Chapter One

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 6TH, 2016

    People don’t believe in vampires. They think vampires are works of fiction and creativity. They believe the bloodsuckers only exist in books and are major heartthrob bad boys, that they’re all good but think they’re bad. People refuse to believe in fictional characters, so the thought of a vampire walking among us seems farcical to think. (Hey, I used a word I learned in English today!)

    Fact is, they’re wrong. Bloodsuckers do exist, and are very real.

    You may not believe me, but vampires are real. They exist, walk among us. I know how crazy I sound. Just a few weeks ago, I didn’t believe it myself.

    Okay, let us go back in time. Wednesday, January sixth. The day everything began.

    #

    I sighed, slamming my locker door shut as I slung my bag over my shoulder. Another boring, uneventful day of school over. I pushed through the steady stream of high schoolers leaving the building, elbowing ribs to get past as I rummaged through my bag for my car keys.

    I didn’t exactly have any friends, but that wasn’t because of my looks, or my attitude. I did have a friend, once. Her name was Jessica Laurence, and she was the most popular girl at Woodbridge High School. We had been friends since we were children, inseparable. Then . . . we drifted apart, I guess. She hung out with popular girls, girls not like me in any way, shape, or form.

    I let out a sharp breath, getting to the doors that led outdoors. I pushed them open, pushing past more kids and slipping outside. I felt the cool air tickle the skin of my face, and shivered. It being January here in Harper’s Peak, Nebraska, it was cold. Luckily it isn’t a rainy day, I thought as I swung my keys around one finger.

    I swore as I dropped my keys, and bent over to pick them up, but someone else had already grabbed them. I stood straight, and the person handed them to me. That’s when I recognized the blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and designer trend blue dress paired with hot pink heels -- Jessica was standing in front of me, a smile on her lips.

    I frowned, taking my keys from her. “Jessica? You want something, or . . . ?” I asked.

    Jessica laughed that ringing bell laugh of hers that I knew all too well. “I can’t see my old friend just to say hi?”

    “Well, it’s a bit of a surprise. You kind of . . . drifted away from me and joined a flock of other rich, popular girls after totally acting like I was some sort of monster.”

    “Maria,” Jessica said with an eyeroll, “I wanted to see you. Is that illegal?” She shook her head, her curls bouncing as she laughed again.

     I chuckled a little with her, a smile dancing on my lips. It was nice to see her again, after all. I missed her constant judging of my style, and her playfulness around me. I missed her trying to get me to date a guy in any class. She was fun to be around.

   “Anyway, can you give me a ride home? I carpooled here and MacKenzie drove home without me.” There it was. What she really was talking to me for. Her friend ditched her and she needed a ride. Some friend MacKenzie was.

   I knew fairly well who MacKenzie was. MacKenzie Sawyer was an extremely popular girl. Her father was the mayor of Harper’s Peak. Her red hair and prepossessing body made all the guys follow behind her like ducklings each and every day.

    “Fine. Get in,” I said, seeming to clam up and go cold. Of course she wouldn’t want to see me. She just needed a ride. She didn’t care about me. I unlocked my green, beat-up car, and opened the driver’s door, getting in. I heard the sound of the passenger’s door opening, and didn’t look at Jessica as she climbed inside. I just started the car as the door shut, buckling in, and backing out of the parking lot.

    There was a silence as I drove away from the school, heading toward Jessica’s house. I remembered where she lived from the many times we carpooled. Jessica had a car, but she never used it. She wasn’t that good at driving. Or maybe she was now.

    “Maria . . . “ Jessica began. I glanced over at her for a moment. She was biting her lip, going serious. “I’m -- I’m sorry for . . . for everything I did and said that day. You’re an amazing friend, I don’t know what I had been thinking when I did. I spent days alone, missing you. I really did. I . . . I regret ditching you as a friend, okay?”

    I hesitated, then slowly nodded my head. “I understand,” I said softly, my gaze turning back to the road ahead. “You’re a teenage girl. You’re beautiful, popular. I’m . . . I’m not. I’m someone who doesn’t deserve popularity. You’re rich. I’m not. People like you. They hate me.”

