Vampire High School (Book 1: Gregor Academy)

by Lachelle Miller

  “Um… that’s good if you want to give every guy at this party a serious boner. But- again thinking long term- I bet you can do better.”

  I gave up. “Seriously, dude. I don’t know what you’re getting at. Just tell me- how can I get back at Cami in a monster way?”

  Alan pointed at something over my shoulder. I turned my head to find Cami and Craig going at it on a blanket not ten feet from me. She was totally rubbing his thingy and then grabbed his hand and put it up her shirt. It felt like somebody had just thrown sand in my eyes; like a retard I couldn’t even look away!

  My heart just shot out of my chest. My hands were balling up into tight little fists. I could feel the blood rising to my face.

  “Pay attention to what you’re feeling right now,” Alan told me, drilling into me with those intense eyes of his, “you know there’s only one way to get her back for what she did to you. Your body knows- but your mind keeps blocking the thought out.”

  The words totally bypassed my brain and came right out of my broken heart, “I’m going to fucking kill her.”

  Alan smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Did he do the sudden light thing with the blind?” I asked her.

  Dorothy nodded.

  Everything had been going fine till then. I had bought the coffees, and we had a small table near the back.

  “Yes, he did that. I don’t know why.”

  “He was pretty pissy to me,” I began, “talking about what we are supposed to go through. I still think the whole thing was hogwash from the start.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Somehow the subject got changed, and we talked about music, and sports, and the ethics of cheerleading. Harry Potter. The whole thing was fun.

  Then her phone went off.

  She looked at the number. “Sorry. I do have to take this.”

  She got up and went quickly outside, where she had an animated discussion for a few minutes. She came back in with a sheepish grin. “I have to cut this short, sorry Lyman.”

  I wanted to scream “NO!”, but I just smiled, and said “Hey, rain check, right?”

  “Of course.” Then she leant down and did something that had never happened before. She kissed my cheek, and smiled at me. Smiled.

  A girl had kissed my cheek. And it wasn’t my mom. Hell—she wasn’t related to me!

  And then she was gone, right out the door.

  The world seemed to go out of focus for a while, and I didn’t care.

  I went home that night with a spring in my step. It was only ten blocks to my house, and I’d pass Alan’s. Maybe see his Mom. As I neared, there was a huge moving van outside. Men were taking stuff into the van already. I walked up the path, and looked in the open front door. “Missus McCartney?” I yelled.

  “Not here son.” A rugged man yelled from the kitchen. “She’s already moved her clothes out, we’re following tomorrow.”

  “Moving?” I balked. It was way too soon. “There hasn’t even been a funeral yet.”

  “She couldn’t stand the idea of being here one moment more.” He said coming towards me with a large taped box, marked ‘kitchen’. “She took off this morning.”

  “Where to?”

  “Florida.” He looked at me for a second, then a penny seemed to drop. “Are you Lyman?”

  I was shocked into silence for a second. “Yeah, Lyman Bracks.”

  “Excellent,” he said, passing me to hand the box to a guy already up in the back of the truck. “I have something for you. Mrs. McCartney labeled it.”

  Rather than follow him, I just stood at the doorway. When he returned, he was carrying Alan’s Fender guitar case. He held it up to let me see. The label definitely said Lyman Bracks, then my address.

  “I was going to deliver it, but since you’re here.”

  I took the handle, and sure enough it was heavy enough for a guitar to be inside.

  “Thanks.” I said meekly, but he’d already walked away.

  I felt very sad. I was standing in this bare walled, echoing house; no goodbyes, no hugs. No ‘take care Lyman’- nothing.

  I turned from the empty walls and walked back down the path to the sidewalk. A girl was propping a small bunch of roses by the gate.

  She stood up. “You’re ‘Red’, aren’t you?”

  I looked at her. Gregor Academy uniform; white blouse, white cardigan, short burgundy skirt. From somewhere I recalled her details. She was a junior. She was also pretty, cute eyes, nice legs, she kinda had it all.

