Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Scarlet Cocktail ❯ New School, New Life ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: This is my first original, so be gentle please? It probably won't go anywhere, because I have a tendency to do that with my stories <<; Sorry! This is probably going to be the norm now, writing in third person. It's easier this way, because when I wrote in first person, it sounded like a grade-schooler was writing it. <<; Sorry for those who read this and think that my idea on vampires are incorrect, but I don't want to stay with regular legends and such. In fact, I have incorporated many different ideas to create this, so bear with me please? As well, if I could get some feedback on length, spelling, grammar or style, it would be greatly appreciated. I am attempting to lengthen my work, as it is `too short' according to my best friend. <<; As well, I am trying to sound more literate. So, yeah, feedback?

 

Well, on with the show, ne? Please review as well as read. It makes me happy and inspires new and creative ways for me to write (or, it seems that way to me). As well, I'm pretty sure that at this point the setting is in Japan <<; I apologize if there is incorrect information concerning Japan and Japanese traditions and lifestyles. Because I have never been to Japan, I am not familiar with anything, other than what I have heard. So…again bear with me. Manga can only go so far in telling me about Japan XD

 

“Emmett Afton? Is there a Mr. Afton present?” Several girls giggled around a lone disheveled boy, his eyes wide in what could be interpreted as a look of being lost. The short Japanese man at the front of the room had been repeatedly calling his name, and only now did the boy start in surprise. He looked a bit sickly, his pale complexion a slight green, probably still a bit dizzy from that morning's mishap. This kid will probably be a whole lot of trouble. He thought, not looking forward to the rest of the year. There was always one, every year that caused him the most trouble. He couldn't wait until he could retire, 2 years from now. It was the only thing keeping him happy at this point in time. The boy had fainted this morning and fallen to the pavement, waking seconds later by another troublemaker in his class, Asher Minichi. Asher-kun was tall, with bleach blond hair and striking violet eyes. A rare occurrence to be sure, but he didn't question anything anymore. He was content to live and let live, never sticking his nose were it didn't belong. Oddly enough, this new transfer student had declined the offer to go to the nurse's office, instead walking quickly into the school and down the hall.

 

“Here! I'm here” The lean boy jumped quickly to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. The girls giggled and the rowdy boys in the back howled in mirth.

 

“That will be quite enough Mr. Afton. I will not tolerate any of your shenanigans while you are in my classroom. Certainly not. As many of you are well aware.” Annoyed, Mr.Akida, their homeroom teacher, glared at the class, directing his stare at each student in turn. The troublesome boys at the back didn't even flinch, whereas the girls at the front slinked deep into their chairs. A sight smirk appeared on Emmett's visage, furthering the already impatient teacher's irritation.

 

“Wipe that smirk of your face this instant young man!” A growl emitted from Mr. Akida's throat. Contritely, he bowed his head and mumbled a quick apology. Emmett, blushing slightly at the harsh reprimand, slid down in his seat, avoiding eye contact with Mr.Akida.

 

“Class, you are dismissed.” The soft, musical bell rang, signaling the end of class. The class rose as one, grabbing their meager supplies and fleeing the room, eager to finish the day as soon as possible. Mr.Akida shuffled papers strewn across his desk to make a some what neat pile, trying, in vain, to get them into his small, black briefcase. Nervous with Emmett in the room, he tried to hurry, but he kept fumbling. Something about the boy made him…feel funny. He wanted to help him. He was…attracted to him. Not sexually, no. But, a strange force pushed him to the youth, compelling him. Making him want to -dare he say it? - like him.

 

Emmett, the only other individual in the class, rose quickly and grabbed his over-the-shoulder school issued bag. He was eager to leave unnoticed, hoping to be let off from the evident detention that was heading his way. But, to no avail.

 

“Mr. Afton. You will see me when the day's classes are over to start your detention. Do not be late.” He spoke gruffly, the way the boy made him feel causing him to be more harsh then intended. He walked swiftly through the opened door, leaving young Emmett Afton standing, his mouth gaping in what could be interpreted as astonishment, but was what could be his attempt to speak in his defense.

 

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“Mr. Afton, you are late.” A short stocky, older women stood at the front of the room, chalk poised for writing the next part of her sentence. Her coke-bottle glasses magnified her eyes to 4 times their normal size, making her look like a particular nasty fish. Short curls wound around her head and face, a style left for dead in the late `90's. She wore a simple blouse and skirt, a typical middle-aged English teacher. Emmett couldn't help but notice the teacher's lack of expression (other then irritation) and their lack of style. None seemed too enthusiastic, even though this was considered the top school to go to.

