Ninth Grade Slays by Heather Brewer

to me. You’re the first girl I’ve ever asked out. I guess I didn’t know the rules as well as I should have.” He swallowed hard and ran his tongue over his incisors. How could she like him? He was such a freak. Not to mention dangerous. Nelly had always said that women like a dangerous man. Was that it? On some level, could she detect the danger of him, and that’s what she found so appealing? Or maybe, Vlad thought, it was nothing at all. “Maybe it was smart, asking Joss to the dance instead of me. But one thing’s for sure . . . Chelsea’s wrong. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
    After a pause, she gestured with a bent finger for Vlad to come closer. Vlad booked it up the stairs and nearly fell. Twice.
    She laughed and brushed some snow from his blushing cheek.
    Her fingers against his skin were all he needed to label this evening well spent, but then Meredith leaned closer and said, “You’re sweet, Vlad.”
    He was going to say that she was sweet, too, and he meant it when he’d called her pretty, that he had wanted to be the one to take her to the Snow Ball, but he’d been too scared that she’d say no. But there was no time. Meredith pressed her lips to his.
    A moment that probably only lasted a total of two seconds stretched on into eternity in Vlad’s mind. His heart had continued its journey north and slid out his ear—he was pretty sure it was now floating several feet above their heads. Just like that, the cold was gone. Meredith Brookstone had kissed him, and the world was right again.
    She walked up the steps and pulled the door open. Vlad saw her smile in his direction before the doors squeaked closed. He reached up and brushed his lips with his finger-tips. His whispered words were a gray cloud in the cold air. “Thank you.”
    After several minutes spent in front of the high school, staring at the doors in blissful contemplation, Vlad turned and started home. He was halfway there when he realized that Meredith hadn’t returned his jacket.
    Shivering, Vlad quickened his pace and squinted into the blowing snow. By the time he reached his house, his fingers had numbed, and his arms felt frozen to his sides. But his lips were still warm from Meredith’s kiss.
    He was crossing the street when he noticed a man standing on the corner, watching the house.
    Vlad’s heart shot back into his body and grabbed onto his ribs for support.
    The slayer.
    Vlad bolted across the street, toward the house. In a blink, he had the Lucis out of his jeans pocket and his thumb poised over the end—he wasn’t sure what good it would do him against a human, but it was all he had. He hurried to get inside, both to protect Nelly from a madman and to get warm before he could formulate a plan. Maybe they could hide out in Stokerton for a while. Or, considering how unpopular Vlad probably was with Elysia for blowing a hole through their president last year, maybe not. He opened the gate and rushed toward the house but was stopped by a dark figure that entered his path. Vlad swore under his breath and pointed the Lucis at the slayer, but a strong hand gripped his wrist and pointed it into the distance. He looked up at the slayer’s face, and his eyes widened in surprise.
    â€œI’m glad to see you taking precautions, Vladimir. It’s good to see you again.” Otis’s entire face smiled. His eyes, lips, cheeks, even his chin seemed to have a pleasant glow. He stepped forward and grabbed a stunned Vlad into a tight hug. When they pulled apart, Vlad thought he caught a glimmer of relief in his uncle’s eyes . . . until Otis smirked with bemusement at Vlad’s lips.
    Vlad rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. If Meredith had left glittered lip gloss on him, it was better that Otis saw it than Nelly. The last thing he needed was to be grounded for making out with a girl (not that he and Meredith were