We Will be Together for Never

Chaper one

I look up and smile as Roger comes in, but he doesn't smile back. Nor does he say his usual, "Tamara-ara-ara!"

Roger is my guardian. He's a laid-back, fun-loving guy. So not smiling and ignoring the sturdy tradition of Tamara-ara-ara-ness? Unacceptable.

My smile fades as I take in his serious face. I try to hind the paper I have been crouching over for an hour from him, but he sees it anyway.

"You have got to be kidding me, Tamara," he groans with a bitter laugh as he picks up a drawing of my family. The same family I'm no longer allowed to contact because of what I am now.

Roger frowns at me as he tears the picture in two and tosses it on the floor. "You're torturing yourself, Tamara. And I have come to a decision. "

"What might that be?" I ask, not meeting his gaze but instead staring at the torn pieces of paper on the floor.

"You need to get out more. So I'm sending you to high school."

I'm on my feet in an instant, a short bark of sarcastic laughter ripping from my throat. "Oh, hell, no."

"I already enrolled you," Roger tells me, and I screams with frustration.

"No! I won't go! I'm am effing vampire for Christ's sake! You can't make me!"

"How old are you?" Roger asks, and I'm thrown off by the change of topic.

"Um, 37. Your point?"

"I'm 233. I'm older and wiser than you."

"Oh, please!"

"Well, you're acting 2 right now."

I quiet down, realizing he's right."This conversation is not over," I hiss, baring my pearly white fangs.

Once in my room, I collapse on my bed and reach under my mattress. Pulling out a 20-year-old photo, I trace the familiar faces of Mom, Dad. A.J. He was 9 when...when I left. Now he would be 29. Did my little brother even remember me?

It had been 20 years since I became a vampire. The pain of leaving my family, however, was still fresh.

I carefully slide the picture back under my mattress and curl into a ball. "Mom?" I whisper. "Should I go to school?"

I wait a ridiculously long time for a reply. Then I cry. I sob and sob, making wounded animal noises. I swipe at my tears and look at the runny red liquid staining my hands. It's a blood extract Roger invented.

"Pull yourself together, Tamara," I chastise myself. I had gone from whining about high school to having a nostalgic sob-fest. I was being weak.

Vampires aren't weak.

*

Dinner is a quiet affair. Technically, we don't need to eat, but we do need to do one of the following:

1. Drink blood-pure blood, no substitutes

2. Eat-but some blood substitute must be consumed

The meal is the same we have had for the past week: chicken with broccoli and the same blood substitute that has been the only liquid I have consumed for the past 20 years. And, as usual, I give my broccoli to Roger and eat a small bit of the chicken. Roger gives us way more than we need to survive, as vampires who barely eat or sleep.

Finally, Roger pushes his plate away and clears his throat. "Tamara, we need to talk about this."

"Okay. I'm not going to high school. End of discussion."

"Who's the grownup here?" We stare each other down, and finally I bend.

"Roger, please. I don't want to go." A hint of fear laces my voice, and I see Roger catch it. Damn.

"You're scared."

"No, I'm not!"

"It's not like someone's going to drive a pencil through your chest. You'll be safe."

"I don't know, Roger, it's not that...I haven't been a teenager for 20 years. How am I supposed to fit in?"

"Many people survive high school without fitting in, it's not the end of the world."

"I swear, I'll get out more. I'll get a job!"

"Too demanding."

"I'll do the shopping!"

"I'm not giving you my money."

"Oh, I live with you for 19, 20 years and you still don't trust me?! Unbelievable."

"You're going to school."

I throw my hands up in frustration and storm out of the dining room.

Two hours and many Internet games later, I hear a knock on my bedroom door. "Tamara? Can we talk?"

I, as kindly as possible, tell him to go burn in Hell. Roger takes this as a "come in!" and eases into the room.

"It's so dark in here," he mutters, flicking on the light. I hiss and squint my eyes against the unwelcome light. "We're vampires," I hiss. "We don't like light!"

"No need to act like a medieval beast, though," Roger tells me sternly as he settles onto my bed.

I turn back to the computer and continue a riveting game of Snail Bob.

"Tamara, please-"

"Who would I be to abandon this poor snail on the way to his grandparents?"

He reaches over my shoulder and presses the power button. "There," Roger says.

"Fine. We'll talk." I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms and waiting for him to make the first move.

"I have come up with a compromise," he tells me, acting like some effing little knight with a present for the queen. "What if you tried a week of school-5 measly days out of your immortality-and then you quit?"

I chew my lip, thinking. I can't find any holes in his logic. "Fine," I finally snarl. "One week."

"Good. You start tomorrow," he says, clapping his hands on his knees and standing up.

"What the-"

"I already enrolled you. Knew you'd be reasonable."

I just sit there, slack-jawed, as Roger leaves.

He sure does know how to get what he wants. I'll give him that.