I Told Them I’m a Vampire Who Likes To Drink Blood

I wished it on my 16th birthday candles. The school counselor said to believe in myself, so I did. It turned out the junior class at Bellingham High had been waiting for a teenage vampire.

First they stopped sitting with me at lunch. Jesse from homeroom said they didn’t want to watch me drink blood. I had to keep it credible, so I left my tray untouched, even though mac-n-cheese is my favorite. My calculus teacher said I looked a little pale that afternoon.

I used it as an excuse to skip P.E. “I’m just really drained today,” I told Coach Martin. “I should probably get out of the sun.” I moved to the shadiest tree and pretended to perch like a bat in its shadows. 

Mrs. Miller must have heard the kids talking about it on the school bus because when I stepped off, she said with a smirk: “It’s spooky I can’t see you in the rearview mirror.” The twins from the cul-de-sac gave me a look, and just for effect, I swigged some fruit punch Kool Aid from my Nalgene.

I felt like I was practically floating down the sidewalk. By the time I got home, my mother rolled her eyes, holding the door with one arm, pointing to the couch with the other. “Jesse’s mom called. I can’t believe you sometimes.”

I slouched off my backpack, kicked back in the Lazy Boy, and smiled. “It turns out this self-confidence thing really works, Mom.”