Covet (Clann)

setting.
    “Sounds like you had fun.” I flopped into the rolling chair at my desk. “My dad insisted on buying all new stuff for me to wear this year. Wait till you see what he picked out. You’re going to fall over laughing.”
    “Total makeover, huh?”
    “And then some. He went to the Galleria. And the stuff he picked out…dresses. And skirts. And heels !”
    Anne snorted with laughter.
    “I ask you, just how the heck am I supposed to walk across the practice fields and climb metal bleachers at Charmers practice in heels?” I asked.
    After she stopped snickering, she said, “Well, you could always take a second outfit of normal clothes with you every day and change at school.”
    “Tempting. Except I promised I’d wear whatever he picked out.”
    “Why would you do that?”
    “It was the only way he would let me go to the Charmers slumber party last night.”
    “Oh yeah? And was it worth it?”
    “I wish I could say yes. But I ended up spending the whole night lying about why I wasn’t eating and why I’m so pale now.”
    “You’ve always been pale.”
    “Yeah, well, according to Mom I’ve reached whole new levels of pale lately.” Ever since I started the dumb vamp feedings. But no way was I discussing that with Anne.
    I sighed. “Hey, if we don’t have any classes together before lunch tomorrow, save me a seat at our usual table, okay? I may not be able to eat, but at least we can all go over our class schedules together. And before you ask, yes, you have my permission to laugh as loudly as you want at the heels.”
    She snorted. “My grandma makes me wear heels to church. So I’ll probably be feeling your pain too much to laugh.”
    “Thanks.” I smiled.
    “Good luck getting to school without breaking an ankle,” she added with a snicker before ending the call.
    I tossed my phone onto the bed while eyeing the remaining shoe boxes. I probably didn’t even want to know what was in them.
    Then again, I’d have to find out sooner or later.
    Taking a deep breath for courage, I quickly bent over and flicked the lids off the rest of the boxes. And then I sighed.
    Dad had gotten me ballet flats. Lots and lots of ballet flats in all kinds of colors and fabrics. And they were cute .
    I sat down, pulled on a pair and had to bite my lower lip to hold back the urge to squee. Okay, now these just might make wearing the rest of the new stuff bearable.
    Then I glanced up and saw the collection of notes, each stuffed within a clear sheet protector, which hung from a metal ring attached to the knob of my closet door. A quick flip through them showed countless suggested outfits, complete with recommended shoe and jewelry options, enough for at least a month. He’d even taken pictures of each outfit laid out on my bed so I couldn’t get confused.
    “Geez,” I muttered, unsure whether to be alarmed or grateful.
    Would I get this anally retentive when I was three hundred years old?
    * * *
    The next morning, I tried not to look in the mirror too closely as I got ready for school. I didn’t want to dwell on how different I looked and whether anyone at school would get weirded out about it. I was nervous enough as it was.
    Please don’t let me run into Tristan , part of me prayed with every breath I inhaled.
    And on the exhale of every breath, another part of me yearned for just one glimpse of him, just one more time to hear his voice, his laugh, or see his smile…
    Dad was waiting by the front door as I came down the stairs.
    “I see you found my notes.” He nodded in approval as he assessed my outfit.
    I bit the tip of my tongue to keep from telling him just what I thought of his “notes.” When I thought of a more diplomatic reply, I said, “Thanks for the ballet flats. I really like them.”’
    “And the rest of it?”
    I went through three or four possible responses and chose the nicest of them. “I’m sure I’ll learn to get used to them.” I tacked on a teeth-baring attempt at a smile.
    At least none of the new stuff was too wild or crazy or slutty.
    His lips twitched.
    “I want you to keep this with you at all times.” He held out what looked like a short, fat black-and-gold pen. “Click it and it is a pen. Turn the clip sideways and it is an emergency stash of blood.”
    It was my turn to fight a smile. “Sort of like an epipen for vamps?”
    “Exactly. It has extra anticoagulants to keep it from clotting, so it might taste strange. But if you reach the point where you