Chapter 19 The Mean Girls Trope
Back at the tavern, I hesitated outside the door. Light and music spilled out onto the street as if the business was overflowing with joy and merriment. What kind of vampire volunteers for a holiday decorating committee?
Me, apparently. If I wanted my happily ever after, I needed to get happy first, and that meant making friends. I didn’t need a thirtysomething human who was suspiciously available for work on a Friday night to give me friend-making lessons. I could do this.
I pushed my way into the den of merriment. The tavern was much the same as earlier, just a slight shift in the crowd, fewer babies and more old men. The real Tiffany would recognize the women on this committee. One booth for four was crowded with six people animatedly talking over one another—
Wait, did I just hear my name?
Nope. Nope. Nope. I started to back out of the tavern as all the reasons not to socialize came back to me.
Even if I wasn’t draining humans, everything about me was wrong.
I had the wrong schedule, the wrong diet, and if I was being honest, the wrong personality.
Sure, I could talk with other people on the fringes, people who had missed social norms by a mile, but the women at the tavern, drinking mulled wine, all wrapped in cable-knit sweaters and the privilege of belonging—I couldn’t blend in with them.
One night of yearbook research wouldn’t save me.
“Tiffany, is that you?” A voice cut through the revelry. A woman with a tight ponytail and a sunny smile pushed through the crowd.
“Jessica?” I hazarded.
“Tiffany!” The woman squealed and hugged me tightly.
“It’s been forever!” With a familiarity that took me aback, she grasped my arm and led me across the dining area like we were in an Austen novel taking a turn about the room.
Our destination: a bunch of women in their late twenties, looking cozy in overstuffed chairs.
“Tiffany?” A redhead said my name as a question.
I smiled and waved, unsure of who any of them were. Damn. I should have made flash cards from the yearbook.
“You remember Stephanie, class of 2012?” Jessica said, pointing at an Asian woman.
Stephanie waved.
“And Claire. You might remember her from—” Jessica crinkled her nose adorably and turned to the redhead. “I don’t know. Were you both on basketball?”
“Nope,” I said. “I only did cheerleading and theater.” I knew that much from the yearbook.
“We weren’t in the same classes or anything, but we crossed paths a few times.” Claire gave me an intense look. “You look different. Good different. Your skin—” She shook her head. “It’s porcelain.”
I preened. Having no blood will do that for you.
“And do you have pores?” Jessica said, leaning over the table.
“Korean skincare,” I said. “It’s basically stopped the aging process.”
“That’ll do it,” Stephanie said.
“I need to know all your holy grail products yesterday,” Claire said with sudden interest. “I turned thirty and these eye bags appeared out of nowhere.”
I scanned each of their faces. Had they changed? Did they look the same? I didn’t know. I settled for “No way. You look amazing.”
“Let’s get you a drink. Wine or beer?” one of the women asked.
“Brought my own.” I pulled a coconut water out of my purse. “I’m on a juice cleanse.”
“Good for you!” Claire said sympathetically. “You’ve been through a lot.”
I smiled sadly and said, “It hasn’t been easy.”
“Ugh. I’m so sorry babe,” Claire said. She didn’t sound sorry.
“Thank you,” I said, like I believed she was genuine. “But I’m okay. LA has been good.”
“Speaking of, we are all dying to know what you’ve been up to in the big city.”
“There’s not much to tell,” I said, staying vague so I didn’t give myself away. “I’ve been trying to break into Hollywood.”
“Ooh, have you been in anything we have seen?” Jessica asked, looking excited.
“Not unless you’re into hardcore porn,” I deadpanned. Everyone blinked back in shock. “Kidding! I’m just kidding.”
“Tiffany!” one of the women exclaimed in shocked delight. “You’re so funny!”
“Nah, no porn, just a couple of commercials.” This was technically true. I had been in the background of a Plasma4Life ad. “Oh, and I played the dead girl in one those crime shows once,” I ad-libbed. “Wish there was more to tell.”
“That’s ah-mazing.” Jessica shook her head. “Just look at you! I have barely been out of Valentine.”
I waved off her statement with a half-hearted “There’s a lot to do in Valentine, right?”
Everyone erupted into laughter because I had entered my comedy era apparently.
“So, what do you all do?” I asked.
Jessica was a nurse, Stephanie was an elementary school teacher, and Claire was a clerk at the general store.
If only one of them had been a tattoo artist or perverted.
What could I talk to an elementary school teacher about?
I had two babies close to three hundred years ago, but that memory was best left buried.
“Let’s talk while we work,” Jessica said. “The gym’s not going to decorate itself.” She slung a heavy knit scarf over her shoulder.
