Wow, That Sucks

1. End: a final part of something, especially a period of time.

Vampires.

You thought of Edward Cullen, didn't you? Fuck. Alright, let's try that again.

Real vampires.

Hopefully, you didn't think of something else equally tragic. Nothing is worse than having a creature that should be genuinely feared turned into some young adult novel obsession. Vampires didn't sparkle. They weren't--usually--vying for attention, and certainly not against some mutt. They were something to be feared. They were predators, ruled by a primal instinct that couldn't be tamed by their feelings for some random chick. Those smutty novels are totally degrading, and it takes away the fear you should definitely have for these things.

As somebody who'd grown up in the-middle-of-nowhere USA, I never imagined anything supernatural existing. Werewolves, vampires, and witches were just Halloween costumes and ideas young kids believed in. I never would've guessed that these things couldactually exist, and by the time I found out, it was too late.

* * *

The teacher droned on and kept writing down formulas on the board. I was honestly trying my hardest not to fall asleep. Statistics wasn't something that interested me in the least. I only took it because I was a year ahead of most of my classmates, and I thought taking another year of math would look good to colleges. The whole year I really, really wondered if it was worth it, but with one week left before finals, I stopped being a little pussy and reviewed what I needed to pass with my 4.0 still intact. I didn't exactly broadcast that I was a straight A student, and nobody ever asked, but I still wanted it really bad. I needed all the scholarships I could get.

My eyes were completely shut when a small noise on my desk caused them to open. Sitting in front of me was a folded up paper--one folded up so neatly, it had to be from Marco.

Raising an eyebrow in his direction--directly to my right--I opened it up. You going to the party? was scrawled on a line.

I looked at him and shook my head, handing the note back when I was sure I wouldn't get caught. I'd been invited, but I wasn't sure if I was going to go. Ymir always threw some wild bashes. As in, it wasn't over until at least three fistfights had broken out--one of which she was in--everybody was deaf from music, half the crowd was drunk or puking their guts out, and the cops had been called.

I almost didn't get away from her Christmas party this year. I slipped out the basement window the second I saw the flashing lights, and I slid on the ice halfway to my car--the car I'd had the foresight to leave at a park several blocks away--but with people rushing everywhere like chickens with their heads chopped off, I had to get up fast or risk getting run over like Mufasa.

Too soon?

Anyway, I was still debating whether to go to her end of the year party when my parents mentioned that a friend of theirs was going to be in town on the same night, and they had plans to get together. Since there was nobody to watch my two younger siblings, I volunteered to stay and babysit for a night.

The note landed on my desk again. The fantastic Jean Kirschtein has no plans for our last summer as high schoolers?????? D: How tragic

Flicking it at him, I mouthed, Asshole. He laughed under his breath. God, he was such a nerd sometimes.

Marco and I met sometime in kindergarten when we'd all started school, but we didn't actually talk until about fourth grade. I don't even remember how we'd started talking. I just remember being invited to the same stuff he was since we had the same friends and eventually we also became friends. No backstory about how one of us saved the other from playground bullies.

As Marco was writing another note, the bell rang, and all of us rushed out the door despite the teacher's best efforts to give us homework to do over the weekend. Part of me felt bad for him, but the rest of me suffocated that small voice with a pillow.