INTERVIEW WITHOUT A VAMPIRE

I took a while to collect myself in the piss colored room and I'll admit that that wasn't easy. My mind was racing and annoying little kid screams could be heard from a few rooms down.

And of course, to add to my struggles, the tiny child decided to join me.

A little boy, probably six years old ran into the room. His superhero pajamas flapped behind him, making me almost crave a little brother of my own.

Almost.

Yet, I had no idea how to talk to kids his age, or even anyone remotely younger than me, so I kept silent. That was the price to pay for being an only child, but I still wouldn't ever give that up for the world. I've heard horror stories from Nell, courtesy of her four siblings, and I had no intention to recreate them.

Nell's older siblings were okay, that's what she claimed anyway. Yeah, they had teased her lots, but the real pains were her younger siblings. Twins, Stephen and Jocelyn were actual nightmares, constantly screaming, fighting with each other, and destroying personal belongings of yours.

Once, they shattered Nell's lava lamp, and another time they put yogurt in her shoes. There was no explanation for either incident except for the fact that they were kids, and kids are guaranteed to be terrible until they turned ten.

In my mind, age ten was the time you either stopped being an asshole, or you continued to be one for the rest of your life.

"Why are you crying?" the little boy asked.

My goodness. He was an asshole.

If you ever wondered if you were a miserable excuse for a human being, just know that calling a six-year-old an asshole was definite proof that you were. But if you knew me at all, that was no surprise for you.

"I'm not crying," I told him.

"Yes, you are!" he yelled, sticking his finger in my face.

Pointing: another signature tiny child move.

"My eyes are, uh, sweating from all of the blinking I've been doing," I said, tripping over every other word.

It was the lamest excuse that I could've given but was the one that escaped from my lips.

"Really?" the boy asked.

"Uh, yeah."

"Are you lying to me? Mommy told you not to do that."

"I'm not lying."

"I'm going to ask Mommy about that!"

"Wh-" I started to say but was interrupted by the boy dashing out of the room. All I could hear now was his footsteps on the creaky wooden floor.

I followed the boy in his trail, I mean I should right? Without him, I would be completely lost in this house and in this life. He had already expanded my knowledge of the piss-walls-girl by informing me that she had a little brother.

When I caught up to the boy down a flight of stairs, he was hugging a tall woman with a bob haircut. Hugging was a good, natural, way to start a morning, so I did it too.

"Good morning, Mom," I said as I went in for the hug.

The little boy giggled to my horror.

Did his lady not go by 'Mom'?

"Uh, good morning, Mommy?" I tried, but he continued to laugh.

"Mama? Moomoo?" I guessed. This wasn't easy guessing whatever this chick called her parents. I always just called my mother, 'Mom' and my father, 'Dad'.

"That's not Mommy!" the little boy roared, while I peeled myself off the tall lady that I was hugging for no reason.

Well, how was I supposed to know that? This was one challenge after another.

The lady that I hugged was laughing too, revealing perfect teeth, without even a smudge of red lipstick on them like I got when I put on makeup.

"Hi Ramona," she told me, trading in my hug for a firm and somewhat professional handshake. "I'm Pauline Lee, we talked on the phone the other day."

"Right..."

"I wanted to schedule our interview yesterday, but you were ill I hear. I was sad to hear that, but I did enjoy meeting Tommy and your parents."

"They did too?" I guessed. This was a lot of context to process all at once. This Pauline Lee was a total info dumper.

As I stared at her face, half in awe and half in nervousness, I couldn't muster out anything else. But the little boy in superhero pajamas came to my rescue by tugging on Pauline's dress, snagging her attention so I didn't have to stare at her awkwardly any longer.

"Ramona is really mean," the boy who I assumed was Tommy told her. With that out of his mouth, he undid all of his superhero work.

"I'm mean?" I asked.

"A few days ago, Ramona locked me in my closet because I picked my nose! Don't pick your nose in front of her," he shrieked out to Pauline.

