Vampire High School

Chapter 1: The Visiting Cheerleader

The Visiting Cheerleader

It all started on Friday evening; football night.

The first high school game of the season, the excitement ran high, and there were kids milling around everywhere. The visitors, nearby Everton High, hadn't arrived in numbers yet, so the area was a sea of white and crimson. Flags, jackets, shirts, balloons; we had it all. The Gregor Academy marching band rehearsed near the main entrance, doing dips and the well-rehearsed shimmies, the final practice before taking to the field at the start of the game.

I knew my best friend, Alan McCartney, marched somewhere in the middle; he's first clarinet. Great guy, he's got a bunch of the greatest friends, and he plays clarinet and guitar. Girls melt at his feet most of the time. Everyone wished they were Alan.

I've known him for just over a year.

The school band wears white with burgundy trimmings, (Mrs. McCartney always complained about washing Alan's uniform) and the white uniforms shone like fresh snow in the early floodlights. I stood, waiting for the cheerleaders who normally followed the band; I mean, a guy's got to have some entertainment in his life.

The band turned, doing a boogie version of the school's anthem, (Go Hawks!) when the music slowly fizzled to silence. The band began to run in all directions, like someone let off the stink bomb of a lifetime. The musicians evaporated from the center out, and I just watched in fascination as some stampeded towards me to safety.

I jumped up on a low wall and clung one-handed to the black lamppost like that guy in "Singing in the Rain."

When the rout died, standing alone on the concrete were Alan and a visiting cheerleader, in a way too tight embrace.

Snogging like dervishes.

Well, at first I thought they were kissing. She had her back to me, and I couldn't see much of anything at all.

(I heard later that she marched with him, holding his hand down her top; so he wasn't playing much clarinet. Then she got kinda passionate and started to drill his neck).

So there they were, standing in a crazy, tight embrace. She had one hand rubbing his crotch, while she feverishly chewed at his neck. This chick had the cutest butt you've ever seen, long blond hair - everything a guy could want. And her butt wiggled as she munched on my best friend's neck.

I began to get a wee bit jealous, when I suddenly knew something wasn't quite right. In fact, it felt as wrong as it could possibly be.

Alan dropped his clarinet - his pride and joy. His folks had paid a fortune for it.

The ebony tip hit the concrete with a loud 'popping' sound, and shattered, sending shards of black wood and silver parts in all directions.

Then the cheerleader turned around to face me. Her mouth and lips were covered in blood, and her teeth shone a bright white. As she turned, I saw Alan's neck. Man, no matter what stain fighter Mrs. McCartney used, she wasn't getting that color out in a hurry.

"Mandy," I hissed, remembering her once visiting the school. I didn't know her full name, but I knew they had an off-and-on thing going on.

My best friend's white tunic hung in shreds from his bare shoulder, and a mass of the deepest red spread from his neck to his balls. The blood stain got worse as my mouth opened, and arcs of deep ochre pumped rhythmically from his neck, the dark red pulses flashing in the spotlights.

"Help!" I roared, but it did more harm than good. Hearing my cry, Mandy let Alan go, and he fell to the ground like an empty suit.

Mandy caught my stare and flashed me a fleshy-bloody grin, then ran off as fast as her pretty legs would go.