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“That was, once again, soul quenching…” I told Simon when we got out of yet another boring Mathematics lesson. Mr. Crowley had looked at me like there were flowers sprouting out of my ears or something, much like he always did. The teacher’s weird fixation on me had shifted to Simon every once in a while, but we’d both just ignored it. Simon had tried to assure me it was just the teacher’s way - we hadn’t done anything wrong after all.
“Thank God I’ve got something fun on my schedule now - I'm so psyched for Vampire Basics!” I rejoiced. It was Friday, the last day of my extremely exhausting first week. “What’s it like?”
Simon raised his eyebrows at me, smiling mockingly. “I’m a fairy, so how would I know?”
“Oh…” I realized. “Crap. I’d forgotten I'm on my own for this one.”
“And it’s all guys too,” Simon informed me, patting my shoulder in a reassuring gesture, making me feel even more at a loss than I already did. “But it will be fine.”
“You really need to work on your people skills,” I teased. “That’s no way to cheer someone up.”
“Your class will be great,” he promised. “I know for a fact you’ll love the teacher…”
I squeaked with joy. “Hammerhead?”
“You know it.”
I smiled: this was going to be fine. I really liked that teacher, he was pretty cool. In fact, I could see him at the end of the corridor, entering the classroom. Crap – I was going to be late! I thanked Simon for walking me and promised to save him a seat at lunch (as if anyone else would sit with me, taking up Simon’s spot). I was pretty much running as I entered the room, making it in just as Mr. Hammerhead was about to close the door.
“Just in time, Miss… Newbie,” the teacher told me with a kind smile. “Please sit down and get ready for a really long hour of rambling and utter nonsense.”
I looked around me, taking in the classroom. Unlike in most classes, everyone was sitting in the front instead of the back. Apparently, Hammerhead was not just my favorite teacher; no surprise there. The classroom was pretty big, and filled with guys, most of them wearing all black. There were also an awful lot of leather jackets. I recognized a few guys from earlier lessons, but none of them I actually knew. One of them was Carl, the guy I’d sat next to in History. I recognized him by his flaming red hair and his toothpaste smile. I am not particularly shy, but I am also not a big fan of a room full of strangers, especially if they are all looking at me like a very fascinating piece of art, exposed for all eyes to see in some museum. Being the centre of attention in such a way is most certainly not my thing. I am okay with people looking at me, but not if the reason’s that I'm some kind of freak of nature.
“Will you please sit down, Newbie?” Mr. Hammerhead asked impatiently. “I am ready to start spitting out words, and I feel more comfortable doing that with your ass planted on one of the empty chairs in the room.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, dipping my head. “Sorry, sir.”
The teacher laughed heartily. “The girl that speaks with two words! I remember you – I recall deciding to like you. Well, take a seat, I am sure Count Dracula over there would love to have you.”
I nodded and started toward the guy whose nickname fitted him well. He had pale skin, almost translucent, and his hair was sleek and black. He gave me one of those disturbing greetings by jerking his head upwards. Good God. I put down my backpack and turned to the front, ready for this lesson.
“So, as everyone is now seated, I can start my lesson. Since we have a new student in our midst, I guess I will start with some really basic stuff. I will get to where I left off last week, but I think Newbie deserves some info first.” Mr. Hammerhead took a deep breath and leaned casually against the wall, scratching his flat head. “Vampires aren’t the dark creatures they are portrayed as in myths and horror stories. Sure, some of you would fit perfectly into the world of the gothic novel, but that’s got more to do with you guys being pervs than anything else. Writers like J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Meyer, Anne Rice, P.C. and Kristin Cast, Melissa de la Cruz and Charlaine Harris were wrong. Newbie, did you read any of these writers' books? Or maybe some other vampire novels?”
“Oh,” I started, surprised by being addressed, “yeah, pretty much all of them, I guess.”
“Hmm; didn’t expect that,” he chuckled. “But well, I’ve never taught this class to a girl before, so I guess I am up for a lot of surprises today. Anyway, forget everything you read, being a vampire is surely going to be completely different from anything you ever expected. Of course, some things in books like the ones you read are true. Who can tell me the most basic things Newbie here needs to know?”
The class remained perfectly silent for about three seconds, but then it was like a bomb burst. Everyone started to speak at once, making Mr. Hammerhead shake his head so hard his sleek dark hair bounced up and down.
“Quiet!” He yelled, not really mad. “I should have known better. Hands, please! Yes, Afro-head?”