    Jessica shook her head, and I felt her eyes lock on me. “People don’t hate you. They just . . . you don’t give them a chance to get to know you. Maybe they will like you. You don’t know.”

    “Jess, do you see what I look like? I’m a total tomboy. I wear denim jackets and dark jeans. I listen to classic rock. I pick fights with boys all the time. None of you popular girls do that. You all wear dresses, listen to popular music, and follow all the new trends.”

    Jessica sighed, and didn’t respond. The car was silent, except for the soft hum of music coming from the radio. I had turned it down that morning to focus on driving. I didn’t turn it up at that moment.

    I stared out at the road ahead, making a right turn. The car bounced slightly against the gravel road we had turned onto. Tall grass slowly blurred by, the sun beating down on us. A few cows stood grazing in the field around us.

    Glancing over at Jessica, I saw that she wasn’t staring out the window, rather looking down at her lap, playing with the hem of her dress. She looked a little regretful, and I was pretty sure I knew why. She was regretting the things she said to me all those months ago, things that were still burning fresh in my mind:

    I watched Jessica speak to her other friends, MacKenzie and Arya. They were talking and laughing together. I waited for Jessica to approach me, talk to me. Even just looking over at me would suffice.

    She didn’t glance over at me. She paid no mind to me, actually. I sighed, rolling my eyes as I tried to catch her gaze as it drifted around the school lobby. As we finally met eyes, I motioned for her to come over here, to talk to me.

    She shook her head, still watching me. Then I saw the look in her eyes -- disgust. She was disgusted upon seeing me. She hated me. My lips parted in surprise, then my eyes narrowed in anger. She thought I was some sort of monster. I was about to hurt her like one.

    I moved toward her and her flock of popular girls, a dark glare on my face. Jessica had turned back to her friends, laughing at something Arya had said. “What did I do to you, huh?” I demanded.

    Jessica looked surprised, and MacKenzie narrowed her eyes at me. “Ugh, vermin,” she sneered. Jessica said nothing, her mouth hanging open like a dog. Arya smirked, crossing her arms smugly. As I honed my gaze on Jessica, she seemed to become a smug popular girl like the other two.

    “What do you want?” Jessica asked, looking at me with a hateful glare.

    “I want my friend back,” I replied simply as Arya and MacKenzie both laughed, the sounds of their laughter cold ice, causing me to shiver. “I want Jessica back.”

    “She sure doesn’t want you,” Arya snapped, narrowing her green eyes at me. I glared at her, wanting so badly to punch her, though I knew a teacher could easily catch me and I would get suspended for the fifth time this month.

    “Now scurry away, little vermin,” MacKenzie said, and the trio turned, walking away with identically cold laughs. Other students in the lobby watched them go, some looking over at me with sympathy.

    I sighed, not liking the silence. “Don’t feel bad, Jess,” I said softly, turning off the gravel road. I didn’t like her feeling bad for that day, though part of me still blamed her for dissing me like she did.

    “I can’t help it. I did as Mack and Arya said, I hurt you really badly . . .” Jessica trailed off, and out of the corner of my eye I could see her looking sad. I sighed, glancing fully over at her.

     I reached over to take her hand in mine, turning back to face the road, when I saw the figure in the street.

    The figure stared my small car down intensely, their red eyes shimmering brightly. I couldn’t tell the gender from where they stood, but they had short, red, curly hair, and nearly animalistic features. They wore dark jeans, a black shirt, and a leather jacket. They stood tall, and I guessed they were taller than me.

    I screamed, turning the wheel and trying not to hit the figure. Jessica let out a shrill scream as the car’s wheels burned rubber, and we spun around and around in circles. I squeezed my eyes shut, and felt the car finally stop spinning, hitting something hard. My head jolted forward, hitting the steering wheel.

#

    My eyes fluttered open slowly, my vision blurred by something red dripping down my forehead. When I tried to move, my body screamed in pain. I groaned, lifting my head, inch by inch. When I finally managed to sit upright, I looked over at Jessica. I could just barely see her form, lying limply in her seat. Her head rested on the dashboard, and she seemed fairly peaceful, for someone who was covered in her own blood and probably in an uncomfortable position.

