I wrote that for you,” Edwart murmured, drawing me close. “It’s called Belle’s Lullaby.”

“I’ll listen to it every night!” I said. With the sound turned all the way down, it would be lovely. This was

the third lullaby that had been written for me, counting the one by Carter Burwell.

After dinner, Edwart took me upstairs to see his room. At the top of the stairs was a giant wooden

cross.

“Ironic, huh?” Edwart said.

“Why?” I asked with trepidation, imagining that, at any second, Edwart would turn into dust, which I

would then sweep up and disperse over my furniture so he would always be with me.

“Because we’re Jewish, of course—nonpracticing.”

Three of the four walls (the fourth was glass) in Edwart’s room were covered with CDs. Rows and rows

of CDs, and I didn’t recognize a single one.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, thinking I saw one I knew. “No, no, not it.”

I kept walking.

“Oh here’s—no.”

I turned to the next wall.

“Wait! No …”

I figured I should read a couple labels, instead of only look at side-album art. That’s when I realized they

were all recordings of Edwart’s music—triangle, and some recorder.

“Eva sings on my CDs,” he said with a smile. “Wanna hear? C’mon, we can dance!”

“No!” I shouted. “I will NOT dance.”

Edwart looked frightened. Probably because the last time I danced, I caused a fire in the cafeteria. Soon

the whole city had erupted into riots—few could handle the radical illusion of my moonwalking feet. Half

believed I was a witch.

“Not yet, at least,” I added. Soon my time would come. The revolution could wait.

“Okay, well, let’s go into my dad’s study. I’ll tell you the story of how he became a plastic surgeon. It

involves hideously deformed creatures!”

Edwart showed me the “before” and “after” photos of Dr. Mullen’s patients. I assumed the “before”

pictures were taken before he had bitten them, and the “after” pictures were vampire pictures. The

vampires had such straight noses, nice breasts, and expressionless faces. And they were all rich!

“So, how do you make an ‘appointment’ with Dr. Mullen?”

“Why? You’re beautiful, Belle.”

“Yes, yes,” I said quickly. It was just like Edwart to not want me to go through the pain of tooth

transformation. It was absurd; when my wisdom teeth grew in, it didn’t hurt at all!

“No,” he said sternly. “You shouldn’t see him.”

From Edwart’s serious expression, I could tell what he was contemplating: should he do it himself and,

more specifically, should he be chewing gum when he bit me in case he had bad breath. He was probably

wondering if he should spit the gum out first, or keep it in his mouth but kind of under his tongue so I

wouldn’t notice. He was probably wondering if spearmint and blood tasted okay together.

“Enough! Enough!” I said to interrupt his hypothetical thoughts. “Let’s just go back to my house, okay?”

Maybe it would be easier for him to bite me in a different setting. The kitchen, perhaps. With the

aromatic scent of squirrel meat sizzling in the microwave and the hunger-inducing soundtrack of scraping

cutlery.

“Yeah, okay. Can I drop you off a little far away though? I’d rather not see your dad again. I haven’t

thought of any new conversation topics since last time. It won’t come off as natural unless I videotape

myself saying them first.”

I froze.Jim . I had forgotten about that complication. My dad would never let Edwart bite me unless he

planned to share my blood with Claudius and Eva. Jim lived by a categorical set of ethics. Edwart would

have to bite me before I got home.

“How about we walk back?Through the cemetery?” One thing my mom had taught me is that it’s

difficult to refuse requests made in italics. That’s how she’d persuade me to buy rainbow-colored cereal,

week after week.

“Okay,” he said.

“Wait, before we go … Just bite this. For practice.” I outstretched my pallid white arms to him, my

hands together, gently cupping a bright red apple that I had swiped from the fake kitchen downstairs.

Edwart’s hand was steady as he took the tempting fruit. As his mouth opened, I saw his iridescent teeth sparkle. He slowly brought the fruit to his parted lips, beads of saliva forming at the corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes. I opened my heart.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, looking at the still intact fruit and then at my still unpunctured head that rested atop

my still unpunctured neck.

“It’s plastic!” I guffawed, snatching it back. I was nearly crying at the hilarious joke crafted by my

superior sense of humor.

Edwart placed the apple back in a basket of fake fruit, next to a vase of fake flowers, next to the plate

of likely fake bread.

I looked at him lovingly while I attached a small target to my neck.Would he bite when it mattered? I

wondered.Could he bite a moving target? What about a moving target fifty yards away with a

wind speed of thrity-five mph? We left the house and started walking towards the cemetery. If the

desires of my heart and the predictions of my pedometer were correct, I was only 952 steps away from

becoming a blood-sucker.