On our way out, I fell into step with Jessica. “What exactly are we doing?”
“Dylan didn’t tell you?” she said. “We’re decorating for the SugarBoo Ball.”
Stephanie made a face of displeasure. “I’m just really struggling with the timing this year. The SugarBoo is supposed to be a Halloween thing. We normally decorate with those cute ghosts. It’s the SugarBoo, not the SugarTurkey or SugarSanta.”
Jessica flashed me a secret look and mouthed “Crazy!” while twirling her finger around her temple.
“Anyway, we’re breaking with tradition and holding the SugarBoo in December,” Jessica said matter-of-factly. “It’s when the venue was available.”
“It’s the biggest controversy to hit town in years.
Almost as bad as the time we had to change the Christmas ball to a holiday ball,” said Jessica.
“You should’ve seen the town hall debate.
I thought Mr. Jenkins was going to keel over from rage.
” I was starting to like Jessica. She had a little bit of an edge to her.
“Anyway,” Jessica continued, “we’re putting up some of Tyrone’s trees and decorating with fall colors, white fairy lights only.”
“It’s going to be a fall-to-winter to transition,” Claire added. “The maintenance staff at the school already put up the stage and runway, so it should be pretty easy.”
“Just tell me what to do,” I said.
“You’re a saint,” Stephanie said. “Though, actually, you don’t have a monopoly on good deeds anymore. We’ve got a new saint in town.”
“Who?” I said, relieved to be replaced.
“Our Christmas tree farmer, Tyrone Nicholas. He didn’t grow up with us, but you probably know him through Jeff—”
Did I? Tyrone had known who I was.
“Anyway, he’s basically perfect. Tom and Melinda have relied on him almost one hundred percent, and he does school tours at the farm for free.”
That sounded about right. How many men would stop and help a girl reload a coffin into her hearse, no questions asked?
Outside, Jessica jangled her keys and clicked a remote at an SUV. The other women followed suit.
“We only have a couple of hours to set up. The ball isn’t for a while, but tonight was the only night I could get everyone together. Holiday schedules, you know.” She shook her head as if I too had in-laws and a bevy of community events to attend. “You parked out front, too? You can follow me.”
I gestured toward the hearse with a smile.
“Whoa, that’s your car?” Stephanie asked, eyes wide.
“Yep,” I said, pulling open the door. “If you need me to haul anything, say the word.”
We entered the gym through some sort of loading dock entrance. With a heavy click, the lights came on all at once, illuminating the space. Our shoes squeaked on the gym floor as we filed in. Well, not mine. No one else had worn heels for holiday decorating.
Wide-eyed, I took in the high school Americana. A cartoon heart reminiscent of the Kool-Aid man was the school mascot. Go, hearts! Love conquers all! was painted across the side of the gym in italics, punctuated by a picture of the mascot wielding a sword.
“You remember our old cheers?” Jessica asked. Without waiting for an answer, she launched into some sort of high-energy chanting.
“Hearts, hearts, you can’t defeat!” Jessica cheered.
“OMG, yes!” Stephanie joined in. “Ready steady, we got the beat!”
Then all together, they chanted, “Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom. GOOOOOO, HEARTS!”
“Gooooo, Hearts,” I echoed a beat too late with a weak fist pump.
Claire flipped her hair and shot me a look. “Tiffany,” she said, “how could you forget that?”
I went full deer in the headlights, waiting for the truth to broadside me.
“Tiffany, are you okay?”
As they stared Mean Girls style at me, my cheer echoed off the cavernous walls.
Maybe I would sign up for that making-friends tutorial with Dr. Rosetti after all.
“So, decorating,” I said. “I can’t stay all night. I’ve got a lot of holiday baking to do, so many sugar cookies to take to the nursing home and all of that.”
“Aww, that’s so nice of you.”
“Well, you know me,” I said. “I still love feeding old people.” Was I laying it on too thick? Maybe.
“Oh, Tiff, you are such a cutup.” Claire laughed, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. I’d never been to high school, but maybe I hadn’t missed out. Mean Girls was feeling more and more like a real-life documentary.
Jessica checked a clipboard she produced from her tote. “Okay, tonight I want us to focus on decorating all the trees.”
Soon, we were busy bringing nonspecific holiday cheer to the gym.
I dragged out several tubs of décor and got to work.
While I strung lights and arranged pumpkins, I popped in an AirPod and hit Play on Heaven’s TikTok sermon of the day.
She had been by herself since I’d gone out, her first night alone as a vampire.
“Greatest of grand risings to my peoples.” Heaven’s voice chirped in my ear. “Today, and every day, I want to wish all of you and myself a happy birthday.”