    “Jess . . .?” I murmured. My lips were scarcely able to form the word. When she didn’t respond, I began to worry. Slowly I lifted my hand, reaching out to her. I gently touched her skin, and pulled away immediately as I saw her eyes. They were frozen wide open in horror, glassy and distant.

    Jessica Laurence was dead.

Chapter Two

THURSDAY, JANUARY 7TH, 2016

    Oh my goodness, no! Everything seemed to come crashing down around me. No, no, no, Jessica could NOT be dead. I had just gotten her back, and she had died. I was frozen in shock and sadness, as well as the pain that still radiated through me every time I moved.

    I let out a whimper, feeling none of the strength and confidence I usually had. I felt scared, afraid. My friend was dead. I was hurt extremely badly. Where could I go? What could I do? I felt powerless.

    I glanced over at Jessica’s body again, struggling to see her through the red liquid in my eyes. I knew it was blood, but it hurt too much to even try wiping it away. I closed my eyes, trying to stop my trembling. I had to get out of the car, get help, somehow.

    I slowly reached out, squeezing my eyes shut in pain as I felt for the car door handle. I groped until I found it, and smiled, trying to ignore the burning pain of the blood in my eyes. I finally felt the cold metal of the handle, though it was twisted and broken off. I could feel only half of the handle, broken off and leaving a sharp edge. I avoided the sharp edge, and grasped the middle of the half-handle, pulling it open. I swore as the rest of the handle came off into my hand. How was I going to get out now?

    Push the door hard.

    I froze. Where had that come from? I hadn’t thought it. I didn’t open my eyes, as it hurt too much. I started to open my mouth to speak, but only a whimper left my mouth. I found I couldn’t speak.

    I mentally sighed. Might as well listen to this voice. I let go of the half-handle, hearing it drop to the ground of the car with a clang. I winced at the noise, then mentally hissed in pain at the movement. I then used the same hand that had held the handle, and gently pushed on the door. When it didn’t give way, I tried harder. I was close to letting out a scream of pain when the door finally opened, and I heard a loud crash as the door fell off its hinges.

    I slowly and painfully pulled myself out of the car. I fell out of the small vehicle, and landed on my back. I slowly opened my eyes, letting out a groan of pain. The blood had dried away from my eyes, and I could see a grey sky above me, and trees blocking the sunshine. I felt the hard ground beneath me. The pain was beginning to stop as I moved, and I slowly sat up.

    I momentarily forgot about the voice that had helped me, and slowly stood. I was happy to know that I felt no pain any more.

    Looking back over at my car, I gasped. My car was completely in ruin, twisted and gnarled up, the glass of the windows and windshield completely shattered into pieces along the road. I was lucky to have crashed in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road, where no cars were.

    I also saw a hand, limp and pale white, hanging out of the side of the car facing me. I paled, turning away. I didn’t want to be reminded of Jessica.

    I then remembered -- the figure. The person who caused this entire crash. Glancing around, I frowned. Where could they have gone? It hadn’t been long since the crash. I slowly made my way forward, toward where the figure had been standing. Maybe they had hidden themselves in the trees nearby, I wondered as I scanned the forest around me. I saw nothing. Not a flash of red hair, nor those strange eyes.

    I briefly wondered why the person’s eyes had been red. I didn’t know anyone with red eyes; it was certainly not considered normal. I knew blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes, grey eyes, and black eyes. Never red. The figure’s eyes had been a dazzling scarlet, sparkling as they had stared at me. Was it a sort of mutation? Was the figure some sort of mutant?

    My attention turned to a soft rumble in the distance. A car was approaching. I could see the driver, a guy around my age with dark hair and a tall frame. He hit the brake hard, causing the tires to squeal and the car to abruptly stop. The man unbuckled, and slowly got out of the car. I watched him carefully, my eyes narrowed. I said nothing, watching his every move.

    “What happened?” The man asked, looking concerned as he slammed his car door shut, and strode toward me.

