PART 1- BEFORE
Lauren's POV
The butterflies come thick and fast, fluttering around like leaves on an autumn breeze banging against the sides of my chest. I feel dizzy and sick as I read the email I was sent this morning for the thousandth time:
Dear Miss Groves, Please do not forget to turn up to your new school today, Rocky Green High School, at 9am for your student tour of the school. Also, please remember that you have to attend a meeting with Mr James at 11am in the headmaster's office. Thank you very much, Mrs S Bennet Secretary to the headmaster
The email is silly and unnecessary and I know all these things already. Yet the definition of the email frightens me. I am actually moving schools. Not that I'm not use to the butterfly feeling, when you have a father who's business is one of the most successful in NYC, you're used to moving from one place to another, losing friends along the way. As soon as you begin to feel a sense of community into your life, its removal-van-at-front-door-day and you have to get packing. I've moved about 7 times, to various places of New York. My life has gone past in a blur. I'm not expecting to get comfortable here, I'm used to the last minute packing feeling you get when you move and the "unnecessary goodbyes".
I sigh and close my laptop. Looking at that email anymore will probably make me throw up, and the uniform that my mum purchased from the school shop last week cost close to $200, so I don't think my mum would appreciate it. My school books lay muddled all in a heap on top of my bed. U.S. History and Government, Trigonometry, Language Arts, Health and Home Economics. All my favourite subjects, yet the books give me a feeling of dread I cannot even describe. The pit of my stomach churns and I have to lie down to try and cope with the pain. School=pain. That's what I'm used to anyway.
"Honey, time for breakfast. I need to pick up Kyle, Julie, Tommy and Andrea and you're holding me up." my mother sings. I sigh. My mother runs a childcare business and practically adopts the children of the neighbouring streets. They have parents who take advantage of my mother's care and devotion to all people, and it makes me a little jealous of them. They are my mother's life and joy. I am not. I'm just her daughter.
I open my bedroom door and walk along the landing. Huge certificates adorn the walls of my father's many achievements during his careers in different financial companies. There are also many different photographs of me and all the other children my mother cares for. Pictures of outings to Florida, the Grand Canyon, the Statue of Liberty. All of these pictures make my stomach squirm even more. I utterly and completely do not want to set a foot inside that great school hall that is the one at Rocky Green or be introduced as "the new girl". I'm used to it. Maybe that's why it makes me so cross to hear it.
I reach the top of the stairs, which spiral downwards in what seems to be inevitable circling. Even the stairs make me feel unwell. I clutch my stomach, moan and begin to plod down the staircase, making sure I drag my shoes as I go. If I make myself seem ill, maybe I won't have to go to school? But, deep down, I know I'm going to have to go. My mother will know I am faking. Besides, what choice do I have? If I keep putting it off, I might actually be sick. But, I'll try.
YOU ARE READING
The Price of Blood
VampireTwo parts. Two stories. Two points of view. Two outsiders trying to fit in in their respective worlds. One extraordinary event will bind them together. They should not be together. They should be enemies. Can they be more than friends?
