Chapter 1: Nonchalant

I am Not a Vampire.

That is what I tell myself when I'm walking the streets. It's also my response when asked about my pale skin.

I simply choose to stay out of the sun. My eyes are not red because of some occult nature. I have pink eyes. My mother has always told me I am albino. A pure milk shade, I am absent of color!

I am not a vampire.

I wear my selfish black hood to guard me against the rays of death. I put lotion and sunburn ointment on making me as slick as Randy fucking Orton. "Ok, class turn to page 18 in your history books. Please remember we'll be taking the finals next week."

I have a week to study. I'm expected to fail without a doubt. My balls get more education.

Why did I say that!

"Mr. Farewell please read the paragraph for the class." My mouth contorts, I haven't even opened my book. I'm so busy thinking about the mundane. I'm sitting next to the window and my mind wanders at how the glass is so cold yet my ghetto ass school has no air conditioning.

I grab the oversize history textbook below my desk and turn to page 18. The history of Witches in Rottingham. What a great fucking time to be alive, I live in a town with little to no history but God bless America we have Witches. "It was Dorian Ashleigh who founded Rottingham in 1691. Dorian was married to Gail Cooley, who at the time had no last name. Gail was born in Massachusetts Day Colony in 1497. She is widely considered the first witch in Rottingham..." I read aloud. I fucking doubt anyone in my class paid the fuck attention because I know I for sure don't give a shit when they read.

"Ms. McKay can you read the next paragraph?" Directs my teacher Mrs. Gilmore. I hate how bright yellow her hair is. I believe in the old stereotype that blondes are stupid and she is just yelling how retarded she might be. "Are we in elementry?" questions Lynn McKay. I've known her since middle school and the only way to sum up her personality is the badass white girl in movies. Or Lara Croft.

She's odd and likes to jump buildings. She's also an ex-con but no one in school talks about that. Plus, she took rehab for kleptomania. "Ms. McKay, please read for the class or fucking remove your ass from my class." Goddamn Mrs. Gilmore. "The first one is the easy one," states Lynn. "Read?"

Lynn lifts from her seat and moves towards the door. "No, leaving."

Mrs. Gilmore grunts and calls on another student. "Mr. Robles, can you please read the next paragraph?"

"Yes ma'am." I don't know how to feel about Eddie Robles. He plays football, stands a good six feet six and no one can tell his race but he said he had Cuban in his blood. That's fancy.

"Unlike many of the accused in Massachusetts. Gail Cooley is compared to Harriet Tubman for heading to Maine. She hopped on a boat with her husband but went south to distract the search party that wanted to hang her. After stashing the boat in Pooler, Georgia which at the time was known as Malaise." He reads so clearly; I peer over my shoulder. Maybe it's his jawline, the small freckles, or his big lips. Or maybe I'm fucking gay.

"Ms." he starts. I love his voice, there's an accent in there. I've heard people ask him if he was Texan or not but that doesn't sound like a cowboy. It's gruff and deep but... not a whole lot of country. More like... rough and ghetto... like everything at this broke ass school.

"Could you read the rest of the paragraph. Stop where it talks about Gail's baby."

"I skimmed that..." He chews his bottom lip. "Can you pick somebody else? I just... don't like hearing or reading about child abuse."

"Ok, um... Deidre, can you read again?" she points at me. My class is smaller than usual. I have a class of thirty-six kids but only fourteen are present. Mrs. Gilmore has the largest history class. The class next door to ours is Mr. Shepherd. He doesn't even have enough chairs anymore because Mrs. Gilmore needs them.

It could be because of AP classes. However, yesterday we were going over Human Geography. Now we're talking about Witches and the History of a town with a serial killer record.

Awesome.

I look at my book and search where we left off. "Gail and Dorian stole a boat from Pooler and sailed to Maine. He hoped his wife would be safe there. Upon arrival, Dorian set the boat on fire. He took the burned pieces and built a small box to hold water until the couple became acquainted with Norrix and Neferata, who were twins that claimed to be vampires living in Maine."

Oh, fuck me...

"Hey! Deidre!" Fuck. "It's yo' people. Ms. Can I read the next paragraph?" I fucking hate Jimar McGee. He's the only black student that sits in class. Not to mention his ugliness but here we go. He has an underbite so his top lip is just being attacked by his jaw. Not to mention the patch missing on the left side of my fade cut, which he should stop trying to fix. He'll be bald by next year.