 

Annoyed at the way all the teachers liked to point out his faults as well as call him my his last name, a more formal approach then he was used to, he walked silently to the only open seat, close to the window.

 

“Yes, I am.” He stated blandly as he settled into the somewhat cold seat. He glanced out the window, the front courtyard visible from his envied spot. He was tired by now from his less then victorious talk with Mr. Akida and he didn't like this teacher already.

 

“Don't take that tone with me, boy!” She stared at him, knowing how she looked with her larger then the norm glasses. Her short stature made it impossible to loom over somebody, but she somehow managed to. Ms. Yamanaka was not impressed by the pale boy that she was standing over. Tall, yes, with nice features and amazing eyes, but she wouldn't let herself favor anybody. She only wanted to teach her subject, English, to those who wanted to learn and who could appreciate the language. It was evident she loved the area under discussion, as her voice transformed when she got on a roll. Her voice, already strong and firm, a voice that left no room for argument, became full of passion and love

 

“Yes ma'am.” He said a note of apology apparent in his voice. He bowed his head contritely for the second time that day, knowing that this small, but significant, sign of respect would be important to show early on in the year. As a vampire, he could easily influence others with his charm and wit, as most vampires could do. It was a natural thing for the creatures, something that they had always had. Emmett knew that in ancient times this was a great skill to have, one that greatly helped in deceiving their prey, leading to eminent death for the love-struck humans. It helps them nowadays to blend in with their human counterparts, unsuspecting and lethal.

 

A real vampire does not sleep in a coffin. Actually, many think it is disgusting, as many of them are royalty and sleeping in a box deep in the ground would be degrading, inappropriate for one of their lineage. Emmett himself preferred a large soft bed, heaped with pillows and comforters. He was quite susceptible to the cold, so he loved being able to sleep in warmth. Another thing, they slept about an hour a night, some never sleeping at all. It is not a necessary thing for vampires, but it is possible. Some like to remind themselves they were once human (the commoners), or some royalty like to assume they are normal, like Emmett. One famous vampire, Emmett's great uncle Marty, was notorious for his eccentricity. He loved harassing the humans in nearby villages, rising at night from his crypt, dirt hanging all over him, bugs crawling through his skin. He loved to assume the role of a zombie, opening his skin swiftly with his sharp nails and pushing beetles and worms up through his veins. It was a small task to get rid of them after his rampage, and the pain, or lack of, was nothing for the peculiar vampire. He slept all day, something which Emmett could not understand, and rose at twilight. The humans, terrified, would hurl garlic and crosses at him, convinced that that would save them. In turn, Marty would run swiftly to another part of town or back to the cemetery, screaming like a banshee, usually splitting windows and toppling things off their shelves. He kept this up for about four centuries, never finding a better way to fill up his time as a member of the undead. He stopped late in the 19th century, with only random bursts of madness here and there, but he is an otherwise docile vampire.

 

Emmett himself was part of one of the most royal families in vampire history. His full name is Emmett Hunter Afton, a noble pureblood of the highest order. Their family is full of good and evil, some taken to either side. He is treated somewhat respectively, bowed to or given gifts. But he could care less. He just wanted to be human, an oddity to be sure. The respect that was given him was filled with barely contained malice, the commoners and other purebloods furious that this young vampire didn't want his lineage. It would be an honor to be part of the Afton family, as many but he was well aware. As a hemophobe, he was again looked down upon. He had never been comfortable with blood sucking, preferring rather to eat “normal” food. When he was forced to take his first drink to initiate him at a young age as a full vampire, he fainted at the very thing that would sustain him. The elders scorned his parents, mocking them openly at the unnatural vampire they had birthed. Emmett could never lead the vampires.

