been born and raised in the U.S.
"Hi!" Lena smiled. Elliot slid back into his driver's seat and headed towards where Lena assumed his house was. She was surprised to notice that it was pretty close to her own home; in easy walking distance, anyway.
He pulled in front of a fairly small but still nice-enough looking house. Actually, nice enough wasn't enough to describe it. It was pristine, like the cover of a homemaker's magazine, not a blade of grass out of place, not a single toy or bicycle by the door to even suggest a child and a teenager resided there. The paint was so perfect it almost seemed fake. Suddenly Elliot's bland car made sense; it fit the image perfectly. Lena felt a little tentative stepping onto the driveway, as if her scruffy shoes would somehow send it all crumbling down.
Turning, Lena gave a little jump; she hadn't realized Belinda was standing behind her, close enough to be pressing her nose into Lena's lower back. The child blinked up at her and then reached a tiny hand out, pressing it into Lena's ribcage.
"You hurt here," she said quietly. "And in your head. Your head and your heart have a lot of sad in them." The way she said it, so emotionlessly and yet so confidently, it sent Lena reeling backwards.
"W-what?" Lena asked, confused. Elliot, who was unlocking the front door, groaned.
"Belinda, we've talked about this. People don't like to be told things like that about themselves. It's something you need to keep to yourself."
Lena turned to hustle to Elliot's size. "What does she mean?" she asked, trying to sound causal though still feeling a tad creeped out. He sighed, holding the door open for her. The front entrance of the house was even more immaculate than the outside, if possible; every appliance was set exactly half an inch apart from the preceding one; the carpet was so white it glowed.
"Belinda… knows things," Elliot explained awkwardly. He reached down to run his fingers through his sister's corn-silk hair. "We don't really know how she knows them. But when she meets a person, looks at their face, things just enter their minds."
Lena opened her mouth to ask, how is such a thing possible? But then closed it again even as she slipped her shoes off, her yellowed socks seeming out of place on the pristine carpet. Thinking about how Leslie had nearly made her collapse just by sending out pheromones (or whatever it had been) when trying to eat her… Lena was realizing that there may be more to vampires then she had originally known. And maybe Belinda wasn't actually a vampire, but maybe Mrs. Franz's suspicions that the vampdrug hadn't completely left her system weren't entirely unfounded.
"Belinda, I'll make you a snack, and I can read to you later," Elliot told his sister, smiling, "But it's important to get our homework done. Do you need anything?"
The girl shook her head no , setting her backpack down carefully on a glass coffee table and making herself comfortable on the stiff-looking sofa in front of the television. Reaching for the remote, Lena was surprised when she flipped to a cartoon-playing channel and settled back with a grin on her face. Maybe she has her normal moments, too?
She heard a beeping noise coming from where she assumed the kitchen was, the ‘growling’ of a microwave, and then Elliot emerged with something that looked warm, cheesy and delicious. Three plates of it. Lena could feel her mouth starting to water. Elliot handed a plate of it to his sister, bidding her not to get it on the sofa, and then, carrying the other two plates, beckoned Lena follow him. Her heart began beating quickly; he didn't want her to go into his room, did he? Because Lena didn't think she could handle that.
But no, he only led her to a dining room, which oddly had doors separating itself from the rest of the house; it struck Lena as strange when she compared it to her house, which only had archways and not proper doors separating the different main rooms of the house.
Setting the
"Hi!" Lena smiled. Elliot slid back into his driver's seat and headed towards where Lena assumed his house was. She was surprised to notice that it was pretty close to her own home; in easy walking distance, anyway.
He pulled in front of a fairly small but still nice-enough looking house. Actually, nice enough wasn't enough to describe it. It was pristine, like the cover of a homemaker's magazine, not a blade of grass out of place, not a single toy or bicycle by the door to even suggest a child and a teenager resided there. The paint was so perfect it almost seemed fake. Suddenly Elliot's bland car made sense; it fit the image perfectly. Lena felt a little tentative stepping onto the driveway, as if her scruffy shoes would somehow send it all crumbling down.
Turning, Lena gave a little jump; she hadn't realized Belinda was standing behind her, close enough to be pressing her nose into Lena's lower back. The child blinked up at her and then reached a tiny hand out, pressing it into Lena's ribcage.
"You hurt here," she said quietly. "And in your head. Your head and your heart have a lot of sad in them." The way she said it, so emotionlessly and yet so confidently, it sent Lena reeling backwards.
"W-what?" Lena asked, confused. Elliot, who was unlocking the front door, groaned.
"Belinda, we've talked about this. People don't like to be told things like that about themselves. It's something you need to keep to yourself."
Lena turned to hustle to Elliot's size. "What does she mean?" she asked, trying to sound causal though still feeling a tad creeped out. He sighed, holding the door open for her. The front entrance of the house was even more immaculate than the outside, if possible; every appliance was set exactly half an inch apart from the preceding one; the carpet was so white it glowed.
"Belinda… knows things," Elliot explained awkwardly. He reached down to run his fingers through his sister's corn-silk hair. "We don't really know how she knows them. But when she meets a person, looks at their face, things just enter their minds."
Lena opened her mouth to ask, how is such a thing possible? But then closed it again even as she slipped her shoes off, her yellowed socks seeming out of place on the pristine carpet. Thinking about how Leslie had nearly made her collapse just by sending out pheromones (or whatever it had been) when trying to eat her… Lena was realizing that there may be more to vampires then she had originally known. And maybe Belinda wasn't actually a vampire, but maybe Mrs. Franz's suspicions that the vampdrug hadn't completely left her system weren't entirely unfounded.
"Belinda, I'll make you a snack, and I can read to you later," Elliot told his sister, smiling, "But it's important to get our homework done. Do you need anything?"
The girl shook her head no , setting her backpack down carefully on a glass coffee table and making herself comfortable on the stiff-looking sofa in front of the television. Reaching for the remote, Lena was surprised when she flipped to a cartoon-playing channel and settled back with a grin on her face. Maybe she has her normal moments, too?
She heard a beeping noise coming from where she assumed the kitchen was, the ‘growling’ of a microwave, and then Elliot emerged with something that looked warm, cheesy and delicious. Three plates of it. Lena could feel her mouth starting to water. Elliot handed a plate of it to his sister, bidding her not to get it on the sofa, and then, carrying the other two plates, beckoned Lena follow him. Her heart began beating quickly; he didn't want her to go into his room, did he? Because Lena didn't think she could handle that.
But no, he only led her to a dining room, which oddly had doors separating itself from the rest of the house; it struck Lena as strange when she compared it to her house, which only had archways and not proper doors separating the different main rooms of the house.
Setting the
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