School for Vampires

by Quinn Conlan

  “You know what,” I say, closing my locker, “I do not have time for this right now.” I mean it.

  “But I do,” says Jason, out of the blue. He looks at Crystal. She meets his gaze and prepares for war. “You’re a real bitch, you know that?” You can’t fault Jason for getting straight to the point. Crystal looks shocked. I think she is surprised by his directness. She probably feels more comfortable in passive aggressive territory.

  I’m pretty shocked myself. I’m moved by Jason’s defense of me. I glance at Kate. She seems thrown, and it injects a fresh dose of tension in the air between us.

  Before this scene gets any more layered and confusing, I decide to make my exit. I tell everyone worth telling that I’ll see them at free time. I head for the lab. Thankfully, I’ve got Mr Morrison up first. All I have to do is survive an hour in a room of hazardous chemicals and an accident-prone teacher, and I’ll have answers about my dad.

  We’re still at the stage of learning the basic elements of vampire biochemistry. Today’s star attraction is something called Florinium. Mr Morrison tells us you can mix it with vampire blood to make an explosive. Sadly, today’s experiment doesn’t run that far. We have to settle for mixing Florinium with salt and seeing how it responds.

  It responds admirably. When the lesson is over, I rush to the front, to bend Mr Morrison’s ear before the next class enters. He’s busy dusting the blackboard. “Mr Morrison?” I say. He hears me, but he’s more concerned with the fact that his duster is overloaded with chalk. He picks up another duster and bangs the two of them together. Suddenly, we are lost to each other in a thick, white cloud. When the dust finally settles, I’m confronted by Mr Morrison’s big, goofy smile.

  “Boo,” he says. You can’t help but love the guy. He stares at me. I can tell he’s struggling to remember my name. His eyebrows go up and down like a yoyo, as he tries to place me. I finally put him out of his misery.

  “It’s Blake, sir.”

  “Blake! Right! I knew that!” He seems relieved that I’ve helped him get there.

  “Ah, sir, do you have a minute to chat?”

  “Well sure I do Blake. I’ve been meaning to catch up with you anyway, to find out how you’re settling in.” I feel like telling him that a moment ago, he didn’t even remember my name. But now’s not the time.

  “Mr Morrison, I was just wondering about the letters we get from home.”

  “Uh-huh, what about them?”

  “Well…” I suddenly realize I don’t know what to say. How do I tell a teacher I suspect someone, quite possibly a teacher, sent me a fake letter from my dad? “Well, I was just wondering, how do we know that they’re real?” Mr Morrison looks perplexed. He also looks stoned, but that’s not new.

  “Real? What else would they be?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but something doesn’t feel right about what I read.” I notice a new reaction creep across Mr Morrison’s face. His loveable, tripped out goofiness gives way to something closer to fear. He starts to look flummoxed. He doesn’t know how to respond.

  “Well, now, I wouldn’t know anything about that…” He struggles to make eye contact with me. I’ve strayed somewhere I shouldn’t. But I’m annoyed. I’ve been lied to. I decide to keep pushing him. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Suddenly, the door opens and a class of Seniors stream in. Mr Morrison looks relieved. He’s dodged a bullet. He offers me a hasty goodbye and a chalky pat on the back and I’m forced out into the corridor. I’m not sure Alurian made the most astute choice with their guidance counselor.

  *

  The only thing that manages to distract me from my growing sense of dread is hunger. Rabid hunger. It hits me right in the middle of second period, and holds me captive til free time. I feel almost as hungry as I did at the end of Transition. And that’s saying something.

  When the free time horn sounds, I race to the oval entrance. I’m first in line. I wolf down the red tablets the moment they’re dropped into my hands.

  They don’t take long to have an effect. You can’t fault Mr Morrison on chemical efficiency. The funny thing is, whilst the tablets do sate my hunger, they seem to produce strange side effects. I suddenly feel nauseous. It’s like I’ve come down with food poisoning. It comes on quick and hard, and even before my friends have spilled onto the oval, I’m back inside and bound for the bathroom.

