by Quinn Conlan
“How to be a vampire,” I say. Mr Nakamura smiles.
“Perhaps.” Perhaps not. “What else?” he asks. Again I think.
“How to fight?” The fact that I turned a statement into a question means I’m already grasping at straws.
“Perhaps,” he says again. I get the feeling Combat is going to be as much about riddles as it is about weapons. “A fight is only a fight if it comes from in here.” He puts his hand on his heart. “And to get in here, you must fight.” Oh boy, he’s going straight for the riddler’s jugular. I can see others looking as perplexed as me. Mr Nakamura smiles.
“The first question for you all to ponder is, will I fight to clear a path into my own heart, or will I fight to impress the tunnel rats?” I shudder thinking about the impressive size of those rats.
Just when it looks like this entire subject is going to be Philosophy 101, Mr Nakamura suddenly yells, “stakes!” He points us to the wall of weapons. We go over and pick up a wooden stake. They are handmade and heavy. I touch the pointy end and feel its surprising sharpness. We take our positions in a line facing the wall of dummies. Mr Nakamura puts his hands behind his back and starts walking up and down the line. “First lesson is not: how to throw a stake. First lesson is: how does my enemy throw a stake? You may begin.”
Actually, first lesson is: how no one should throw a stake. None of the 12 deadly weapons makes the target. Most, including mine, fall down on distance. One somehow ends up behind us. A couple make the distance but either hit the dummy with the blunt end of the stake and bounce off, or, in the case of Garret, miss the dummy entirely and get lodged in the wall behind it. Garret seems impressed, and I wonder if he’s trying to show Mr Nakamura that biceps do count for something. Mr Nakamura smiles and picks up the stray stake that flew backwards. “This one closest to bulls eye. More like this please.” How on earth does that make sense?! This class is going to be quite the head scratcher.
We spend the rest of it trying our best to hurl wooden stakes like Mr Nakamura wants. Consequently, they fly in all directions. He seems pleased with the chaos, even though he has to duck at one point to avoid a headshot. He even laughs when someone throws a stake through a window and glass falls everywhere. He praises our excellent work, and as a horn echoes through the school to signal that it’s the end of class, we all file out utterly bamboozled.
Second period finds me in a much more sedate, conventional sort of classroom. Fables is a core component of our curriculum and it’s run by none other than stern old Miss Montgomery herself. She power walks into the room and takes her seat at the front.
This class is larger than Combat. In fact, I’d say half the entire year is in with me. I’m sitting next to Kit, who has just come from a science class she swears is like no other. I can see Crystal a row in front. I can also feel someone kicking my chair. I turn around to see everyone’s favorite bad boy. He greets me with his trademark smirk. He apologizes for the chair kick and claims it was an accident. If he does it again, I’ll show him a little accident of my own.
Miss Montgomery claps once and it scares the daylights out of us. A couple of kids even gasp out loud. Miss Montgomery smiles. The room is hers. “Well. I’m glad to see that most of you actually put in the effort for your Transition exam. I look forward to seeing where that hard work can take you over the course of the school year. As you know, this class is all about the history of vampires. What you do not know is just how vital it is to learn that history. Who can hazard a guess as to why?” Great, more riddles. Miss Montgomery points to a boy of about 15 in the front row. He looks like a carbon copy of the nerd in charge of the Presbies. “You there. What’s your name?”
“Abner Holling,” he replies, nervously. He pushes his thick glasses further up his nose and sniffs.
“Nerd alert,” comes a voice from right behind me. Kids laugh and Miss Montgomery looks up furiously. Her eyes narrow.
“Pay no heed, young man, to the cat calls of the inane. Can you tell us why it’s so vital to be thoroughly well-versed in the history of our kind?” Abner gives it his best shot.
“So that we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past?” It sounds impressive but I don’t think it’s what Miss Montgomery is looking for. She concurs.
“This isn’t human history my boy. We don’t kill our own to the tune of hundreds of millions over petty land squabbles and vanity.” Ouch. Take that, humans.
