The Red School

(20) Rebel Group

CHAPTER 20

Vampires hate Halloween.

An entire day spent with humans dressing up as us, thinking that through makeup and plastic teeth they'll become us for just a day. As if they have any idea what it's like to be a vampire. But still, they pretend to be us. Mocking us. The fact that we are even an idea for costumes in the first place is disgusting. They make us into some type of monster. Not all of us are blood thirsty and going on killing rampages. That's like assuming that every human is the next Hitler.

It's not like they don't spend every other day of the year mocking us. But now they get to take it to another level. As if we don't feel alienated enough.

Not every person will dress as vampires. But the spiteful ones in this town-and there are many-will do it purposely.

Costumes aren't the only thing vampires hate about Halloween. Every single year our house has been egged. Our car windows broken. Fake blood all over our lawns. Just the thought of it makes me cringe.

I don't understand how people can be so spiteful. But I guess I never will. It's just the world we live in. Some things will never be understood.

There's nonstop talk about this upcoming dance for the rest of the day. No one can understand why we have a dance on the day of a holiday that vampires pretty much hate. But there's still some underlying excitement for most people. It is our first dance-and there's going to be boys involved. Every teenage girls dream. If it wasn't actual dancing required, I'd be excited too.

After the last bell rings, signaling no more classes, I run into Azrielle in the hallway. I say "run into" but it seems that she was looking for me. She has this determined look in her eyes.

I'm walking out of the bathroom with Libby when I see her.

"When's the last time you talked to mommy?" she asks, her face completely serious, not wasting any time.

I cock my head at her. "Well hello to you too."

Azrielle eyes Libby, curling her top lip up. "Could you, like, go away?"

"Um," A crease appears in between Libby's eyebrows. "O-okay." She mutters, and scatters away.

I totally get it-Azrielle has her bitch face on.

I stop walking and lean against the lockers. Sighing, "Other than being rude to my friend, what do you want?"

"When's the last time you talked to mommy?" She repeats.

Seeing how serious she is, I straighten. "Um, like three days ago. Wh-?"

She moves closer to me, brushing strands of her white hair behind her ear. "Did she tell you something was going on with her? She won't tell me. I know you guys talk more."

"We don't-,"

"She's been acting all suspicious." Azrielle grabs my wrist. "You better not be lying to me, kid." Kid? She's literally one year older than me. "I'm going to find out anyway."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I yell, snatching arm away.

Azrielle trains her stolid eyes on me. "You know what? I think we should pay mom a little visit."

I gawk at her quizzically. "Meaning...?"

She smiles. "We're spending the weekend at home."

___ ___ ___

"Why are you dressed like we're going to war?"

It's dark in the basement this time when we leave. We know our way through; we don't need a light. Also, it's sort of an unspoken agreement between Libba and I that we don't want Libby to know about all the weapons in the basement of our school.