  What comes up isn’t pretty. I actually wonder if it’s a delayed reaction to the garlic. Or maybe it’s the tablets mixing with the garlic? Then again, what do I know about vampire biology? Not much, beyond the fact that putting a grain of salt into a beaker of Florinium makes it go purple.

  I linger in the bathroom til I’m confident there’s nothing more that wants to head north. I make my way back to the oval. I sure do feel weird. I actually feel like I’m floating. Despite my recent intimacy with the toilet bowl, a part of me likes this feeling.

  Kit and my spot on the far edge of the oval could now officially be called a hang out. I see that Abner is there. I don’t know much about him yet, beyond the fact that he has a perpetual cold.

  When Kit sees me, she looks surprised. “Blake, you look…different.” I don’t know what her choice of euphemism means, but I suddenly worry that I look unwell.

  “Yeh, I think it’s a delayed reaction to the garlic. Is my face the color of a beetroot?”

  “Not exactly,” says Kit. “You look…sort of…good.” She says it with surprise. When I’m through with the mock-offended comments about how terrible she’s implying I usually look, I realize that’s exactly how I feel. Good. Strange, but good. Like I’m a bit more alive. I wonder if it has anything to do with stopping the Glints? I don’t tell Kit about the pill stash under the dresser. I tell her I was first in line for lunch and I heard a rumor that the pills on top are more potent. Abner screws up his face in disbelief.

  I move the conversation onto more pressing matters, like who’s hooked up after the Saturday night social. Kit’s face lights up. “Did you hear?” She’s got some serious goss. “Jason and Kate kissed.” That is some serious goss. I thought it would be something like: Crystal was found making out with a pompom. So it’s official. Jason and Kate have hooked up. I try my best not to show my mixed emotions.

  “Wow. They move fast,” I say, in a tone I hope matches Kit’s.

  Apparently, someone walked in on them in Jason’s gentlemen’s club. It’s strange how much the news affects me. Then again, I’ve been up and down and everything in between over the last few days, so I just add it to the list. As Kit and Abner start talking about which Presbies nerds have swapped awkward glances at each other, I find myself scanning the oval for signs of Jason and Kate. I see Garret, reliably deep in a game of social football. I see Crystal, working through the weighty matter of how best to spell out the letter ‘s’ with your body. Finally, way over on the other side of the oval, up against the gym windows, I spot Kate. She’s sitting with a large group of Seniors. At first I don’t see Jason, but then someone shifts and I see him lying on the grass in the thick of the conversation. Yep, I think it’s safe to say it’s on with those two.

  I feel strangely angry. I keep telling myself how silly it is, but the anger doesn’t care. It’s there and it’s there to stay. I’m not even sure what it’s about. Surely I don’t have feelings for Jason? I mean, he’s an attractive guy, if you go in for the whole brooding, charismatic, scruffy-haired, look. But he’s not my type. Type?! Listen to me! What would I even know about my type?! I’ve lived alone on a farm my whole life. The only contact I’ve had with boys has been an imaginary relationship with Chace Crawford and a play date with Mrs Tippet’s grandson when we were six. He moved away not long after. I’ve never gotten over the heartbreak…

  All jokes aside, it’s crazy to think I’m into Jason. Which leaves Kate. Am I angry about her for some reason? This theory has more legs. I felt like we’d bonded last week. As petty as it sounds, I suspect I’m thrown by the fact she’s now bonded with another J
unior. She’s a hell of a girl and I don’t think I wanted to share her! I mentally chastise myself for being so childish. I return my attention to my own little lunch time group and try to just feel grateful that my stomach’s finally settled.

  *

  It’s a minor miracle, but the Skill Sets class that follows free time doesn’t involve a game of hovering handsies. Lily has really decided to change things up on us today. It’s flying time.

  Or rather, crash and burning time. Lily explains that no one will be flying any time soon, and that it’s beside the point. She tells us it’s not even about flying. It’s about falling. She’s not wrong. She asks three students to stand up and head for the two-meter high diving board. There is a deep pit filled with foam underneath it that looks well used. The students nervously climb the ladder one by one. “All you have to do,” says Lily, in her usual calm voice, “is fall.”

