School for Vampires

by Quinn Conlan

  I try my hardest to join in with the conversation, but it’s mainly about obtuse angles. I’m left for dead in no time. I give Kit an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder and head off in search of dumber pastures.

  I don’t get far before I’m intercepted by Garret. He looks exactly like how you’d picture a jock at a frat party. He looks me up and down. I half expect some mock-withering insult, since that’s our usual home base. But it never comes. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. When it becomes apparent that he’s misplaced his tongue, I take matters into my own hands. “Your nose looks clear.” It does the trick. He smiles.

  “Couldn’t dig the mud out, so it went the other way. Quite tasty in the end.” Solid. We chat about our first, crazy week at Alurian. It’s interesting to get other kid’s impressions. Garret’s experiences so far don’t sound too different from my own. It reassures me. He’s as baffled as I am about the ramblings of Mr Nakamura. And he’s convinced that Mr Morrison is going to blow us all to kingdom come any day now. No argument there.

  I’m curious about Garret’s past. I wonder about his turning. I figure we’ve bantered and goaded enough times now for me to take a punt on something more serious. If I had to guess, I’d say that Backers had spotted him on a high school football field and fanged him as a star of the future.

  When I ask him about it, his response surprises me. He suddenly looks troubled. “Dunno much about that,” he says. Clearly, it’s not a conversation he wants to have. I feel guilty and ignorant for asking. I’m always searching for answers, but maybe others aren’t.

  Right when I start to bring back the harmless banter, a piercing scream fills the Commons. It cuts through the chatter in a heartbeat. We all turn to face the source of the scream and I realize it has come from the Luthers tunnel.

  All the Luthers break away and run up the tunnel. Garret and a few other jocks from the Licks come too. We might need some muscle. When we arrive at the Mess, it’s empty. The scream has come from one of the bedrooms. It’s strange, but I know which bedroom. When I heard the scream, it’s as if my mind was able to map its trajectory.

  Other kids seem to know it too, because we all converge on the Juniors tunnel. When we arrive in the bedroom, it’s empty. But I already know the scream came from the bathroom. We burst in, and see a young girl named Delys cowering in the corner. Another Junior is covering the bathtub with a towel. Delys is hysterical and in pain.

  Kate takes charge. She tells two kids to check on Delys, whilst she approaches the bath. The girl desperately trying to cover the tub with a towel says, “don’t,” as Kate approaches. Kate puts a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder, which calms her down. When she lifts the towel, she recoils sharply, covering her mouth with her arm.

  “Everybody out,” she says. Delys is helped to her feet and we head back to the bedroom. Kate closes the bathroom door behind her. “Well, I think we can safely say the Penties’ prank is done for another semester.” We all stare in anticipation. “Garlic,” Kate says.

  Kids gasp in horror. Some are outraged. The outrage grows and talk turns to retaliation. Kate calms the group as only she can. “There will be no retaliations. That’s not our way. We need to make sure Delys is ok and find a way to dispose of the garlic. Then we need to move on. Got it?” Despite the outrage, no one argues. Not with Kate.

  All eyes fall on poor Delys. Up to this point, I’ve only read about the ways a vampire can be hurt. This is the first live demonstration. When a vampire is exposed to garlic, if it’s just held near them, they will start vomiting and feeling sick. The smell will be putrid. If they touch garlic, their skin will break out in a violent red rash. From the looks of things, Delys must have mistook the stuff for soap. Her whole body looks like a flaming chili. She coughs and wheezes. Tears stream down her face. The poor girl.

  Kate doesn’t miss a beat, running to the Dispensary and returning with a special lotion that soothes the garlic burns. She then tells everyone that the bathroom will be off limits for a few days, until the Helpers can come and remove the offending garlic. The whole thing is over in no time, and since it’s getting late, we all just decide to call it a night.

  I say good night to Garret, telling him I’m sorry he didn’t get to impress us all with his gallantry. I also tell him he’s violating the no-outsiders rule. He smiles and tells me that true gallantry is knowing when to let others take the reigns.

  When Garret leaves, Jason comes over. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he says.

  “Yep. You got me,” I reply. “I’ve had it in for Delys for years.” We both smile.

