~ Fenn ~

"It was just a seam," Soren said, handing my mended sweater back to me. "An easy fix."

"When did you learn to sew, anyway?" Ari asked, looking up from his laptop.

He sat at the kitchen table, writing a 'research paper' and eating his dinner. I sat across from him, completing my very first batch of homework.

"When I was a boy," Soren answered. "My father insisted I learn. He said it was an important life skill every man should possess. I suppose that may once have been true, though I've seldom found occasion to use it."

"Will you teach me?" I asked, sitting up eagerly. I was in the market for important life skills.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "If you wish. But not tonight. Finish your homework, and then I think you ought to... eat again. You look a bit worn down."

Soren and I were both vampires, but while he fed from Ari, I lived on packets of preserved blood. I'd never bitten a living human before (or a dead one, for that matter) and did not wish to.

"How did you tear your sweater, anyway, Fenn?" Ari asked.

I'd told him and Soren everything about my first day at school — except for that. I'd never wanted to keep something to myself before, but I wanted to keep Constant Gray.

"Just an accident," I said, leaning over to fill in an answer on my maths sheet. "It was really a lovely day, otherwise."

I peeked up through my lashes and saw him share a glance with Soren, but he did not press me for a better answer.

Later that evening, I went to say goodnight and paused outside their bedroom door. I had learnt it was better not to enter unannounced — at least when Soren was at home.

I raised my hand to knock, but stopped when I heard their voices from within, and realized they were speaking of me.

"He's holding something back," Soren said. "I don't like it."

Ari laughed. "He came home happy, Soren — that's all that matters. And this morning you were telling me not to worry."

Soren made a sound of discontent. "Of all the things I ever imagined I would do, pretending to be the father of a teenaged boy is certainly not among them."

"Me either," Ari answered with a smile in his voice. "But there's no one I'd rather pretend it with than you."

Their voices grew soft, and I knew my intrusion would be unwelcome, then.

"Goodnight," I whispered to the door, and went back to my room.

~ ❀ ~

By the end of my first week of school, I had learned several important things.

First, each day was much like any other — a great relief, for it meant I knew what to expect. Next, I learned that not all teachers were caring and kind, that I disliked English and enjoyed Art, and that I wished Drama Club met more often.

Finally, I learned that befriending Constant Gray would not be easy.

We shared several classes together, including English and Science, and it seemed the reason I'd not seen him until P.E. the first day was because he had been late.

The second day, he arrived in English after Ms. Harper had already started lecturing, and she paused and waited while he found a desk at the back of the room. He did not limp or seem to be in pain, and I hoped whatever injuries he'd sustained the day before had healed already.

Once he was settled in his seat, Ms. Harper picked up the clipboard she'd used to 'take attendance,' and called out to him.

"Name?"

"Gray," he answered quietly.

She spent a long time scanning her list, before finally making a mark with her pen.

"You're late," she said.

"The bus was late," Gray answered.

"All buses arrived on time this morning, Mr. Gray. We're informed otherwise." Ms. Harper scowled at him over the top of her glasses. "That's one demerit for tardiness, and one for lying. One more and you get detention, understand?"

She started to turn away, but Gray spoke up again.

"I am not lying," he said.

"Excuse me?" She turned back to him, hands on her hips. The class had gone very quiet.

"I said I am not lying. County transit, bus 815, was late."

Ms. Harper scowled. "County transit?"

"Yes — a public transportation system that serves the citizens of a specific region, and is supported by taxation," Gray replied dryly. It was the most I'd heard him say yet, and I noticed he had an accent, though it was too slight to identify.

Ms. Harper's scowl deepened. "Third demerit, and that's for disrespect, Mr. Gray. You've been in class less than five minutes. Keep this up, and you'll be spending the year in detention — practice for your future career in prison, maybe."

I was surprised, and did not understand. Gray did not act like a criminal. The boys who had attacked him seemed like far better candidates for incarceration. I raised my hand to say as much, but Avery reached forward from the seat behind me and pulled my arm back down.

I twisted to look at her, and she shook her head. I frowned, but decided to trust my new friend.

~ ❀ ~

At lunch, she explained.

"The less you talk to Ms. Harper, the better. She says stuff like 'raise your hand if you have a question,' and 'there are no dumb questions,' and shit like that, but when you do ask something, she turns it against you and makes you feel like a fool. Besides, I doubt Gray would appreciate you sticking up for him."

