Vampire Boys Of Summer (Completed!)

Episode 2: Angela

There's a saying that everything looks better in the morning. Whoever said that probably had someone special to wake up with, but in my world waking up just meant I was still here. It also made me remember the fact a vampire had moved in next door and needed to be dealt with. Lucky for him I wasn't the vampire hunting professional of the family. That would be my dad, though I truly don't think that he's dispatched anyone either. Oh, he tried. Two years ago he was arrested for attacking the night clerk at Chandler's, the local supermarket. He was convinced the guy was a vampire, but the Police didn't think so. Now he sits in a psychiatric hospital looking out a lonely window in the same manner that I do, perfectly hopeless.

I fixed my usual breakfast; eggs over easy, two pieces of bacon, and coffee. I know a lot of my friends' mothers fixed their breakfast for them, but I'd starve if I had to rely on mine. By the time I was off to school each morning, she was already three drinks into her day.

I ate quickly, barely tasting the food. I had overslept, thanks to Miyavi, who had kept scratching at the window for me to let him in and out all night. I sometimes wondered if that cat was a vampire himself, the way he slept all day and prowled all night. I'd had him since I was little. Dad had brought him home one day, telling me I needed a companion since I never went outside to play. He became more of my father's cat though, sticking close to him and rubbing against his legs all hours of the day. When dad got locked up, Miyavi just gravitated to the next available person who would feed him. Me. This morning he ate pretty good, as I set my plate down on the kitchen floor and let him finish what was left.

I slung my school backpack over my shoulder. It was custom made, meaning I had taken my dad's old military backpack and drawn on it with bright neon markers the names and logos of my favorite J-Rock bands: L'Arc En Ciel, Acid Black Cherry, Luna Sea. Only a few kids at my school knew who they were, but that was okay by me. I always prided myself on being different. I didn't need to be marching to the beat of Taylor Swift or Maroon 5, when I had L'Arc En Ciel blaring "Ready Steady Go" in my earbuds every morning.

With my tunes in place, I stepped out into the morning sun. I glanced over at the house next door. It didn't really look like anyone had moved in. For a moment I was tempted to skip school and investigate, but I thought better of it. My grades were bad enough; I didn't need to make it any worse by cutting classes. Still, it was pretty tempting. I looked up to the second floor of the house. Directly across from my own second story window was a widow's walk that encircled the whole house. A door on the walk led inside, perhaps to the attic or a bedroom. I entertained the notion of leaping from my windowsill to the tree that had scraped my window the night before and onto the neighbor's widow's walk. It was possible. It could be done, but one false move and I'd be cracked on the pavement. I shook my head at these thoughts and mumbled under my breath, "Get your ass to school."

I turned my music up and the brisk, rock rhythm was just what I needed to catch the bus in time.

"Nora Williams," the teacher called out, and I raised my hand to show my presence. Mr. Franks was a little old man with graying hair and black plastic framed glasses he wore so close to the end of his nose I often wondered if he could even see through the lenses. Still, he made a note of my raised hand and moved on to the next name on his list. This was fifth period English class one week before summer vacation, and even though it was the end of the school year I was still waiting for the inevitable; a new student who just happened to look like my new neighbor. But he never showed. And of course he wouldn't; it's daytime and he's a vampire. Duh.

The image of him on his front porch staring up at the sky just wouldn't leave me alone. While everyone else followed the teacher as he wrote our assignment out on the chalkboard, I found myself sketching a lonely, nocturnal figure in my notebook. Even though I didn't get a close look the night before, I drew in the features anyway, or at least ones that hot vampire boys should have: piercing dark eyes, full pouting lips, slightly flushed cheeks. My drawing, and imagination, showed an average build on him. If I'd drawn him without the school uniform he would have been well built, but not too many rippling muscles. His shirt was parted just enough at the top so you could see his chest was hairless and his cute boy nip...just then, while I was contemplating nipples and navels, my bestie Angela, who sat next to me in almost every class, passed a note. I glanced over at her before opening the folded paper. I looked down at her handwritten scrawl. "OMG, who is that?" it read.

I grinned and shook my head, trying to let her know it was no one. Angela had known me since fourth grade so she knew I wasn't being entirely truthful. She flicked her long blond hair out of her eyes and gave me a look that said, "confess."

I guess I could have confided in her about the vampire boy next door, but if I was going to have to kill him I knew she'd try to talk me out of it just so she could flash her blue eyes at him and get his number. I don't mean to give the impression that she's boy crazy or anything, but the truth of the matter is...well, she is boy crazy, what can I say? It's not like she'd steal your man or walk down the street in her bikini to make guys stop what they're doing and stare. No, she was more like closet boy crazy. She tried to play it off as much as she could, but she reminded me of one of those construction worker guys who doesn't say anything when a pretty girl walks by, but their heads turn and eyes follow their movements as if such a gaze would make the girl fall all over them. Angela was like that with all the hot boys. And now she was doing just that, focusing her gaze and trying to see what I was drawing. One would have thought she was waiting for him to leap off the page and say to her, "hey there, blondie."

She made an impatient nod of her head to let me know she was waiting for me to tell her who it was. I pointed to my head to try and convince her it was all from my imagination. She gave me a smirk and turned in her seat away from me as if she were pouting and offended. I knew she wasn't. She'd catch me the moment I was in the hall after class. And sure enough, that's what she did.

"Okay, Give. Who is he, you tramp?" she demanded in a playful tone, grabbing hold of my arm as I exited the classroom.

I laughed. "Nobody, tramp. I made him up."

"Bullshit."

"Okay, maybe not totally made up. I saw him on an anime."

She gave me a curious look and I knew I had her. As much anime as I watch I'm bound to try drawing storyboards myself. After all, she had seen my room and all the sketches plastered on the wall.

"Damn," she said, a little disappointed. "You drew him pretty damn fine. And if there's an Asian boy at school, I want to know. They are crazy about blondes I heard."

In Angela's world everyone was mad for blondes. But at the moment the only one I was thinking of had been on the porch next door last night, and when I left school today I was going to march right over and find a way to introduce myself.

"So what was the anime?" She wasn't being nosy, she just loved playing the question game. To prove this she launched right into "Was it on Crunchy roll? Funimation? Netflix?"

"Netflix."

"Cool. Titans? Fairy Tail? Sword Art?"

"Nope."

She put her finger to her chin as if to emphasize she was thinking this one out. "Rosario? Elfin? Ouran High School?"

Before I could answer, someone shoved Angela and she stumbled into me.