Read Online Suck It Up by Brian Meehl - Free Book Online

awake, she thought it was a dream that her mother had endangered their lives by bringing home a stranger and letting him sleep in the guest room. Then she saw the article from the
Lower East Side Voice
that she’d printed and left on her desk. It all came back to her, especially the part about the untold story of what had motivated little Morning to throw himself into traffic on the Williams Bird Bridge. And the fantastic idea she’d come up with for her video essay.
    After pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt, she ate a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. Except for bird racket coming from the back garden, the apartment was quiet. Her mother was still in bed. No surprise there. She was a night owl. But the silence coming from the upstairs was irritating. She noisily rinsed her bowl and clattered it into the dishwasher. Then she realized that even if she woke him up, of course he was going to pretend to sleep in. To keep up his vampire act, he wouldn’t get up until after sunset. Which was perfect. After school, she’d fire up her Handycam, park herself outside his door, and when he emerged, pepper him with questions about the Williams Bird Bridge. It would be so
60 Minutes.
    But to pull it off there was another bridge that needed mending. Before leaving for school, she slid a note under the guest room door.

    Morning, Morning,
    Wait—wait! Don’t tear this up ’cause you’ve heard that doofy joke a gazillion times, and ’cause you must hate me for being so rude last night. I’m blaming it on PTS (Pretest Stress). Being rude, not the lame joke. There’s no excuse for that.
Anyway,
having a “vampire” as a houseguest is a lot cooler than the last one we had, Two-Headed Harry. (Don’t ask.) Soooo…mi crib es su crib, and all that.
    Your new roomie,
Portia
    PS Look forward to fangin’ out—oops—I mean
hangin’
out with ya later.

    Morning didn’t have to pretend to sleep in. The previous day had been long and exhausting, even for someone with the recuperative powers of a vampire. But his stay in horizontal heaven was cut short by Penny pounding on the door. She told him to hurry up and get dressed. He barely had time to swill a Blood Lite before they were out the door.
    Morning squinted against the sun brightening both sides of the narrow street. Penny hailed a cab. He stumbled into the backseat after her. He was barely awake, and only because he’d read Portia’s note. Her change of mood was an eye-opener, especially the part about “mi crib es su crib.” That could be taken a lot of different ways. When Penny gave the driver an address on the Lower East Side, Morning’s brain jolted to full alert. “We’re going to St. Giles?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIs that the first move in Mr. Birnam’s playbook?”
    â€œNo,” Penny answered with a frown. “Your friend, or whatever he is, has a twisted sense of humor. His so-called playbook is blank.”
    Morning laughed.
    She shot him a testy look. “Did you know that?”
    â€œNo.” He immediately got Birnam’s joke. A vampire had never been outed. How could there be a playbook for a game that had never been played? “But that’s a good thing,” he added. “Now you get to write the playbook as it goes.”
    â€œYes, for as long as it goes.”
    â€œWhy are we going to St. Giles?”
    â€œIt’s a surprise.”
    Anticipation surged through him. “I haven’t seen Sister Flora for almost a year.”
    â€œSorry, Morning,” she said. “When I called last night, they told me she’s moved on to other things.”
    He deflated. The nuns at St. Giles came and went, but Sister Flora had been there since his first day. As far as he was concerned, she was the only reason to go back. “C’mon, what are we doing there?”
    Penny gave him an enigmatic smile. “Writing the first page in the