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Walk the Fine Line by ziggy

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Disclaimer: Characters from The Lost Boys belong to WB Studios. Original characters belong to Ziggy.

Author's Notes: This is the story that inspired the yahoo group of the near same name.
As soon as you notice that look on her face, you know exactly what she's going to say. You know you're going to hate it, and it takes every fiber of your tolerance not to start yelling at the top of your lungs. Instead, you focus on your dinner, playing absently in your mashed potatoes with your fork.

"You haven't called us in a while..." she starts and you sigh, keeping your eyes on your plate.

"I just got here, Aunt Lucy..."

"Well I know, but still...we used to be so close..." Here it comes...the figure of speech for which she's famous in the family for. "Aren't we friends anymore?" she asks and you fight not to cringe before slowly raising your gaze to look at her bright eyes, cropped hair, and well-meaning expression. Normally it's cute, but at the moment you are really tempted to bean her with your chicken leg.

"Of course," you mutter, your fingers clenching your fork.

"Then let's act like friends...let's talk," she finishes, and you glare darkly at your cousins as they poke each other with their elbows and snicker under their breaths. Of all the places you had to end up...

"I really don't think there's anything to talk about..." you mutter under your breath.

"Well you can start by telling your aunt why the hell you dropped out of school!" your grandfather huffs and you clench your eyes shut.

"Dad, I'll handle this," Aunt Lucy tells him, her voice rising just slightly.

"Look...the university just wasn't for me...."

"Then what is? Wearing those strange clothes, driving around the country doing nothing, not working? That's not how you were raised..." Your anger flares as your grandfather goes on.

"I just don't know what I want to do yet, Grandpa..." you say firmly, though your eyes are fixed on your aunt. "And truthfully I'd rather be back in Boston."

"Why, can't take the heat?" your cousin Sam remarks, trying to be funny, though it just aggravates you even more. He's always been a little bit of a nuisance to you, and now is no exception to the rule. You cast a pleading glance to your Cousin Michael, who is probably the best of the bunch, at least he was. You two used to be inseparable in your younger days, right up till he met this Star girl recently...As usual, he totally is oblivious to your existence, even though you're right across the table from him. He's too busy playing footsie with his new girlfriend under the table. Perfect.

"Sam," your aunt murmurs, coming to your rescue, well, sort of. "We know you're not thrilled with your parents moving you out here...but you didn't give them much of a choice-"

"So what, so you decide that you know what's best for me and move me from where I'm used to living, from where my friends are, to the freaking murder capital of the world?" you bite out, your eyes burning slightly, out of anger more than anything else.

"Your parents just thought that being here with other family that could spend more time with you..."

"What if I don't /want/ that?! I don't want to spend my Friday nights in the dining room playing fucking monopoly!" you bite out, slamming your fork on your plate as your aunt's gaze hardens at your choice of words. Sam looks on, wide-eyed as if this is some sort of spectator event, and Michael and Star are there, but in their own little world, as usual. "Maybe I'll go back to school, maybe I won't, but it's my decision...I want to see what's out there, find my place-"

"Stop talking crap," Grandpa mutters from around his bottle of root beer. "You're going to start classes here in the fall and that's that....you should feel lucky you've got your own apartment; if I had room you'd be here where we could keep an eye on you..." That does it.

"I'm not a little kid anymore! I'm not Sam's age!!"

"You're not that much older than Michael, dear, you're still young and need a good family influence-" Aunt Lucy starts again and you stand up and glare at the entire table.

"I'm sorry, but I can't take this right now..." you snarl, stalking away and grabbing your leather jacket from it's place in the living room, draped across a chair.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aunt Lucy
asks, not missing a beat.

"To the boardwalk...I've been here three days and haven't gotten to see it yet..." You roll your eyes with as much feeling as possible when everyone at the table gives you unapproving looks.

"Are you sure that's a good idea...going alone? You never know what kind of trouble you could get into..." Lucy says uneasily, glancing at her older son. "Michael, why don't you and Star go with her till she can find her way around better..."

"I don't /want/ them to go with me...I'll be fine," you insist, your eyes narrowing to slits.