I gulped at the sounds of that. Was Ramona really like that? I knew that kids could be a total pain, but even I wouldn't stoop low enough to lock a kid in a fucking closet.

Any and all feelings for this 'Ramona'' were completely negative.

"Also!" Tommy continued, begging me to hate the body I was in even more. "Ramona told me that I was adopted and I am not adopted!"

"Is that so?" Pauline asked, eyeballing me in a playful manner. "How about you can keep an eye out on her for me while I interview her?"

Tommy nodded his head and jumped up and down. "Yes! Yes! Okay! I won't let Ramona touch you!" Turning to me, he performed several karate kicks in my personal bubble.

"Whoa, Jackie Chan," I said. "Cut that out."

A few tears formed in his eyes and I squirmed a little. Kids crying was like nails on a chalkboard to me and this time was no different.

"Don't be a big baby," I said.

What was so hurtful about being called Jackie Chan? If anything, it was a compliment.

Still, I felt bad. For all I knew, he could've had a debilitating fear of martial artists and this was the stuff that Ramona put him through on a daily basis.

So one thing was clear: I wouldn't like Ramona if I met her. And that was what sparked a terrible idea in my head.

This was Ramona's interview, so wouldn't the perfect payback be messing it up? If I succeeded in this mission, she would have no one to blame except herself.

Excellent.

Pauline ushered me into the dining room and we sat in two chairs adjacent to each other. My view consisted of a tacky 'Live, Laugh, Love' poster and a mirror on a surprisingly piss-yellow free wall.

"How are you doing today, Ramona?" she asked, pulling out a notepad and tape recorder.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, distracted by my reflection in the mirror. Today I was blonde and from my knowledge of stupid teen movies, blondes were always the mean girls, which gave me further incentive to bomb this interview.

"But please, call me Sadie," I said a moment later, oozing with confidence. If I was going to mess up this interview, I was going to do it the right way.

"Sadie?" Pauline asked, intrigued. "Is that your middle name?"

"Nope."

"Well, alright. How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Interesting. When is your birthday?"

"Neveruary 32nd."

"Pardon?" Pauline asked with a sweet smile.

"You heard me," I said with complete seriousness. I leaned back in my chair and rested my feet on the dining table.

"Okay," Pauline said, trying to pretend that my behavior was normal. "You are a co-founder of a charity that helps save the Amazon rainforest, a feat not achieved by many girls your age. Would you consider yourself to be a typical teenage girl?"

"Well Pauline," I said, trying to come up with an answer. She made Ramona seem like a somewhat good person, which just made my job a little harder.

But my fun just started.

"The way I see it, there are many different subgroups of typical teenage girls. Not every girl is the same, but they're the same as everyone else in their subclass."

"I see. What subclass would you consider yourself to be in?"

"Personally, I'm a bit of a jock. I'm on the basketball team. I practice so much that people wonder if I'm a lesbian."

"Do they really?" Pauline snickered but tried to turn it into a cough.

"Nope."

She eyed me oddly, but went back to her notepad a second later, most likely trying to skip past any other uncomfortable remarks I had to say in the subject.

"At age fifteen," she said. "You are already a miniature philanthropist, so what's next? What are your plans after high school?"

Instantly, I got a dumb idea for what I was going to say next. "I plan on becoming a sensation in the culinary world!"

"How do you plan to do that?" Pauline smiled at me, boasting her pretty teeth and bright red lipstick again.

"First I'll go to Paris," I told her.

Been there, done that.

"Then, I'm going to find a rat there that knows how to cook. I'll put the rat under my chef hat thing and have it control my every movement so I can be a good cook. It's basically the plot of 'Ratatouille', have you seen it?"

"I have," Pauline, said nodding her head in amazement at my stupidity.

"And wasn't that movie incredible?! Man, when the aliens visit us in a million years, you know after all the humans are long dead, I hope the one thing that they have to study and remember our existence is that movie. You can quote me on that!"