 

As a result he was sent to a human school, forcing his parents to pay his tuition, room and board. Although he was surrounded by his natural food source, he was not that tempted to ravage them. The thirst was constant, hidden deeply and greatly controlled, but there nonetheless. Emmett was used to controlling that particular sensation, instead eating vast amounts of human food, junk food being the best for a pick-me-up. This was a new discovery for the entire vampire race, because never before as any not wanted to drink blood. And never before have they eaten anything else. It was discovered quite by accident. When Emmett was a young boy of about five (which is actually different then human years), he was dejectedly walking downtown, hungry to the point of death. But, of course, he wouldn't die. He would just starve for centuries upon centuries. It wasn't the lack of blood that killed the vampire, but rather the pain and depression that sets in when one is starving. Many commit suicide so they do not have to endure it anymore. He walked into a nearby McDonald's, desperate for anything, even human food. He ordered a Big Mac Meal, not believing that he could swallow and digest the cooking that was soon set before him. Upon consumption he was rejuvenated, almost high on the power he felt coursing through his veins. He ate the rest as fast as he could and ran home, barely visible to the human eye. By the time he reached his house, he was exhausted, the momentary high being just that. Momentary. But he had loved, for that brief couple of seconds, the feeling of power he had had. Yet, he could not bring himself to suck blood to be that fulfilled. Instead, happy at this twist in what he thought would be a horrible existence, he continued eating human food, furthering his family's disgrace.

 

Forcing his parents into letting him attend the human school and eating whatever he wanted, excluding blood, certainly broke his family up. His parents, never really loving to begin with-it wasn't the vampire way- now detested him. Not him exactly, but what he had become. Deep down, as all parents must, they loved their only son deeply. And yet, they could not do anything to stop him. They let him do as he wanted, convinced that it was “just a phase” and that it would pass as he came of age. So, in turn, they became more supportive, eager to turn him into what they considered to be a real vampire.

 

Emmett glanced around the classroom, his head on one fist, his other dangling off the windowsill, his whole body conveying the message `I'm listening, but not really'. Looking around casually, as to not call attention to himself, he studied his fellow classmates, trying to get a feel for those around him. Sitting at the front, stereotypically, were the brown-nosers and hard workers. The males had round glasses or braces, school uniforms immaculate and well-cared for. Slight acne scarred their faces; their bowl cuts perfect, no hair out of place. They were the ones who got over 100% in all of their classes. The females wore their skirts to just above their knees, modest in every way. Their uniforms were tightly closed, buttoned up to the very top. Their hair was kept long, woven tightly into twin braids that hung just below their shoulder blades. This group wrote furiously, drinking the knowledge that flowed out of Ms. Yamanaka's flying lips.

 

The cuter girls sat in the middle, not too far forward and not too far back. Their skirts were pulled to the highest possible length allowed, showing off their slim white legs. Any other vampire would have been enticed, but Emmett's eyes moved over them with a bored look. Their blouses were open until the third button, showing off what little cleavage they had. Their bows were tied artfully, elaborate and definitely not school approved. They whispered to each other, text messaged under the table and wrote notes, passing them beneath the desks. Some wrote the writing on the board down into their flashy little notebooks, idly spinning their writing utensils or doodling random shapes between the margins. In the back, stereotypically, were the trouble makers, uniforms askew and their ties undone. Their heads were lowered to their desks, obviously speaking to each other and not listening to a word that the teacher at the front was saying. Their loud whispering reached the front of the room, and Emmett had no trouble hearing every infliction in their voice. If he focused on them in the slightest, he could even hear their blood rushing through their veins.

 

Many of them slept, their heads placed into the crook of their arms, little snores emitting from their parted lips, unnoticed by the small female writing furiously on the board at the front of the room. The tall blonde kid from that morning sat in the back, chatting with everyone around him. It was apparent that he was one of the most popular boys in the school. Emmett, caught by the vibrant hair that was gelled stylishly, stared and watched the sun as its beams shot through his hair. Small dust particles swam through the air and he could watch every one of them as they flitted through his fake, yet golden, tresses. He couldn't stop looking at this boy; something compelled him to study him as he never done for any other human. The boy, Asher, if Emmett's mind served him well, seemed to feel Emmett's gaze upon his back. He abruptly turned and winked, smiling widely, before returning to his numerous conversations as if he hadn't been interrupted.

 

Emmett's stomach turned, bile rising up through his throat, threatening to spill past his lips and to have an untimely meeting with the pristine white floor. Forcing down his nausea he turned to the front of the room and slumped low into his chair, his hand over is mouth, his breathing harsh as he tried to control himself. Several girls looked for the ragged breathing that had been growing steadily louder as he fought panic. He took a deep drink of his expensive bottled water that had been place on his desk at the beginning of class. He sighed and closed his eyes, his heart slowing down from its previous panic.

