The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires(40)

In the next sandy driveway over, three little girls skipped rope, double Dutch. Patricia stood for a minute, listening to their rhyme:

Boo Daddy, Boo Daddy

In the woods

Grabbed a little boy

’Cause he taste so good

Boo Daddy, Boo Daddy

In the sheets

Sucking all your blood

’Cause it taste so sweet

She wondered where they’d learned something like that. She walked around the hood of the car and headed for Mrs. Greene’s, Kitty falling in beside her, and then she sensed movement behind them. She turned and saw a crowd of people coming their way, walking fast from the basketball courts, and before she or Kitty could move there were boys in front of them, boys behind them, boys leaning on the hood of her car, boys all around them, adopting lounging postures, fencing them in.

“What are you doing here?” one asked.

His white T-shirt was covered in random blue stripes and his hair was cut into a big wedge with straight lines shaved into one side.

“Nothing to say?” he said. “I asked you a question. What, the fuck, are you doing out here? ’Cause I don’t think you live here. I don’t think you got invited here. So what, the fuck?”

He performed for the boys around him and they made their faces hard, stepped in close, crowded Kitty and Patricia together.

“Please,” Kitty said. “We’re leaving right now.”

A few of the boys grinned and Patricia felt a flash of anger. Why was Kitty such a coward?

“Too late for that,” Wedgehead said.

“We’re visiting a friend,” Patricia said, clutching her purse tighter.

“You don’t have any friends out here, bitch!” the boy exploded, pushing his face into hers.

Patricia saw her pale, frightened face reflected twice in his sunglasses. She looked weak. Kitty was right. They never should have come out here. She’d made a terrible mistake. She pulled her neck into her shoulders and got ready to be stabbed or shoved or whatever came next.

“Edwin Miles!” a woman’s voice snapped through the sizzling air.

Everyone turned except Wedgehead, who kept his face so close to Patricia’s she could count the sparse hairs in his mustache.

“Edwin Miles,” the voice called again. This time he turned. “What are you playing at?”

Patricia turned and saw Mrs. Greene standing in the door to her house. She wore a red T-shirt and blue jeans and her arms were covered with white gauze pads.

“Who are these bitches?” the boy, Edwin Miles, called to Mrs. Greene.

“Don’t you use that language with me,” Mrs. Greene said. “I’ll talk to your mother on Sunday.”

“She don’t care,” Edwin Miles shouted back.

“You see if she doesn’t once I’m through talking to her,” Mrs. Greene said, walking toward them.

The boys faded before her, falling back in the face of her wrath. The last one standing was Edwin Miles.

“All right, all right,” he said, stepping backward. “I didn’t know they were with you, Mrs. G. You know us, we like to keep an eye on the comings and the goings.”

“I’ll comings-and-goings you,” Mrs. Greene snapped. She reached them and gave Patricia and Kitty a sudden smile. “It’s cooler in the house.”

She walked toward her house without a backward glance, and Patricia and Kitty scampered along in her wake. Behind them they heard Edwin Miles’s voice fading as he walked away with his friends.

“I’ll just leave them here with you, Mrs. G.,” he called. “It’s all good. Didn’t know you knew them, that’s all.”

The little girls started jumping rope again as they passed:

Boo Daddy, Boo Daddy

One, two, three

Sneaking in my window

And sucking on me.

Inside the house, Mrs. Greene closed the door and it took a moment for Patricia’s eyes to adjust to the cool darkness.

“I am so grateful, Mrs. Greene,” Kitty said. “I thought we were going to die. How do we get to Patricia’s car? Do we need to call someone?”

“Like who?” Mrs. Greene asked.

“The police?” Kitty suggested.

“The police?” Mrs. Greene said. “What would they do? Jesse!” she hollered. A skinny little boy with a serious face appeared in the hall door. “Get some tea for our guests.”

“Oh,” Patricia said, almost forgetting. “I brought you something.”

She held out the pecan pie.

“Jesse, put this in the refrigerator,” Mrs. Greene said.

She passed it to him and he disappeared back down the hall and Mrs. Greene gestured to the sofa. This close, Patricia could see that her knuckles bristled with stitches.

Mrs. Greene limped stiffly to a La-Z-Boy recliner that bore the imprint of her body. Patricia’s eyes had finally adjusted to the dim room and she realized it was full of Christmas. Red, green, and yellow Christmas tree lights ran around the ceiling. A large, artificial tree dominated one corner. Every lamp was made of an oversized nutcracker or a ceramic Christmas tree, and every lampshade sported a smiling Santa or a snowman. On the wall next to Patricia was a framed cross-stitch of Santa Claus holding the baby Jesus.

Patricia perched on the edge of the sofa, closest to Mrs. Greene. The bright white sterile dressings on Mrs. Greene’s arms glowed in the dim room.