  “Hey Blake, I just wanted to say…thanks. For trying to help me earlier in the week.” I can tell it’s not easy for this lone wolf to say the ‘t’ word. I feel touched and grateful that he even noticed.

  “No problem. I’m glad you’re ok.” I want to ask about Kate. She’s still tending to Delys and I notice Jason glance over at her a couple of times. I think better of it, since I’m not exactly old friends with either of them.

  When the call for coffins up comes, Kate turns the winch and two boys help a much-soothed Delys into bed. I’m looking forward to a long, peaceful sleep. I hope that the faint smell of garlic wafting through the room will disappear once I’m tucked in.

  When the stepladder comes my way, I clamber onto the coffin floor in my ivory nightgown and await my ascent. It’s weird but the garlic wafts are getting stronger. Maybe they’re blowing over from Delys, who surely has a difficult night ahead.

  Kate begins the ritual winch winding. As I travel towards the darkness, I notice that I’m feeling a little nauseous. I cough. My skin has started to feel hot. The more I ascend, the stronger the symptoms get. By now, I’m really feeling ill. Just before my coffin floor makes contact, I look up and realize I can see garlic. It’s nailed to the roof of my coffin. My body is on fire and my stomach is in violent knots. I’m in serious trouble. I don’t scream. I don’t know why. Instead, I furiously roll over the edge of the coffin floor, just in the nick of time.

  Kate stops winding the moment I crash to the floor. All the other kids look on from their coffins, probably assuming I’ve fallen out. Except for Jason. In a flash, he rolls from his coffin and leaps onto the floor. He rushes to my side with a look of concern. I lie on the rug, slowly coming around from my nausea.

  Kate rushes over and the two of them look at me in confusion. In the midst of my coughing and crying, I manage to point up. They stand and peer through the gap into my coffin and see the second half of the Penties’ prank. Kate puts her hand to her mouth in horror. Jason angrily kicks the stepladder over. Me, I’m just glad I saw it in time. I don’t even want to think about what state I’d be in if I hadn’t.

  It’s a safe bet that my bed will be off limits for a while. Jason manually slams the floor shut. He’s an old hand at overriding the winch system. There’s a spare coffin in the Seniors quarters, which becomes my temporary digs. It doesn’t take too long for my symptoms to subside, and I tell Jason and Kate to stop fussing and get some rest.

  It’s funny, but when I’m tucked into my new bed, I instantly realize how accustomed I’d become to the one currently infused with garlic. I didn’t think I could get so attached to a cheap wooden box.

  I lie there for quite a while, unable to nod off. It’s a bit hard to toss and turn in one of these things. Sleep finally comes my way when I realize that tomorrow is Sunday – the only day we’re not required to brave the train tunnel to school. The only chance for a sleep in. And the only day we’re allowed contact with our loved ones. I nod off dreaming of the letter from dad I’m certain will be waiting for me. Filled with stories about the state of the wheat crop, how much he misses me, and how Mrs Tippet is lost without someone to be a grump towards.

  Chapter Thirteen

  What I overlooked was homework. Masses of homework. Sundays are indeed for sleeping in and letters from home. But mainly, they’re for homework.

  The assignments have already piled up. Ther
e are garbled, ancient phrases to memorize. There are obscure angles to learn. There is the first, surprisingly eventful 100 years of vampire history to know forwards and backwards. The only small mercy is that we’re all in the same boat.

  I head back to the Junior wing after my night in foreign soil. The others are already splayed out across the room, buried under textbooks. Jason and a couple of other boys have taken all of a week to turn the men’s powder room into their own private hang out. When I manage to sneak a glance inside, I can see a beanbag stolen from the Mess and a rug, taken from god knows where. And they’ve turned the dresser on its side and re-launched it as a coffee table.

  Jason comes out of his boy’s club to check on me. “Careful,” I say, “with all this concern, you’re in danger of ruining your bad boy image.”

  “If you knew what we were up to in there you wouldn’t be saying that…” I’m glad to see him. I’m glad that our concern for one another cuts both ways.