A dark-skinned guy with an afro scraped his throat. “We drink blood.”
“Really, that’s what you come up with?” Mr. Hammerhead shook his head in disdain. “I expected better from you, Afro-head; but yes, we do. Anyone else?”
The first few things that the guys said were no surprise to me. I had for one experienced firsthand that vampires don’t handle sun well: it irritates them and most of them don’t get tanned; they end up with pretty disgusting sunburns. But they don’t burst into flames when sunlight shines directly onto their skin, and they don’t sparkle like precious Edward from Meyer’s Twilight saga. Also, it wasn’t a surprise that vampires are very pale, but that isn’t because they are born with marble-like skin that is flawless and pearl white. It is because most of them stay away from the sun and live in the shadows. Anyone who stayed out of the sun most of the time would get white, translucent skin: that’s natural. A few vamps get nice brown tans, although that’s pretty rare. They can even get pimples and everything that comes with adolescence. That sucks, in my opinion; what is the use of being a bloodsucker when you’ll get red spots on your face anyway? There were, however, also a lot of things I didn't know.
A tall guy with a shaved head (called “Baldy” by Hammerhead, how very original) looked directly at me when he spoke. I could tell by the look he was giving me that he knew he was going to say something that was surely going to take me off guard. “I know something else about vamps,” he sneered in his deep baritone. “Vampires actually die when they get old enough. They appear to be younger than they actually are though; an eighty year old vampire will look like a good-looking fifty year old man. The average age for a vamp to die is around a hundred and ten.”
“What the hell!” I exclaimed, totally forgetting my manners. “One hundred and ten?”
Several of the guys snickered, making me flush red. Great, I was making a fool of myself already. I noticed Carl (a.k.a. Toothpaste Smile) and Afro-head weren’t laughing. In my opinion, that made them pretty much the only guys I like in this classroom.
“I take it we’ve found something you don’t already know,” Mr. Hammerhead stated with satisfaction. “And really guys, snickering? I think it’s a good thing we’ve got a girl in this classroom now, maybe she will teach you some manners. Although I must say, Newbie, I don’t like swearing in my classroom, unless it is me who is uttering the swearing words, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a little smile when I caught him winking at me.
“So, anyway, Baldy is right: vampires do die, but they get older and look younger than regular persons. But one hundred and ten is a bit overstating it; I think the average vampire dies at the age of one hundred. They will however look like they're eighty or something… pretty cool actually, now I think about it. So, Newbie, how old would you say I am, judging by a human standard?”
“Don’t answer that,” Afro-head warned before I could answer. “You’ll either flatter him more than he deserves or he’ll make you pay for thinking he’s old.”
The whole class laughed, including the teacher. “All right…” he admitted. “I am looking for flattery; but also, I want to prove a point. So, how old do you think I am?”
I considered for a moment before replying. “Around forty,” I guessed.
“Wrong. Thank you for the compliment though.” He pulled a hand through his hair. “Do I look so dashing still? But no, I am older than that; way older. Does anyone remember how old?”
“Fifty-five!” Someone from the back of the room yelled. I could hardly believe that: he didn’t look a day older than forty.
“Before my last birthday I was indeed fifty-five,” Mr. Hammerhead admitted. “I must say: I was really put out about not getting a present from you, Mr. Skinny Jeans. Moving on now. So, we’ve settled vampires look young and get old. Vampires are not immortal – they just need different things to keep themselves alive and their body keeps itself intact for much longer than a simple human body. Vampires are stronger than humans by nature. Without having to work out, vampires won’t ever get fat and their muscles will be hard and strong. It’s something they need because humans are their prey after all. I personally enjoy that last part a lot; I remember hating working out back when I was still a petty human boy.” He shook his head with a thoughtful look upon his face. “Oh, those days… takes me back to the time I let someone shave my head without realizing my scalp is pretty much square. Okay, Pouty guy in the back, give me something else to work with.”
A handsome guy wearing a midnight blue shirt, who did indeed have very pouty lips, sighed deeply before replying. “Vampires are born, so a human can’t be turned into one.”
“True.” Mr. Hammerhead walked to a desk in the front of the room and leaned down to a guy with a red hat on. “Clown, elaborate on Pouty’s remark please.”
The guy nicknamed Clown did. “It’s a biologicalprocess that sets in when you are around fifteen or sixteen years old. Genes start to manifest themselves, making you realize you can extend your canines and making you crave blood after some time. You start to get irritated by the sun and find yourself eating raw meat even though you’ve been told it’s bad for you by your parents.”
