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Nobody could deny it; I, Summersberry Applewinter Newtonsmith, was the most average girl in my leafy suburb. I thought this to myself as I prepared for school, hastily throwing on some mismatched clothes and pulling my hair into an unflattering ponytail.

"Honey!" called my mother from downstairs. Living in a 3 storey mansion, it was a little hard to hear her. "You're late for your first day at a brand new school in this brand new town we just moved to very recently!"

I cursed my tardiness, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. I saw my blonde waves glisten in the morning sunlight, and the blue orbs of my eyes sparkled like pools of moonlight. "God I am one ugly piece of work," I sighed melodramatically. No wonder I had no friends.

I rushed downstairs and gave my middle-class parents their farewell hugs. "Bye Mum! Bye Dad!"

"Bye, erm," began my mother, her eyes rolling back in thought as she tried to remember my name.

"Summersberry," I supplied.

"Whatever," she shrugged. "I clearly named you when I was drunk."

"But Mother," I said slowly, "you're always drunk."

She just downed her third daily shot of morning vodka and kicked me out of the door.

When I arrived at school, I began to walk down the hallway, wondering why nothing exciting had happened yet. I looked around for my locker when I caught sight of a pretty girl talking to a muscular boy. The girl was blonde, and she wore a cheerleader kit, so she was clearly the work of the devil.

"Hi there!" she smiled, waving at me. "My name's Courtney! You must be new? Would you like me to show you around?" she offered kindly.

I just hissed at her clear hatred towards me, and the ulterior motives I just knew she was harbouring, and ran away into my next class.

"Gosh I hope you find your way!" she called as I left, her voice fragile with concern for my wellbeing. Like the devious monster she was.

Bursting into the classroom, I took a seat between a studious-looking Asian girl and a skinny boy. I could tell we were going to be great friends, as their dark clothing instantly told me they were like me; outcasts.

"Hello stranger," said the female. "I am Xing Lou Li Wang Xen Tzau. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She bowed.

I nodded. "Yeah thanks. Hey that teacher's quite hot, isn't he?" I said, smirking at our Geography teacher as he began drawing a volcano on the board attractively.

Xing shrugged. "No girl has a chance with him. Nor boy," she added enigmatically, cracking open a fortune cookie and banging an ancient prophetic gong.

"Hey," said the boy next to me suddenly. "Wuup2 grl? A/s/l?"

I looked to Xing for help. "Huh?"

"Oh, that's 2Mas," she explained, eating a spring roll. "He only communicates in poorly written text talk."

Before I could nod in understanding, the teacher turned on me. "YOU THERE!" he yelled. "Talking in class! Go sit at the back next to that hot, mysterious boy."

I looked at said boy. Well, he was hot, I give him that. And very mysterious. I moved to sit next to him. "Hi," I said, instantly embarrassed because I was an outcast yet he seemed so desirable.

"Hello," he replied. "I'm British."

I raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. I mean, you didn't specify which country in Britain you're even from, let alone what area. But you're British, and that will do."

"Torrential downpour, scones, teapot, wanker, pavement," he said in reply.

This boy was very mysterious, with his pale white skin (because god forbid I have a non-white romantic interest) and shrouded eyes. I instantly knew that he was the one for me. "So what are you up to tonight?" I asked, because I only came to school to pull guys, not to actually learn about stuff.

He shrugged. "I'm meeting Courtney for a coffee."

My eyes widened with rage. That tart! She was clearly out to get my man! "If she's told you that you're her first boyfriend she's probably lying," I sulked.

"Boyfriend? No, no we're just friends," he smiled.

That was clearly a lie, I decided, before I noticed something. I didn't actually know this guy's name yet. "So, hey, my name's Summersberry."

"Cool," he said. "I'm British."

I gave him a sideways glance. "I'm pretty sure we've already covered this."

"No," the boy said, "my name is British. British Lachowski. I was born in Warsaw."

"That's a nice name," I said by way of explaining that I had no idea what he was talking about. Clearly, like a large number teenage protagonist in teen fiction, I am brick stupid.

"I grew up in Poland," he said proudly.

"I have no idea what that means."

"Poland," British said.

"What's Poland?"

He frowned. "It's a country." When he eventually realised that I neither knew nor cared what on earth he was going on about, he just gazed sullenly into the distance and whispered, "I am a vampire."

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