  “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

  “Mary-Christine Muscat.”

  “Like the wine?”

  “That’s me. You were a friend of Alan’s weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. How did you know him?”

  “Oh, I’m on clarinet. Best of the also-rans. I’ll probably get a place on the band because of this. It’s just awful.” She brimmed up, and I just stood there wondering what the fuck I could do to get out of there fast. Then she took a step forward and hugged me.

  She was smaller than Dorothy, but, man, she smelled nice.

  In my head, I was thinking “Alan had to die to get me some attention?” Then my body started to react to this sweet little number. I pushed her away slightly- mostly because I was getting the beginnings of a boner. Man, I was in a bad way.

  “I’m sorry, Red.” She wiped her tears with her sleeve. “You can walk me home if you like.”

  “Where do you stay?” If anything, I was just a little annoyed at her presumption. I had been in the middle of a grieving moment.

  “Just round the corner from you. Cherry Avenue.” She took my hand and began to walk. I had to follow to keep my hand on the end of my wrist.

  I even looked around to see who could be watching.

  “We just moved in from Milwaukee last month.” She smiled up at me, and damn, she had a nice smile too. I hadn’t noticed that before. “My dad works for Unicorps.”

  “Wow,” I was genuinely surprised. “So does mine!” Unicorps was one of the bigger industrial employers in the town.

  “Cool.” She walked jauntily beside me. “Do you play?”

  “Play?” I must have looked a complete dick. I was walking along the road with a Fender Telecaster guitar case, and wondering what she meant. I couldn’t play any more than two chords. The guitar thing had always been Alan’s.

  “Yeah, like a musical instrument… the guitar, duh!”

  I gave a feeble grin. “I just got it today.”

  “Wow, cool!” she was all excited for me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her it used to be Alan’s; although the idea of another hug was tempting.

  She stopped, took one step to the side, one step up. Seems we were already at her gate. I fleetingly wondered where the time had gone.

  She turned. Because of the step, we were suddenly at eye level. We still held hands, we were real close.

  Oh God, I suddenly realized that it was serious kiss time. She was looking directly into my eyes, waiting for me to do something. This had never happened before, but then again, I’d never walked with a girl holding my hand before.

  It was kiss time, and I wasn’t ready, I had a guitar case in one hand, and a case of five thumbs for the other.

  She grinned, leant forward, and came right onto my mouth. Nice kiss. Then at the end she dipped the tongue between my lips, like a snake tasting the air.

  I was quite overcome. Strawberries. Despite her not eating anything on the walk home, her mouth and lips tasted of strawberries.

  Mary-Christine walked up her driveway, looking over her shoulder, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She’d done her part, she’d hooked the fish. Now all she had to do was reel it in.

  Oh, and in case you were wondering; I was under no illusion, I knew I was the fish. And if she’d reeled that moment, I would have gone willingly.

  ~ ~ ~

  Please. Give me an effing break, people. I mean- haven’t you ever said you were going to kill somebod
y? How many times have you really gone out and done it? I’m guessing like zero. And if you’re reading this on Death Row, hey you’ve got my sympathies.

  We’re fast forwarding again- this time only a couple of days.

  I’d left Jackson’s party a complete spaz. I was all bawling and cussing people out; I wrote “Cami’s a ho” on the wall with my fire engine red lipstick. Seriously- I’ll never be invited back to Jackson’s ever again and he’s the only dude I know with a pool and a hot tub. So that really blows.

  But, anyway… Alan walked me home. Usually at this point a friend would be trying to calm their (justifiably) upset friend down. Only Alan just kept whipping me up more.

  “You’re just going to let her get away with that?” he said to me. “That’s so chicken shit. That girl just completely humiliated you back there; first she shit on you and then she rubbed your nose in it. And you’re just gonna freak out and run away with your tail between your legs. Fucking pathetic, Mandy Cross. I thought you were better than that.”