  They’re only too willing to oblige. One after the other, they walk the plank, step off the end, and drop like a sack of potatoes into the foam pit. They look pleased when they emerge, since I guess they did fill the brief. Lily smiles. “You didn’t fall.” She’s fond of making us scratch our heads.

  The students return to the group and Lily heads for the diving board. She goes past the two-meter board and starts climbing the stairs to the 10-meter platform. Everyone comes alive with excitement. Lily walks to the edge of the plank. She looks so tiny and delicate up there. Without any hesitation, she steps off the edge and drops about a foot, before stopping in a mid air hover. It’s an amazing sight. The whole class gasps. Lily looks dazzling. Her arms are gently extended either side of her, one leg is slightly cocked, and her whole body just magically hovers. “This is what happens when you know how to fall,” she says from way up near the rafters. I’ve never been so keen to fall in my life.

  Lily slowly floats back down towards the ground. No fancy tricks on the way down, although I’m sure she knows them all. The whole class is in awe of her. She doesn’t seem the least bit interested in impressing us, despite the fact that she’s blown us all away. “Like I said,” she explains, “it’s not about flying. Only falling.”

  It’s time for the next raft of kids to kiss the foam. Lily chooses Garret, another boy, and then she looks at me. For a moment, she is thrown. It shows unmistakably on her face. I didn’t think this girl could be thrown. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but real nonetheless. She calls me up. As I make my way towards the diving board, I wonder what on earth she thought she saw? Sheer, unbridled terror might be the answer.

  We’re sticking with the two-meter board, but it’s still a fair height. The first boy climbs the ladder and flops into the foam like clockwork. Garret is next. He turns and grins at me. “Break a leg,” I whisper. He makes his way up and crashes into the foam in a heartbeat. Lily says nothing. She just watches and smiles.

  My turn. I climb the ladder and step onto the board. It’s so strange, but at this moment, I feel no fear. I thought I’d be so nervous, I’d be bolting back to the bathroom for another round of chunder thunder. But I feel calm.

  I take a few steps along the plank and step off. I realize something crazy. Somehow, from some strange, secret part of me, I just know that I’m not going to fall. It’s so hard to put into words. Maybe Vampyrric has the word for it. I’ll look it up. It’s like I’m so certain that I’m going to fall, and that falling is absolutely ok, that it means I don’t fall. Like I said, it’s crazy.

  But on the money. I go down about a foot, and then I hover. It’s officially the weirdest experience of my life. The class gasp meter breaks all records. But right this second, I don’t care about the class. I just feel completely right, being in my hover. Without any forethought, I find that my arms and legs are doing what Lily’s did. I find that something unconscious and automatic has taken over my body, and in a funny sort of way, I don’t have to do anything. So I just hover. For about twenty seconds. And then I glance over at Lily. I expect to see the usual, benign smile on her face. Or maybe even a look of approval. But I don’t. I see panic. Utter panic.

  I’m horrified. The more I look at her, the more I think that her frantic eyes are trying to tell me to fall into the pit. Yes. It’s unmistakable. I can almost hear them. “Just fall into the pit,” they plead. “Please Blake, fall into the pit.”

  And so I do. The moment I have the conscious thought to drop, I drop. As I emerge from the pit, the whole class breaks into wild applause. I walk back to the group. This should be the crowning moment of my life. But I’m totally confused. I look at Lily as I pass. Her face has settled back to the same, calm smile.

  The rest of the lesson is spent watching other kids try, and fail, to copy me. Some ask if I can go up again, but Lily says there won’t be time. She is as cool as a cucumber for the rest of the class. She says very little. She just watches. She doesn’t look at me, and I’m relieved for it. I don’t want to see that look of panic again.

  The horn sounds for next period. Lily tells us that our homework will be to write a reflective piece on our experience of falling. She then calmly asks me if she can have a quick word.

  The class files out and I go over to Lily. She watches the other students leave, waiting til we’re alone before speaking. I haven’t got the faintest idea what she’s going to say. Suddenly, I’m worried that she’s going to chastise me for showing off. It’s the only thing my mind can come up with.