"Okay. Um, besides becoming a chef, what are some of your dreams and aspirations?"

"I would love to work for NASA," I told her. "I sent them a few emails, but they have yet to respond to my request about being launched into the sun."

"That's interesting... anything else?" She bit her lip and probably wished that I wouldn't have anything. But sorry Pauline, my guns were loaded and ready to fire.

"Yeah, I do. It's always been a dream of mine to have a training montage. Or you know what, I want a montage of me just doing a whole bunch of dunks on the basketball court. I think that would pretty sweet."

"You mentioned basketball," Pauline said, trying to change course. "Is that a hobby you've been doing for long? What other hobbies do you have?"

"Well, I love to go on WebMD and convince myself I'm dying of various diseases. Just last week I managed to believe that I had Parkinson's and Dementia, and oh I might have Meniere's disease. "

"Fascinating." Pauline blinked several times. "Have any other hobbies?"

"I love to zero in on other people's flaws," I told her. "Want me to do you?"

"Sure, I'd love to know how it works." She held her breath.

"Let me see," I said, tapping my chin. "You're unsatisfied in your current relationship and you wonder if you should dump the bastard. His name is Henry, I bet."

"Nope." Pauline shook her head with a smile.

What?! She was smiling? How could I have been any more terrible than I already was?

"I'm afraid I'm not in a relationship at the moment," she added a few moments later.

"Well, that's what you're unsatisfied about!" I shouted. "Go get yourself a man!"

Pauline disregarded my suggestion and continued to ask more questions. "Is recognizing people's flaws your hidden talent?"

"No singing is, obviously," I said, biting my lip in order to not laugh.

"That's great. Could you sing a little something?" And with that, She smiled with relief, although I knew that this wouldn't be pretty.

"Sure, here goes." I returned her smile, took a deep breath, and began to sing:

"Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you! By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do! I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now!"

"Truly beautif-"

"Backbeat, the word was on the street that the fire in your heart is out. I'm sure you've heard it all before but you never really had a doubt. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now."

"As I said before," she said after my tasteful rendition of Wonderwall was over. "Your singing is really good, thank you."

I gave her a cheeky smile and fluttered my eyelashes. "You are so welcome. Not everybody gets to witness my talent like that. I think I am a great singer, what am I saying? I know I'm a great singer. Once, it brought someone back from the dead."

"It's great that you are so confident," Pauline said, choosing her words carefully. "How do you stay optimistic all the time?"

"I don't, I'm the definition of pessimism. I tried to change once and I spent the whole day thinking positive thoughts."

"And? How did that go?"

"It ended with me losing MarioKart and shouting 'That is so unfortunate!' at the TV screen." I crossed my arms and didn't break eye contact with Pauline.

"Would you excuse me?" she asked. "I need to use the restroom. Where is it?"

"Damned if I know," I responded.

Wasn't that the truth.

Pauline smiled and walked off. "I'll find it myself I guess," she said.

As she walked off, I focused on my reflection in the mirror again. Although she wasn't me, Ms. Blonde lady's mouth had moved in sync with mine in every beating to her interview.

Unlike with Clarke where my crying tips didn't work since it wasn't my face, today it haunted me that I was witnessing my awfulness.

But you don't have to.

An idea came to me, one less terrible than ones I conjured up previously. I stood up from the dining chair and reached for Pauline's purse that she abandoned. Digging through it, I uncovered the glorious red lipstick that she was advertising on her face.

But that's not where my plan ended. I uncapped the lipstick and twisted it until it was at its full height. Then, I wrote my name in all capitals right on the mirror.

Doing that accomplished two things; covering up my reflection so I wouldn't have to see myself act all terrible, and once again reminding myself that I was still Sadie and definitely not Ramona.

But of course, that action was also the cherry on top of this terrible interview sundae. I knew I had won a challenge that Pauline had no idea she was even competing in.

Oh Ramona, you were going to be sorry tomorrow.