  I’d been plucking leaves off low-hanging branches as we walked. I dunno- it’s just something I do. After Alan said that I took the whole bunch and threw them in his perfect little face.

  “Go to hell!” I shouted.

  That’s when he gave me the most messed up look I’d ever seen and got all mocking, “I’ve already been to Hell and back again. Good people, good food. If I thought you could handle it- I’d bring you there some time. Too bad you’re just a messed up little drama queen- all claws and no scratch.”

  Right then, Alan just kind of vanished on me. It wasn’t like zappo he’s vaporized. More like he just moved so fast my mortal eyes couldn’t keep track.

  I was kinda pissed, I mean, he could have done something to calm me down.

  Then he didn’t call the next night; I admit that I did wait in the gazebo ‘til three. The next night, I gave up by midnight and went to my room.

  I was already in my PJ’s and under the covers when I heard a tap on my window. This was pretty freaky since my bedroom’s on the second floor. But, Alan was like a spider the way he clung to the side of the house with one hand and knocked on the window with the other.

  It was open and he could’ve swung in anytime- or so I thought. So, I didn’t even bother getting out of bed. I just stared him down from across the room.

  “Aren’t you going to let me in?” he asked.

  “Duh… it’s open. What do you want- an engraved invitation?”

  Alan smiled all big and happy, “Just a verbal invitation would be fine.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest like a pouty little girl, “You can come in.”

  He did that super-fast-moving thing again; super-quietly, too. Seriously- he could have been a freaking feather.

  “Don’t you remember anything from Vampire Diaries? I can’t come into a home unless I’m invited.”

  Okay- I’d forgotten that part, but it wasn’t like I’d actually paid much attention to the freakin’ thing. It was a just dumb book; at the time I didn’t know I was reading a manual for how to live around vampires.

  “Interesting how you had no issues getting into Jackson’s house the other night.” Okay- I decided to pry again. So sue me.

  “I’ve been there before; dinner parties n’ such. The McCartney’s and the Coles go way back. Like… WAY, way back.”

  I think my heart pretty much froze up at that point, “What exactly are you saying?”

  Alan gave me a cute face and shrugged all innocently, “You can never be sure who your neighbors are.”

  “So… Jackson’s a…”

  I was totally freaking out. That seemed to make Alan mad. He got all huffy.

  “Yeah. Say the word: vampire. And so am I. So what?”

  “So… nothing,” I said, “pardon the crap out of me, your highness. I’m not used to the idea that people who live two blocks from me are the living dead.”

  He backed off after that; kind of made fun of me a little, “Now you’re thinking of zombies.”

  “What’s the diff? I mean- vampires aren’t really alive right?”

  Alan sat on the edge of my bed. There was only a small light from my bedside lamp. It gave off just enough of a glow to make his flawless face dreamlike.

  “Depends, Mandy Cross. What’s your definition of ‘alive’?”

  I pulled my answer right out of my ninth grade biology book: “Something that grows, moves and eats.”

  “Okay. By that description you’re saying that an amoeba is more alive than I am.”

  “If the definition fits…”

  “Yet- I think. I have emotions and opinions… a sense of humor; an ameba has none of that. Sure- the ameba grows; that’s something I’ll never do again. As I am now, I’ll be forever. But! I do move, Mandy Cross…” He came in really close to me; I could feel his lips on my throat as he spoke, “and I certainly do eat.”

  It was like I couldn’t breathe. I was overwhelmed with this total sense of dread. Like any minute he could just sink in and drain my life away. I wouldn’t be able to stop him. What’s weird, though- it was also kind of a turn on.

  “And and amoeba couldn’t do this.”

  Alan brushed his lips up against my neck in the softest, most delicate kiss. I instantly wanted more- a lot more. But that was all he was giving up just then.

  My head was all foggy, like I was drunk. He noticed.

  “That’s vampire pheromone,” he told me; obviously enjoying my loopy-ness, “helps to sedate victims; makes them a bit more willing.”

  “You should bottle it.” I rubbed my eyes until tiny stars burst in them, “It’s good stuff.”

