A Year With An Original Vampire (Elijah Mikaelson)

Week 1: When Blake Met Elijah 🍎

Week 1:
When Blake Met Elijah
~ February 27th - March 4th, 2012 ~

***MONDAY MORNING***

"Sorry... Sorry... Sorry," I whispered over and over again as I squeezed through the row of students already in their seats. My saved spot was in the middle. It was seat #17 out of the 30 in each row. I sat next to my best friend. Who was also my only friend on campus.

"You're late," my bestie hissed as I finally reached her. She moved her bag that was saving my seat so I could hurry and sit down. "You're lucky, Coleman is running late too," she added about our professor.

"Is he?" I gasped, surprised and relieved. Either way I hurried to get situated at my small desk before the beady little black eyed, old man did show up. I took my jacket off and let it hang over the back of my chair. I shoved my sunglasses in my book bag. Then finally pulled out my notebook, a pen, and our history book.

"Yes, you're lucky," she repeated.

Her name was Miranda. We met my sophomore year of college in accounting 101. Accounting being my major while just one of her prerequisites. But she sat right next to me when she came in late to our very first class, making a scene. She was out of breath but gave a long winded excuse about not being able to find the classroom. Then she took a seat next to me in the front row, complimenting my red hair she was amazed was all natural. And almost instantly we were best friends.

Now two years later here we were in some boring lecture hall we decided to take together just to check off one of the last credits we both needed to graduate this semester. We were in 'U.S History 103.' Taught by mood swinging, fast speaking, glare giving, and sloppy handwriting having Professor Seymour Coleman. He hated all interruptions including any student's lateness to class, i.e me today for the third time this semester already; the sound of chewing gum or any eating; phones going off or nails tapping against the screens; and all talking. Those were his rules. And you did not want to break them. Because from what I've seen the consequences were one if not all of the follow: losing points off your latest assignment to lower your grade, make you an embarrassed spectacle with his scolding in front of all two hundred and some odd number of peers, or kick you out of class and mark you absent, and four missed classes means you fail automatically.

Although this was only the fourth week in the semester and my 10th time in this lecture hall with him, I hated him. Which was okay because he seemed to despise me too. Even without looking at him I could feel when he glared at me every other morning, seeing as we only met for class 3 times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

"Where were you this morning?" Miranda asked.

I sighed, turning to her on my left. "Mia was sick all weekend and wasn't feeling better this morning. So between taking care of her, oversleeping, and then fighting her on letting me leave this morning I left late. That's why I couldn't meet for breakfast," I explained to her.

Mia was my daughter. Smart, sweet, and sassy. She was 6 years old. Apparently with the flu. She slept in my bed last night, kicking and squirming the whole time. I got about three hours of sleep without getting up to hold her hair back and comfort her while she puked. So I snoozed my alarm a few times too many.

Then when I woke up this morning I had to continue to take care of her of course. Make breakfast, check her temperature, give her medicine, and then get her situated in a bath before letting my mom takeover so I could leave. But I was late. So I didn't meet Miranda before class like usual to have breakfast together in our favorite on campus cafe.