    I kept wary eyes on him, and opened my mouth to respond, but found I couldn’t speak. The words just wouldn’t form.

    Then I saw his eyes -- the kind of violet you’d see in the purplest lilac, or in the sunset sky. They were a beautiful purple, and shimmered in the light of the grey sky. I was dazzled by the man’s eyes; I couldn’t look away, I didn’t want to look away.

    “Miss?” The man asked, “Cat got your tongue or something?” He frowned, snapping me out of my reverie. I blinked, and shook my head. He chuckled a little, and stepped nearer to me. “I would help you myself, but I wouldn’t want to kill you.”

    I frowned, confused by his words. What did he mean? I didn’t trust him, that was for sure. I didn’t even know who he was. Just some strange guy with lilac eyes. For all I knew, he could be a deranged psycho killer.

    “I won’t hurt you, I promise. I just want to help,” the man repeated.

    I just shook my head slowly, still watching him as he pulled out a phone, and pressed three buttons.

    “Hello, nine-one-one? There’s been a car crash.”

Chapter Three

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 15TH, 1633

Dace Darke

    Dace swirled the wine in his glass, letting out a sigh as he watched the people dance and smile and laugh and talk around him, all wearing masks. He himself wore a white half-mask, his blue eyes sparkling with a feeling of loneliness. Several women had asked him to dance, but he kindly declined, not feeling up to the option.

    He knew his father would scold him for not dancing with a single lady, maybe call him a blackhead, but it was of no matter to him. He wanted nothing more than to sit in his room and draw, but he knew he would be called a dolt, geck, addleplate, any name under the sun, but he didn’t care. The men and women could throw names at him all they liked. He just didn’t want to dance, not tonight.

    It was the annual masquerade ball the king threw every year to keep his rule as fair as possible in Norhale. Dace never did quite understand King Rayden much, he was a king of the peculiar sort. The laws he set were even strange. But the laws didn’t matter to Dace. Nothing really mattered to him.

    “Would you care for a dance?” Dace turned when hearing the voice. Another woman stood in front of him, wearing a black half-mask. She had brown hair that was curled in tight ringlets, and a black dress with a small hoop skirt, with adornments of shiny silver thread. Her mask had no decoration, though.

    Then there were her eyes, a brilliant violet. They enchanted Dace, made him not want to look away from the lady. They glittered no matter what light she was in, the chandelier’s candles causing them to sparkle like purple diamonds. Her eyes were the perfect contrast to her olive-toned skin, and dark dress. They almost seemed out of place, their beauty much older than the female’s age of around seventeen. She was Dace’s age . . .

    No, Dace, snap out of it, he told himself mentally. Don’t focus on the beautiful woman. He smiled at the lady, taking her hand, which was extended toward him, and kissed her knuckles. “I would love to dance,” he told her.

    The woman smiled, as he led her farther out on the ballroom floor. They began slowly dancing, and she surprised him by being the lead. “You can dance well,” he complimented, and her smile grew broader. Dace had to admit, he was interested in learning more about this woman. Her eyes . . . he loved her eyes. They were so beautiful, as was the rest of her.

    “Thank you,” she said gently. “Do you have a name?”

    “Dace Darke,” he said, as she took a step forward, and he took a step backward, their fingers laced together. The woman’s curls bounced with their movement, and her mask stayed fit snugly on her face.

    “Marya Mavlova. I know my name makes me sound foolish. I hate my last name and wish to marry so it could change.”

    “I believe the opposite, rather,” Dace said, cupping the woman named Marya’s face. “I believe your name makes you sound even more beautiful.” He tilted her head upward, causing her to look up at him. She smiled softly at him, then giggled. “What?”

    “We’re supposed to be dancing,” she said, nodding at him. He realized he had stopped dancing, and was standing still. He was fairly close to being trampled by other dancing nobles. He chuckled at his mistake, and she smiled again. He hadn’t even realized he stopped, he had been so immersed in Marya’s beauty. She was indeed beautiful, as he had aforementioned. He didn’t want to look away from her, didn’t want to do anything but get lost in her violet eyes, in her allure.