  Again Alan got super close to me. This time, I inhaled all my lungs could handle of the sweat perfume coming off his skin.

  “Mandy Cross,” he whispered.

  His breath curled around my senses like a net. I was snagged and being pulled in.

  “I could make you do anything I wanted to right now.”

  I was about ready to beg him to let me do all kinds of stuff to him when Alan backed completely off. My whole body was tingling… especially down there. Seriously- I’d done it eight times with Craig and he never had me close to that worked up. Now I knew why guys got so pissed off when girls “teased” them.

  So, I figured I’d take matters into my own hands. I dropped the spaghetti straps of my nightshirt down and slipped the top to my waist. Alan looked at my naked breasts like you’d look at a painting in a museum- nice… but no touching.

  It seemed I sat there for ages while he just scored me with his eyes.

  It was humiliating. I pulled my top back up.

  “Okay. So, you didn’t come here for that. What do you actually want, Alan?”

  “I want everything I just saw, Mandy Cross… and more; and I want it with you,” he told me with this really serious tone, “but, you’re mortal.”

  I was so pissed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Alan made for the window. He dropped a nice little bomb on me before he leapt out, though.

  “Don’t you see? To me- you’re the one who’s less than an amoeba.”

  Chapter 3. Conflict of Interests.

  I didn’t sleep much that night. I lay on my bed and imagined Dorothy’s breasts on my chest, then Mary’s. I got so worked up, I had to masturbate. Then about twelve I did it again, just for the hell of it. At about two in the morning, I imagined them both together; that did it. I was going for round three. I fell asleep straight afterwards, exhausted.

  I mean, for me, it was female overload. I awoke a mess, tired, listless, and when mom suggested I take a day off, I resolutely refused and sleep-walked round the corner to the bus stop. Well, who was there but perky Mary-Christine.

  That sure as heck woke me up.

  We chatted the whole way about school, and music and television and celebrities; it was quite a mind meld.

  My first class was English, so the seat next to me was empty (Alan’s). I spread out a
bit and wallowed in my stud-ness. I handed in my homework, and breezed through till lunch. Dorothy sat next to me again, and I caught Mary-Christine out the corner of my eye, sitting with friends.

  Dorothy was all about cheerleading. Considering she was a year older, talking to her kinda paled in comparison to Mary-Christine’s conversation. But Dorothy definitely had the better tits. Well, from what I could see at least.

  We arranged to meet at the coffee shop again, at six, and she’d make sure that no one would phone this time. I decided to go home at three-thirty and change. I mean- this was our second date and I was still in school burgundy.

  I chose a nice leather jacket and, at the last minute, pulled a black woolen hat over my red locks. I looked in the mirror; it was quite a change from the red-headed geek.

  I was off down the road, my head in the clouds when I heard a call behind me.

  “Lyman!”

  I turned to see Mary-Christine.

  She came bubbling up to me, and gave me a peck on the cheek. She smelled of strawberries. “Where you off to?”

  “Coffee shop.”

  “Cool. Can I walk with you?”

  Okay; come on. She didn’t ask if we could go together, she just asked if she could walk with me. What could I say?

  Well, we reached the Coffee shop in good time, chatting easily all the way, and were fifteen minutes early. I kind of leant against the wall outside, and Mary stood with me, still bubbling, still perky. We were standing next to a kind of sticky-out window, sort of hidden from the street in a way, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Dorothy walking our way. With a guy.

  “Crap.” I said under my breath, looking at Mary, then Dorothy again.

  Mary-Christine followed my gaze. “Are you here to meet her?” Mary asked. “You sat with her at lunch.”

  I turned, expecting a slap or a fit of pique or something. She just giggled, and pulled me into the wall, out of sight of the approaching couple.

  Well, my body was pushing Mary into the wall, and I every bit of my body felt her presence. She grabbed me by the collar and pulled me closer.

  “This is fun.” She hissed, and started planting kisses on my lips and nose between more giggles.