Fuck it, next week.

Tomorrow.

In the middle of the night.

"Fine... Jimar. Read." She says it like, she had to prepare herself.

"Ok, it's my time. Everybody pay attention." he smooths down his chest and licks his lips. I hate how skinny he is. Like... please, Mcdonald's is working hard, go buy a double. Something. Just... eat.

We talk about the state of obesity but never discuss anorexia. As if you can't die from being too damn skinny. Eddie is fit, he plays football and that sport requires you to be a certain weight. Above two hundred is under heavy and anything between 150 and 180 is lightweight.

I'm not about to ask Eddie. I could be right. But who cares, I believe no one should weigh below a hundred pounds. IT'S A FUCKING HEALTH RISK.

More reasons why I'm not a vampire.

"So, it says right here. On page 19, that Gail drowned her child in 1708 because she thought, he was posessed." he reads in a breathy tone. Bitch must be illiterate.

I know... that took strength. He sounded out every word, poor baby. "Jimar, for the last time. You have to read the whole paragraph." says Mrs. Gilmore out of breath.

"That's a lot to read. Like I read the first sentence and the way my dyslexia work... I can't read no more than thirty words or else I black out." The class is quiet with only chatter from nearby classrooms. "Real talk."

"You aren't supposed to hold yo' breath when you speak..." I murmur. I hear Jimar suck his teeth, "Shut up crayola!"

Wow. My name is Crayola because I'm albino?

"Ok..."

"That's right, bitch." All I said was ok. "You better respond." What? I don't bother, I lay in my palm rolling my eyes. A chair in the class scoots back and soon Jimar is at my desk pulling his saggy pants up on the invisible hips he has.

I'm not bullied. I don't even give it attention. "Bitch ass nigga."

"ok..."

"Jimar Gee! Sit down!" She orders and of course the special needs baby doesn't follow. "Jimar, you always bother the shit out of Deidre for no reason. What the fuck is wrong with you?" bellows Eddie and my heart skips a beat. I might be gay.

He has a fat ass and it's an eyesore.

I'm just being honest.

"Shut up, Principal Wiki!" His name-calling techniques need work. Jimar slides his palm on the side of my head, "Do something, pussy."

Haven't even done a thing.

"Jimar, sit down or I'm calling your parole officer." shouts Mrs. Gilmore. Jimar glares at me as I sit in my chair unshaken. "I'll bite yo' bitch ass, faggot. Pussy boy."

"Ok..."

"I bet you eat ass. Yum yum, faggot."

"Ok..."

"You sitting down like can't nothing happen to you. I bet if I take my dick out you finna slob on my shit."

Please don't let this be some secret gay shit.

He continues berating me with self-aware dialogue. "Pretty ass nigga, Marshmallow looking ass nigga. Cute white bitch."

What is happening?

He continues, "Soft ass looking baby."

Help.

"Jimar, that's it—I'm calling your parole officer.

But at the same time, I'm in a state of utter confusion. Was I threaten or complimented? "Ol' pretty pink pussy looking boy!" Thank you? "I'd slide yo' bitch ass," I need help.

I just...

"Jimar... fucking... sit down or somethin'" Eddie is practically begging. By the sound of his masculine tone, he's deeply upset. "Pumpkin!"

I AM BEING COMPLIMENTED.

"I'd choke yo' bitch ass, friendly ass nigga." I do the most undaring idea and look Jimar in his eyes. "In bed?" I can't believe those words came through my lips.

Soon, by the grace of time and possibly a God, a man in a black uniform with a walkie-talkie enters the classroom. "Mr. McGee, come with me."

I'm looking at the officer and I look at Jimar. His overbite is noticeable. I circle my finger around my mouth, "Can you like... fix that jaw?"

BOOM.

I hear my own bones in my mouth pop as I'm belted with punches to the face. "JIMAR."

Half my body is bent to the floor as I try to keep hold of the desk. Fuck my life.

The officer comes to the rescue, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him away from me but Jimar is strong despite his thinness. Then I heard a roar and a popping sound.

My cheek is wet and Jimar is screaming.