The Vampire Mate

Chapter 02

“Question two?” Alex asked after half a lesson of painful silence. We weren’t allowed to talk but making any other noise was fine apparently.

Our English teacher, after being persuaded by Alex, had put me on the same table as him and his charming brother Damien. She acknowledged him with a think red smile and forced herself not to look at me. I took the seat next to the nicer brother. Damien and I hadn’t bothered to start a conversation, so I guessed Alex was trying to do just that to ease the tension.

I answered the same time Damien had. We hadn’t looked above our paper until that moment and even in our most passive moment, it was still cold and fuelled with annoyance. Alex smiled, not noticing this.

When Alex asked about the next question, Damien shut him down immediately. “You have all of the answers already. Stop it.” I looked to Alex’s paper and what Damien said was true. Alex had finished completely. In fact, he hadn’t just finished, he had answered every question with bold confident handwriting and over answered more than half of them.

From the smile that Alex had given his brother, the similarities between them, I realised, were very subtle. The only thing I can see that they share is the bone structure of their jawline and nose. Both sharp chiselled perfectly. I almost slapped myself when I found out Mr Young, the maths teacher, was their father—of course he was, Alex had inherited all his looks from the man.

One thing that was a stark difference between them was their attitudes.

I gave Alex a sympathetic smile for trying but followed it by shaking my head to tell him that it would be no use. Whilst I returned to my questions, I hadn’t failed to notice the glare Damien directed to his brother and the glare that was being sent back to him. Alex sat back against his chair and crossed his arms. The movement made his shoulder brush against mine and a chill bit at my skin.

A bang at the empty corner of our table scared only me. The teacher dropped three anthologies onto the wood, drummed her long nails against them, and looked down at the two brothers from her rectangle glasses.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked with a voice as sharp as her appearance. Her green eyes looked to me, the reflection of light in her glasses almost blinding, before she pointed one of her witchy fingers in my direction and moved it to a place far behind me. “If you’re going to be a distraction, sit over there.” When I didn’t move, because I thought it would be enough to just be quiet, she shouted again. “Go!”

I pulled myself from my seat. The entire class watched me walk through the small gaps between tables to the destination that the teacher pointed to. I put my hand onto one of the blue chairs in the back corner, “here?” I asked with clear distain towards her.

“No, there.” She pointed again to the seat right in front of the one I had selected.

I pulled it from underneath the table, dumped my bag next to it, and fell onto the chair. “Get out,” she spoke deadly calm.

I turned to face her. “What?”

“Out now. Outside.”

“For what? I haven’t done anything.”

Her eyes infused with a brighter green. It was like she had taken her glasses off just to show me. “Exactly. Now get out of my classroom.”

I stood. I stared her down for a few moments. The clock ticked the seconds of silence and a heavy breather was what ultimately made me swing my bag over my shoulder and storm out of the room.

I waited outside for that witch of a teacher to come out, but she never did. My legs ached from standing that I resorted to leaning against the wall after the first ten minutes. I knew if she walked out and saw me leaning, she would bite my head off but I was already in trouble so I couldn’t care less anymore. Another ten minutes dragged by before a different teacher who I recognised from my induction day walked down the corridor and met me.

“What have you done?” The principle asked whilst straightening out her mulberry blazer. Miss Abbott; with crows feet by her eyes, short greying hair with that last life of blonde and wrinkly hands, carried herself with pride and determination. She walked, spoke and acted like someone twenty years below her age the moment I met her I felt like I was put in my place until she spoke to me as if I was her equal.

Before I could answer, the English teacher popped her head through the door and looked between Miss Abbott and me. “You don’t need to worry about her, miss.” She clasped her hands in front of herself and stood tall against the head teacher. “I’ve got it handled. Go inside, Juliet.”

Miss Abbott put a gentle hand on my shoulder as soon as I had taken my first step. “If a student has been misbehaving, I should know about it. You need to teach the other students who you haven’t sent outside.” Mrs Blackwood still looked unrelenting at us. Her furious green eyes glared at her superior, almost offended. “In fact, I need to speak to Juliet anyway.”

“She should go after the lesson,” Mrs Blackwood seethed, “you wouldn’t want her to miss out on anything important.”

With a winning smile, Miss Abbot nodded and released my shoulder.

I sat at the chair I was pointed to and answered the questions with the person sitting next to me. Despite Ethan doing no work during the entire lesson and me missing twenty minutes, by the time the bell signalled the end, we both had a completed sheet with our answers covering it in black ink.

***

I waited five seconds after the door closed behind me to open my eyes. Tidy. Everything was tidy, no fallen tables or pictures, no shattered glass or pottery. The plants stood tall and bright and happy family photos hung near the entrance. I let out a breath.

I walked further into the house and the same theme of a normal lifestyle flowed in front of me, that is, until my mum came around the corner pulling a brush through her hair.

“How was school, Darling?” she asked breathless.

Me and my sister wore her brown eyes but they’re different now to when I was younger. I remember a time when, despite their dark colour, they were alight when she smiled, and I remember when that smile was for my dad.

“It was fine,” I responded, forcing my eyes to avoid her mouth, “you know, if you just ignore every part of it.”

She laughed with me. I also remember a time she could make dad laugh and how his laugh brought our small family together.

“I need to go pick up Mia.” She dangled her car keys in the air and squeezed past me down the corridor. “I’ll see you later. Your dad’s working late tonight.”

I forced a smile. “You might want to clean your lipstick.”

Her movements stopped. She turned her face to the wall mirror and swallowed. Then with her thumb she wiped away the smudged red until it lined her lips neatly.

“Thanks.”

I responded with another smile, until the door closed, and I fell back against the floral wallpaper we used to cover a crack in the wall caused by dad.