    “Hmm, must have gotten distracted,” he said with a grin. She grinned back up at him, her eyes sparkling like jewels. “But I would love to be distracted more.” As he spoke, she chuckled a little, shaking her head. He frowned, disappointed by her movement. Why didn’t she want to take the offer, he wondered.

    Then Marya’s violet irises began to glow a bright amaranthine as she shook her head again.

    “You’d rather wait to do anything . . . not good with me,” she said, and Dace found himself nodding along. He suddenly didn’t want to kiss her, or do anything suggestive with her. Not yet at least. He wanted to get to know her first, to know that he really liked her. He didn’t want to rush anything, it would be foolish to. Marya let out a gentle sigh of relief, and smiled at him as the glow stopped.

    Why did Marya’s eyes glow like that? Why did I find myself agreeing with her? Dace was immensely confused. He then found himself asking, “Why are your eyes purple like that?” He bit his lip, hoping that wasn’t a geckish question to ask. He then smiled in relief as she laughed.

    “That’s a story for another time,” she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. He nodded a little with a soft smile.

    A woman then sauntered over to them, her metallic silver-colored dress sweeping behind her. Behind her own onyx mask, the woman’s eyes their own shade of violet. Dace wondered if the woman was related to Marya, and his thoughts were confirmed when the woman said, “Come, my daughter. It is time to go home.” Marya tried to argue with her mother, but was led by the arm out of the ballroom.

    Dace sighed as Marya muttered a “farewell” to him. He knew he was going to miss this mysterious woman, and he already wanted to know when he would see her again. Some part of him pined for Marya, though he pushed the thought away. He couldn’t possibly rush anything with her. He then decided, I’m going to visit her soon. Maybe next week, maybe overmorrow, but I will see her again.     

Chapter Four

THURSDAY, JANUARY 7TH, 2016

Maria Markova

    Where am I? My eyes felt heavy, as if weighted with rocks. I couldn’t open them if I tried. I heard murmurs, low voices, coming from just above me. They belonged to two -- three? -- people, and I could tell from where they were coming from that they were leaning above me, probably looking down at me. I didn’t recognize the owners of the voices, and wondered who they were. Were they people sent to kill me? Ooh, or were they super spies sent to recruit me to their agency?

    I listened in to their quiet conversation.

    “Why haven’t I seen the likeness before?” One person asked. It was a male, from what I could tell -- the man with the strange violet eyes, the one who found me. “She looks just like Marya.” I frowned a little, though tried not to show it. Marya? Who was that? It sounded almost like my name, but off in pronunciation. Maybe he was referring to me, but saying it with a sort of accent?

    “You didn’t see it before because you were busy trying to help her, stupid,” another voice said, this one female. Her tone was a joking snark.

    “Yeah, well, let’s see what happens when you find a pretty girl in a car wreck! You’d do the same thing.” The man’s tone was a bit joking as well, but they were slightly cold words.

    “Hey, don’t talk about my gayness like that!

    “You’re as straight as a circle, Aytria.”

     “Hey, no calling me that here! It’s not that time anymore.” I wondered what the female meant. Not what time anymore? I was immensely confused by what I had heard, and waited for them to continue, when the female suddenly paused. “The girl. She’s up.” I then heard retreating footsteps, and the door to the room that I was in closing. I attempted to open my eyes, and succeeded. If only I could have tried that earlier without being stupid and just assuming they couldn’t open.

    I found myself in a hospital room, where everything was white. The walls were white, the floor was white (with black speckles), the hospital equipment was white, the window frame was white, the door was white -- then the chair beside me was green. The man from before sat in it, looking at me with this strange look on his face, almost like he knew me.

    “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I snapped, then smiled at my ability to speak. Finally, now I can snap at people again! The man looked only a little surprised, then chuckled a little. I frowned. Usually, when I make a snide remark to someone for the first time, they look shocked, and the shock stays on for a while. But then this guy saunters in, and pretends like he’s used to my comments? I barely even know him!

    “Ah, well, pictures are not my style. A photograph isn’t like real life,” the man said with another chuckle. I crossed my arms, pulling the IV and stuff out of me, wincing slightly as I did. I knew he had a slight point -- photos were more boring than real life was. Real life was constantly moving, while pictures stayed frozen. Then I rolled my eyes. It didn’t matter.

