Deadly Offer by Caroline B. Cooney

against him, so that she was snuggled into the curve of his arm. He tilted his head against hers, and the warmth of him, the masculine presence of him, oh, it was the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced.
    I wouldn’t change my mind, thought Althea. I wouldn’t have done it differently.
    I’m sick. I’m horrible. I’m the worst person on earth. Because I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I have this ride, and these new friends, and Ryan!
    Constance was still facing Michael, drinking him in almost. Her lovely profile was outlined by the setting sun, and the perfection of her gave Althea shivers.
    I want to be like that, she thought. I want to be just like Constance.
    She thought: I just won’t think about Celeste and Jennie anymore. That’s the important thing. Not to dwell on it. I have what I have. The past is past.
    “It’s a tough essay question,” said Michael, frowning slightly. “I mean, what do I give to my friends?” He sent Constance a look of deep meaning, and she returned it by lifting his hand and holding it against her cheek. Althea loved the privilege of being there to see it.
    “Pizza and rides are all you give your friends,” teased Ryan.
    “I want to get an A on that essay, you jerk,” said Michael. “It has to be profound. Think of something meaningful.”
    “There’s nothing more profound than a really good pepperoni pizza,” said Ryan.
    “What do you think, Althea?” Constance asked. “If you wrote about friendship, what would you say?” Constance rested her chin on the seat back and looked straight into Althea’s eyes.
    Every hair on Althea’s head prickled.
    Constance fills the requirement. She is not my age. So she must be next.
    Constance? Beautiful, wonderful, lovely Constance? Getting draggy and trudgy and pitiful like Celeste? Never! That must never happen! Althea forgot to censor her speech. Right out loud she said, “I guess you don’t turn a friend over to a vampire.”
    Michael, Constance, and Ryan burst out laughing. Michael laughed so hard he almost drove off the road. Ryan hugged Althea more tightly, as if that were a cue line for a lover; as if that statement meant they understood each other now and were actually dating, a romantic pair.
    “What a great rule,” said Michael, shaking his head, and getting back into the proper lane. He turned on his headlights as the sky finished darkening and the winter night closed in. He turned on the heater, and a warm wind caressed Althea’s ankles.
    “Next time I meet a vampire,” promised Constance, “I won’t turn a single friend over to him.”
    Laughter filled the car, as if a new form of oxygen had been created, as if a different combination of elements had invaded their little enclosure.
    Michael turned up Hillside Drive.
    Far away and far below, the many-angled roof of Althea’s forbidding house was like a black pool in the early darkness of winter. Three chimneys, solid brick, faded red, reached up toward the night sky.
    And one tower.
    With three windows.
    Whose shutters banged.
    Michael was driving so slowly that the world seemed to have slowed down with him. Even the wind seemed to lift the bare branches slowly, while autumn leaves fluttered to the grass slowly, and people getting out of their cars closed their doors slowly and walked slowly inside.
    Althea seemed to watch the shutters of her tower for a long, long time; time enough for seasons to change and friendships to end.
    They were dark green shutters, shutters the color of ancient hemlocks, the color of impenetrable forests.
    He’s waiting for me. He’ll be there when I get back. He needs somebody else. He’ll want Constance. But I cannot, cannot, cannot do that! Michael and Constance are so perfect together. I love them together. I love knowing that there is such perfection in the world. Such beauty.
    The shutters moved in unison toward the center of each of the three windows. Gently they closed themselves. One by one, they shut out the