Miss Montgomery moves on to Crystal, who has hardly stopped playing with her hair since she sat down. “You there. I’m quite sure your hair is utterly fascinating, but if you could manage to leave it alone for the briefest of moments and answer my question, I would be so grateful.” Crystal looks dumbfounded.
“Could you repeat the question?” she asks. People snigger. Miss Montgomery grits her teeth and begrudgingly obliges.
“Why is it so important that we know our history?” Crystal takes her time.
“For the exam?” I think she’s deadly serious, but the whole class cracks up. I even think Miss Montgomery is on the verge of smiling. She gives one of her thunderous claps, which silences the room instantly. She gets up, takes some chalk and, in large letters, writes a single word on the blackboard. Tradition. She underlines it.
“Tradition. Pure and simple. I have no time for new age deconstructions, meaningless aphorisms or rote learning for its own sake. This one word is at the heart of all that I do and all that I teach. Tradition. Mark it well. We learn our origins because, whether we like it or not, we are all part of a singular tradition. And if you don’t like it, then in my opinion you have no business being a vampire.”
Strong words. And clearly not up for debate. However, I’m not sure I like some of what she’s saying. My dad brought me up to think and ask questions. To ask not so much ‘what happened?’ as ‘how do we make sense of what happened?’ and ‘what does that say about us in the process?’ I don’t think my dad and Miss Montgomery would get on so well. Clearly though, this is her domain, so I best play by her rules.
The boy sitting behind me doesn’t seem so fussed about playing by the rules. I hear him sharing a joke with the neighboring boy. I can’t make it out, but when the boy laughs, Miss Montgomery falls silent. Her eyes narrow so much, they practically disappear. This could get ugly. We’re in pin drop territory here. “You there. What’s your name?”
“Jason. Pleased to meet you.” Several kids laugh. Jason. So he finally has a name.
“I wish I could say the same,” says Miss Montgomery. “I wonder if you could share with the rest of the class what you felt you had to so urgently tell the boy next to you?” Jason shifts a little in his seat.
“It’s nothing,” he says.
“I’ll tell you what isn’t nothing. Disruption. Preventing other children from learning. Taking up my own precious time with disciplinary matters. These things aren’t nothing, would you agree?”
“I guess.”
“You guess right. But don’t make me guess what you felt so compelled to say to the boy with the misfortune of sitting next to you. Tell me, right now, or it will be Mr Foggarty worming it out of you.” There is a long silence. Jason’s sussing out how to play this. It’s like watching a game of chess. He decides to put her in check.
“I was just wondering if there was a prize?”
“A prize?” asks Miss Montgomery, “a prize for what?”
“For being the first to pull the pole out of your ass?” A few kids snigger. The sniggers swell into laughter. The laughter proves contagious. I don’t turn around, but I’m sure that Jason has a devilish, satisfied smirk right now. Miss Montgomery boils with rage. She claps her hands so hard, my ears hurt. The room falls silent.
“Out! Right now! Mr Foggarty can deal with you.” Jason slowly rises and heads for the door.
“Where is the old fart’s office, anyway?”
“Down the corridor and to the right. You’ll know the way blindfolded by the end of the week. Oh, and say hello to Gunther for me will you?”
A sudden smirk creeps across Miss Montgomery’s face. “And another thing. All the work you’re about to miss can be caught up on over the weekend, when the other students are enjoying free time.” Check mate. Jason leaves the room and I feel a little sorry for him. But mainly, I just want to know who the hell Gunther is.
Chapter Six
A typical school day involves six, hour-long lessons, plus an hour of free time. They always say the first day is the hardest and I’m hoping that’s right. Everything is new. Everything is a surprise. After Fables, the rest of which consists of Miss Montgomery reading out passages from one of the earliest vampire texts, I’m herded into a science class run by the goofy Mr Morrison. His job is to teach us all about the effects different chemicals can have on vampires. It’s like learning a whole new branch of science you never knew existed. It’s called Vampology. After an hour of squirting unpronounceable chemicals into test tubes and watching them change color, it’s free time. What a relief.