  I start to think up some kind of defense, although there isn’t exactly a precedent for explaining why you just hovered in the air. When the last student leaves the room, Lily says, “come with me.”

  I follow her into a small storeroom. It’s filled with rubber mats and foam off cuts. There are no candles in this room. Lily closes the door behind us, and we are plunged into complete darkness. My heart drops.

  Lily takes my hand and leads me further into the storeroom. I bump into what feels like a vaulting horse. We come to a stop, and I realize that my eyes do not seem to be adjusting to the darkness. “You don’t need to see right now,” she says. Her voice is instantly very different to her usual one. It’s animated. Alive. “We don’t have long.”

  I don’t say a word. I’m afraid. And confused. Lily continues holding my hand. “You stopped taking them, didn’t you?”

  “Stopped taking what?” I ask.

  “The Glints.”

  “Yes,” I say, “how did you know?”

  “Blake, listen to me. There is so much I can’t explain right now. What you did today, you cannot do that again.”

  “Why not?” I’m confused.

  “You just can’t Blake. You’re going to have to trust me. I promise you that when the time is right, I will explain more. Much more. But right now, you cannot repeat what you did today.” As baffled as I am, I believe her. I trust her.

  “But how do I stop?” I ask. “I don’t even know how I did it.”

  “By going back on the Glints.”

  I think for a moment. Do I tell her about my plan? To save up enough pills to buy a trip above ground, so I can send a letter to my dad? I don’t know what to do. As I stand there mentally debating it, Lily decides the matter for me.

  “You’re thinking about your father?” God she’s good.

  “Yes. I need to find out if he’s ok. If I save up enough Glints, I can trade them…” Lily silences me with a gentle but urgent finger placed across my lips. We stand there for a moment, without saying a word. And then I hear it. Sounds coming from the Skills Centre.

  We stand there in terrified silence for a long time. The sounds grow louder. Someone is moving furniture. Finally, they diminish and then disappear. We wait a while longer, just to make sure. When it’s safe to talk again, Lily says, “a Helper.” He must have been setting up for the next class. “Blake, we’re out of time. But listen to me. I understand. I will take care of it for you. It will take me a week. We will meet here next Monday and I will have the information you need about your father. In the meantime, you must start
taking the pills again. Tonight. Understood?” I’m relieved to hear she’s going to help with my dad. And grateful. I tell her that I understand and I will do what she asks.

  Lily leads me out of the storeroom and hurries me towards the door. I look back as I go. She’s watching me closely. She gives a faint smile that is very different to her usual one. It’s a smile that says one thing above all else. Ally.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As I rattle through the train tunnel after school, I make a decision to follow the advice given to me. Don’t cause a scene. Don’t ask too many questions. Don’t show off. From now on, it’s head down and drugged up.

  Armed with the knowledge that someone is going to find out about my dad, I decide to devote the rest of the week to schoolwork. It proves to be no mean feat. We’ve added three new, complicated Vampyrric verbs into the mix. There’s a riveting new Vampirricals equation that helps you work out the best angle to land at from a flying jump, so long as your flying speed doesn’t exceed the ratio of wind resistance to height. Or something along those lines. In Combat, we’re now throwing stakes and blood darts blindfolded. If a vampire dummy has even a scratch on it by the end of semester, I’ll be surprised. And Fables continues its slow crawl through the earliest years.

  Actually, it’s pretty fascinating. That Lucian guy had a lot on his plate, back in the day. Nobody was there to hand him a vampire starter pack. He had to make things up as he went along.

  After slaughtering his village and burying his wife and children, he disappeared into the mountains. He needed to learn about himself. He remained there for some years, killing stray mountain climbers and practicing his newly acquired skills. And getting stronger.

  He was content to remain on the down low, except every full moon, he went completely bonkers. He became filled with the same murderous, tortured rage from that first night. He would stand on the edge of a high rock and cry out across the lands, stirring all the beasts and striking fear into the hearts of humans. He would make his way into a village and mercilessly destroy it.