    “Nice clothes you got there.” The man grinned at me, and I looked down at myself, my eyes widening. I was wearing only a hospital gown, in an ugly green-blue color. I scowled a little, crossing my arms.

     “Don’t look!” I glared at him, and he chuckled again. “Where are my real clothes?”

     “They were over in the corner, sitting on that chair, but . . . they were moved by somebody down the hall.”

    “What!” I exclaimed, my expression darkening. How in the heck was I going to get my clothes back now? I felt almost helpless.

     “I could get them for you . . .” the man watched me, and I frowned. I didn’t even know this guy, and he was offering to get my clothes back for me? Unless this was a trick, I mused. He could just be trying to trick me into doing something for me.

    “One, I don’t even know your name! And two, what would I have to do for you to want to do this for me?”

    The man scoffed. “My name is Damon Drake, excuse you, and you don’t have to do anything. Can’t a man just do something nice for a lady?” I had to admit, this guy was interesting me more and more. He finds me on the street, says he can’t help me himself without killing me, calls nine-one-one, talks about me with some woman, then toys with me like this. Who even was he?

    “Well, Damon, I barely even know you, and you’re kind of weirding me out with all this,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. It was true, he was a bit creepy. Okay, not really a bit. But it was a bit nice, I guess . . .

    “Well, I don’t care.” He stood, and left the room, leaving me to ponder about his actions. He seemed to almost have a dual personality, both kind and jerky. It was like he was a jerk, but also a gentleman. I didn’t know which side of him I liked more, they were both interesting personalities.

    I sat up, and swung my legs over the side of the hospital bed. I definitely wasn’t going to stay here very long. It was too cold for me, too . . . stingy.

    The door opened, and I expected it to be Damon, but two doctors came in, one a female with dark hair and a calculating stare, the other a male with dusty blonde hair and a soft expression. “Miss Markova, we see you are fine. No health issues, no wounds --” the female was interrupted by the male.

    “It’s a miracle!”

    “Not really --”

    “Excuse Amara, she’s studying under me, but it is amazing!”

    I sighed a little, not caring whether or not I was a medical miracle. “Can I just go now?” I wanted out of here as soon as possible. I wanted to be home.

    “We’d have to sign your release papers and all --”

    “Amara, we don’t want her to go!”

    “Doctor Finnagan --”

    “Please don’t go, Miss Markova.”

    “Please sign my release papers,” I said with an annoyed sigh.

    “We’re gonna need someone to sign part of it for you, someone who’ll get you home sa --”

    “No, Amara! Please don’t go. We need to run a few --”

    “STOP! I have someone who’ll sign the stupid papers. I just need to get out of here!” I snapped, anger boiling in me. I stood, balling my hands into fists. I wanted out, and I wanted out now.

     Storming out, I nearly ran into Damon, holding a pile of clothes in his hands -- my clothes. He chuckled a little, not even startled, and handed me the clothes. “Excited, are we?” he asked. I rolled my eyes, taking the clothes and ducking into an empty operation room. I slid the hospital gown off, replacing it with the clothes I wore during the crash. I was surprised to know that the clothes had no blood stains, scratches, rips, tears, nothing. I frowned a little. How in the world was it all clean and clear, I wondered, when I had just been in the biggest car crash of my life?

    I exited the operation room, seeing Damon standing right outside with a large grin on his face. His expression immediately made a thought come to mind, Did he seriously watch me get dressed? He chuckled a little at me. “Well, well, princess. You’re finally dressed.”

    I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t call me that, ever,” I snapped at him, only making him chuckle again. He was annoying me so much, I wanted to slap him hard across the face so badly.

    “Why? You act like you’re all that and a bag of chips, like you’re a princess sitting on her throne.”

    I rolled my eyes, then replied, “Go up to the front desk. Sign my release papers. Please.”

    His eyebrows lifted in interest. “Please? Did the princess just say, please?” He said in mock surprise. I curled my lip at him, clearly annoyed, and he put his hands up in defense. “Fine, fine. I’ll go.”