Free time feels like the closest thing to regular high school. It basically involves all the students milling about on the large school oval, chatting, bitching and playing. The closest we get to lunch is the ubiquitous red tablets, which are handed to each student as they step onto the oval. It’s strange how little I miss food. The tablets do a mean job of quelling my hunger and I seldom give it a second thought. As I walk across the busy oval, I search for Kit. I’d parted ways with her again after Fables and I’m eager to have someone to share the strangeness of everything with. It doesn’t take long to find her, mainly because she is looking for me too, and we find a place to sit on the edge of the lush green oval.
The best way to deal with strangeness is to make light of it. Kit and I swap hilarious stories of flying stakes and fluorescent chemicals. We discuss Jason’s antics at length and I realize he hasn’t been seen since Fables. I scan the oval but it’s so long and wide, he could be anywhere. I do see Garret quarterbacking with a bunch of other Licks jocks. I’m still a bit thrown by the guy. I watch him as he moves purposefully across the grass. He’s clearly in his element. Bulging biceps might not help with Combat, but they certainly don’t hurt on the football field. “Let’s face it, he’s cute,” says Kit. I turn to face her and realize I must have been staring at Garret for some time. I blush a little. At least I hope it’s a little. Kit has a mischievous grin.
“He’s not my type,” I say dismissively.
“Oh come on, I saw you perving.”
“Please! I was watching the…” I look around in search of a deflection. I see Crystal and her pals practicing rah-rah moves on the other side of the oval. “Cheerleaders,” I say with a smile. “I’m thinking of joining.” Kit laughs and there is no more talk of the apparently cute Garret.
It’s strange being on an indoor oval at night. As with every other part of this underground world, it’s lit with candles. God only knows how they get it so green. Every now and then, a candle will blow out, and a Helper pops out of some hidden half-door to relight it. It’s amazing how on top of the candle situation they are. Truth be told, it makes me feel a bit guilty. I’m not used to being waited on.
I still have a ton of questions about this place. I try to remind myself that a little pace is in order, since I don’t want to get overwhelmed. It’s a weird feeling, being in the dark about so much that’s going on around you. It’s already clear to me that the powers that be like to drip-feed us information, and that they take tradition very seriously. Beyond that, my questions seem to grow by the minute.
As I sit there watching my mind run away with itself, it suddenly occurs to me that we’ve got company. Three boys have approached Kit and I, and Kit’s elbow to my ribs snaps me back to the here and now.
The boy in the middle kneels down in front of us. The other two remain standing and seem to be on lookout duty. I’ve never seen these boys before but I suspect they’re Seniors. The kneeling one is about 17, with dark brown, gelled back hair and a knowing glint in his eye. He smiles at us. “Ladies, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Carter.” He’s smooth. “Something tells me you’re both Juniors?” We nod. “Well, I just wanted to come over and say, from a Senior to a couple of delightful, gorgeous young Juniors, welcome.” His tone of voice suggests there’s a lot more he’d like to say.
“Who are these guys?” I ask, nodding in the direction of the lookouts.
“Oh them? They’re the muscle,” says Carter, with relish.
“Muscle for what?” asks Kit.
“For my little operation. You see, round these parts, I’m the man who can get things.” His reason for approaching us becomes clearer by the second. “They don’t supply much down here in the way of luxuries, I’m sure you’d agree?” We both nod. It’s hard to argue with that. “Well ladies, that’s where I come in. We all need a few of life’s creature comforts to help get us through the day. Or night, as the case may be. And it would be my great pleasure to provide comfort to the both of you.” He seems sleazy and slick, which fits with his job description. He continues with the pitch. “You want lipstick? Eyeliner? A book to read? I’m the man to ask. You want a private excursion to the Square? You got it. You wanna go up top, it can be arranged.” He says it all with such confidence, I don’t doubt any of it. Suddenly, the idea of going into the Square appeals to me. I’m so keen to find out more about this place. As for going up top, right now that feels like a step too far, but I know my brain has filed the information away. And now for the million-dollar question.
“And what would each of these services cost?” I ask. He looks at me and smiles.
