This girl, walking slowly home past many terraced houses, was unconcerned as to the lateness, or to the darkness of the English winter, or to any other people she passed. She didn�t want to go home; to sit as her parents screamed at each other; to have to feed her little sister who was only 2; to think of her Grandma; to hate her for leaving them when it was obvious that she needed her; to read her sister a bed time story though she had hours of homework still not done. She sat on a bench in the supermarket car park and sulked, even though there was no one to watch her, or to ask her what was the matter, or to care. �That�s not true,� She didn�t need to turn around, she knew who it was. He sat down beside her, and she let her head fall and rest on his shoulder. �I care,� he said. �I know you do,� she answered. She realised that he had read her thoughts, but before she could puzzle over it he was kissing her. She kissed back, and put her arms around his shoulders. He ran a hand through her peroxide hair. She pulled back, but his hand was now behind her head and she couldn�t move, she pushed him away, but he wouldn�t go. He leant over her, and she stopped pushing as felt his hand slip inside her skirt. She wondered whether she wanted it or not, and decided that he was probably the best person she could possibly loose her virginity (again) to. She could feel his fingers circling her clit. None of her boyfriends ever thought of doing that before, but most of them had been idiots. She remembered where she was and tried to stop him again. She looked around; she couldn�t see a thing; not a car, not the lights of the shop, no street lamps. Just blackness. She felt his erection through the leather of his trousers. She kissed him again and relaxed into what she was doing, letting the pleasure from his actions swell up inside her. Then he undid his trousers, and pulled away her skirt. He entered her, and she moaned loudly, then again, then again. His hands were on her neck, and she was moaning, and then she couldn�t breath. She gasped, but didn�t know what else to do. Then she felt him bite her. His fangs were very sharp. Fangs? Since when did he have fangs? She panicked. Was the man she�d been seeing a vampire? Did vampires exist? He was quite a bit older than she was, but that didn�t make any difference to anyone. She felt her blood drain from her and knew she was dying, but as soon as she looked into his mismatched eyes she didn�t care. She would happily give her life a thousand times for this beautiful creature. His blond hair fell over his face, and she touched it. She wanted one more kiss before she went. He obliged, and she died. She would be with Grandma now. Michelle managed to persuade Pascal to turn up for orchestra, and they were both there, and, for possibly the first time ever, on time. They both played and tried their hardest and suggested fingerings, and helped the younger ones know where to start playing from. Mr Landau conducted simply, but seemed to be relying a lot on the help of the older girls. Michelle remembered why she hated school orchestra as the squeaking noises from the second violins failed to improve however many times they went over their part slowly and carefully. At the end of the rehearsal Mr Landau asked Michelle and Pascal to help him tidy up the percussion section which was always just left lying around un-looked-after. They agreed to help, and Mr Landau thanked them. He asked them what sort of music they liked listening to, and when they both answered simultaneously �David Bowie� he smirked. �You like the gay thing then I take it.� It was like a challenge, and took both girls by surprise. �No, we just think he�s a good musician,� Pascal replied icily. He smiled evilly at the reaction he�d caused. �And what about you, Michelle, do you like gay men?� �They�re a lot nicer than straight men,� she answered. Mr Landau laughed, and patted her hand, she looked at it and felt herself melting into him. Her eyes felt cold and dry and she felt she had to cross her legs. She looked into his eyes. She had seen eyes like that somewhere before, but she couldn�t remember where. �Have we finished?� Pascal looked angry, and Michelle noticed slightly jealous. �Oh, I think so,� said Mr Landau, and put the last of the folders in the box. �Mrs Spencer, this is very important,� Sister Angela hated parents like this. �Lisa is only 16, and it is therefore a legal requirement that she attends school regularly. If you don�t send a written reason for her absence I will have to involve social services. It has been five days since she attended lessons.� �Look, teacher,� said Mrs Spencer, rudely, �It�s not up to me to make her go, it�s up to your teachers. I haven�t seen Lis� for a week, so don�t go blaming me. It�s her father, him and his bloody work. He�s never in, he never talks to neither of �em.� �I�m sorry about your problems, Mrs Spencer, but if Lisa is not in school tomorrow, I will be calling social services. I�m sorry Mrs Spencer, that�s how it is.� �And I�ll sue you for not keeping an eye on her properly. You teachers, what do they pay you for?� �Good bye, Mrs Spencer!� Sister Angela put the phone down and raised her eyes to heaven, and prayed that Lisa was all right. She knew there was trouble at home, especially since the Grandmother had passed away, but Lisa had been talking to that nice new teacher, and he had said that she was actually getting on fine. |