  “Hey, is Santa bringing you a present today?” I ask, curious if Jason will be getting word from home. Yet again, I shouldn’t have asked. Jason immediately looks down at the ground. My mental note to stop asking questions must have been shredded by mistake.

  It’s slowly dawning on me that others haven’t been turned under ideal circumstances. Or maybe they’re just as in the dark as I am, but aren’t keen to shed any light? I feel bad for asking. Luckily, Kate comes in. She’s come back to check up on me. I tell her it’s sweet but unnecessary. I notice that she and Jason seem a little awkward around each other.

  “So, what’s the plan of attack?” asks Jason. Kate looks perplexed. “You know, over the whole garlic night cap thing?”

  “The plan is, there is no attack,” says Kate, sternly. “That’s not how we do things round here.”

  “Fine, but you can’t just let them get away with it,” says Jason. I don’t quite know where I sit. On the one hand, I’m outraged at their cruelty. On the other hand, I don’t want to give those cheerleaders even more incentive to hate me. Something tells me they’re the kind of girls who itch for an all-out war.

  “Look, the Seniors will be having a meeting about it later on, and we’ll decide how to act then, ok?” There is definitely some frostiness between Kate and Jason. “I’m glad you and Delys are feeling better Blake,” Kate says, before turning to go. She turns around at the tunnel entrance to address the whole room. “Letters will be handed out at midnight at the Dispensary you guys. Hope it’s a full mail bag.” As she leaves, I see a look of dejection return to Jason’s face.

  *

  Midnight strikes just in time. I’ve nearly driven myself mad trying to conjugate the Vampyrric verb for ‘suck.’ I leap from the sofa and bomb down the tunnel towards the Dispensary. I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see a bunch of kids in hot pursuit. But I don’t. I don’t see a soul. I stop for a moment and wait, in case they were just a little slow out of the blocks. No one comes.

  I can’t believe it. None of the other Luthers Juniors are getting word from their loved ones. I suddenly feel guilty for leaping up and bolting from the chamber. Then again, I don’t know if there will be anything waiting for me, so I table the guilt and head for the Dispensary.

  The mail queue is a small one. There’s just a handful of Seniors, and me. I look at Kate through the Dispensary grill. She’s putting on a brave face. She takes a letter from a bag and hands it to me. The envelope is unmarked, but it’s surely from my dad. I want to ask Kate about the poor turn out. But I suddenly remember her pep talk about not asking too many questions. It goes against the deepest grain in me, but I force myself to follow her advice.

  As I snake back through the tunnel, I realize I’ve got a looming problem. I can’t bear the thought of turning up with a letter from home, when no one else has had word. There’s only one thing for it. I have to hide the letter in my pocket and lie about it.

  I never thought I had much of a poker face, but they seem to buy it. There is a look of relief on their faces when I turn up empty handed. Jason pokes his head out of the men’s club, and he too looks relieved. As much as I’d rather they be glad for me, I’m starting to realize life isn’t always so simple.

  The letter starts to burn a hole in my back pocket. Where on earth am I going to find a private place to read it? My heart aches for news from home. I open the door to the girl’s powder room, but see two girls in the middle of a serious d & m. I close the door and look around. My coffin’s off limits. So is the bathroom that currently doubles as a crime scene. I don’t know the secret knock to the men’s club, so what’s left? I think about holding onto the letter and reading it at school during the week. This would be the wisest move. But I can’t do it. I can’t go any further without reading that my dad loves and misses me.

  Another white lie is in order. I tell everyone I’m going to the Seniors wing to use the bathroom. I get half way through the tunnel, stand there and wait for a minute, and then retrace my steps. I act like I’m busting. I tell them someone’s having a bath in the Senior’s bathroom. I ramp up the busting routine and glance over at our bathroom. I tell them I haven’t got a choice. They implore me not to, not so much for the rule violation, as for the vomit-inducing stench that will greet me. I tell them I’ll take my chances. I quickly open the bathroom door, slip in and lock it behind me.

  The stench isn’t vile but it’s not exactly pot pourri either. I cover my nose with my hand. The towel is still draped over the bathtub, which helps. I stand there for a moment, working out if I can bear it. Tears start to well in my eyes and my stomach feels a little off, but it’s not extreme. I decide it’s worth it.

