Glass Houses

Claire watched the clock - some old-style wall clock, with hands - crawl slowly up to, and past, eleven o'clock. Professor Hamms is starting the lecture, she thought, and felt a nauseating twist in her stomach.

This was the second day in a row she'd missed school. In her whole life she'd never missed two days of school back-to-back. Sure, she'd read the textbook already - twice - but lectures were important. That was how you found out the good stuff, especially in classes like physics, where they did practical demonstrations. Lectures were the fun part.

It was Thursday. That meant she had a lab class later, too. You couldn't make up lab class, no matter how good your excuse.

She sighed, forced herself to look away from the time, and opened up her Calc II book - she'd tested out of Calc I, could have tested out of Calc II, but she'd thought maybe she might learn something new about solving linear inequalities, which had always been a problem for her.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shane. He was on the stairs, staring at her. She hadn't heard him coming, but that was probably because he was barefoot. His hair was a mess, too. Maybe he'd been asleep.

"Studying," she said.

"Huh," he said, like he'd never actually seen it done before. "Interesting." He vaulted over the railing three steps from the bottom and flopped down on the leather couch next to her, flicking the TV on with the remote next to him, then changing inputs. "This going to bother you?"

"No," she said politely. It was a lie, but she wasn't quite ready to be, you know, blunt. It was her first day.

"Great. Want to take a break?"

"A break?"

"That's when you stop studying" - he tilted his head to the side to look at the book - "okay, whatever the hell that is, and actually do something fun. It's a custom where I come from." He dumped something in the center of her open book with a plastic thump. She flinched and picked up the wireless game controller with two fingers. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me you've never played a video game."

Truthfully, she had. Once. She hadn't liked it very much. He must have read that in her expression, because he shook his head. "This is just sad. Now you have to take a break. Okay, you've got a choice: horror, action, driving, or war."

She blurted, "Those are my choices?"

He looked offended. "What, you want girl games? Not in my house. Never mind, I'll pick for you. Here.

First-person shooter." He yanked a box from a stack next to the couch and loaded a disc into the machine. "Easy. All you have to do is pull the trigger. Trust me. Nothing like a little virtual violence to make you feel better."

"You're crazy."

"Hey, prove me wrong. Unless you think you can't." He didn't look at her as he said it, but she felt it sting, anyway. "Maybe you're just not up to it."

She shut her Calc II book, picked up the controller, and watched the colorful graphics load up on the screen. "Show me what to do."

He smiled slowly. "Point. Shoot. Try not to get in my way."

He was right. She'd always thought it was kind of creepy, hanging out in front of a TV and killing virtual monsters, but damn if it wasn't...fun. Before too long, she was flinching when things lunged out of the corners of the screen, and whooping just like Shane when some monster got put down for the count.

When it ended for her, and the screen suddenly showed a snarling zombie face and splashes of red, she felt it like an ice cube down her back.

"Oops," Shane said, and kept on firing. "Sorry. Some days you're the zombie, some days you're the meal. Good try, kiddo."

She put the controller on the couch cushions, and watched him play for a while. "Shane?" she finally asked.

"Hang on - damn, that was close. What?"

"How did you get on Monica's - "

"Shit list?" he supplied, and drilled a few dozen bullets into a lunging zombie in a prom dress. "You don't have to do much, just not crawl on your belly every time she walks in a room." Which, she noticed, wasn't exactly an answer. Exactly. "What'd you do?"

"I, uh...I made her look stupid."

He hit some control and froze the game in mid-scream, and turned to look at her. "You what?"

"Well, she said this thing about World War II being about the Chinese, and - "

Shane laughed. He had a good laugh, loud and full of raw energy, and she smiled nervously in return.

"You're feistier than you look, C. Good one." He held up a hand. She awkwardly smacked it. "Oh, man, that's sadder than the video game thing. Again."

Five hand smacks later, she had mastered the high five to his satisfaction, and he unfroze the video game.

"Shane?" she asked.

This time, he sighed. "Yeah?"

"Sorry, but - about your sister - "

Silence. He didn't look at her, didn't give any indication he'd heard a word. He just kept on killing things.

He was good at it.

Claire's nerve failed. She went back to her textbook. It didn't seem quite as exciting, somehow. After half an hour, she bagged it, stood, stretched, and asked, "When does Michael get up?"

