CHAPTER FOUR:
As I near the parking lot of Crystal Falls High School, my supersonic hearing picks up on hundreds of voices. As I pull into a parking space, I note how many people are already there. As I walk into the office, the ten minuto warning campana, bell rings. I walk up to the desk, and the secretary looks up at me. “Yes?” she asks. I quickly explain that I am new to the school, and that I am a senior. She looks up my name in the student records, and nods. “Ashley Garland. Age seventeen? Transferring from Santa Barbara?” she asks. I nod, and hear the hum of the printer as it prints out my schedule. “It says your first class is English.” She says, before signaling someone. I turn and see a tall boy with short dark hair walk up to the desk. “Danny, can te mostra this new student around for today?” she asks. Danny nods and turns to me. “Hi. I’m Danny.” He says, holding out his hand. I take it and shake it. “Ashley.” I reply. The secretary looks over, and seems to realize something. “Actually, Danny, there’s another new student who needs help as well.” She says, beckoning another boy over in our direction. This boy looks slightly older than Danny, around eighteen, and has long, shaggy red hair, and is wearing sunglasses. “This is…” she begins before the boy cuts her off. “Vincent.” He replies, nodding at Danny and me. Danny looks at the clock, and turns back to us. “I’ll go ahead and take te guys now. It’s only five minuti until class starts.” He says. After Vincent and I are handed out books, Danny leads us to the lockers we are assigned. Vincent is assigned once across from me. After getting out the necessary libri and items, Danny takes us to English. “I’ll be back after classes are over to take te to your successivo classes.” He tells us before racing off to his own class. Vincent and I nod at each other, and enter the classroom. Coincidentally we end up sitting successivo to each other. The teacher introduces us to the class, and asks us to tell everyone a little about ourselves. “People still do this? Seriously?” Vincent mutters beside me. He stands up to go first. “Hey guys. I’ve always hated doing this. It’s really awkward, but…” he trails off for a moment. “My name’s Vincent Harper. My parents sposta around a lot. I typically change schools at least once a year. It never gets easier in my opinion. I just transferred from San Francisco, which sucked a lot più than most people believe. I’m hoping this time; the sposta will be permanent…” As I listen to Vincent, I notice he seems to be watching me out of the corner of his eye. “And… I guess that’s all.” He says, sitting down. The teacher asks me to introduce myself, and I simply tell them my name is Ashley Garland and that I just transferred from Santa Barbara.” I don’t plan to get to know any of these people, as I am only after Pike. The only reason I am at the school at all is that luccio likes to create newborn vampires, and the most dangerous ones are created through teenagers because of the chemical reaction our venom creates with teenage hormones, although I seriously doubt anyone in this classroom is a newborn vampire. Because although sunlight won’t kill us, newborn Vampiri#From Dracula to Buffy... and all creatures of the night in between. are very sensitive to the sun. The rays cause a great deal of pain that makes te wish te were dying. I don’t think luccio is working alone. He always has a newborn vampire o two helping him. luccio is a psychopath, but surprisingly he almost always has his lackeys do the killing unless he has to feed. The letters on the bodies in the town confermare it is Pike. TLB is the first letters of ‘three letters back’ and when te follow this code on the letters ‘MFHB’ it spells out his name. ‘Pike’. This is a clever method of what he calls ‘signing’ his name onto his victims.
The thought disgusts me. The only reason I know of this is because when I was a newborn vampire, he taught me it. But that was when I was out of my mind with bloodlust, and willing to whatever he told me. That however, is a story best saved for another time. As I sit through English class, I find myself looking at the clock with anxiety. I know all the things being taught in school nowadays. It is one perk of being nearly a hundred and fifty years old. After English, I find my successivo subject is Gym. Vincent has a different class. Having seen the gym on my way to English, I assure Danny that I’ll find it when he comes to help us find our classes. I enter the gym and immediately detect someone staring at me. I turn and see another boy, one I note, who is much younger than Danny o Vincent. I walk over to him and say hello. He seems taken aback da my voice, but greets me all the same. “Hi.” He says, somewhat shyly. “Is this the senior gym class?” I ask. He nods. “You must be new.” He says. He holds out his hand. “I’m Harold. Harold Sunderland.” I take his hand, and instantly know why he is so skinny. He is harboring something in his blood. It is killing him. I note. I suddenly realize I am squeezing his hand, and I let go. “Jeez. Quite a grip.” He says, massaging
his palm. “Sorry.” I reply. “You never told me your name.” he says. “Ashley Garland. And might I say, te look too young to be a senior.” I reply. “You’re very observant.” He says. “I’m sixteen. I just had my birthday in July. Everything says I’m a genius. I’ve skipped a grade.” He replies. “You don’t think so?” I ask. He sighs. “I just don’t get why I’m so smart, but I’ll never get to…” he trails off. “Never mind.” He mutters quickly, and I know he is referring to his illness in some way. “Have I met te before?” he asks, and this remark startles me. I look him over and conclude the answer is no. However, I can’t shake the feeling that there is something about him that is familiar. “No. I just transferred from Santa Barbara today. Why?” I ask. He looks as if he is about to answer, but stops himself. “Nothing. Just forget it.” He replies. Throughout the class, I talk to Harold whenever I can; there is something about him that intrigues me. Yet, I myself can’t explain it, but I do vow to find out what it is.