  I move to the corner furthest from the bath, take dad’s letter out, sit down with my back to the bath and visit home. The first thing I notice is that the letter is typed. There is a disclaimer at the top that says, “All correspondence is checked for your own protection and typed up for your convenience.” I find this strange and am sorry I don’t get to drown in my dad’s lovely, old-fashioned cursive scrawl.

  But if I thought that was strange, it’s got nothing on the content of the letter itself. By the end of the first paragraph, I know these aren’t my dad’s words. Or if they are, they are written under instruction from someone else. The words are stilted. Forced. There is no warmth. No talk of the farm. Nothing personal beyond some bland, greeting card lines about pride and love. By the end of the letter, I’m furious and disgusted. Why did they do this? Why not just tell me there’s no letter from home? Surely they know I won’t buy these sham words? Surely they know my suspicions will only be aroused?

  I’m stumped. And upset. I start to cry. It’s so cruel what they’ve done to me. I miss the farm so bad in this moment I swear I can taste the wheat husks and smell dad’s strange old pipe smoke that wafts up through my bedroom window from the front porch at night. I stay there facing the wall for a few moments, trying to figure things out. I think about going to Kate, but quickly nix that. I can’t talk to Garret or Jason, since letters from home, fake or otherwise, aren’t coming for them. Suddenly, I think of Mr Morrison. He did say he’s the school guidance counselor. He’s a little bumbling, but he strikes me as a sympathetic sort of guy. Plus, he might know what the hell’s going on. I resolve to go speak to him tomorrow and it makes me feel better. I also realize that I have the perfect excuse for the tears in my eyes. The garlic. I exit the bathroom and, wiping away tears, tell everyone that if they’re busting, it’s best to wait.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I struggle to focus on my homework. My mind constantly wanders to thoughts of my dad. He’s old and in poor health. He’s alone out there on the farm. The letter was supposed to reassure me that he’s managing. Instead, it’s put the fear of god into me. By coffin call, I’m a nervous wreck. I get my nightly Glint from Kate, and as I’m walking back to my makeshift digs, something occurs to me. I could hold onto this pill, and the next few to come. I could get Carter to sneak me up top so I can send a letter home to dad. It’
s bold and daft. But that ridiculous fake letter has spooked me rotten. It’s worth a shot. The only snag, aside from possibly getting caught, will be the side effects from not taking my meds. The lingering effects of the garlic have robbed me of any hunger tonight, but how will I feel by the 10th missed pill?

  By the time the next Glint is dispensed, I realize I don’t feel too shabby. I can do this. I dig a hole in the earth underneath the dresser in the powder room, and bury the two Glints in a sock. I figure I’ll be getting the dark red tablets at free time, which should take the edge off any hunger.

  We make the pilgrimage to school, braving the usual array of tunnel filth, Square stares and wolf whistles. I can at least dispense with the school map by now, which is a relief. The place is huge, and parts of it suffer under the candlelight. But I’m pretty confident I’ve got it sussed.

  When I arrive at my locker, I’ve practically forgotten about the Penties’ lame weekend prank. So it’s a surprise when worried friends rush me. Kit is up first, bolting towards me and almost knocking me over with her hug. I tell her I’m fine and it’s not as bad as it sounds.

  Jason saunters up, with Kate by his side. They both ask how I’m feeling, and as I answer them, I try to work out where things are at between them. They definitely have a rapport on the boil. Having said that, there is a slight tension in the air. Kate seems a little frosty towards me.

  Garret is the next cab off the rank. He arrives with the ubiquitous football tucked under his arm and a look of concern. He was there for the garlic in the bathtub incident, but he only heard about what followed on the train to school. He puts a comforting hand on my arm and asks if I’m ok. I tell him what I’ve told everyone. That it’s no big deal. Ordinarily it might be, but I’ve got bigger fish frying at the moment.

  All these well-meaning friends need some balancing out. It comes in the form of Crystal and her posse strutting past and taking their best shot. “Pewwww!” says Crystal, “does anyone smell garlic?”