Vampire Boys Of Summer Main Page
Chapter 1: Tramps & Trumps
There’s a saying that everything looks better in the morning. Whoever said that probably had someone special to wake up with, but in my world waking up just meant I was still here. It also made me remember the fact a vampire lived next door and he needed to be dealt with. Lucky for him I wasn’t the vampire hunting professional of the family. That would be my dad, though I truly don’t think that he’s dispatched anyone. Oh, he tried. Two years ago, he was arrested for attacking the night clerk at the supermarket, whom he was convinced was a vampire. Now he sits at the psychiatric hospital looking out a lonely window in the same manner that I do, perfectly hopeless.
I fixed my usual breakfast; eggs over easy, two pieces of bacon, and coffee. I know a lot of my friends’ mothers fixed their breakfast for them, but I’d starve if I had to rely on mine. By the time I was off to school every morning, she would already be three drinks into her day.
I slung my backpack over one shoulder. It was custom made, meaning I had taken my dad’s old military backpack and drawn on it with bright neon markers the names and logos of my favorite J-Rock bands: L’Arc En Ciel, Acid Black Cherry, Luna Sea. Only a few people at my school knew who they were, but that was okay by me. Dare to be different, I always say.
Stepping out into the morning sun, I took a glance at the house next door. It didn’t really look like anyone had moved in. For a moment I was tempted to skip school and investigate, but I thought better of it. My grades were bad enough; I didn’t need to make it any worse by cutting classes. Still, it was pretty tempting. I looked up to the second floor of the house. Directly across from my own second story window was a widow’s walk that encircled the whole house. A door on the walk led inside, probably to the attic or a bedroom. I entertained the notion of leaping from my windowsill to the tree that had scraped my window the night before, and onto the neighbor’s widow’s walk. It was possible. It could be done, but one false move and I’d be cracked on the pavement. I shook my head at these thoughts and mumbled under my breath, “Get your ass to school.”
“Nora Williams”, the teacher called out, and I raised my hand to show my presence. He made a note of it and moved on to the next name on his list. This was fifth period English class one week before summer vacation, and even though it was the end of the school year I was still waiting for the inevitable; a new student who just happened to look like my new neighbor. But he never showed. And of course he wouldn’t; it’s daytime and he’s a vampire.
The image of him on his front porch staring up at the sky just wouldn’t leave me alone. I found myself sketching his lonely, nocturnal figure in my notebook. Even though I didn’t get a close look the night before, I drew in his features anyway, or ones that I like hot vampire boys to have: piercing dark eyes, full pouting lips, slightly flushed cheeks. My drawing, and imagination, showed an average build on him. If I’d drawn him without the school uniform he would have been well built, but not too many rippling muscles. His shirt was parted just enough at the top so you could see his chest was hairless and his cute boy nip…just then, while I was contemplating nipples and navels my bestie Angela, who sat next to me in every class, passed me a note. I glanced at her casually before opening the folded paper. I looked down at her handwritten scrawl. “OMG, who is that?” it read.
I grinned and shook my head, trying to let her know it was no one. Angela had known me since fourth grade so she knew I wasn’t being entirely truthful. She flicked her long blond hair out of her eyes and gave me a look that said, “confess.”
I guess I could have confided in her about the vampire boy next door, but if I was going to have to kill him I knew she’d try to talk me out of it just so she could flash her blue eyes at him and get his number. I don’t mean to give the impression that she’s boy crazy or anything, but the truth of the matter is…well, she is boy crazy, what can I say? It’s not like she’d steal your man or purposely walk down the street in her bikini to make guys stop what they’re doing and stare. No, she was more like closet boy crazy. She tried to play it off as much as she could, but she reminded me of one of those construction worker guys who doesn’t say anything when a pretty girl walks by, but their heads turn and eyes follow their movements intensely, as if such a gaze would make the girl fall all over them. Angela was like that with the hot boys. And now she was doing just that, trying to see what I was drawing as if he was going to leap off the page and say, “hey there, blondie.”
She made an impatient nod of her head to let me know she was waiting for me to tell her. I pointed to my head to try and convince her it was all imagination. She gave me a smirk and turned in her seat away from me as if she were pouting and offended. I knew she wasn’t. She’d catch me the moment I was in the hall after class. And sure enough, that’s exactly what she did.
“Okay, Give. Who is he, you tramp?” she demanded playfully, grabbing hold of my arm as I exited the classroom.
I laughed. “Nobody, tramp. I made him up.”
“Okay, maybe not totally made up. I saw him on an anime.”
She gave me a curious look and I knew I had her. As much anime as I watch I’m bound to eventually try drawing storyboards myself. After all, she had seen my room and all the sketches plastered on the wall.
“Damn, “ she said, a little disappointed. “You drew him pretty damn fine. And if there’s an Asian boy at school, I want to know. They are crazy about blondes I heard.”
