The False Vampire

The chairs scraped against the floors, the tables groaned under the weight of leaning students. The room was a mass of organized chaos created by sounds and bodies. The sun did not touch this classroom, for no windows were built into the walls. No, this was a classroom tucked underground.

It was a drama room, though drama was not what it was currently being used for. Black curtains draped all over the walls, lights were dimmed.

To my left sat an empty chair, to my right sat Trinnean. He stared at the wall in front of him, his eyes seeing nothing. His brows were tied into an expression that could only described as knitted, his lips pulled into a tight line.

This expression did not sit well on his face. No, one of arrogant humour was better. Without a second thought, I placed my hand on his wrist.

“Are you alright Trinnean?”

“No. I can’t stand the thought of you hanging out with the Purswells, befriending them.” his expression twisted into only what could be described as disgusted.

“And why is that?”

“Because you are pure, they are not”

“How so?”

“They have been lying to you Adrienne. Lying to you”

“What do you mean?” My voice had raised a pitch, I sounded frantic to my own ears. This was not going to plan!

“Have you ever heard of the folk?”

“No”

“Good. Then you are not tainted by their world”

“Why? What is ‘the folk’? Are they in a gang?” The words spilled out of my mouth, almost too fast for even my ears to catch.

“The Folk are not a gang. They are –“

The empty chair beside me began screeching across the floor, perhaps both louder and harder than necessary.

Turning to study the person, my eyes landed on a boy. His hair was a dirty blonde colour, what looked like natural streaks ran through them, an icy shade of blonde. His eyes were like pools of molten chocolate, golden flecks swirling throughout them. His nose was slender on his oval face, his looking like a god had chiselled it.

He looked as though he was tall, but I could not guess. Suddenly, his eyes turned on me. His gaze intent and focused. He smiled, I felt like my heart had stopped. His skin was golden, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. In fact, it looked like the suns rays themselves beat underneath his skin, dancing to an ancient song. His teeth were so white I could have sworn that I would get sunburn. He held out his large hand in my direction. He expected me to shake it? Surely, my hand would be swallowed in the process.

“I’m Jae Purswell” he flashed another mega-watt smile. I raised my hand, noticing next to his that my hand appeared small and fragile, my wrist dainty. When his hand clashed around mine, sparks erupted. Not the oh-my-gosh-I-just-got-electrocuted sparks, but ones that were gentle and settled somewhere in my stomach. Or are those called butterflies?

“Adrienne Haider” did I just stutter? Oh, god this is embarrassing.

“Trust me, I know” a giggle escaped my lips. The idea of this person knowing who I am seemed ridiculous. However, a logical part of my brain told me that it was likely they knew who I was. Me being new and everything.

His fingers still grasped my hand. It felt as though that if he grasped my hand any longer, it would burn.

Once he noticed that our hands were still clasped, he let go. With an air that spoke only of extreme and utter confidence, he folded his arms back, reclining in his chair.

The teacher coughed. Turning my head to face him, I noticed him looking in my direction pointedly. A blush washed over my face; chuckles were heard all around.

The rest of the lesson was silent, my taking down notes. The bell rang, chairs screeching once more. The noise assaulted my ears, made them feel like they were bleeding inside.

It took me all of two seconds before I noticed Trinnean was nearly out the door. I scooped up my book, quickly dumping it into my bag.

“Wait! Trinnean!” it looked as though he was ignoring me, however, he did slow down.

When I had finally caught up with him, he nodded abruptly, signalling that he was listening.

“Who are the folk?”

“They are your dreams, your worst nightmares. They are your fantasies, they are your fears”

“Are you trying to say they are mythical beings?”

“Yes”

I think the realisation that he was being serious hit me. There are some things that even I was afraid to say, and it looks like these are one of the times where I would have to tell him what I was thinking.

“Trinnean! You are barking mad! Barking!”

“Woof”

“Trinnean, I’m being serious here!”

“I know you are. But am I?”

The question stumped me. Was he? I stared at my shoes. By the time I had looked up, he was gone.

The Folk. A weird term indeed. Was Trinnean pulling my finger? Is this idea of a practical joke?

Practical Joke.

I could feel my eyes sparkle as the term ran through my mind. It was then that I remembered the joke I was supposed to pull on my father.

Ideas ran through my head.

I could feel my eyes sparkle as the term ran through my mind. It was then that I remembered the joke I was supposed to pull on my father.

Ideas ran through my head, none of them staying long enough for me to get a solid grasp on which one it was that I wanted to pull.

All I knew was that I was going to get him back, needed to. He had started a war between us that I would not let him win.

Plotting my revenge, I continued my walk down the halls. What could I do? Something simple. That I knew for sure.

Should I get help? Most likely. After all, I did want photos, and it would be too likely that I would be laughing too hard to take a decent picture.

The thoughts plagued me for the rest of the day. Who to choose, who to choose?

My decision was made by the last bell.