Chapter 5: The Vampire Pirate's Daughter by Lynette Ferreira

I WALK ONTO the school grounds moments before the bell goes. The school sprawls across an immense piece of ground. It starts up on the hill in the pre-school grades and then every year you work yourself down the hill toward the high school. I walk past the garden in front of the administrative offices and the wild, white roses are all in bloom. The branches of the large trees reach over me like a huge umbrella.

This morning I tied my long red hair high up behind my head, so it swings every time I move my head. My navy check-patterned school skirt comes mid-thigh, just long enough to escape any gossip, but short enough to expose my pale legs.

Decades ago being this pale drew curious looks, but in recent times people are concerned about the damages the sun may cause to their skin, so being white and insipid is in fashion. All the students here have sun-kissed skin, though. You cannot live under the African sun and not tan. My body, however, does not produce the necessary pigment, melanin which would cause my skin to turn a caramel brown. I cannot even apply fake tan because my skin does not change with the pigmentation in the colouring cream. It is only recently I wished my skin were not so pale. I look sickly compared to all the healthy-looking people surrounding me.

The only reason I do not fizzle and sizzle when sunlight touches my skin is because, during the past century, Joseph, a member of our internationally extended community developed a serum. A serum, if taken every single day, builds immunity in us against the sun. Many vampires died during the process of developing this life-changing medicine.

I smile as I remember the first morning Amanda allowed me to walk into the dawn. I felt the sun on my skin, and it was refreshingly strange. It felt like little pinpricks. As if I could feel the beads of light, penetrating my skin.

I do not know where the notion comes from that we, vampires, are murderous or cruel. I can walk past all these delicious people without even thinking about feeding. When I feed and if it is a decent feed, a whole serving, I can go for an entire month before having to feed again.

Being a student in high school is not good for my self-confidence because so many insecurities always inhibit me. I am usually self-assured and confident, but when I walk onto a school ground, I inescapably become unsure of myself.

I walk past the area where Andrew and his friends always gather. The main reason for all my insecurities is Andrew. I noticed him the very first day I started here at this private school. The fact that he does not give me a second look, makes me feel ugly, makes me think there must be something wrong with me. I can feel my heart, or whatever that feeling is that constitutes a heart, pull toward Andrew painfully whenever I see him.

Classes are boring, and I have done it all before. I never pay attention, yet when a teacher calls on me, I know the answers because if I have not experienced it personally, I have heard it all previously. I doodle in my notebook all day long. It is a repetitive cycle, bell rings—class—break. Seeing Andrew breaks the monotony, though.

Later that day, when the last bell echoes through the corridors and I walk to my car, I hear someone call my name, “Susie.”

I turn to the voice and see it is the perky, bouncy Carmine. I stop and wait for her, wondering what she wants.

She reaches me and then she says breathlessly, “There is a party at Andrew’s house on Friday. Do you wanna come?”

I frown briefly and then smile friendly. “Okay?” I might as well start integrating, or networking, as Amanda likes to call it.

“You know where he lives, don’t you?” Her curly blonde hair distracts me; she looks like a blonde Annie. Her eyes are huge and blue, and she has freckles across her tanned nose.

“No, I don’t know exactly where.” I do know he lives somewhere in the same security estate as me. I have seen him drive in through the security gates and have seen him race past on his red motorbike. By now, I knew the sound of the thunderous engine and I often saw it parked in front of Carmine’s house.

“I’ll make sure you get a formal invitation then.”

“Okay. Thanks for inviting me.” I did not really have anything else to say to her, so I turn to walk away, but she falls into step next to me. She walks with me to my car and I remember her parents usually collected her from school. You cannot miss Carmine; she is always happy and bubbly. In a crowd, you would always notice her first.

She asks suddenly, “Can I get a lift with you?”

I turn back to her and she starts to explain, “My mum’s too busy to fetch me today. You are going in my direction, anyway, aren’t you?”

Briefly, I consider I might have been going to a mall or some-place else before going home, but I agree friendly anyway.

I get into the car and then I wait for her while she walks around to the passenger door and gets in. When I start my car, the stereo automatically loads the CD player. Carmine turns the volume louder and the bass reverberates through the car. I usually feel old in the company of young people, although I myself am only sixteen, as well. The youthfulness of Carmine rubs off on me though and by the time I stop in front of her house, I feel youthful again. I have a sense of childishness wrap itself around me.

When she gets out of the car, she leans in and asks, “Do you wanna come in?”


Continue reading Chapter 6/23

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