Like an uninspired artist's brushstroke across a landscape that screams of boredom and unoriginality, so is the typical American strip mall. Dullsville's was no exception, inhabited by an overpriced furniture showroom, a swank shoe outlet, a scrapbooking store, and the same women's clothing shops that populated every other strip mall. Scattered in the middle of the parking lot full of SUVs were several chain restaurants with insufferably long waiting lists, buzzing pagers, and portions the size of Montana.

The Cricket Club, an English pub on steroids, specialized in food and beverages from across the pond. On the dark, overly shellacked wooden walls hung framed pictures of vintage cricket matches and other memorabilia, including authentic jerseys, scorecards, and trophies.

Alexander and I entered the restaurant dressed as usual--or, in our case, unusual--me in my combat boots, pleated rayon skirt, and tri-layered Morbid Monkey tank tops, and Alexander in studded black cargo pants and a Mindfreak T-shirt. Naturally, we got stares from the preppy patrons, as if we had arrived at a cocktail party without an invitation.

My dad was standing at the bar in a white oxford shirt and khakis, his tie loosened, with a soda in one hand. He closed out his tab and came over to us.

"Hello, Alexander," he said, shaking my boyfriend's hand as if they were football players at a coin toss.

"Hi, Mr. Madison," Alexander managed to say.

"Call me Paul," my dad said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Okay...Paul," Alexander mumbled awkwardly.

"Hi, sweetheart," my dad said, hugging me, then greeted my mom with a kiss on the cheek.

"Your table is ready, Mr. Madison," an �ber-tan college-aged hostess said, holding menus in the shape of cricket bats. For a moment, I paused. I was proud to have my hippie-turned- conservative parents embrace Alexander's and my unconventional ways. Maybe this meant my mom was finally ready to buy me black fishnet stockings and torn mesh tops instead of J.Crew sweaters. My dad might invite Alexander and me to a Nightshade concert instead of a game of tennis. But they were a long way off from really accepting the situation. I was dying to tell them our secret-- that they were about to have dinner with a vampire!

The conservative patrons with their perfect haircuts and impeccably groomed children gazed at us as if Alexander and I were Swamp Thing 1 and Swamp Thing 2. I could see the horror in their crystal blue eyes as they prayed that their coiffed kids wouldn't grow up and put purple streaks in their blond hair.

I was hoping for a quiet booth in the corner, away from gossipmongers and gawkers--a place from which I could easily sneak out of the Cricket Club.

Instead, the hostess showed us to a table in the center of the restaurant.

We started to sit down, and my ultrapale boyfriend politely held out my chair for me. My dad quickly rose and followed Alexander's gentlemanly example for my surprised mother.

"The four of us should eat out more often," my mom said as we settled in. "Alexander brings out the best in your father."

Alexander and I were on display, as if we were in the spotlight on a Broadway stage. The soft candlelight couldn't mask the occasional lingering gaze or whispers from the other pubsters.

However, I had other things on my mind. Aside from worrying about being an outcast, I had to figure out how Alexander and I were going to get to the library before Valentine did.

Or maybe we were already too late. I imagined that, between the stacks of physics and calculus books, Valentine could be gnashing his fangs into my brother's neck. But I had to remain positive. It wasn't likely Valentine would risk being easily spotted. Or would he?

"This is quite a pleasure," my father said genuinely. "Order anything you like. Your mother's paying," he teased.

Just then a slight woman in a black DKNY pantsuit came over and stood beside our table. She had Trevor Mitchell's face. It was his mother.

"Hi, Sarah. Hi, Paul," Mrs. Mitchell said. Her smile stretched so wide that her pink lipstick started to crack.

Mrs. Mitchell studied Alexander, then me, mentally taking notes of anything she could report to her tennis friends.

"This is a coincidence seeing you here," my mother said.

"Or fate," Mrs. Mitchell corrected as she gazed at my boyfriend.

"Oh...you know Alexander Sterling," my mom began.

"No, I've seen him about town, but I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him face-to-face."

Mrs. Mitchell extended her thin, flawless hand, complete with a French manicure and flaunting more dazzling jewelry than a saleswoman on QVC.

Alexander quickly reached his own hand to hers. I felt like he was shaking the hand of the Wicked Witch of the West--without the green skin.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you out in daylight," she stated flatly.

When Alexander and his family moved to Dullsville, Trevor had begun the rumor that the Sterlings were vampires, fueled by Mrs. Mitchell's remarks. I didn't want to give my nemesis's mother any more ammunition for her gossipmongering. Apparently, neither did my mother.

