My Stepbrother's a Vampire!

4; The Threat

Five minutes later and Mr. Rigby tells me I can return to class.

"I heard from witnesses you were nothing to do with this," he says whilst tearing a late card from his notebook. "I believe you have Fifth Period Art." He then directs his look in Alec's direction, turning it strict. "And as for you, Mr. Faustino. I'd like to speak to you in my office."

Alec gracefully gets to his feet, the perfect picture of gracious carelessness. He looks over Mr. Rigby's shoulder at me.

"I'll see you after school."

The words possess a dismissive note. Without another word, he follows Mr. Rigby into the office.

When I get to Art, the teacher—Mrs. McMillan, who also happens to be my favourite teacher and allows us to address her by her first name of Jenny—does not even ask me why I am twenty minutes late. Instead she smiles a warm greeting and hands me a large piece of paper.

"We're continuing with last week and completing our nature prints," she tells me. "Sit wherever you like and draw from the heart, my darling." She gives me a friendly pat and leaves me to it, going to assist another student who has called for her help.

The classroom is noisy as only a creative subjective as Art can make it, and I am a little glad Emma does not share this period with me. She herself has sociology, and besides, I want a bit of alone time. No doubt she has a hundred and one questions for me. I take a seat at the far back of the room, but if I think I am going to finish my drawing in the lesson, I am far from right. For the majority of my classmates seem to have a burning curiosity for why George Aisles, the cutest guy in school, was sparring gladiator-style with the hot new guy. They all crowd around my table and ask their questions, telling me of the rumours, too.

"I heard," a mahogany-haired girl named Chelsea says, "that he slept with Santana in Fourth Period."

"Well apparently," Chelsea's acne-ridden best friend Leila adds, "he flew all the way from Germany to be with Santana. They met on some exchange trip."

Steve Cogan, a sandy-haired Junior on the football team, snorts. "You're both wrong. The coach actually want to replace George with the new guy, 'cause he's real talented at football, so George is pissed."

Leila gives me an odd look. "How do you know him anyway?"

I study their unnecessarily overeager faces for a beat and contemplate lying. It isn't even any of their businesses. But then I dismiss the thought and sigh out a response. "Alec didn't sleep with Santana," I tell Chelsea, "but Santana did come onto him. And Alec isn't German." I face Leila and Steve. "He's Italian. Nor do I reckon he's the new quarterback."

Chelsea opens her mouth to ask something, but I interrupt her, knowing already what it is. "I know this stuff because Alec is my step brother. Or future step brother. Something along those—"

"Wait," Leila interrupts me. "Santana made a move on the new guy? You don't say." She exchanges a look with Chelsea, and twin scheming expressions wash over their face.

My heart sinks a little. "Wait—" But the two leave my table, presumably off to spread the new, hottest piece of gossip. 'Santana Quebec is a cheat.' Divulging anything to those busybodies was sure to be a mistake; one that I know will come back to bite me where it hurts.

I exhale sharply and return to my drawing, trying not to think about the time when Santana will find and destroy me. Somehow, I grow bored of sketching the circumference of a peaceful meadow populated by flowers, so instead, in the corner of the page; I jot down the design that has been nagging at the back of my mind ever since I saw it this morning.