I can't believe it's the first day of school already. Seems
like the summer flew by.
Sure, technically I don't have to go to school anymore.
After all, I'm an immortal vampire. Part of the Coven. I
could just collapse on a velvet couch and sip blood
cocktails from a crystal goblet. But at the same time, if
I'm going to live thousands of years, I figure I might as
well spend a few finishing high school. Get myself an
education. After all, I've met more than a few undead
dropouts and they're dreadfully dull at dinner parties.
Not to mention if I want to stay living with Mom and Sunny
I've got to keep up the normal teenager act.
Still, as I walk down the halls of Oakridge High, dressed in
a black lacy Lolita dress, fishnets, and platform boots,
swinging my Beatlejuice lunchbox, I wonder if this really
was such a good idea. I mean, it's so obvious I don't fit in
here with the rest of the Mean Girls and jock boys. I watch
them, as if a fly on the wall, as they excitedly greet each
other, first day of school style. The trend slaves in their
brightly colored back-to-the-eighties horizontal striped
shirts, belts and leggings. The retro grunger girls in their
shapeless dresses worn over bellbottom pants. The preps in
their boot cut denim and fitted collar shirts. Everyone has
a style that suits their clique. Maybe in a bigger school
there'd be others that look like me. Not here though.
Oakridge High sucks.
Not that I care. I am who I am. And I don't need 3,000
MySpace friends to validate my existence on this planet.
"Ooh, look! It's freak girl!"
I do however, need to be left alone.
I turn around to see which Oakridge Clone is trying to feel
better about her own sorry existence by poking fun at mine.
My eyes fall on a cluster of cheerleaders, staring at me
from across the hall. Of course.
Of all the losers at Oakridge High, cheerleaders have to be
the worst. With their sickly sweet fake smiles, swishy
skirts, and bouncy, sun-kissed (aka highlighted from the
muddy brown color they were born with) blonde hair,
cheerleaders think they're God's gift to high schools. They
expect worship from guys, girls, even teachers. And they get
it. And if one isn't interested in falling on their knees to
kiss their perfectly sculpted asses, they might as well
catch leprosy. The cheerleaders will guarantee them social
outcast status for the rest of the year.
"Hey freak girl!" calls another cheerleader. They all look
alike to me. "I thought vampires couldn't walk around during
the day."
I roll my eyes. Of course she has no idea I really AM a
vampire. She's making a clever assumption based on the fact
I'm not wearing a stitch of pink.
"Of course we can," I retort back. "How else can we sink our
teeth into succulent virgins such as yourself--oh wait! I'm
sorry, I must have been thinking of someone else. Someone
who HASN'T banged the whole football team."
The girl's eyes narrow. "You'd better watch yourself, Freak
Girl." Yup, that's her oh-so-clever comeback. No denial
either, I note.
"Oh yeah?" I grin saucily, sauntering up to their gang with
my most confident steps. "How come?"
"Because if you don't, I'll kick your skanky vampire ass."
I let out an overly loud laugh. Gotta let them know I'm not
afraid. "You and what army?"
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