"Alexander's homeschooled," my mother announced.

You go, Sarah Madison, I thought to myself.

"Trevor was seeing a girl from Romania," Mrs. Mitchell said, then turned to Alexander. "I believe she was a friend of yours."

Alexander shrugged his shoulders. "We lived in the same town as the Maxwells, but we didn't see one another much."

"Interesting," Mrs. Mitchell retorted. "Anyway, she seems to have suddenly disappeared."

Then Mrs. Mitchell glared at me and raised one brown-pencil- drawn eyebrow, as if I'd had something to do with Luna's departure-- which I did.

"Well, it was great seeing you," my dad interjected, forcing an end to the horribly awkward conversation.

"Of course. Mr. Mitchell will be arriving soon and I must get back to my table before they take it away. It was a delight to see you all," she said, and headed back to her booth.

"Thank you," I mouthed to my father.

We all breathed a collective sigh of relief, for different reasons, as we placed our blue linen napkins on our laps.

As we perused the menus, I racked my brain for a plan.

Just then a bearded waiter came over, recited the specials with a fake English accent, and dashed off with our drink orders.

"Don't be shy, Alexander," my mother began. "Order whatever you like. They're known for their fish and chips and bangers and mash." "Alexander loves steak," I suggested.

"Then order the steak...This is great, isn't it? We really haven't had a chance to talk. Either you two are heading out for the night or we're surrounded by other parents at parties. It's great to have the chance for a private conversation."

"So what sports are you into?" my dad asked. "Football or basketball?"

I rolled my eyes. "Alexander's an artist, Dad. He's not into sports."

"Oh...," my dad said, fidgeting in his seat, dumbfounded as to how he would communicate with another male now that the subject of athletics was off the table. "Uh...that's okay," he stammered. "Raven's mother used to draw sketches when we first dated."

"I didn't know that," I said.

"What do you draw?" Alexander asked eagerly.

"Oh, that was ages ago. I haven't touched a sketchbook in years. What is your medium?" she asked.

"Oil paint."

"What is your specialty?" my mom inquired.

"Portraits. Family. Memories," Alexander responded mysteriously.

"Vampires," I said proudly.

My parents paused. "I see you have a lot in common," my dad commented.

"Raven's exams are coming up," my mom began, fiddling with her silver bracelet. "She said you were already taking your homeschool exams?" "Yes. I've completed them."

"That's very impressive. Maybe some of your study habits will rub off on Raven," my dad added.

"Dad!" I whined, sinking in my chair. "Maybe we could finish with the interrogation after we order."

"You're right," my father agreed. "I'm hungry."

The waiter returned with our drinks. "Ladies," the waiter said, holding his paper and pen.

"I'll take the Cricket burger, well done," I said.

"I'll have the fish and chips," my mother said with a smile.

"For the young gentleman?"

Alexander cleared his throat. "I'll have the rib-eye steak."

"How would you like that prepared?"

"Raw," Alexander said matter-of-factly.

My parents and the waiter looked at my boyfriend oddly.

"He means rare," I corrected. "Medium rare."

I could see Mrs. Mitchell's head lean ever so slightly out of her booth.

"Yes, that's what I meant," he said with a strained grin.

"And you, sir?"

"I'll have the shepherd's pie," my dad ordered, "and the green garlic and pea soup."

The waiter took our menus and scampered off to the kitchen as Alexander glared at me. "What did you order, Dad?" I asked, horrified.

"Shepherd's pie."

"No--the soup."

"Green garlic. Why, would you like to order some? We can get the waiter."

All at once, I imagined the plate of green garlic and pea soup being placed within smelling distance of my vampire boyfriend. Alexander would wheeze; then he'd turn even more deathly pale than he already was. He'd stand up, staggering and gasping for air. We were miles away from the Mansion, Jameson, and Alexander's life- saving antidote.

"No--Alexander is deathly allergic to garlic!" I panicked. "We have to stop them; they can't bring it out!"

My dad's easygoing disposition turned to concern. He tossed his napkin on the table. "I'll cancel that immediately," he announced, and hurried off to find the waiter.

"I'm so sorry," my mother apologized. "Can he eat nuts?"

"Yes, it's just garlic he can't handle."

My dad returned to our table. "I changed it to a vegetable soup. You're not allergic to green beans, are you?" my dad teased.

