Life Sucks if You're a Vampire

Chapter one; A Beautiful Life

I sat up in my makeshift bed of blankets and yawned, noting the sunlight pouring in through the window. Strange, it was sunny today. Isn't it usually cloudy here in like, where are we, Oregon? I dismissed the thought as I got up to get dressed for the day. Black tank top, motorcycle jacket, those torn jeans Garrett doesn't approve of, and converse sneakers-That just about does it.

I'm Avvi Colette. Somewhat of a vampire. Yes, another vampire story in this huge world, yipee. Only, this is a little bit more truthful. Usually, being Turned into a vampire is as unexpected as meeting a werewolf or going into hell for a singing contest. How many of you expect that to happen any time? I'm willing to bet, none.

Well, now that introductions are over.

First thing I see as I make it downstairs is Balthazar, grinning at my outfit. He made sure to get me a lot of clothes that were-what'd he say?-a little...showing. Yeah. He's what most girls might call a 'Perv' towards me. I should have never sent him out to go grab me a new pair of pajama pants. (What, I thought it was a worthy punishment, he was the one that set them on fire.)

"You look nice today." His voice came out in a long, sexy drone. He had this weird thing to his voice, making me like him more (though that doesn't change the fact that I hate him). Suppose it's because he's a vampire.

"You say that every day." Garrett noted, taking another spoonful of his cereal while sitting on the floor. "Can we go, now?"

I laughed as Balthazar glared at him. "I don't say that every day." Balthazar retorted.

"You just say it in perverted terms most of the time. Or jump me." I shrugged, then ducked to avoid the block of wood that Balthazar threw, still laughing.

Why am I with them? I should probably explain.

About three months before, I was walking home from my night classes, eighth grade, so be exact. I'm thirteen. I had to pay for my own education, and on the form it said I could take night classes, so I did.

 I lived in a trailer house in Barren, Illinois with my dad, who loved having sex. I was an accidental birth, I guess, broken condom or something. 

Mom was a Hooker. Yeah.

She died when I was two. I've been taking care of myself since. Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches for about a year, fast food for the next two, TV dinners for another...five. I didn't learn how to cook until I got to Middle school and took Home Economics. Thank god. I worried I was gonna get diabetes or something from all that junk.

(My dad isn't exactly father of the year. He does illegal drugs-Coke, Pot, Crack, all that stuff. Smoking and alchohol, too, of course, but ain't that normal.)

So, where was I? Oh, yeah...I was walking home, okay, then I'm tackled by some random dude. The glance I get at him when he flashes by me is black- black mop of untamed hair, black jacket, black shirt, black cargo pants, black baseball cap or whatever, you get the idea. I shrieked angrily as I fall and struggle to get away. He kept a tight grip around my waist, wrapping his arms around me.

"-The Hell, man!? Let me go! Derek! If this is one of your stupid jokes, you're dead!" I screamed. (Derek was a guy from daytime classes who loved to prank people. I had been tackled by him before so he could cover me in- Hell, I don't even know what that stuff was, but anyway. Different story.)

"David! Really, stop being so impatient! We don't even know!" I heard a sweet-sounding voice from the hedge I had been walking next to.

I groaned. "Okay, who are you guys, and what do I owe you?" I asked tiredly. I'm a natural prankster myself, and I owe a lot of people a new binder, pencil, calculator, locker, whatever.Yes, I've blown up a locker before. (I didn't know that mini dynamite stick wasn't my fake one! What, didja think I had time to label stuff?)