Braced to Bite Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Super Secret Author Confessions Volume 1

  Teaser chapter

  Berkley JAM titles by Serena Robar

  BRACED TO BITE

  FANGS FOR FREAKS

  DATING FOR DEMONS

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Copyright © 2006 by Serena Robar.

  Excerpt from Fangs for Freaks by Serena Robar copyright © by Serena Robar.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley JAM trade paperback edition / May 2006

  Berkley trade paperback edition / June 2010

  eISBN : 978-1-101-43457-4

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the Berkley JAM trade paperback edition as follows:

  Robar, Serena.

  Braced 2 bite / Serena Robar.—Berkley trade paperback ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: When Colby Blanchard is attacked and turned into a half-vampire, her senior year of high school becomes surreal as she vacillates between trying to save her life and worrying about losing her place on the cheerleading squad.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-43457-4

  [1. Vampires—Fiction. 2. High schools—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction.] I. Title. II. Title: Braced 2 bite.

  PZ7.R5312Br 2006

  [Fic]—dc22

  2005035333

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For my mom who raised me to be

  an independent, creative, kick-ass chick.

  I love you.

  Acknowledgments

  This book could not exist without the exhaustive efforts of one particular person … ME! But a few others made it possible as well, such as my personal patron of the arts, Jason Robar, who always believed in me (smart man), and my writing posse, Christina Arbini, Shannon Mc-Kelden Cave, Erin Eisenberg, Kelli Estes, Cara Kean and Barb Roberts. But mostly just ME!! Muahahahahaha …

  One

  I woke up and stretched when my alarm went off at exactly 6:37 A.M. School would start at 7:45 and I needed forty-five minutes to get ready, seven minutes for breakfast and five minutes to get to school. Leaving me with eleven minutes before class started. Just enough time to casually flirt with Aidan Reynolds on my way to trigonometry.

  I stood up and checked my appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. I was checking for blotchy skin, or worse—pimples. After careful scrutiny I nodded in satisfaction. It was a game day and the last thing I needed was a huge zit on my chin.

  “Today will be a great day. I, Colby Blanchard, will execute all of my dance routine perfectly. I will ace my trig exam and I will get Aidan to ask me to Homecoming.”

  I smiled at myself, confident that daily affirmation was the best way to start the day. I jumped into the shower and scrubbed every inch of my body. I took extra time to loofah my feet, knees and elbows. I liked them to be super-soft.

  After drying off, I was carefully detangling my hair (why was I cursed with such super-fine hair?) when my mom knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Honey, I have a showing this morning and your father has to leave early because of the visiting orthodontists. Remember, he’s showing his new technique this morning so you have to take the bus to school today. Sorry.”

  What?! Now my schedule was totally screwed up.

  “Mom! You should have told me last night. I didn’t get up early enough to take the bus!”

  “Guess you’ll have to hurry.”

  I glared at the door that separated me from my mother. Would it have killed her to tell me last night? I sometimes wondered if I was switched at birth. The daughter of a real estate agent and an orthodontist was hardly the kind of stock I felt would mold me into all that I could be. I loved my parents, but I wanted much more out of life than selling homes and straightening teeth.

  I decided to wear my long hair back in a French braid and tie it off with scrunchies in gold and purple to maximize my school spirit. Since it was a game day, I already had my cheerleading outfit ready. How could I shave another couple of minutes off of my morning?

  I could hardly forgo makeup and I’d already modified my hairstyle, so the best I could do was take the back trail through the woods to school. It was much faster than taking the bus and really, how many sixteen-year-olds rode the bus? I would be the laughingstock of school if I did such a thing.

  For the millionth time I crossed my fingers that my upcoming seventeenth birthday would result in a car, like I planned. I felt like the only licensed teenager on the Eastside who didn’t have her own transportation.

  Mom and Dad were already gone when I grabbed a bagel and swabbed it with fat-free cream cheese. I wanted to lose six pounds so I could stay on top of the pyramid. I’d overheard Allison talking about a weight check so she could take my place. That was so not gonna happen. I wasn’t about to let her squeeze me out of my spot. I simply switched to diet soda and cut down on my meals. Sure, it was tough when everyone around me was munching chips and stuff, but I liked to be the smallest one on the squad, the one who got to be on top of the pyramids and do all the stunts.

