Vampires Don't Drink

1. Hannah's POV

My girlfriend broke up with me because I fell on my ass in front of the king, and puked my shrimp dinner into and on top of, his shoes, the shoes on his feet, the pair he is wearing exactly right now. Well, that's not true— she hasn't broken up with me yet.

"This is what happens, Aldrich," I can hear the king say through the ringing in my ear, and I can just barely see him peering over me, from where I lay on the floor. I try to lift my arm, but it's too heavy. "Everyone knows, you bring a half-blood to the dinner table, you might as well invite the dogs too."

"Oh come now, Father," Aldrich sings, and I feel a harsh hand wiping a scratchy towel over my lips, and I'm too out of it to tell them it hurts. "Who doesn't like dogs?"

I wanted to kick him for that one — I can't move my legs.

We were supposed to keep it a secret; well we were supposed to keep a lot of things secret, but I probably ruined that too, only I can't remember. What I specifically mean is, what was most important, was the fact that I'm only half the person I should be. We hoped he'd fall for me, before we had to admit it. . . I think I can taste the color green. Possibly, that isn't the point. The point was the apple sliced in two on the table — no. The point was Daphne's sweater, burnt orange in the left and black on the right — wrong. The point was halves. Yes, that's it. A full-blooded vampire would have to guzzle the entire front room of a distillery to feel the slightest buzz, before chugging the back room to claim that they are drunk. It's how they tell the half-breeds from the whole. Because the half-breeds come to functions like these, and end up falling on their asses in front of the king, after the babiest sip of alcohol. Well, that's not totally true either.

"He's going to love you," Daphne assured me, when we stood outside of the castle doors. She held my hand, and rolled her brown thumb over the balls of my white knuckles. I liked how rough her fingers were, because it felt like a sugar scrub, exfoliating my hands. Still, I knew she was a liar. Daphne's dad hates half-bloods. Her dad was going to hate me.

"I'm from Canada you know," I blurted. "I'm not just human, or a half-blood, I'm an alien too. So that makes me special. A triple threat. . . you know."

"I know," Daphne giggled.

She took her right hand, and rolled her pointer finger around a stray curl of my bright orange ringlets, wrapping it round the back of my ear. I almost had a stroke then, because everything has to be perfect for the king, and my hair was not perfect, it was falling apart, and Daphne had to fix it because I couldn't see it. My shoes weren't perfect. Aldrich stepped on my shoe before we got here, and he scuffed it, and I couldn't get it out. Everything had to be perfect for the king. But everything was wrong. I am wrong. 

"We should go home, and order pizza," I said, turning to Daphne. I squeezed her hand to let her know I meant it. . . I can't even think of pizza right now. Thinking of something entering my stomach makes me want to—

"BLECH!"

"Oh, my God!" Aldrich screams, tearing the scratchy towel from my lips. Through the haze over my eyes, I could see the king's shoes jump back twice, to avoid the mess. I am not perfect. I am wrong. I am not perfect. I am wrong. . . Daphne.

"Hannah," I can hear her voice; though it is cloudy, it is strong. I love the sound of Daphne's voice. It's like petals of a daffodil dancing on a white cloud. . . I'm sure you know how I met Daphne. It's a tale as old as Twilight. Freshman girl moves to a new town, gets her fleeting life saved by the mysterious, unapproachable, yet endearingly peppy chick, who — oh my God, she's a vampire, and now, oh wait, me too, and more chaos ensues than their love is worth to the eyes of sane people, and yet, for love, they endure. Everyone knows our story. But no one could have prepared me for this. Even if Bella did meet the parents, in Twilight.