    I crossed my arms, watching him approach the front desk, and ask for the release papers. The blond doctor -- Doctor Finnagan -- handed him the papers reluctantly, and he grabbed a pen, signing where he was supposed to. I frowned as I saw how he was holding the pen, almost like it was a delicate quill. Tilting my head with a lift of the eyebrow, I watched.

    “There, done,” he said as he set down the pen, turning to me. He leaned against the hospital counter with a half-grin. I rolled my eyes.

#

     “Mom, I’m home!” I called as I opened the door to my family’s apartment. The door squealed as it was pushed open, creaking loudly. Wincing at the noise, I stepped inside, closing the door behind me with another loud creak.

    I frowned as I realized -- there was no noises of anything remotely related to art coming from my mother. Had she gone out to get more art supplies? I knew my dad was out at work still, like he always was, daily.

    “Mom? You home?” I called, wondering if she really was out at the store. I looked for the note she usually left, finding nothing, and frowned. Where did she go?

Chapter Five

FRIDAY, JANUARY 8TH, 2016

    Almost an entire day had passed since I had come home to no Mom. Dad hadn’t come home, either. It was beginning to worry me, even that Friday at school. People fawned over me, asking constantly if I was okay, if I needed anything special of any type, that sort of thing.

    The school also held a service for Jessica during fifth hour, where everyone gathered in the gym. Principal Meyer had pulled me aside during first hour Math to ask me if I wanted to spend the rest of the period in his office making a small speech to give about my friend, and I agreed (only to get out of doing quadratic equations, besides the fact that I wanted to do something special for my friend), devoting all of my first period time into creating a speech.

    I wore a black dress just for that day, one that was high-low, the front coming to my knees while the back grazed my thighs. The dress was the one Jessica bought for me almost two years ago. Back then it had been too big for me, now it fit correctly. I wore the flats she got me along with the dress, and a pair of gold earrings, though nothing else. I wanted to stay simple, just for Jessica.

    Now, gathered in the gym, we were completely silent. Everyone. No whispers, murmurs of gossip between girls, or any form of noise. Silence. Everyone was facing the stage, some crying, others emotionless. Most kids wore black today, like me. I blinked away my own tears. I missed Jessica, even if she had been a jerk to me lately. She had still been a friend to me, through all the hard and tough times.

    Principal Meyer walked up the steps and moved to the center of the stage, holding a microphone. His eyes swept everyone’s faces, a grim look on his own face. He locked eyes with me, giving me a nod, before switching the microphone on. It made a loud squeal as he tapped it to make sure it was on, and everyone flinched. “Oh, um, sorry,” he murmured into it, before beginning. “Today, we are gathered here to mourn the death of Jessica Laurence, who was very important in our hearts. To some, a student. To others, a friend.” As he paused, his eyes focused on me, and I swallowed, feeling a few other pairs of eyes on me. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. “And to others still, she was only another face, another nameless classmate. But she always had a place in our hearts, somewhere. This morning, I asked a few students to come in during one period and put together a speech for Jessica. And now, I ask Maria Markova to come up first to present hers.”

    I let out a shaking breath as all heads turned toward me. A few people looked around, wondering who he was talking about, before realizing and turning to me. I made my way up to the gym’s stage. Principal Meyer handed me the microphone, and I held it tightly, then began.

    “Jess was a big friend of mine for a very long time.” My breath hitched, and I had to pause, before continuing. “Until quite a while ago, when we had a . . . falling out. Her and a few friends of hers called me names and stuff. I had always blamed her for it, but now, I don't.

   “I realized that she was just trying to fit in with those other girls, show them that she was like them -- which she wasn't. They made her drop me as a friend as a sort of initiation thing to become one of them. She did it because she was afraid, sc --”

    “You LIE!” A voice shouted. I gasped a little in surprise, a fiery anger rising in me. I wanted to shout at the person who had objected, put them in their place. It wasn't their right to interject me like that, I thought, as the person continued. “You didn't know her! You weren't her! You don't know how she felt, what she thought!”