 

It hadn't been his hair that had bothered him (he rather liked it). Nor was it the easy familiarity that he had effortlessly displayed to one he didn't even know. No, it was his eyes that had sent Emmett`s little brain over the edge. For a Japanese male, he should have had black or brown eyes. It was rare to see blue even. But this young man did not have either. Instead, he had vibrant violet eyes. Normal… for a vampire.

 

And now that Emmett actually paid attention to the smell of his fellow classmates, he could smell the distinct odor that pointed directly to vampire. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it earlier, but it was his own inattentiveness and the fact there were so many humans about that made it hard to detect others of his own kind. If there was one thing he was certain in life was this: Asher Minichi was not human. No, not even close.

 

He was a vampire.

 

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“I thought I could pretend to have some semblance of normalcy if I went there!” Emmett screamed at his mother, his face contorted in anger. His mother was sitting calmly in an ornate antique chair, one leg crossed delicately over the other, her left arm resting on the armrest while her chin rested on the other. An amused grin was affixed to her beautiful face, infuriating her son.

 

“Honey, what does it matter? So there's another vampire at your school. Big deal! It's all right. You'll be able to make a friend that can understand you. You know that it would be impossible to be friends with an actual human.” She laughed, her long delicate fingers brushing her lips as she chuckled gently. The way she said `human', laced with scorn, riled Emmett up.

 

“It's not “alright” Obaa-san!” He spat the last word out scornfully, knowing full well that the honorific meant old woman and that his mother hated it. Considered to be quite young (by both vampire and human standards) she did not take well to jabs at her age. No woman is. She stopped chuckling, her cat green eyes flashing as she glared at her son. Her nostrils flared as she tried to control her anger, her mouth tight, her brows furrowed. Her hands grasped each armrest, her nails biting deeply into the old wood. Her back was ramrod straight as she leant forward, ready to rip off Emmett's head, even though she loved him. Vampires loved blood, any would do. But it was considered the highest offense to drink from royalty without their permission. Punishable by death.

 

Jumping up quickly, she stalked out of the room, her arms swinging and her legs straight as she marched away before she could cause serious damage. Her strides were long, her shoulder hunched and her jaw hard-set. Emmett's body visibly relaxed as she left and he glanced down at the chair his mother had been currently sitting in. Growling deep in his throat he brushed splinters off of the chair, dangerous to any one else then them. But he couldn't take the chance of blood appearing. He was sick and tired of his mother being such a drama-queen. Enough evidence sat right in front of him, the once beautiful armrests were made into toothpicks in a matter of seconds in anger. Deep gouges showed where his mother had stood, dragging her imbedded nails out of the old wood. Emmett wished she would control herself. But he was no different. When he had screamed he could swear he heard the distinct sound of glass breaking. His guess would be the big bay window at the front of the house, flimsy already and ready to break at any moment.

 

Emmett rubbed his temples in exasperation and frustration. This was exactly why he hated to be a vampire. He had to control every little thing, lest a human find out what he was. He fell into an exact duplicate of the mangled chair and gazed thoughtfully to into the adjourning room, the living room. He had to call a window repairman soon, as to not rise suspicion to his neighbors, not close to begin with, but nosy nonetheless. He hadn't even been at full volume and the petty glass exploded, evidence that Emmett had forgotten himself, something which was rare to occur. His voice contained many different pitches, a lot which couldn't be heard by normal humans. Evidently, one of those pitches had snuck into his voice when he had screamed, causing the window to explode. He could imagine that some dogs were going crazy about now as well. Getting up slowly, he checked the spacious dining room, intent to fins any other damage. It was hard sometimes to know what exactly he had done when he got like this. He still didn't know every tone in his own voice; therefore he did not know the damage any of them could cause.

 

Frustrated, he ran to his room, spiraling higher and higher up the staircase until he reached the attic, his very own spacious room. Feeling exhausted, he hadn't eaten anything all day, he flopped until his bed, limp as a rag doll. Hungry like never before, he tried to force himself to go to his stash, to consume what would give him energy. But, before he could even think of moving at all, darkness claimed him. His eyes fluttered as he attempted to stay awake. But to no avail, as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, fast asleep.

 

A/N: Sorry for the crappy ending, but I have a writers block, so I thought I should upload this now, or else I would get nowhere. I really have no clue what this story is about, so I am making it up as I go along <<; Chapters might take a while to upload, because of this infernal block and the fact I don't have a computer that supports my jump drive. I want to finish my other fics (I do, I really do) but it's hard to get opportunities to. I can't write what I want with my family around, can I? ^-^

 

R&R please and I'll love you forever!!!!!!!