The Adventures of Marcy Cutler

The Lesson

     When Marcy stepped inside the school, she and her friends went straight into the main office to spout their story. They were met by the school secretary.
"Yes?", she mumbled disinterestedly, looking up from her magazine at the assembled students critically. Lauren started talking.
"We're late getting back because Marcy was in class when she thought about... what happened." The secretary nodded knowingly, irritating Marcy. Is it really that common knowledge? Lauren continued. "And, well, she felt like she couldn't stay in class, so she left." Marcy joined in, trying to make her voice sound shaky. It wasn't hard.
"I-I texted Lauren to tell her something was wrong."
"And I followed her to see if I could help.", Christian added. The secretary nodded again.
"Alright. I understand. You two, " she gestured at Christian and Lauren. "Should go back to your classes. But you, Marcy, can you please go down to Mr. Singer's office?" Who?, Marcy asked herself. Noting the confusion in her face, the secretary continued.
"Mr. Singer is the school's guidance counselor. Do you know where his office is?"
"Oh, uh, yes. I do." Marcy mumbled, self-consciously.
"Good. Go on, then." said the secretary with a forced smile, picking up her magazine once again. Compliant, Marcy left the office in silence, as her friends split off and headed upwards to the school's third floor.
"Good luck!" Lauren called back from the stairs. As Marcy descended to the school's partially underground bottom floor, she reflected on the encounter with Grace and Sarah. Vampires are real. Vampires are real, and they want to kill me. For some reason, she wasn't particularly surprised by this information. Shrugging imperceptibly, she turned and knocked on the door that read "GUIDANCE COUNSELOR", and then in smaller letters, "N. Singer".

Marcy had never seen much of Mr. Singer. She now remembered him seeming nice enough back in orientation, but she'd never had reason to visit the guidance counselor's office. He was a tall man in his early forties with short brown hair and a perpetually curious expression. He had a son, Calvin who was in Marcy's class. She had seen him talking to Christian. Briefly hesitating, Marcy stepped into his office. The walls were mostly blank, with the occasional inspirational poster and a single picture of Calvin. Mr. Singer sat at a desk at the far side of the room. He gestured at a nearby chair, motioning for Marcy to sit. She did.
"Hello, Marceline." he said with a thin smile. Marcy expected him to ask her exactly what had happened, and offer some watered down advice on how to deal with stress. Instead, he gave her a long, hard stare. She stared back, defiantly.
"Well?"
"Do you know what those... those creatures were?" Marcy recoiled, astonished.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about." she stammered.
"Please don't lie to me. I just want to help you."
"They're vampires. Long teeth and all that shit." Wincing slightly at Marcy's language, Mr. Singer nodded.
"Yes, Marcy. They are." He paused. "Do you have any idea why they followed you?"
"No. I don't."
"Hmm." He looked thoughtful. "Perhaps... if there's no way to safely extract you from this conflict, you should be prepared for future encounters."
"Yes! Please! Tell me everything! I want to understand, Mr. Singer!" The counselor's face became very serious.
"Very well. There's too much to cover over the amount of time you'll be here, so I'd like you to come again tomorrow." Before Marcy could reply, or even nod, Singer cleared his throat and began to speak: "Vampires are abominations, unholy perversions of the human desire for immortality. They are incredibly strong and fast. They can heal from almost any injury, but if you can destroy the heart or remove the brain, they'll die like anything else." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Do you understand me?" Marcy nodded, uncertainly.
"I do."
"Good. Then I'll continue. Vampiric infection is spread through the exchanging of bodily fluids, usually a bite. Once the transformation has begun, it cannot be interrupted or reversed. Vampires can pass for humans in most circumstances, but they must feed on blood every so often, or they become feral creatures incapable of higher thought." Singer stood up, and walked towards Marcy. "Do you have any questions?" Marcy looked up at him.
"How did you learn all this? Why do you know so much about... vampires?" The word seemed strange in her mouth.
"If you know where to look, this information can be found. Of course, there are a lot of lies and conjecture, but eventually something approaching the truth will reveal itself. As for the why, well, that's a little more personal." The counselor ran his hands over his face. "Fifteen years ago, when my wife Gabriella and I were young, and my son Calvin was just a baby, my family was visiting Europe. We were walking back to our hotel room from dinner through an alley when we were attacked by a group of what seemed to be vampires. I picked up Calvin, to keep him safe, but the vampires caught my wife. She told me to run, to protect Calvin, and I was so afraid, I-" He broke off, a look of shame crossing his face. "I just ran. I ran, and I didn't stop until I got to the hotel. I was sure no one would ever believe me, but I knew what I saw. So I spent years learning everything I could about those creatures. I know now that on that day, when I fled in terror with my son, my wife was either killed, or worse, became one of them. I have devoted my life to fighting these creatures to protect humanity from them, and, I suppose, to seek vengeance for the loss of my wife." Looking somehow diminished, Singer sat back down at his desk, staring at his picture of his son. The two sat in silence, each measuredly avoiding the other's gaze. Marcy shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her eyes affixed to the ceiling.
"That was very brave, what you and your friends did. You're incredibly lucky you managed to surprise the first one. It doesn't bare thinking about what might otherwise have happened..." he trailed off. Marcy almost mentioned that she'd seen them before, that they were hunting her for a reason, but some part of her made her bite her tongue. Singer shook his head, as if he were trying to clear it. "Come see me again tomorrow, Marceline."
"See you tomorrow, then, Mr. Singer." The counselor plastered a smile on his tired face.
"Please, call me Nicholas."