Pennies and Rust

1 - Attendance

     He was only eight years old when he watched his first vampire movie. He remembers sitting on the couch with his dad shortly before his father figure walked out on the family. While he can't remember any of the details of the movie seen years ago, Slate can recall being completely enthralled with the idea of vampires, and the way it captured his young, impressionable mind. And he brought this idea with him to school the next day, chatting up his friends about the movie he had seen the night before.

     Later on that week, young Slate had found himself with a paper cut, a small bead of blood on his finger. His first instinct was to lick it - of course, he found himself wanting to imitate the cool, mysterious monsters he adored.

     It was a flavour he had never experienced before. It was sharp, and metallic, as if he had just dabbed his tongue onto the surface of a penny. He recoiled from the flavour, and laughed at himself. He was only eight, after all.

     Slate kept an eye on his watch. He only had a couple of minutes. Kneeling down, he opened his closet and removed the backpack from it's hiding place. He moved this thermos from where it sat at his side, and unscrewed the cap. He selected a single pouch from his backpack, and emptied it's contents into the thermos.

     His bedroom wasn't very big. His desk sat next to his closet on the same wall, covered with an array of items, some dusty, others recently placed. His closet was full, with few clothes hung up. Instead, they all lay in heaps on the floor of the closet, along with various other oddities. The bedroom door found itself on the other side of the closet. Opposite the desk was a bed, the foot of which faced a window. Adjacent the desk was a sparse bookshelf. A couple of untouched textbooks lay flat at the bottom. Other than a stray sock, the floor was clear, showing the off-white carpet that complimented the off-white walls.

     He heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

     Slate rushed, replacing the cap on the thermos, zipping up his bag and shoving it back in his closet. He shut the door, and turned around to his bed where he found another backpack - his bag for school. The 17 year old placed his thermos in the bag, and pulled the bag over his shoulder, just as he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

     "Are you almost ready? You're going to be late."

     He moved to the door, and opened it to find his mother standing there. She was a tall, slender person, he light brown hair pulled into a loose, low ponytail, the sides of her hair hanging neatly over her ears. There was an ever present sadness in her expression and tone of voice.

     Slate looked more like his father then he did his mom, only sharing her grey-green eyes, and slightly upward turned nose. His naturally dark brown, wavy locks differed from hers, and with his hair now dyed silver, the relationship between Slate and his mother was sometimes hard to see.

     Slate pushed past her, not saying a word, and made his way down the stairs. He had overslept, still not back on schedule after three days of not having his prized drink. He slipped on his sneakers, and headed out the door, his mother sadly watching him from the top of the stairs.

     Slate's mother had chosen not to date around again after her husband left nearly ten years ago, hoping to create a closer relationship with her son, and while she tried, it was to no avail. Slate never worried about his mother discovering his "quirk." They had fought long ago about her never entering his room, and she was not to encroach on his personal life. Sure, she realized something was up with her son, but she had always silently hoped that it was just normal teenage rebellion.

     Slate made his way to school, following the same path that he took every morning. The walk was short, just over a third of a mile. In short, Slate hated school. His grades were low, and he skipped school often. He considered skipping today, his head feeling fuzzy, but he had nowhere to go, no one to be with. Abe had work today. There was also a chance of his mother finally locking down on him if he ditched school too often.