  I checked my watch and slowed down a bit. I was five minutes ahead of schedule. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I munched quietly, thinking about the day ahead and making a mental list of things to do:—Update BlackBerry to include weekend plans

  —Make final list of invitees to my seventeenth b-day party

  —Get streamers and supplies from Mrs. Frost to decorate varsity football team’s lockers
r />   —Check reference book in library on World War II, Battle of the Bulge, for history class

  I looked around the table for my BlackBerry, deciding it was easier to input this stuff than try to commit it to memory, when the headline of the Seattle PI caught my attention.

  EASTSIDE ATTACKER STILL AT LARGE

  Great, this stupid “attacker” was still out there scaring parents half to death and keeping game attendance to a minimum. I didn’t understand the big deal. Here was some loser who liked to follow teenage girls and scare them. He hadn’t hurt any of them—well, except for the last girl a week ago. But he only pushed her down. How incompetent were the police that they couldn’t catch this guy?

  I checked my watch again and decided it was time to go. I slipped on my letterman jacket (second year of varsity cheer squad, thank you very much) and slung my backpack over one shoulder. It was mid-October in the Pacific Northwest, which meant the mornings and evenings were cool but the days were still warm. I headed out the door.

  I walked toward the bus stop but veered right onto a trail that was blocked off by cement posts. This was the back route to school, through a wooded area alongside a ravine that featured a seasonal creek.

  Just ahead of me I noticed my neighbor, Piper Prescott. Piper and I were best friends in elementary school but we drifted apart in junior high when she discovered black eyeliner and somber clothing, and now we just exchanged nods in the hallway. Odd thing about growing up. Location creates best friends and then fashion, culture and cliques divide them again.

  Piper glanced behind her and slowed down when I waved. We might not hang out in high school but we could walk together in the woods. Anyone could walk together in the shadow of trees. It was in the bright glaring sunlight that cliques stayed with their own.

  “It’s a game day. Where is your school spirit?” I asked, reviewing her black hooded sweatshirt, torn jeans and black combat boots.

  “I am loaded with team spirit.” She smirked and pulled her hoodie up to reveal a very faded T-shirt emblazed with our school mascot, the Eagle.

  “I stand corrected. For a minute there I was afraid you had an eagle tattooed on your stomach.” Which wasn’t such a far-off thought considering Piper had a row of piercings in her ears and one in her nose. She may even have had her tongue pierced, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “Tattoo the memory of this lame school on my skin forever? Hah!”

  “What’s wrong with our school?”

  “It creates a bunch of zombies that just go with the flow and don’t have an original thought in their heads.”

  It was an ancient difference of opinion that stemmed from the beginning of the end of our hanging out together. That and the fact that I didn’t own anything black.

  “Ah yes, you’re battling ‘The Man,’ ” I retorted. “I keep forgetting how oppressed you are, what with living in the poor part of town and all.”

  This was a sore point with Piper. Her parents were loaded with cash earned during the booming computer era. They were die-hard Republicans and she lived in the nicest house on the golf course.

  “Humph.” Piper snorted and kicked the fallen leaves as we walked. It was tough to debate the facts when I had eaten so many snacks in her kitchen overlooking the greens of the fourth hole.

  “So, pretty weird about all those attacks, huh?” I asked after a moment of silence.

  “I’m not supposed to be walking to school anymore.”

  “Yeah, me neither.” I was pretty sure that was what my mother was implying when she left the newspaper on the table.

  We continued to walk, side by side.

  “Aren’t you a little worried?” I ventured.

  “Me? No way. You should be, though. All those other girls were Barbie dolls, just like you.”

  I nodded at her. “Nice one. Didn’t even see that coming.”

  “I try. Seriously though, the last three girls to be harassed all had long blonde hair.”

  “Yeah, but they weren’t seriously hurt, though. Someone was just messing with them.” I tried to sound confident.

  Piper rolled her eyes at me in that superior way of hers that bugged the crap out of me.

  “You are so clueless,” she said and kicked a rock out of the way.

  “I’m sure that summer in Europe with your parents last year has matured you more than any of us at this lame school,” I snapped back icily. Maybe walking with Piper was a mistake. I picked up the pace to pass her.

  “He’s building up his courage,” Piper murmured softly.

  I slowed down and looked at her. “What?”

  She cleared her throat and replied, “He is building up his courage. First he just scares them but then he’ll get bored with that and take it to the next level.”

  “Like pushing someone down?” I asked, thinking of the last girl attacked.

