Mirror, Mirror (Book 2)

Chapter 8: Sister

After saying goodbye to his mother, Amelia and Oliver left the comfort of their cream-colored home and went to school. Not surprisingly, the mist and clouds covered the blazing sun, making the day rather feel like a chilly afternoon.

While Oliver wore a black hoodie, Amelia puts on a red poncho and showed no expression to the icy temperature. In her right hand, she drags her small, light suitcase against the asphalt.

"Do you need some help carrying your suitcase?" the vampire stares at the boy, struggling to lift up his suitcase.

Short breaths escaped from the boy's mouth, as his arms had gotten weak from dragging the massive suitcase behind him.

His knuckles are white, his face turned bright red, and his eyes were filled with sheer pain.

"I would, but people might suspect your identity," Oliver grunted. "And besides, remember what happened last time you've used your strength?"

Amelia sighed, thinking back to the moment she took out her rage on a refrigerator; one day, she wanted to make lamb and potatoes for supper, but when she reached to the freezer door, it couldn't open it.

So, Amelia tried giving the door a good tug, but when it didn't move, the vampire angrily lifts the ice box with both hands and threw it across the living room.

"What? I fixed it afterwards." the vampire whined. "Would you do it if the fridge doesn't work?"

He shakes his head no.

"I'm not the Hulk," Oliver reminded. "I mean, look at me: I'm light as a pencil."

He gestured his body when he spoke.

"And second, keeping up appearances is the best option. The last thing I want is for you to expose yourself in front of others, especially my mom."

Amelia nodded in agreement. "And speaking of your mother, she told me to take your inhaler, call you every day, and eat your food."

Oliver grinned, "spoken like a true mother."

They giggled for a moment, then resumed their tedious journey to the school.

Bodies of chattering people swarm around them, as the soles of their shoes scrape across the concrete sidewalks.

Depending on the weather, Oliver could see vibrant colors of red, green, orange, and sometimes brown clothing worn by tourists, citizens, and other tourists.

To the boy, no matter how morose Esterville is, people would seek color for comfort.

"Fashion is bleak around here," Amelia muttered.

Surprised, Oliver turns his gaze to the vampire then asked why.

"Look at him," she insisted, shaking her head at the man in a red coat, red pants, and matching red shoes.

They watch him standing patiently at the crosswalk, looking tall, well-mannered, and unashamed of his red clothes.

"He looks like blooming tomato, wearing so much red. What the hell?" Amelia grunted.

Oliver shrugs his shoulders simply.

"It's not a crime to wear clothes based on your favorite color, Amelia," he says. "For instance, I don't complain that you're wearing the same clothes."

The vampire rolled her eyes.

"Because the malls here are atrocious," she complained.

"Nothing new, nothing shiny, just racks full of 80s clothing."