Not Just Paranoid

"I'm telling you, Gracie, it's the sun!"

Gracie rolled her eyes. Opal could be so paranoid sometimes.

"I get all broken out every time I'm at the lake." Opal continued, touching her left arm gingerly. Gracie could admit that her friend was allergic to something, but the sun? No way.

"It's probably just something in the water," said Gracie.

"No," said Opal, "Because it happens when I'm at the park, too."

"Something you ate, then." Gracie shrugged.

"But it only happens when I've been in the sun!" Opal insisted.

"Coincidence," said Gracie.

"I don't think so," Opal said stubbornly.

"Fine," said Gracie, "But do you remember when you thought you had found a grave robber's backpack? And it turned out to be Steve Archney's?"

Opal blushed. "That's different. I just thought his backpack smelled like grave dirt."

"I'll pass along the compliment," laughed Gracie.

"And it had a trowel in it!" Opal said, but Gracie only laughed harder. "Anyway," Opal pressed on, "This is different. I have actual, indisputable proof."

"Show me this proof, and I'll just see if it's not disputable," Gracie said.

"The proof is my arms, Gracie!" Opal said, exasperated.

Gracie went to put her hand on Opal's shoulder, but not wanting to disturb Opal's rash, she placed it on her head instead.

"Listen," she said. "You can believe what you want to believe, but I've never heard of anyone who was allergic to the sun. It's a beautiful summer day, and I'm going for a bike ride."

It looked like Opal was going to stand her ground, but when Gracie turned for the door, she gave in, just as Gracie knew she would.

"Fine!" she said, "Maybe you're right. I'll come."

Gracie looked over her shoulder and winked. "Better grab your bike, then."

Opal broke into a grin and rolled her eyes. "Gimme a sec," she said dashing upstairs to change clothes.

"So what happened with Lorie?" asked Gracie. The two girls sat by the creek, soaking their feet and squelching mud between their toes.

"Ahh, she bumped into me at the mall," replied Opal. "I mean literally. She knocked into me on purpose and said something like, 'Oh, sorry, I thought you were a display stand! Er, how many necklaces do you have on?'"

"What did you do?"

"Well, I got right back at 'er, I said, 'Well, don't feel bad just 'cuz some of you poor girls can't afford jewelry.'" Gracie snorted.

"'Cuz that'll show her," she said sarcastically.

Opal shrugged.

There was a short silence as the two watched a toad hop past. Gracie pulled her feet back, but Opal scooted forward.

"Opal, don't touch it!" Gracie squealed, but it was too late. Opal had the toad in her hand and was caressing it. "Eww," said Gracie, "It's like, mutilated!"

"It's only missing a leg," said Opal, "Three-legged toads are a sign of good luck."

"Okay, well I think you've sufficiently ensured your good fortune, so let it go, please."

As Opal reached out to place the toad back in the muddy creekbed, Gracie noticed something.

"Hey, what happened to your hand?" she asked. Opal looked at the mark and laughed.

"A kid at the studio bit me!" she said.

"Man, you're pretty good at picking fights, aren't you?" Gracie laughed. "How old was this kid?"

"I dunno, but he was old enough to be a jerk," Opal replied. "Kept calling me names."

"Like what?"

"The usual," Opal shrugged, "Voodoo Monster. Creepy Chick. Just plain ol' 'Weirdo'. I really couldn't care less."

"The creativity and deep thinking of some people really surprise me," Gracie said.

"I know, right?" Opal said. "So I basically ignored him, but his little sister came toddling up to me, and the next thing I knew, he was all in my face like, 'Leave my sister alone!' And I told him I wasn't doing anything to his sister, and he bit me! Hard!"

Gracie laughed again, shaking her head.

"Betcha he was scared you were a witch or something." she snorted.

"You wanna know a secret?" Opal scooted a little closer to Gracie. "I like it when they call me the Voodoo Chick." She fingered her abundant necklaces: black beads, miniature bird skulls, pendants, dream catchers, and lucky charms. Gracie, observant as ever, noticed something missing in the folds of her friend's black tank top.

"Where's your cross?" she asked.

"My what?" said Opal, looking away.

