Drake, 14, believes he's a vampire who caused the death of his mother in a traffic accident. Here he meets Wisteria, 16, a poetic goth girl who is not horrified by him.

(Warning: Using this scene without permission is illegal, as is reproducing it on a website or in print in any way.)

(A ghostly figure appears. It is WYSTERIA, aka AIMEE STRINGER, a melancholy young woman wearing a floor-length antique Victorian-looking dress with plenty of lace and ruffles and a long hooded cape. She enters slowly, not seeing Drake by the mausoleum, and while contemplating a small bunch of wildflowers she holds in her hands, makes her way just right of Center. Drake watches her as she walks.)

WYSTERIA: (Reciting from "Echo" by Christina Rossetti, 1830-1894:) "Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again tho' cold in death;
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath;
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago."

DRAKE: That's very pretty.

(He startles her and she jumps.)

WYSTERIA: Oh! I didn't see you there! (She catches her breath.) Thank you. I didn't write it, though. It's something we read in school.

DRAKE: I especially liked the part where the guy feeds off her dreams so that he can live even though he's stone-cold dead. Cool. Like a zombie.

WYSTERIA: That's not exactly what it says...

DRAKE: I'm Drake. What's your name?

WYSTERIA: (Draws herself up and assumes a faintly dramatic pose:) My name is Wysteria Belladonna Nightshade.

DRAKE: (Incredulously:) Seriously?

WYSTERIA: Yes, seriously. It is a name given to me by my spirit guide and speaks to the power and mystery of the night and the Earth itself. Unlike Aimee, the name given to me by my parents, which speaks to the bone-crushing dreariness and soul-shattering despair that is my family.

DRAKE: I don't know what that means.

WYSTERIA: It means I hate my life.

DRAKE: Oh! Why didn't you say so? I totally get that! My life sucks too.

WYSTERIA: Wait a minute. Drake. I know you! You're Drake Prescott, the kid who—

(She stops, not sure how to finish.)

DRAKE: Yeah, "the kid who" killed his mother, thinks he's a vampire, may never kiss a girl; take your pick.

WYSTERIA: (Crossing to him:) Oh my god, this is so exciting!

DRAKE: (Warily:) Really? You're not scared? Or disgusted?

WYSTERIA: Not at all! It's so seldom I get to meet a fellow "creature of the night."

DRAKE: A fellow creature? What are you? (He looks her over carefully.) Some kind of witch?

WYSTERIA: No, nothing so outlandish as all that! I am merely a nocturnal spiritualist, a loving child of Gaea, tuned into the rhythm of the tides and the beating of her heart. (Conspiratorially:) Confidentially, I did want to be a witch once. A Wiccan, you know? I read all the literature, looked up all the websites and I was all set to sign up-and then I found out what "skyclad" meant. I'm sorry, I'm all for communing with Mother Nature and empowering my womanhood and all that, but I am so not dancing naked in the moonlight, not for anyone!

DRAKE: (Thoroughly confused:) I don't...blame you?

WYSTERIA: So now I just wear the clothes and drink my tea and commune with my crystals and celebrate the Earth, our Mother in my own inimitable way.

DRAKE: Right...

WYSTERIA: And I write poetry! Would you like to hear one of my poems?

DRAKE: Um, I guess.

(Wysteria draws herself up straight and holds out one hand as if she is addressing a large crowd.)

WYSTERIA: (Reciting*:) "I stand inside an empty tomb,
this silent coffin of my room.
I watch the people passing there;
see them gaze and see them stare.
They disappear in clouds of incense;
and like the grave, I am...in Silence."

[*There's nothing literate about this one at all. I wrote it when I was fifteen. Have fun.]

(She closes her eyes and bows dramatically.)

DRAKE: (Not sure what to say:) Wow. That's...depressing. Good, but depressing.

WYSTERIA: I know, right? I call it a true, honest unburdening of the soul!

DRAKE: What does everyone else call it?

WYSTERIA: A cry for help. But like I told my mother, you only need help when you hold the darkness inside! Once you let it out, you have nothing to fear from it ever again!

DRAKE: Is that true?

WYSTERIA: Sure! Why wouldn't it be? Now tell me, what's it like to be a vampire?

DRAKE: (Embarrassed:) I don't know, I'm only just getting started. I'm not very good at it yet.

WYSTERIA: Well, do you drink blood?

DRAKE: No, not until I complete my transformation. Until then, I drink tomato juice, you know, for practice.

WYSTERIA: That's a great idea! You sound like you've really got a handle on this...