Blood Queen

A dark blue mass swallows the sky, speckled with stars and offset by the line of brilliant orange on the horizon. Darker still is the silhouette of a tall boy and his backpack, standing at the front of Meyer Street. He whips around to face me when he hears my footsteps approaching and I can just barely make out the shine of moonlight on a flash of white teeth.

“Fuck it’s early.” He groans and I elbow him playfully in the ribs.

“Well good morning to you too, Princess.”

“Hey. Let’s not forget that you’re the actual princess here.”

“Yep. Which means I’m in charge. And since I’m in charge I’m making you the princess.”
I can’t tell for sure, but I think he’s smiling. And maybe rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think it really works that way.”

“But what if it does?” I ask, and Andy finally laughs a little.

“What if we stop calling each other princess?”

“Sounds good to me. I’m still not really used to the idea of being royalty.” I frown. “Well I’m not really used to any of this.”

“Really?” He says in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not used to the idea of being a half vampire hidden princess with a ridiculously good-looking rockstar bodyguard? I mean, you’ve known for almost…” He checks his phone. “Thirty five whole hours now.”

“Oh shut up. That’s not what I meant.”

“What?” He fakes a hurt face. “You mean you don’t think I’m ridiculously good looking?”

“No! No! That’s not what I- Ugh..” My cheeks are flaming red now. “I meant I’m not really used to having a- um, a friend.”

“Well you did have a friend, you just didn’t know it. I’ve been watching you for almost your entire life.” He pauses for a second and then laughs. “That sounded a lot creepier than I meant it.”

“That’s straight up Poe. I’m trying not to think about that part.”
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It’s still dark outside when Andy and I reach the doors of Los Angeles High School. An iniquitous hellhole if ever there was one. The skyline shares the shadows of willowy trees and the statuesque sculptures of the school’s past ‘great’ athletes scattered about the grounds. The blue emblem of the LA High Romans glares down at us from above the yawning glass entryway. Inside the old brick building students mill around in little groups, waiting for first bell. I don’t realize that I’ve stopped until Andy slips his hand into mine with a look that says ‘Are you sure’ I take one more deep breath and pull him straight through the double doors.

Instant hush when they see us. Not silence, but close enough, with surprised murmurs and giggling just loud enough to hear and just quiet enough that I can’t tell exactly what they’re saying. Our footsteps are loud, echoing off the walls and lockers, punctuated by snickering and whispered words.

“What *** hell?”

“** Th** a new kid?”

“**y *s he with **** girl?”

Something deep inside me shrivels up and sinks to the pit of my stomach. Is it so inconceivable that someone would even walk with me down the halls? Andy walks on like he doesn’t notice, face hidden carefully under the brim of a hat. Only his vice like grip betrays any emotion, anger or sadness I don’t know. I’m not even sure which one I feel. Is it conceited to think I deserve better? Or am I pathetic because I care so much about what these people think? I don’t know if there’s an answer.

Regardless, he steers me down the first hallway on the left and past two rows of pale blue lockers and stops outside of an unused classroom. Fishing a paperclip out of his pocket, he makes sure nobody’s around before deftly picking the lock.

Inside is something like a cross between an office space and a storage room. Worn, stock-photo carpet and wallpapers with simple geometric designs and a wall of desks stacked in the corner. The room is well-maintained aside from a thin layer of dust on the desks, but the dim, almost nonexistent light gives it a certain air of someplace abandoned. Like no one has set foot in this room for several weeks.

“Well they seem pleasant.” He states sardonically, removing the baseball cap. The humor doesn’t help. I feel hollow, empty, humiliated, like someone’s scooped out my insides and replaced them with a sick mix of lead and nausea. So I shut up because I don’t have anything good to say. Or anything at all really.

The weak smile slides off his face.

“Look. I’m sorry they suck. But it doesn’t matter what they think, okay?” Says Andy. I don’t want to hear it. Not now, not ever. But what can I do? It’s not like I can go back in time and stop him from seeing their derision, from seeing a whole lifetime of embarrassment and pathetic attempts. I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes either.

“I wish that were true.” I whisper.

“I’m sorry you think it’s not.”
And that’s it. Those six words are the ones that break through the wall I’ve put up, releasing all the anger, the pain, the frustration that has exploded so much I can no longer contain it.

“You really don’t get it do you?! I have been to school after school and in every single one it’s the same damn thing! I get mocked, humiliated, and beaten, sometimes it gets so bad I eat lunch in the bathroom! At home too! But you know that, don’t you?! You’ve seen every pathetic day of my life, haven’t you?!”
Shock and hurt flash across his features, but not without a fair amount of frustration too.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly, voice barely a whisper. And just like that the desperate, angry part of me is replaced by guilt. I shouldn’t have yelled at him, none of this was his fault. But I can’t quite say that and I can’t shake the uncomfortable feeling like I’ve been under a microscope my entire life. So instead I swat some tears from my face and take a deep, not-really-calming breath.

“Me too. But I’m also sorry that I can’t see this the way you do. I’m trying so hard not to believe that the universe hates me but every time I start to believe anything else it gets thrown in my face.” I take in another shuddering breath. “Maybe I just need to try harder.”

The first period bell goes off like a police siren, bringing the same trepidation as the flashing lights would, but at least I’m spared of more embarrassing conversation.

Notes

Lets play a game. It's called: "How long can I hold off the impending romance and piss off readers?" :) Just kidding, I've actually got a real curveball coming up in the next few chapters. :)

Geez it's been a while. I'm extremely sorry, my writing time has been completely eaten up by teenage entrepreneurial outings and competitive poetry writing. :) Wow... That sounded pretentious, even for me. :/

On a sort-of-related note... I hate the title of this fic. It's so cringy I can't take it anymore. So, I wanted to ask my favorite and most valued people (you) for new name suggestions. :) I don't want this to be your stereotypical out-of-the-box fanfic so I don't think the title should reflect that either. This is a creative process (eventually leading to self-loathing when I read through later and ask myself wtf I was thinking) and you guys are the most important part of that journey, so it's important to me that you have a hand in naming that journey. :)

As always, thank you so much for reading, especially if you took the time from your day to read my rambling on about titles. I hope my story helps to brighten your day, or at least the few minutes that you read. :)

With love;
-BVBfangirlqueen