"When he wants to." Shane shrugged. "Why?" He made a face and narrowly avoided getting his arm clawed off on-screen.

"I - I figured I might go back to the dorm and get my things."

He hit a button, and the screen paused in midshot again. "What?" He gave her his full attention, which made her heart stutter, then pound harder. Guys like Shane did not give mousy little bookworms like her their full attention. Not like that.

"My stuff. From my dorm room."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. Did you miss the part where the cops are looking for you?"

"Well, if I check in," she said reasonably, "I won't be missing anymore. I can say I slept over somewhere. Then they'll stop looking for me."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"No, it isn't. If they think I'm back in the dorm, they'll leave me to Monica, right? It could be a few days before she figures out I'm not coming back. She could forget about me by then."

"Claire - " He frowned at her for a second or two, then shook his head. "No way are you going over there by yourself."

"But - they don't know where I am. If you go with me, they'll know."

"And if you don't come back from the dorm, I'm the one who has to explain to Michael how I let you go off and get yourself killed like a dumbass. First rule of horror movies, C. - never split up."

"I can't just hide here. I have classes!"

"Drop 'em."

"No way!" The whole thought horrified her. Nearly as much as failing them.

"Claire! Maybe you're not getting this, but you're in trouble! Monica wasn't kidding when she pushed you down the stairs. That was light exercise for her. Next time, she might actually get mad."

She stood up and hoisted her backpack. "I'm going."

"Then you're stupid. Can't save an idiot," Shane said flatly, and turned back to his game. He didn't look at her again as he started working the controls, firing with a vengeance. "Don't tell them where you were last night. We don't need the hassle."

Claire set her jaw angrily, chewed up some words, and swallowed them. Then she went into the kitchen to grab some trash bags. As she was stuffing them into her backpack, she heard the front door open and close.

"A plague upon all our houses!" Eve yelled, and Claire heard the silver jingle of her keys hitting the hall table. "Anybody alive in here?"

"Yes!" Shane snapped. He sounded as mad as Claire felt.

"Damn," Eve replied cheerfully. "I was so hoping."

Claire came out of the kitchen and met Eve on her way up the hall. She was in plaid today - a red and black tartan skirt, black fishnet hose, clunky patent leather shoes with skulls on the toes, a white men's shirt, suspenders. And a floor-length black leather coat. Her hair was up in two pigtails, fastened with skull-themed bands. She smelled like...coffee. Fresh ground. There were some brown splatters on her shirtfront.

"Oh, hey, Claire," she said, and blinked. "Where are you going?"

"Funeral," Shane said. On-screen, a zombie shrieked and died gruesomely.

"Yeah? Cool! Whose?"

"Hers." Shane said.

Eve's eyes widened. "Claire - you're going back?"

"Just for some of my stuff. I figure if I show up every couple of days, let people see me, they'll think I still live there...."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, bad idea. Bad. No cookie. You can't go back. Not by yourself."

"Why not?"

"They're looking for you!"

Shane put the game on pause again. "You think I didn't already tell her that? She's not listening."

"And you were going to let her just go?"

"I'm not her mom."

"How about just her friend?"

He gave her a look that pretty clearly said, Shut up. Eve glared back, then looked at Claire. "Seriously.

You can't just - it's dangerous. You have no idea. If Monica's really gone to her Patron and tagged you, you can't just, you know, wander around."

"I'm not wandering," Claire pointed out. "I'm going to my dorm, picking up some clothes, going to class, and coming home."

"Going to class?" Eve made helpless little flapping motions with her black-fingernailed hands. "No no no!

No class, are you kidding?"

Shane raised his arm. "Hello? Pointed it out already."

"Whatever," Claire said, and stepped around Eve to walk down the hall to the front door. She heard Shane and Eve whispering fiercely behind her, but didn't wait.

If she waited, she was going to lose her nerve.

It was only a little after noon. Plenty of time to get to school, do the rest of her classes, stuff some clothes in a garbage bag, say enough hellos to make everything okay, and get home before dark. And it was after dark that was dangerous, right? If they were serious about the vampire thing.

Which she was starting to believe, just a teeny little bit.

She opened the front door, stepped out, closed it, and walked out onto the porch. The air smelled sharp and crisp with heat. Eve must have been cooking in that coat; there were ripples of hot air rising up from the concrete sidewalk, and the sun was a pale white dot in a washed-denim sky.

