Dead Girl's Don't Dance - MaryJanice Davidson Page 0,1

save a dead chick—sort of—and shechews on me? You just wait 'til the cops get here, chickie, they'll, like, commit you or something. Ha!"

She broke away—something she hadnever done before; in fact, as early as a year ago, she wouldn't have been able to break off until her thirst had been satisfied—and said, trying not to whine, "Are you going to talk through this whole thing?"

"What, I'm supposed to sit here and think about England?"

"They usually start screaming about now, and then they faint."

"Well, forget it." He jerked a thumb at himself. "Daniel Harris don't faint, baby. No matter how much you chew on him!"

She stared at him. "Daniel Harris?"

"Yup. And I don't scream, either, except for that one time I saw a really grody spider fall into the toilet when I was taking a whiz, talk about a shocker! I didn't know pee could—y'know—crawl backup if you were surprised, but I'm here to tell you—"

"Daniel Harris, St. Olaf college?"

"Uh… yeah." He peered at her. "Do I know you, Weird Babe?"

She sighed. "I'm Andrea Mercer."

"Andrea… Andrea…"

"From Carleton College. Right across the river from St. Olaf. I transferred to Olaf my sophomore year. We were in Calc II, Psychology, and Sociology I together."

"Andrea…"

"You copied off my notes most of our senior year in college."

"Ohhhh! Andrea!"

"And," she continued, "you told me if I shaved my armpits I'd be, like, almost pretty 'n' stuff."

He snapped his fingers. "Right! Andrea! Got it!"

"Swell," she said dully. Unburied by Daniel "Big Cock" Harris, who of course didn't remember Andrea-the-Mouse. She'd chomped on him, drank his blood, and she was still only a minor annoyance in his life.

She was surprised she hadn't recognized him earlier—it had only been seven years, and he still looked much the same. Same surfer-boy, tanned, blond good looks. A little broader through the shoulders, a little longer through the legs. His faded blue eyes—the color of old denim—were still friendly, the expression still low-key. He looked exactly like what he was: a handsome, mild, life of the party fella who never ever had trouble getting a date.

She'd even asked him out once, their junior year, but…

He cleared his throat. "Uh, Andrea… the reason I didn't recognize you right away—"

"I know why," she said thinly, climbing to her feet and brushing sand off her jeans.

"—um—aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Of course I'm dead, you idiot. But that's not why you didn't recognize me."

She walked away, hearing faint sirens in the distance.

Chapter 2

"ANDREA? Andrea! Hey! Wait up!"

"What?" she growled, not turning around. A chill breeze was picking up off the lake, making her hurry. Of course, she was always cold, so what did a breeze matter? "Go away."I'm still hungry .

"So, you're dead and hanging around beaches and biting guys now? I thought you were an Economics major."

She almost laughed. Ah, the days when her biggest problem was figuring out the effect of interest rates on capital investment flows… or was it the other way around? "I was. Then I had an accident. Now I'm here."

He jogged up beside her. "Hey, listen. About before. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Sure I remember you. You were—you were really cute."

"You're an idiot," she replied. "It's all right, I'm leaving. You don't have to talk to me anymore."

"Hey, it's okay," he said, completely ignoring her broad hint. "Iwant to. So, like, what happened to you?"

She nearly tripped over her own feet. "Why in the world do you care?"

"Well… doesn't look to me like you're having much fun these days."

"What a tragedy," she mocked.

"Well… yeah."

To Daniel Harris, she realized, it probablywas . The man had always been waiting for a party to happen. At college he'd been infamous for the fact that the lights were never out in his room.

"You wouldn't believe me anyway," she said, weakening.

"Uh… you bit me, remember? And I was a lifeguard back home. You really didn't—don't—have a pulse. I mean, when you sat up I tried to fool myself like maybe I'd made a mistake, but how hard is it to check a pulse? So are you—okay, this is gonna sound really dumb—like something out of the movies—but are you—don't laugh, now—"

"Yes. I'm a vampire."

He digested that in silence. They had reached the parking lot, and she shook more sand out of her hair.

"Well, how come?"

"Howcornel It's not like being a Republican, moron. I didn't exactly have a choice."

"You want to go get a drink? Talk about it?"

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Well… not likethat," he said uneasily, fingering his