“Why raw meat?” I asked immediately. “That sounds like something a werewolf would do.”
All heads turned to me then, but I didn’t care. I had the right to know everything there was to know about what I was – what I was turning into. Mr. Hammerhead didn’t look like he minded me asking. “There is still blood left in the meat when it is raw, which is what makes it appeal to us,” he explained. “Besides, vampires are raw creatures: creatures of sharp teeth, blood, tearing flesh apart and using violence. At least, that is the stereotypical vampire for you. Eating raw meat feels a bit like the ripping of soft human flesh. We are programmed to crave that very feeling, but we can’t go tearing humans apart because of rules, evolution, peaceful tolerance, stuff like that. So we eat raw meat. Be careful though: if you are not far enough into the transformation, your body will not know how to deal with the bacteria in it and you will get sick. So don’t eat it unless you crave it. Does that answer your question?”
I nodded, thankful for his thorough way of answering; but I wasn’t done asking questions. “Could you tell me something about the way supernaturals stay hidden in the human world?”
“I can, but I won’t.” Mr. Hammerhead smiled at my confused face. “Afro-Head, explain.”
“Vampires – and all other supernaturals for that matter – are being kept a secret from the human world,” the guy started. “They are everywhere: at schools, hospitals, universities, museums, sports clubs, every single public service. That way, supernaturals can treat each other when they get a sickness that’s unknown by humans; and humans won’t notice that vampires and werewolves have some pretty freaky stuff in their blood that isn’t supposed to be there. When a supe needs to get through a doping control at a sport event, another supe will take care of it. That’s what you do for your community: making sure the secret stays hidden and supes are able to participate in the human world. Most really good athletes are werewolves – they like to work with their bodies.”
“Very good, I see you have read the material for today.” Mr. Hammerhead clapped his hands together, making everyone jump. “So, let’s see who else did their homework. Pouty, tell me something about supernaturals and schools.”
“Supernaturals being at schools brings an obvious advantage.” Pouty sighed like this was causing him physical pain or something. I got why he was called Pouty: it wasn’t his lips, it was the way he acted whenever he had to do something. “Young supernaturals that are just starting the Trans can be intercepted and the parents can be talked into putting their kids at a special school. That way, only the parents or guardians of the supe kid are aware of them being anything but mere humans on this planet. The secret is kept. When someone blabs about it, no human in their right mind will believe them and when the supes find out, a vampire who has the gift of mind control will take the idea right out of their minds.”
“Very good; now something on rules.” Mr. Hammerhead closed his eyes and pointed at someone at random before opening them again. “Very well, Beard Face, tell me something, anything.”
“There are many, many rules in the supernatural community,” Beard Face stated, obviously at a loss. “We, erm… we have to keep it a secret.”
“Fail. Toothpaste Smile?”
“For one, mind control isn’t something you can use on humans without punishment. Only if you have a job in the supernatural law enforcement and you are in charge of the Keeping of the Secret, you can use it. Not many vamps are able to control minds and those who are can only use it on humans – other supernaturals just can’t be affected by it.”
“Very good,” the teacher praised. “Baldy, tell me about powers.”
“Some vampires have powers, but it’s not very common. The biggest power is the gift of mind control. Then there is the gift of speed. All vampires are quiet and speedy, but some can move so fast they seem invisible. Others have more subtle gifts, like knowing things without having been told it.”
“Very good. About knowing things: I’ll explain that further. Some vampires just know their wife is going to be late that day, that their boss is having sex with his secretary at the moment or that their neighbors have money problems and their friends are into drugs. Then there are many gifts that only one vampire has – so they don’t have names and they’re not in the books, obviously. You just have to figure out what your gift is, if you even have one.” He winked at me. “Do you have a clue as to what your power is, Newbie?”
I shook my head, making Count Dracula next to me snicker. When Mr. Hammerhead inquired what was so funny about that, he shrugged. “She’s a girl, her power must be cooking really good or being able to clean real fast.”
That earned him a lot of laugher; a few guys actually applauded. When I turned around to face them and shot them all a dark look, they stopped. “I hope my power is that I can make teachers kick guys out, when they act like my neighbor here,” I mused. “It would make this classroom a lot less crowded, I’m sure.” Mr. Hammerhead laughed, but it didn’t make me feel better. I seriously doubted if I even had a power.