She was halfway to the sidewalk, where Eve's big car lurked, when the door slammed behind her.

"Wait!" Eve blurted, and came hurrying after with the leather coat flapping in the hot wind. "I can't let you do this."

Claire kept walking. The sun burned on the sore spot on her head, and on her bruises. Her ankle was still sore, but not enough to bother her that much. She'd just have to be careful.

Eve darted around her to face her, then danced backward when Claire kept walking. "Seriously. This is dumb, Claire, and you don't strike me as somebody with a death wish. I mean, I have a death wish - it takes one to know one - okay, stop! Just stop!" She put out a hand, palm out, and Claire stopped short just a few inches away. "You're going. I get that. At least let me drive you. You shouldn't be walking.

This way I can call Shane if - if anything happens. And at least you'll have somebody standing by."

"I don't want to get you guys into any trouble." Michael had been pretty specific about that.

"That's why Shane's not coming. He's - well, he attracts trouble like TV screens attract dust. Besides, it's better not to put him anywhere near Monica. Bad things happen." Eve unlocked the car doors. "You have to call shotgun."

"What?"

"You have to call shotgun to get the passenger seat."

"But nobody else is - "

"I'm just telling you, get used to the idea, because if Shane was here? He'd already have it and you'd be in the back."

"Um..." Claire felt stupid even trying to say it. "Shotgun?"

"Keep practicing. Got to be fast on the trigger around here."

The car had slick vinyl seats, cracked and peeling, and aftermarket seat belts that didn't feel any too safe.

Claire tried not to slide around on the upholstery too much as the big car jolted down the narrow, bumpy road. The shops looked as dim and uninviting as Claire remembered, and the pedestrians just as hunched in on themselves.

"Eve?" she asked. "Why do people stay here? Why don't they leave? If, you know...vampires."

"Good question," Eve said. "People are funny that way. Adults, anyway. Kids pick up and leave all the time, but adults get all bogged down. Houses. Cars. Jobs. Kids. Once you have stuff, it's easy enough for the vamps to keep you on a leash. It takes a lot to make people just leave everything behind and run.

Especially when they know they might not live long if they do. Oh crap, get down!"

Claire unhooked her seat belt and slithered down into the dark space under the dash. She didn't hesitate, because Eve hadn't been kidding - that had been pure panic in her voice. "What is it?" She barely dared to whisper.

"Cop car," Eve said, and didn't move her lips. "Coming right toward us. Stay down."

She did. Eve nervously tapped fingernails on the hard plastic steering wheel, and then let out a sigh.

"Okay, he went past. Just stay down, though. He might come back."

Claire did, bracing herself against the bumps in the road as Eve turned toward the campus. Another minute or two passed before Eve gave her the all clear, and she flopped back into the seat and strapped in.

"That was close," Eve said.

"What if they'd seen me?"

"Well, for starters, they'd have hauled me in to the station for interfering, confiscated my car...." Eve patted the steering wheel apologetically. "And you'd have just...disappeared."

"But - "

"Trust me. They're not exactly amateurs around here at making that happen. So let's just get this done and hope like hell your plan works, okay?"

Eve steered slowly through crowds of lunchtime students walking across the streets, hit the turnaround, and followed Claire's pointed directions toward the dorm.

Howard Hall didn't look any prettier today than it had yesterday. The parking lot was only half-full, and Eve cruised the big Caddy into a parking space near the back. She clicked off the ignition and squinted at the sunlight glaring off the hood. "Right," she said. "You go in, get your stuff, be back here in fifteen minutes, or I start launching Operation Get Claire."

Claire nodded. She wasn't feeling so good about this idea, now that she was staring at the door's entrance.

"Here." Eve was holding something out. A cell phone, thin and sleek. "Shane's on speed dial - just hit star two. And remember, fifteen minutes, and then I freak out and start acting like your mom. Okay?"

Claire took the phone and slipped it in her pocket. "Be right back."

She hoped she didn't sound scared. Not too scared, anyway. There was something about having friends - even brand-new ones - that helped keep the tremors out of her voice, and shakes out of her hands. I'm not alone. I have backup. It was kind of a new sensation. Kind of nice, too.

She got out of the car, waved awkwardly to Eve, who waved in reply, and turned to walk back into hell.