3Lost Boys fanfic
The backstory of the most popular vampire
Chapter One: Bloody Tomatoes
Allie was bleeding heavily. She cradled the wounded hand to the bathroom and stuck her palm under the cool jet from the faucet. The blood thinned and ran down the drain. Allie mumbled a few well chosen curse words and then rummaged in a drawer for some bandages. She wrapped her hand, then went back to the kitchen to rethink what had happened. She had been cutting a tomato, then her hand slipped and had been sliced open by the blade.
"Great," she said to herself, eyeing the drops of crimson on the tomato. "Now I have to toss this."
Allie picked up the cutting board and scraped the blood stained tomato into the trash can. She put down the board, looked around the kitchen for a brief moment, then let out a frustrated cry.
"Marko!" she called towards the living room. A few seconds, then her brother appeared in the doorway, biting down on an apple.
"What?" he asked,
"I thought you said you got two big tomatoes," Allie huffed.
"I thought you only needed one," Marko replied through a mouth full of apple.
"Well, I cut myself and bled all over the thing," Allie said, holding up her bandages hand. Marko rolled his eyes.
"There's a container of cherry tomatoes in the fridge," he said. "Use those." Then he turned and went back into the living room. Allie threw open the fridge door and grabbed the container. She retrieved a new board and knife and began to cut the tomatoes, throwing the bits into the salad bowl. When that was finished, she put down the knife and stalked into the living room. Marko was lying on the couch, his sketchbook in hand and his teeth gnawing away at the pencil eraser. He grinned with his trademark toothy smile when she entered the room, and flipped the sketchbook over so Allie could see. It was a drawing of her, her head blown up cartoonishly, being bonked on the head with a oversized hammer.
"You like?" Marko asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Dipstick," Allie snorted. "That's not even funny."
"It is to me," he said. "And to the boy on the boardwalk."
"Hey!" Allie said, trying to swipe the sketchbook from her brother. "Don't you dare!"
Marko jumped out of her reached and held the drawing to his face, making his voice high pitched.
"Oh, hey, mister bleach blonde! Do you remember me? It's the girl that hit her head on a plastic hammer 'cause I couldn't take my eyes off you! Now, let's screw!"
"You're dead," Allie growled through her teeth.
"Smells like something's burning," Marko said, sniffing the air. Allie could smell it too.
"Damn!" she cried, running back to the kitchen. She grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the lid off of a pot that had been on the stove. "My noodles!"
Allie turned off the gas fire and carried the pot to the sink, where she dumped the noodles into a strainer. Some were brown and charred, but Allie thought she could manage them.
"What's up with the dinner, anyways?" Marko asked from the doorway.
"Are you serious?" Allie asked her brother. "Mom and dad are coming home, and I want it to be nice. They've been gone for a whole week and a half. I want it to be nice. Which means you have to put on a shirt." She pointed at Marko's bare chest.
"Oy," he grumbled and started up the stairs to his room. Allie managed to get the salad and noodles onto four plates and set them on the table before a car pulled into the driveway. Marko reappeared, wearing a battered Poison shirt. Allie managed to shoot him a death glare before the door opened, and their mom and dad stepped into the house. Both looked weary, but they smiled as Allie ran up to hug them. Her mother, Saige, kissed her on the forehead, and her father, Eddie, ruffled her hair. Marko hung back. Allie knew why, and felt a small spark of sympathy for her brother. Right before their parents had left for their anniversary trip to Seattle, Marko had gotten into trouble for vandalizing the school with a couple of his friends. Saige pulled away from another hug and eyed the food on the table.
"Did you do this?" she asked Allie warmly. Allie node, then turned to Marko.
"He helped a lot," she told her parents.
"He did?" Saige said, looking at her son with some surprise dancing in her hazel eyes. Allie nodded again, then led Saige and Eddie to the table.
"Thanks," Marko whispered as he grabbed silverware from the countertop. When everyone was settled, they ate the food, not complaining about the slightly charred noodles or the wilted lettuce in the salad. Allie leaned back in her chair and took a good look at her family. It was not often that they were all together as a family. Saige was always on business trips, and Eddie worked late into the night. Saige was skinny, with very pale skin with lots of freckles. Her hair was long and reddish brown. Eddie was tall and tan with black wavy hair and big grey eyes. Allie was a mixture of her parents: freckled, with her mother's hair and her father's eyes. Marko, however, was different from all of them. His hair was in tight curls that shone golden, and he had a round, cherubic face. His eyes were a blue green, and he was only a few inches taller than Allie, who was one year older than him. No one in the rest of the family looked like Marko. None of their grandparents, aunts, uncles or cousins resembled Marko in the slightest. He really was a strange boy.
When the dishes were cleaned, and their parents had gone upstairs, Marko hurried to the door, pulling on his extraordinary jacket. It had tassels and plenty of patches and fabrics of all sorts of size and color.
"You're going out in that getup?" Allie asked him.
"Of course," Marko replied. Then he slipped out the door and into the darkness. Allie sighed, watching the headlight of Marko's motorcycle disappear up the driveway. Allie went to the living room and picked up the book she had been reading. Cujo, by Stephen King. She had just opened the battered novel when a scrap of paper fell out. Allie stooped, confused, and looked at the slip. In slightly smudged ink was a note. No, not a note. Names. In a scrawling handwriting were three names that must have belonged to males.
David, Paul and Dwayne.