We all laughed.

"That's an odd allergy," my dad said. "How long have you had that?"

"All my life. My whole family is allergic," Alexander said innocently. "They've always been."

"Ahem," I said, clearing my throat. I was getting overheated. My face was starting to flush and my heart was throbbing. First of all I was out on a double date with my parents; secondly my date was a vampire; and thirdly at any moment between the stacks of Abstract Algebra and Mathematics in Action, my brother might be meeting up with a tween bloodsucker.

"Excuse me," I said, shooting my chair back, "I'll just be a moment."

Alexander rose politely, like a southern gentleman, as I rushed off to the ladies' room.

I was walking around the crowded bar when I bumped into someone.

"Excuse me," I apologized.

"Following me to restaurants now?" a familiar voice said. I looked up. My heartbeat screeched to a halt. It was Trevor.

"I believe I was here first."

"Technically not. I believe my mother was. I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you only ate in your dungeon," he said with a sneering grin.

Ever since Alexander and I had diverted Jagger and Luna from turning Trevor into a late-night snack at the Graveyard Gala-- Trevor's party at Dullsville's cemetery-- I'd gained a little respect from Trevor at school. Though my nemesis didn't know the Maxwells' true intent, he did know that for the last several days I had been warning him about the nefarious duo. Still, Trevor couldn't resist egging me on. His repartee was only slightly less biting than it used to be. Trevor and I'd been caustic to each other since kindergarten--it was the only way we knew how to communicate. Without that, we'd have no relationship. And that, I knew for sure, Trevor wasn't ready to give up.

"Is Alexander asking your father for your hand in marriage?" "Don't be lame--"

"Not even to prom? It's next week. You'll miss watching me be crowned Prom King. Too bad they don't have a place for Prom Freak. They surely would have a tiara waiting for you."

I snarled at my nemesis and glanced over at Alexander, who was politely engaged in conversation with my parents.

Prom? I hadn't even thought about prom since Jagger, Luna, and now Valentine had arrived in town. Dullsville High was so small, all grades were invited to attend. Finally, I, Raven Madison, queen of the outcasts, had a potential date with the most gorgeous guy in all of Dullsville to the most important dance of the year, and I hadn't even had the time to daydream about it.

My best friend, Becky, was so busy with her boyfriend, Matt, that she and I hadn't had a chance to dish about the prom. Of course, she'd be attending the ball with Matt, and Trevor would arrive with some gorgeous blond varsity cheerleader. And I would be escorted by Alexander Sterling. But would he even go after the fiasco at the Snow Ball several months ago where Trevor challenged him, forcing him to retreat to the Mansion?

And would there even be a prom if the town of Dullsville knew that a preteen vampire was lurking somewhere in town?

"Don't forget to vote for me," my nemesis said, disappearing into the crowd of patrons.

I ducked into the ladies' room, washed my hands in the white porcelain sink, and reapplied bloodred eyeliner to the corners of my eyes and snow-colored powder to my nervous brow.

How would I manage to get us to the library in the middle of dinner with my parents, while the curious Mitchells sat at an adjacent table, without making a scene?

It would take a miracle--or at least a ghost white lie. "I think Billy Boy should be with us," I said when I returned to our table.

My parents looked at me skeptically.

"He's at a Math Club party. I told you that," my mom reminded me. "They're providing dinner."

"You know how much he loves eating here. He's crazy about the Cricket burgers. Now I feel bad, eating at one of his favorite restaurants without him--"

"We can bring something home for him," my dad offered. "Why the sudden interest in your brother?"

Clearly my father wasn't making this easy.

"He loves the big-screen TVs. He whines enough as it is. I'll have to hear about it for weeks."

"You don't need your little brother as a buffer, do you?" my mom asked. "Paul, I think we're embarrassing her. We'll stop asking so many questions."

"No, you guys are great," I assured my parents. "I just think he'd be upset to know we were so close and didn't include him. How about Alexander and I just run over and pick him up?" I suggested. "It's only a few blocks away. We'll be back before our dinner arrives."

"He's having his own party," my dad said. "Right now they are probably exchanging prime numbers."

"Well, if that's what you really want, Paul," Mom said.

"All right, I'll get him," my dad said resignedly, putting his napkin on the table.

"No--I want to," I said, standing up before my father could. "Alexander's never been to the library." My dad looked at me suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not sneaking off to a rave?"

"In this town? No, but if I find out about one, you'll know where we are," I said with a wink.