"But you don't know who could take advantage of a young female by herself at night!" your aunt goes on and you sigh.

"I can take care of myself," you remind them, your hand slipping to your belt and touching your knife, something that no one in the household approves of you carrying. Not that they approve much of anything you do.

"Say that when you get your blood sucked out," Sam mutters and again you feel like you're going to be sick.

"You know...you call me delusional, but I don't know where you get this whole story of vampires..."

"It's true, dear..." Lucy says softly.

"Like it or not, there's some nasty bloodsuckers out
there," Grandpa agrees.

"Just ask Michael, or St-"

"I've heard all about everyone's little incident, and frankly, until I meet a vampire face to face, I'm not going to believe it...Murder capital of the world is one thing, Transylvania is another," you scoff. "I don't know how you think out here, but in Massachusetts there is no such thing as vampires..." you tell them bluntly, earning you dirty looks from Sam and Michael, and a warning look from Star.

"You shouldn't say that...you have no idea what could happen," Star says quietly and you sigh loud enough for her to get the idea that she needs to quit talking. Right. Now.

"Yeah, didn't you read the comic books I sent you?" Sam asks and you give him a withering glare.

"Sorry, I outgrew those things when I was ten...I have no interest at all in the little publications your friends put out..." you say and head for the door.

"Please, just sit back down and we'll-"

"No, Mom...let her go...she thinks she'll be all right, she's probably right...let her go," Michael mutters, raising his eyes briefly to you as if you're nothing but a spec of dust in the grand scheme of the family. Giving the gathered group one last cold stare you yank open the door and trek to your car.

You instinctively give a sigh of relief as you pull away from that creepy old cabin and back onto the main road. You just can't stand the way your family treats you sometimes...so what if you're a bit of an odd duck, or a rebel...you'll find your place soon enough, if they'll just give you the time to look for it...Hell, at this point you'd rather face vampires than go back to that cabin. Silently you thank the powers that be that your parents allowed you to get a separate apartment in Santa Carla. Otherwise you would have been on the run from your family again, the very night that you first arrived in the city. Still, if you want your parents to keep putting up cash for your well-being for the moment, you'd better play along....you really haven't got any other choice.

"Stuck between a rock and a fucking hard place," you growl softly to yourself as you pull in to a somewhat-crowded parking lot and head towards the bright lights and loud sounds of the boardwalk. You tug your fitted jacket around you, although you really aren't cold...not like you would be in Boston...there, you'd never be able to get away with the halter top you're wearing underneath your coat at this time of year. Smirking as you fumble around in your pockets, you grin as you slip your silver claw ring into place, a nice accessory to match the thin leather spiked collar that adorns your neck...not the best choice to wear to dinner with the family, but then again, you could never resist irking people.

You meander along the boardwalk, riding a couple of the more daring rides, letting the rush of adrenaline you get from them clear your troubled mind. Most of the booths and shops you walk past are a blur...you simply cannot shake the funk that you've gotten into this evening. You were hoping to find answers here, or at least a little relief, but neither come to you. You can't help but make a face, though, as you walk past Sam's favorite comic store. That's the /last/ thing you need to be reminded of. "Vampires on motorcycles...the next thing you know everybody will be crazy over werewolves doing tightrope acts," you mutter to yourself in disgust, stalking quickly past the door and choosing instead to look at some of the more eclectic of the jewelry on display a few booths down. You almost fit in here, a fact that you're not sure how to take to...although you must admit that you lack the tamer sheen of a lot of the punkish teens...possessing instead something darker that you don't quite see reflected in anyone else around you.

Occasionally you find yourself stopping and looking around, though no one's even glancing in your direction. You can't help but frown at the vague knot in your stomach that usually alerts you when something's not quite right. You continue on, but it doesn't go away...maybe your Aunt Lucy had a point....not a fact that you want to admit, but it has happened before. Hedging your bet, you pick up your pace a bit, your eyes scanning your peripheral vision, but catch nothing. Soon, you're headed towards the parking lot, which unfortunately isn't as populated as the boardwalk, a fact that you really hadn't thought about before. You quickly walk through the rows of cars, trying to remember where exactly you actually parked, cursing yourself for never being able to remember that sort of thing.
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