"You know, the one you wear to, what was it, 'keep away evil spirits?'"

"Um, I got rid of it." Opal still wouldn't meet Gracie's eye.

"Why?" Gracie wondered. "I mean, that's fine. Most people don't wear crosses, and they're fine. But why?"

"I - I don't know. . ." said Opal.

Gracie, sensing that something was wrong, put her arm around her friend and looked her in the face.

"What is it, Opal? Was it something someone said?"

"No, I - You know I don't care about that. It's just. . ."

"Level with me, O, what happened?"

"I hate it!" Opal burst out. "I don't know why, it was never like this before!"

"Wait, what do you mean?" Gracie was confused. "It was never like what before?"

"Whenever I looked at it, I was just repulsed!" shrieked Opal. "I couldn't go near it! I couldn't stand the sight of it!"

"Calm down!" Gracie stroked Opal's back. Opal's breathing slowed. "It's okay, we'll figure this out. It's fine."

"Now I'll probably be possessed, just 'cuz I can't stand that stupid necklace." Opal buried her head in her arms.

"No one's gonna possess you, O. You'll be fine," Gracie said. "Remember the three-legged toad? Good luck, right?" Opal looked up at her best friend. She nodded uncertainly.

"Right. Good luck."

Opal leaned over the toilet in the public bathroom. Gracie knelt on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, rubbing her back. After a moment, Opal stood up.

"I'm fine." she croaked, "I'm okay." Gracie stood with her and offered her a napkin, which Opal wiped her mouth with.

"What happened?" asked Gracie as Opal rinsed out her mouth at the sink.

"I don't kno-" Opal stopped when she saw Gracie's raised eyebrows. She sighed. "I think it was garlic bread."

"The garlic bread?"

"As soon as I smelled it, I started feeling dizzy. One bite and I felt like puking my guts out." Opal washed her hands and swung the bathroom door open. The mall food court was full of people. A jumbled mess of different smells from different mini restaurants hit them as they headed back toward their friends. Gracie's mother met them on their way.

"Hey, what happened?" she asked, looking between the two girls. "I just saw you two running off."

"Opal's, er, not feeling good," Gracie explained.

"I threw up," said Opal.

"Oh!" Gracie's mom turned and walked with them. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to drive you home?"

"Sure."

"Hold on just a second while I tell the others," Gracie's mom said. She hurried off.

Gracie and Opal started for the door.

"Hey," said Opal, "Go back and eat. You don't have to come, I'm just going home."

"I'm coming along," Gracie said firmly. She smiled a little bit. Opal smiled back.

"Okay, but if I have some kind of zombie infection and I try to eat your brains, don't say I didn't warn you," Opal teased. Gracie laughed, but at that moment, they passed a mini restaurant from which wafted the overpowering smell of garlic. Gracie looked up just in time to see Opal's eyes roll up. She stumbled and nearly fell over. Gracie caught her friend and led her outside to the sidewalk. Opal bent over to get her breath back.

"Thanks," she whispered. Her hair had fallen over her face. Gracie bent down in order to be level with her. She pushed Opal's hair back to see her face, which was streaked with tears. "What's wrong with me?" Opal's voice was barely a whisper.

Gracie hugged her.

As soon as Gracie rode around the corner of the street, she knew something was wrong. All the curtains in her friend's house were drawn, and the front door hung slightly ajar. Gracie brought her bicycle to a skidding halt in Opal's driveway and ran up the steps.

"Hello?" she called. No answer.

"HELLO?" she yelled louder. Echoes. Then, from upstairs, a faint sound, like coughing.

"OPAL!" Gracie shouted, pounding up the stairs. She dashed down the hallway. All the lights in the house were off, and the whole place was deserted. Well, almost.

Gracie looked in every room until she heard it again: the soft hacking sound. She flung open the bathroom door and gasped.

Blood. Blood everywhere. The floor, the walls, the mirror, were all streaked with red as if the room itself were bleeding.

Something lay on the floor, breathing heavily.

Gracie screamed.

It looked up at her with a ghostly pale face and bared fangs.

But that wasn't what made Gracie run away. That wasn't what made her cry.

The vampire had Opal's eyes.