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  “So now you’re an expert on attackers?” I said derisively, maybe because it frightened me that she was actually making sense.

  “It’s what they all do.” She stopped, pulled her backpack off and opened it. I peeked inside and saw a stack of books. On the top was one about serial killers.

  “A little light reading before going to bed?” I asked her, eyes wide with surprise.

  She zipped the pack shut and swung it back on.

  “I like to be informed.” Her eyebrow arched delicately as she said it, as though to imply, “Unlike you.”

  We started walking again.

  “Hey, I’m all for education but isn’t that a little morbid thinking? After all, no one has been seriously hurt.”

  “Yet,” she pointed out.

  We walked a couple of more paces while I absorbed that bit of information.

  “When did you get so dark?” The question I was thinking popped out before I knew what I said.

  “When did you get so stupid?” She looked at me meaningfully.

  “I’m a 4.0 student, taking all advanced placement classes, Piper. I am far from stupid.” I glared at her, more offended that she thought I was stupid than ignorant.

  “You are book smart. But you’re completely clueless about life.”

  She said this with such a patronizing tone, as though she had seen all the world had to offer and could get by just fine, but I would be gang fodder on the streets in mere minutes.

  “Thank you kindly for your psychoanalysis. Next time I need the opinion of a Goth burnout, you’ll be the first one I call.” It was unfair and childish of me, but she made me so mad sometimes.

  She just smirked at me and I resisted the urge to kick her. Exchanging barbs with Piper was like sneaking up on a porcupine. It was kind of interesting until you got stabbed.

  The back of the school yard came into view and she surprised me by saying, “Seriously, you should be more careful.”

  I answered her in my most snarky voice. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  She muttered, “Whatever,” and crossed the trail to the school. We both knew I wasn’t going to stop walking to school via the backwoods. Nor was I going to run to our library and check out the Green River Killer’s biography. I firmly believed I was no more likely to get attacked walking to school than any other person. Blonde hair be damned. This morning I walked with Piper. There was safety in numbers. And besides, there was no way I would risk my reputation by arriving on school grounds emerging from a big yellow bus. Nada. None.

  Once I was sure Piper was far enough away from me, I turned toward the school as well. The length of a football field separated us. I would arrive at school through the back door and she would arrive using the side entrance. No one would know we spoke and I was fine with that. Not that I considered myself too good for Piper. At least she wasn’t like that awful Rebecca Conway, the self-appointed leader of the Goths.

  Rebecca, who currently referred to herself as Diva Raine, was my arch nemesis. Raine had inky black hair, white skin and probably bought more black eyeliner and lipstick than anyo
ne in the Eastside. Walgreen’s had to give her a frequent buyer discount.

  I shared advanced creative writing with her and every assignment was the same thing from her: death. Death is beautiful, death is release, death is another state of the living, blah, blah, blah. IMHO, if she liked death so much she should do us all a favor and take it to the next level so we wouldn’t have to hear her jabber about it anymore.

  I reached my locker by the first bell and glanced around for Aidan. Lots of students were jostling about, laughing and getting ready to start their day, but no Aidan. I checked my reflection in the locker mirror and decided to touch up my lip gloss. Just then Raine walked by with her lemmings and purposely bumped into me, hoping to smear my gloss. Luckily, I was able to avert disaster.

  “Oops, Diva Raine didn’t mean to bump you, Cheesy.” I couldn’t figure out what was more annoying. The fact that she had nicknamed me Cheesy (which was hardly a far stretch since my name was Colby, after all) or that she referred to herself in the third person. The chick was weird. Out-and-out weird.

  “No problem, Rebecca,” I said, stressing her full name. “I can’t imagine you see very well with all that black eyeliner. Reminds me of our football team.”

  I brightened with dramatic delight. “Why, what a wonderful way of showing your school spirit on game day, Rebecca.”

  I applauded her with a huge grin on my face. Others watching the exchange began applauding too. Pretty soon Raine’s face was no longer white, but red from outrage. She hissed at me and stormed off amid the laughter.

  I don’t know what she was thinking, trying to one-up me on my own turf. Was she truly that delusional? I took one last glance around for Aidan, then at my locker clock. There would be no opportunity for flirting this morning. I would update my BlackBerry to fit it in at lunch. If I didn’t get to it, how could I expect Aidan to ask to drive me home after the game tonight? Or better yet, take me to an after-game party?