I told Yelena what Hisato said about sweetness and cleverness being qualities the unattractive settle for.

  “Don’t allow yourself to be persuaded by Hisato’s values,” she said.

  “How can I not? Often I don’t even know what my own values are and he’s always so sure of himself. It’s like watching Fox News.”

  “Please don’t watch Fox News. Look, I love Hisato, but he’s shallow. That’s something I let slide because of his other qualities.”

  “Like him being beautiful to look at?”

  “No. His appearance was never important to me.”

  “Yeah, because he was your friend. But Marcel was beautiful, and you were drawn to him at first sight.”

  “It’s true Marcel was beautiful but it wasn’t his beauty that enamored me on the spot. It was the way he looked at me that drew me to him. It knocked me over without him ever touching me. Of course, now I know he had the advantage of a vampiric gaze.”

  “Yeah, but vampiric gaze or not, he looked at you like that because you’re so beautiful. No one has ever looked at me like that. Not even Mirela. I remember when you were alive, being in public with you. Heads always turned like five hundred degrees when you walked by. For the most part, everywhere I go I pass unnoticed, unless it’s so late that people don’t expect to see children. But I’m not even a beautiful child. And if I were grown, I still wouldn’t attract the way you did and Hisato does, Corinne, Rosanna, all of them.”

  “It’s not only the eyes that recognize beauty, Orly. You have beauty that comes from within.”

  I knew she’d say something like that. But it’s of little consolation, for that notion that external beauty fades doesn’t apply to vampires. I’m glad she didn’t lie and tell me I was beautiful to look at or say something trite like I’m beautiful to her, even if she actually feels that way because it wouldn’t be helpful. I’d still wish I were beautiful on the outside to other people. It’d make things so much easier. But how apparent it is that Yelena loves me. It must be so tiresome for her when I go on and on, time and time again, about not being beautiful. Even I’m sick of hearing me talk about it.

  But using something other than the eyes to recognize beauty made me think of Ji’Indushul. He was blind but loved me, or at least he said he did right before he left, but that may have just been in response to me thinking it first. I’ll never know for certain, just like I’ll probably never know if he greeted the sunlight as he intended. Such sadness it brings me to think of him.

  Tonight I’m going out alone. I’m waiting for my Uber to arrive. I’ve decided to rendezvous in K-town.

  Now it’s just after 9 p.m. and I’m sitting alone at a table in a coffee house that’s known for its gourmet pastries. I ordered a caffè mocha and a slice of vanilla crepe cake. Oh, on another note, I had to give the Uber driver fifty dollars extra to drive me here because he didn’t believe I was thirteen even though I’m using the teen account attached to Khalil’s profile.

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  The cake is pretty. I just took a photo of it with my mocha and posted it to my Instagram, tagging the location for you know who. Actually, you don’t know who. Neither do I. His name is still a mystery. I suppose I could have just posted a picture of a time and address, but I felt like that would be inviting anyone to show up. This felt more like I was talking to just him, because only he would know it was an invitation to the rendezvous he asked me to surprise him with. Plus he’ll see that there’s cake. Of course, I’m counting on him watching my feed and seeing my cake post in the first place. If he does, it was meant to be. If he doesn’t, I’m probably pathetic enough to try again tomorrow night from somewhere else, or even worse, from the same place, in the same Lolita party dress. Shit. I hope he sees it before this place closes at 2 a.m. That’s why I posted a different pic of my lace up boots on my feet before I even left the house. To give him plenty of notice that I was going out and that he should watch my feed to see where. Well the cake and coffee pic means I’m here waiting for you.

  This cake is good. I’m trying to make it last until he gets here. I’ve been here eleven minutes and have taken two small bites. Still no sign of him. But hey, it’s only eleven minutes and it’s not like he’s coming via parachute.

  I got the impression that the other vampires were annoyed by the game playing what’s-his-name is doing. I guess I acted like I was too. But I don’t see what’s wrong with being playful. Inside it makes me smile. It feels like he cares enough to try to make things fun. I would have at least thought Hisato would understand that as he’s all about fun. But upon further reflection, I must also acknowledge that Hisato is generally against every guy who isn’t either him or someone he sees as pretty enough to wanna fuck.

  OMG. I just checked my IG. My posts got some likes, but they were mostly from Cob?lcescu or people I know aren’t him. But that’s not what I want to mention. I saw that I was tagged in a post by an account for the Carmilla Courtship Society. It appears to be an organization that hosts vampire balls. The feed is mostly pics and videos of parties filled with mortals dressed up as vampires, and some spooky images of bats, dripping red candles, goblets, and stuff like that. The picture I was tagged in was taken at a cemetery. A row of gravestones, a big tree in the background. The caption says:

  OMW @mydarlingtragedy #rendezvous #vampire #vampires #vampireslosangeles #vampiresLA

  In the photo, the gravestones are tiny and probably not interesting enough that someone will zoom in to try to read the names. But the one on the far right is one I recognize because it’s the one that has my name on it. Where I was buried after I died in the hospital and was turned. Where Mayuko now sleeps. So that’s what it looks like in the daylight. He does know a lot about me.

  He’s on his way. He posted that right after I posted mine. It’s now been twenty-five minutes since. It got a lot of likes. Seriously a lot. Way more than my posts get. He has over a half a million followers. I guess that many people are interested in balls where people dress up as vampires. I feel intimidated. He’s so popular. I just gained thirty or so more followers because of being tagged in his post. And he does follow me. I just didn’t notice before because his account seems to be more for his organization than for himself.

  He could arrive any minute.

  Our house cleaners are really thorough. There isn’t dust anywhere except in the secret chamber below the house. I’m gonna give them another raise. I wonder why the blood scent varies by bloodline. And why ours smells like juniper. I didn’t even know what juniper was until I was told we smell like it to vampires. I should ask Mez. He’ll know. I haven’t gone in the pool in a long time. I wonder if I like the idea of dandelions more than actual dandelions. With the idea of them, wishes can come true, but in actuality they don’t. Rosanna is shopping for clothes more often since she started hanging out with Corinne. I’m glad. This is all just filler. I guess you can say I brought this journal with me as a prop because I want to be writing in it when he arrives so that I look smart or studious or thoughtful or interesting or that I at least do something (journaling) other than getting drunk.

  Shit.

  He’s here.

  GTG.

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