“Straight to the point, I like it. Well, you Juniors don’t know it yet, but you have access to a hot commodity. Glints. Much sought after by us old timers, not to mention those outside the confines of this ridiculous little prison. Single items – lipstick, an item of clothing, what have you – it’s a straight trade of one for one. You want an excursion to the Square, it’s gonna cost you five pills. You wanna go up top, you’re looking at ten.”
“And what are we meant to do with our hunger if we trade our pills?” asks Kit, somewhat naively. Carter laughs.
“That doesn’t exactly sound like my problem now does it? Now, those are the market rates I’ve given you. There are of course other ways of doing business.” He looks at me suggestively. I suddenly feel slightly ill.
“Thanks,” I say coldly, “we’ll keep it in mind.” Carter stands up. The pitch is over.
“Be sure that you do. We can be your best friends down here ladies. Sooner or later, everyone needs something.” With these words, he turns and walks off, with the silent muscle men following closely behind.
Kit and I exchange glances. We are both as green as each other down here and the learning curve is a steep one. Humor yet again softens the blow. Kit does a mean impression of Carter’s smooth as silk voice. I comment on his pants, which seem so tight I’m surprised he can even walk. We both laugh.
Suddenly, there is another presence hovering over us. This is a busy lunch. It’s Garret. He’s clutching his beloved football and looks concerned. “You alright?” he inquires. I find myself feeling slightly annoyed.
“Yes! We can handle ourselves, ok?” Kit looks at me with surprise. As does Garret. Then he smiles.
“Ok, fair enough. Just thought I’d check. Those guys don’t strike me as terribly friendly that’s all.” He turns to go. “See ya at the next round of stakes Blake.” He runs back to join the huddle. Kit leans into me with a broad, knowing smile.
“Someone’s got a crush,” she says.
“Oh he does not, he’s just hardwired to protect every damsel he thinks is in distress,” I fire back.
“I wasn’t talking about him…” I’m horrified at the thought that I’m giving off crush vibes, and I deal with it by jumping on Kit and tickling her mercilessly. We fall onto the grass in hysterics, and talk rubbish til the next horn blows.
Chapter Seven
Math was never my strong suit. It wasn’t dad’s eithe
r, which I guess is why it’s not mine. We used to share a knowing grin whenever it came up on the home school syllabus he’d haphazardly designed. I don’t think we ever really made it past the basics. The lessons usually ended up being a game of father-daughter chess, which for some reason dad saw as vaguely mathematical.
So I’m nervous as I make my way to the next class. It’s called Vampirricals, and it’s basically math for vampires. I walk in and take a seat in the last row. I can see Kit right up the front, sitting next to Abner. Jason walks in. He’s back from Mr Foggarty’s office. He briefly makes eye contact with me and I wait for a cheeky, baiting grin, but it doesn’t come. He seems down. Actually he seems a little scared. He quickly looks away and takes a seat at the opposite end of the back row. Looks like whatever punishment he faced for insulting Miss Montgomery has more than done the trick.
Already up front and busy scribbling a bunch of numbers on the blackboard, is a fierce-looking man with dark hair and jet black eyes. He is clad entirely in black and looks a little more like the clichéd vampire that we’re all used to. He turns to face us and stares across the room with a severe gaze and deep-set frown. When he finally talks, it’s in a slow, flat-toned drawl. “I am Mr Curzon. I am your Vampirricals teacher.” He almost sounds irritated to be here. “There will be no calling out. Ever. You will raise your hand to speak or you will be silent.” He casts another long, slow glance across the room. This guy is fierce. “To begin then.”
He slowly steps towards the window and puts his hand to his chin as if deep in thought. “The facts are these. Vampire math isn’t the math you did in your former life. We’ve little need in our society for ‘algebra’ or ‘calculus’”. He makes the quotation gesture with his hands and has a particularly disdainful tone when he says these words. Little does he know how relieved I am to hear it. Mr Curzon returns to the blackboard. There is a dizzying array of numbers, symbols and lines scrawled from one end of the board to the other. “What you see before you, boys and girls, are all the numbers, equations and graphs you will need to know in order to become a successful member of vampire society. This is it, every bit of math contained on one solitary blackboard.”