"Why would you wanna stick up for him, anyway?" Lauren asked. She was eating a salad with no dressing on it, and did not seem to be enjoying it.

"Because... I like him," I said.

"Oh my God," Lauren gasped, "do you have a crush on Gray, after one day!?"

"A... crush?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know—"

"Whoa! You guys," Dennis interrupted, leaning across the table with wide eyes. "Like, don't look now, but Ryan Miller and his gang are looking at us! Like, why are they looking at us!? And why do they look like they want to kill us!?"

Despite his warning not to, we all turned to look, and I saw the three boys from the day before seated on the opposite side of the cafeteria. They were indeed looking this way, and they did indeed appear to be glaring death at us.

Or, more precisely, at me.

I could not allow my new friends to suffer peril for my brashness, and so I told them what had transpired the day before.

"I will sit apart from you," I told them, rising and gathering my things. "That way, they will not—"

"Hey." Dennis reached across the table and grabbed my hand, pulling me back into my seat. "No way. You did a good thing — that's cool. Plus, you're one of us now, remember?"

"Yeah," Avery said. "We're like the three musketeers — 'all for one, and one for all,' and all that shit."

"But there are four of us," Lauren commented, chewing some lettuce.

" I shall play the part of Lady Bonacieux, then — D'Artagnan's lover," I offered.

"Only if I get to play D'Artagnan," Dennis said, and winked at me across the table.

Lauren giggled and Avery made a face I could not read. Dennis grinned, and I noticed that his blue-green eyes were rather pretty, up close.

~ ❀ ~

The following day, Ms. Harper announced we would study Romeo and Juliet, and write a 'term paper' on it. She had copies of the play, but only enough for about half of us. Therefore, she announced, we must choose a partner with whom to share. She made us count off, and then handed out the plays to those with even numbers. My number was twelve, so I got one. Constant Gray's was twenty-three, so he did not.

The class paired off quickly, and while several of my classmates offered to share with me, I demurred. Twisting in my seat, I saw Constant Gray at the back of the room, staring out the window, and making no move to find a partner of his own.

I rose from my seat and went to him.

"Hello," I said.

He glanced at me and turned away again.

I sat at the desk to his right, and set my pack beside his.

"I would like to be your partner," I said. "Would you be mine?"

He did not answer, but I waited anyway, and just when I thought he never would, he spoke.

"You don't want to share with me," he said. "I live far from the school. I would be bad at sharing."

"I live far away as well," I said, excited to find another thing we had in common. "And, truly, you would not need to share. You could keep the book. I know the play by heart."

He turned towards me, his dark, angled brows lifted at a skeptical slant. "Prove it."

"Alright." I handed him my copy of the play. "Pick a scene."

He opened it at random. "Act III, Scene 5."

I closed my eyes and recited.

"Juliet – Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

"Romeo – It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die."

I would have continued as long as Gray required to prove I knew the lines, but Ms. Harper interrupted, then.

She had approached without my noticing, and her voice at my back made me startle in my seat.

"So, you know Shakespeare, eh?" she asked.

I twisted to look up at her. "Oh, no, Ms. Harper," I said. "I never met him, sadly; and he is dead now, I believe."

A murmur of laughter spread about the room, and Ms. Harper frowned.

"You a smart-ass, boy?" she asked. "Or perhaps I should ask your preferred terms of address. You're one of those 'alphabet soup' kids, right? Well, let me tell you right now: in this class, there are boys and girls, and 'they' is a plural pronoun. Understand?"

Once again, I was confused, and unsure how to reply. There were indeed boys and girls in the class, and 'they' could certainly be plural as well as singular.

As I stared up at her, wondering what sort of answer she desired, I noticed a fleck of lettuce on her blouse, and remembered what Avery had told me at lunch the day before — the less said to Ms. Harper, the better.

"Yes, Ms. Harper," I said.

She narrowed her eyes at me, and seemed almost disappointed. Then she turned away and walked back towards the front of the room.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and then nearly jumped out of my chair again as Constant Gray spoke at my side.

"What is your name?" he asked. "If you told me before, I don't remember it."

"It is Fenn," I answered, noticing how the smooth skin of his face turned almost bronze in the morning sun slanting through the window beneath which he sat. "Fenn, with two n's."

"Alright, Fenn With Two Ns," he said, something like a smile at the corner of his mouth. "I will be your partner."