“Okay, the lesson is almost over, so I’ll just ramble a bit more before you all leave. Vampires have a reflection and a shadow just like every other person. They don’t cry tears of blood and they aren’t allergic to garlic. Their nails can’t grow into claws – that’s the werewolves – and their hair doesn’t grow any faster than regular hair. They don’t like the color black above all others. At least, not genetically. When I look at all of you, I think you do like black the best. Boring, if you ask me; at least Newbie is wearing something with a little color.” I had a bright pink shirt, hard blue trousers and yellow boots on, so a little color was an understatement. “Anyway… We aren’t demons or fallen angels either. Newbie, who wrote about vampires being fallen angels?”
“Melissa de la Cruz,” I replied immediately. “She says vampires are reincarnated souls of fallen angels who followed Lucifer when they were still accepted in heaven.”
“Very good, but as I said, that’s a load of crap. We haven’t lost our souls or anything. We are just different: supernatural. Oh, last but not least, the Transformation you are all going through finishes when a vamp is around nineteen years old. Some are eighteen, others are already twenty-one. Every case is different, which only makes sense, since every person is different and unique. Vamps don’t ever die at the end of a Transformation, although it does hurt pretty badly. Trust me, I know.”
Yikes, I didn’t like the sound of that: I was never a huge fan of blood and pain. That’s why I wish I would be a witch, or even a fairy. A vampire just isn’t my kind of creature. But well, I am one and I´d better make the most of it; at least I had an awesome teacher to tell me all about it.
“Class dismissed,” Mr. Hammerhead concluded. “See you next week. Your homework is to read chapter eight on how to take care of your fangs and what to do when you get trapped in a place that's way too sunny. Good luck.”
“I can’t believe I will get to be a hundred years old,” I mused, while looking darkly at Simon when he put a meatball into his mouth.
“That’s pretty old, indeed,” he agreed. “You’ll probably outlive me: fairies live a human lifespan. We also look as old as we are, and we get sick more easily.”
“Oh, sorry,” I apologized. I hadn’t realized that.
“No biggie, I’ve known this for months, so it’s not like you’re taking me by surprise or anything. You are allowed to be excited about all you learned.” He smiled at me, the glow around him shining purple. “So, tell me more.”
“Well, I am intrigued by the way supernatural kids are discovered among the human population,” I confessed. “My mom just called someone, told me about my dad, cried a lot, and sent me here. No teachers or librarians telling me I was a special kid or anything.”
Simon smiled wryly. “Be happy, my story is way worse.”
“Tell me,” I urged, wanting to know about him. Hell, I wanted to know everything about him.
“Well, my psychiatrist figured it out,” Simon explained, putting down his sandwich to take his time. His glow was a little less prominent now, but at least it was still a happy purple. “He was married to a fairy, so he knew how to recognize one. I didn’t have any real powers back then – hell, I don’t even have any as of now.”
“Your psychiatrist?” I asked, surprised. That was weird. “You’re the most normal person I’ve met around here.”
“Erm – thanks,” he said, taken aback. “Anyway, I’ll start at the beginning. My parents are really bad at choosing gifts for each other, but I have always been able to think of gifts for pretty much anyone; I just always knew what they wanted most. So my parents always asked me what the other wanted. That was a good thing for everyone, really, until I was fifteen and things got… weird. My parents’ best friends came over for my mom’s birthday, and when she got a beautiful bracelet from my father, one she’d always wanted, they wanted to know what was their secret to always getting great presents. So they told me I was pretty much the gift whisperer or something like that.” He took a deep breath. He most certainly didn’t enjoy talking about this. “So the guy – Gary – demanded to know what the best present for his wife Miranda would be, and I told him the last thing he wanted to hear.”
When he fell silent, I urged him on. “What did she want?”
“A divorce,” he whispered ruefully. “It was the end of their marriage.”
“Well – that sucks,” I admitted. “But it was hardly your fault.”
“True, but my parents were concerned, naturally. What fifteen-year-old tells people something like that? What kid knows something like that? So I was sent to a psychiatrist. A month later, I was sent here.”
“God, that sucks.” I shook my head, wondering what that must have been like. “At least my mother knew what was going on with me when I got fangs. I remember taking a way too cold shower, and suddenly my lip started bleeding from the pressure of my pointy teeth. I screamed at the top of my lungs, she came in and started to cry. It was hard, but at least she could tell me what was wrong. Didn’t make going here any less sucky though.”
“I think most of the students here have sucky stories,” Simon assured me. “None of us are here because we choose to be in boarding school…”
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