When it comes to being a vampire, I really suck.
In all the years I’ve been undead, I’ve never once drunk from a human. If it was still possible for me to die from embarrassment I would have a long time ago, but the only way I could kick it now was by way of the sharp end of a stake. I’d been hanging on for years, hoping that somehow, someday, I would get the chance to fang somebody.
That ends now.
Have you ever heard of those Moonlight books? They’re all about this human chick and this vampire dude and how they fall for each other. Not usually my kind of thing, but everybody else in the world seemed to love them. There were tons of spin-offs, rip-offs and blatant copies, and in all of them, every time; the vamp gets the girl. It’s always the same: The vamp in the book lays the brooding bad boy act on thick, acts mysterious and sexy, saves the hero chick’s life once or twice, and then she practically falls over herself to let him take a drink. Every single time.
If they could do it, why couldn’t I?
I’ll admit that it’s a bit of a stretch, but vamps aren’t even supposed to exist. I couldn’t live on hamsters for a second longer. I needed to do something. And I needed to do it now.
I moved to the West Coast town of Sunnysporks at the beginning of the school year. Agnolo, my legal guardian and the vamp who turned me, picked it out for three very good reasons: all of the adults here were idiots; it had practically every element of a large city and a constant curtain of rain, and it was far, far away from our last hometown. My latest attempt to get some blood had been so disastrous that we’d had to hide out in the woods to keep away from all the angry mobs. Even if that was ten years ago, Agnolo still wanted to play it safe. When you lived around me, you had to.
I told Agnolo my plan the day before school. Instead of applauding me for my genius, as I’d expected, he’d looked even more remorseful than usual and told me I was being stupid.
“But any vamp worth his fangs drinks from humans!” I protested. “Think Dracula, Helsing, Michael Jackson!”
“Michael Jackson was not a vamp.”
“Come on! No human could moonwalk like that!”
Agnolo rubbed at his temples, something he’s developed quite a habit for in the thirty years we’ve been together. “We are not having this conversation.” He looked me in the eye, dead serious. “Listen to me, Mike. You don’t ever want to get hooked. It’s the worst possible thing that could happen to you, and you will regret it every day for the rest of your life.”
That’s Agnolo for you. Death, doom and disaster are his bestest buddies. I nodded and mumbled something that sounded sincere, but in my head I was plotting out the next part of my plan.
Sunnysporks High was a cluster of buildings, and though they seemed innocent enough on the surface, there was something creepy about them. It was almost as though they were sitting atop a gateway to the demon realms-or maybe I’d just had a lot of bad experiences when it came to high schools.
Agnolo parked his Volvo out front. I went to get out, but he put a hand on my arm and said, “You be careful today.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
Agnolo frowned. “Watch your tone,” He said. “And listen to me. You haven’t been around this many humans for nearly a decade. It might be hard to keep yourself under control.”
“I’ll be fine,” I told him, shaking off his hand. I really didn’t want to stay in the Volvo a minute longer. I didn’t want to turn all the teachers against me by being late on my first day, and the car itself still gave me the creeps. It’d been where Agnolo turned me all those years ago, and the bloodstained passenger seat brought back some bad memories.
Agnolo sighed and shook his head. “I guess I’ll see you this afternoon, then. Do you want me to pick you up?”
“Nah. I’ll walk.” I shoved the door open and sprinted out into the rain.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
The main building of the school was swamped with kids, all of them rushing one way or another. The smell of blood was everywhere. It was like walking into your favorite restaurant on an empty stomach and without any money. Everything smelled so darn good, but I couldn’t have anything. I ignored my stomach’s sudden protests and prayed that nobody would see me drooling.
It was in homeroom when I saw her-the perfect victim. She was sitting in the back of the class, little and blond, the kind of girl I would have thought was hot back when I was human. Now I just wanted to take a bite.
The teacher had me stand in front of the room and introduce myself.
“Hey,” I said, “I’m Michael Fabryce, and I’m from New England.”
I was careful to stick to the guidelines Agnolo had drilled into me: when introducing yourself, give away as little as possible. Do everything you can to keep people from finding out that you haven’t really been alive since back when New Wave was big.
A flash of motion caught my eye. The girl in the back row had been staring up at the ceiling, but now her gaze darted down towards me. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and that one little movement sent an amazing scent wafting towards me. It cut through all the others in the room-the smell of her blood. I froze for a second. God, it smelled delicious.
The teacher tapped me on the shoulder. “Do you have anything else you want to share with us?” She asked.
Remember the plan, I told myself. Act mysterious. Leave ‘em hanging. I gave her a cool glance. “No.”
The teacher didn’t seem too happy about that. “Then you can sit down.” She took a quick look at her seating plan and said, “I believe there’s an empty seat next to Miss Bummers. Miss Bummers, raise your hand please.”
To my surprise the blond girl raised her hand.
Yes.
I took my bag and slid into the seat next to her. The instant I did, the scent of her blood hit me full on. Citrus, with overtones of bubblegum. It reminded me strangely of lip gloss, but that didn’t make it any less appetizing.
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