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  • Home > Mari Mancusi > Blood Coven Series > Girls That Growl (Page 2)     
    Girls That Growl(Blood Coven Vampire,book 3) by Mari Mancusi
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    "Live here?" Sunny asks, sounding as incredulous as I feel.

    "He's moving in? He can't move in! You barely know the guy."

    Mom frowns. "Rayne, I will decide that, not you. And be-sides, it's only temporary. He's having his condo renovated and he needs a place to stay."

    "No way!" I protest. "This house is a Girl's Only Zone. I mean, there are tampons in the bathroom cabinet. My bras are hanging from the shower curtain rod."

    "Maybe this will encourage you to pick up after your-selves once in a while," Mom counters.

    I decide to switch tactics, to avoid being hammered by a clean-up-your-room lecture on top of everything else. "Mom, what kind of moral lesson does this send to your daughters? Shacking up with some random guy!" I feign horror.

    "Why, you're right, Rayne!" Sunny says, catching on. "Maybe I should see if my boyfriend wants to move in with me. After all, we've been dating at least a month longer than Mom and David."

    Mom rolls her eyes. "Give me a break, girls," she says, unmoved by our shocked morality. "And besides, he's not staying in my room."

    Sunny and I look at one another.

    "Uh, where is he staying then? This is a three-bedroom house."

    "He'll be staying in one of your rooms," Mom explains in the most matter-of-fact tone, though I can see she's avoiding meeting our eyes. "You'll have to share a room while he's here."

    Oh no. No way.

    We will just have to see about that.

    2

    I can't believe it's the first day of school already. Seems like the summer flew by.

    Sure, technically I don't have to go to school anymore. After all, I'm an immortal vampire. Part of the coven. I could just col-lapse on a velvet couch and sip blood cocktails from a crystal goblet. But at the same time, if I'm going to live thousands of years, I figure I might as well spend a few finishing high school. Get myself an education. After all, I've met more than a few undead dropouts and they're dreadfully dull at dinner parties.

    Not to mention if I want to stay living with Mom and Sunny I've got to keep up the normal teenager act.

    Still, as I walk down the halls of Oakridge High, dressed in a black lacy Lolita dress, fishnets, and platform boots, swinging my Beetlejuice lunchbox, I wonder if this really was such a good idea. I mean, it's so obvious I don't fit in here with the rest of the Mean Girls and jock boys. I watch them, as if I'm a fly on the wall, as they excitedly greet each other, first-day-of-school style. The trend slaves in their brightly colored, back-to-the-eighties, horizontal striped shirts, belts, and leggings. The retro grunger girls in their shapeless dresses worn over bell-bottom pants. The preps in their boot-cut denim and fitted collar shirts. Everyone has a style that suits their clique. Maybe in a bigger school there'd be others that look like me. Not here though. Oakridge High sucks.

    Not that I care. I am who I am. And I don't need three thousand MySpace friends to validate my existence on this planet.

    "Ooh, look! It's Freak Girl!"

    I do, however, need to be left alone.

    I turn around to see which Oakridge Clone is trying to feel better about her own sorry existence by poking fun at mine. My eyes fall on a cluster of cheerleaders staring at me from across the hall. Of course.

    Of all the losers at Oakridge High, cheerleaders have to be the worst. With their sickly sweet fake smiles, swishy skirts, and bouncy, sun-kissed (aka highlighted from the muddy brown color they were born with) blond hair, cheerleaders think they're God's gift to high schools. They expect worship from guys, girls, even teachers. And they get it. And if one isn't interested in falling on their knees to kiss their per-fectly sculpted asses, they might as well catch leprosy. The cheerleaders will guarantee them social outcast status for the rest of the year.

    "Hey, Freak Girl!" calls another cheerleader. They all look alike to me. "I thought vampires couldn't walk around during the day."

    I roll my eyes. Of course she has no idea I really AM a vampire. She's making a clever assumption based on the fact I'm not wearing a stitch of pink.

    "Of course we can," I retort back. "How else can we sink our teeth into succulent virgins such as yourself— Oh wait! I'm sorry, I must have been thinking of someone else. Some-one who hasn't banged the whole football team."

    The girl's eyes narrow. "You'd better watch yourself, Freak Girl." Yup, that's her oh-so-clever comeback. No denial either, I note.

    "Oh yeah?" I grin saucily, sauntering up to their gang with my most confident steps. "How come?"

    "Because if you don't, I'll kick your skanky vampire ass."

    I let out an overly loud laugh. Gotta let them know I'm not afraid. "You and what army?"

    Another cheerleader steps forward. This one I do recog-nize. Mandy Matterson, my former best friend back in the day. Before she realized that I was nothing but a roadblock in her journey to high school stardom. She's gone through an extreme makeover since we used to hang—inside and out. Now she's blond, beautiful, and oh so bitchy. No wonder she's the current captain of the squad. I can't believe we were once friends.

    "You think you're so cool," Mandy sneers, narrowing her eyes. She wouldn't admit to our former friendship if she was being tortured and threatened. "But really, you're just another Oakridge High wannabe."

    I squeeze my hands into fists, fury burning through every vein. That's it. I don't care if it's the first day of school. Or that I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile, what with my new undead status and all. I start to dive toward her.

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