Until Midnight

Today We Learn About Vampires

Chapter Two

9:00 AM, Monday, November 15th, 2014

Geometry, predictably, was a bust. I tried with everything inside me to pay attention, instead to end up thinking I'm going to become a member of the undead at midnight, so what's the point? 

Yet, as all humans have had happened to them in the past, empathy got the best of me. Seeing Miss Trista in her atrocious turtle neck sweater and khaki shorts (khaki shorts? Seriously? It's November, get with it woman) I couldn't help but feel that if it's my last Geometry class as a human, why waste it and not pay attention? Instead, I didn't succumb to boredom and focused on Trista's slow but effective words, taking down as many notes as my No. 2 Ticonderoga would allow. 

By the time the bell rung for second period, "The Graphing of Parallel Lines" was ingrained into my mind, well, drilled is a more sufficient way to describe it, for I scribbled down my notes faster than I ever did before. 

Next was a class, unlike the other ones, that I thoroughly enjoyed. English. Gathering my books into the strap-hung bag I carried, I strolled through the student-filled hallways, making my way to the room. But as I walked at a brisk pace, I couldn't help but stop by a corner and stare at all the passing faces, all of a different variety and ethnicity. A worrying thought (worrying thoughts were all that seemed to be inside my mind this morning and last night) struck me. 

When I become apart of the legion of the undead, I could potentially kill someone, perhaps someone I knew, like the select few who strolled the very hallway I stood in. What would I do then? Would I cry and hate myself forever? Or would I inherit the possible vampiric sociopathy and not, to put it lightly, give a damn? The thought unsettled me more than words can describe. 

Suppressing my anxiety, I lifted my head high and made my way to the English classroom, whose occupants were all beginning to settle into their blue seats. 

Unlike Geometry, where I didn't speak to a single soul in, English had but one exception. John Moarse, my best friend. He had a brotherly air about him that you couldn't help but admire. His short black hair was messy (yet clean) as always, and his chocolate brown eyes always twinkled with kindness. 

Today he wore a casual brown t-shirt, complete with navy blue jeans. The minute I made myself visible he smiled that gawky smile of his. It warmed me inside, temporarily washing away all the fear and terror that had been accumulating within me this morning. I returned the smile, and sat down next to him at the back of the classroom. 

People, many it seemed, assumed that I was for some reason in love with John. Yet, I knew for sure that wasn't true. I knew for a fact that the reason John and I were inseparable was because we were best friends. Simple as that. He was like a brother to me, and I was his sister. 

Once I was comfortable in my seat he smiled that funny, bigger than life grin of his. "Hey-yuh Kate. I got news," he said, his voice calm yet I could tell he was repressing excitement. I grinned. "Do tell," I replied in my best British accent, trying to portray a socialite of an elite class, or simply, something along the lines of a Daisy Buchanan expression. 

"We got a sub," John declared, his excitement finally surfacing. A wave of relief coursed through me. Although I liked my regular English teacher, Mrs. Blaine, it was nice once in a while to have a sub, for when the word "substitute" was uttered, it means the work ethic of that day would be diminished. 

"Thank the gods of Mount Olympus," I said. I looked around, trying to see where this enigmatic "sub" was, yet my eyes couldn't seem to locate him or her. "Where's the substitute?" I asked. John shrugged. "All I know is what the other's told me," John said innocently.