In Angela’s world everyone was mad for blondes, but at the moment the only one I could think of I’d seen on the porch next door last night, and when I left school I was going to march right over and find a way to introduce myself.
“So what was the anime?” She wasn’t being nosy I knew, she just loved playing the question game. To prove this she launched right into “Was it crunchy roll or Netflix?”
“Cool. Rosario? Fairy Tail? Sword Art?”
She put her finger to her chin as if to emphasize she was thinking this one out. “Titan? Elfin? Ouran High School?”
Before I could answer, someone shoved Angela and she stumbled into me.
“Out of the way, sluts,” said several girls at once and we knew this wasn’t like our playful banter, this was The Trumps. Every school has a trio like them. The prima donna divas of the school hall. They dress like hoes and act like pros. The untouchable celebs of the teen world. Girls either fear them or want to be part of their clique. Boys want to sleep with them, or at the very least, get to second base, which I’m told is pretty automatic. If you are good looking enough to get a date, it’s not going to be a wasted night.
We called them The Trumps because they acted like the rich elite of the whole school. Seeing themselves as Goddesses or something, they made like they were better than everyone else, and if anyone, boy or girl, went against them, the retaliation was vicious. Bullying was an art with The Trumps. In fact, rumor had it Amanda Trump, we never called them by their real last names, had bullied Samantha Connor into attempting suicide last year. Luckily, Samantha survived and her parents promptly moved the family far away, claiming the school officials dragged its feet in the issue. But since Amanda’s mom was on the school board, everything was swept under the rug. Personally, I think Amanda should have been beaten with the rug.
The other Trumps, Chrissie and Kari, were actually cousins and they absolutely hated anyone that Amanda told them to, which at that moment in time happened to be Angela. It wasn’t her fault; she just happened to be the wrong person in this life. And she also happened to be the ex-girlfriend of Amanda’s current boy toy, Devin McCullough. What was silly about that was that Devin and Angela had been going together in the sixth grade and that was like four years ago. You would think if Angela still wanted him she would have made her move by now. Of course, try to explain that to The Trumps.
Amanda gave Angela an “I dare you to say something” look as she passed by. I helped my friend steady herself. Chrissie and Kari both snickered like the trained monkeys they were. You have seen this very scene in teen movies since the dawn of time, and if you think its all make believe, you’re wrong. This happens all the time. And unlike the movies there would be no one riding in to save the day. There were no heroes here, just cowards and villains. As if to prove that point, Colin Deeds, the biggest coward of Chelsea Valley, came up to us and handed Angela her math book, which she had dropped.
“You shouldn’t tangle with them,” he said, trying to sound like he was offering solid advice.
I looked at him and his mismatched clothes like he was one of those irritating gnats that manage to reach places you’d rather they didn’t.
“What do you know?” I said and jerked the book out of his hands.
Angela was still embarrassed from the push Amanda had given her and didn’t say a word. I knew it was a bigger embarrassment knowing a nerd boy like Colin had been witness to the whole event.
“What do you want, Colin?”
The boy looked at Angela and stammered out his answer. “I…I just wanted to help.”
“It would help if you’d get lost.”
“Oh. Oh, okay.” He hung his head for a moment and started to walk away. He reminded me of a pup that had been beaten, but with the devotion of a pet. He finally looked up and said, “Have a nice summer vacation.” Then, he moved off down the hallway, his book bag slung over his shoulder, nervously running his fingers through his never combed brown hair.
As Angela and I started off in the opposite direction, I looked at her. “Maybe we shouldn’t have been so mean to him.”
She shook her head. “He’s a pest. He’s been crushing after me since grade school.”
“Yeah, he lives right down the street from me. Sits outside on the curb waiting for me to come out. Rides his bike in the alley behind our house. He even buys me stuff and gets one of his nerd buddies to give it to me. I mean, some of it’s cool stuff, but I don’t like him like that, and I swear to God I never will.”
“Hey, no God swearing.”
“Oh. Forgot your God thing.”
She knows I believe in God. Unfortunately, she doesn’t put much stock in it. It’s not something that affects our friendship; Personally, I think she’s been taught not to believe by both her parents and teachers alike. It’s that kind of world now.
“I don’t think I want to go to sixth period,” she finally said.
Knowing that one of the Trumps was in that class, I didn’t blame her. But also knowing we couldn’t leave campus, I was at a loss. “What do you want to do?” I asked.
“I got a couple smokes.”
I smiled. Her mom smoked these cocktail cigarettes she kept in this fancy flat box. They were rolled up into pretty colored paper and had a stronger scent than your usual blend. I think you were only supposed to smoke one, and then only with your favorite mixed drink. We didn’t have any alcohol, but we did have a bathroom stall that had an air vent overhead to blow the pungent smoke up into. I’d probably have to walk part of the way home just to get the smell off my clothes but that was okay. I was never in a hurry to get home most days anyway. But then again, most days up until now didn’t include trying to introduce yourself to the vampire next door.
“Vampire Boys Of Summer” 2017 Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.