Vampire's Kiss

Skethal’s eyes snapped open, the dim light of dawn spilling across his room like liquid silver. Another school day. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to make a sound the creak would annoy him more than it should.

Breakfast was already stale toast and bitter black coffee, but it would do. He dressed quickly, pulling on his uniform as if it were armor against the ordinary. Outside, the world was waking up, unaware of the hunger that tickled his senses, just beneath the surface.

By the time he slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped into the quiet streets of Fresno, he was ready to blend in, to be just another sophomore with a timetable and homework. But something in the air or maybe someone made the hairs on his neck prick. Today would be different. Skethal arrived at school moments later, his school was a huge high school, sprawling with brick buildings, buzzing hallways, and a soccer field that gleamed under the morning sun.

Students streamed past him, laughing and shouting, backpacks slung low, and the distant clatter of lockers echoed through the halls. He kept his hood up, letting the crowd wash around him like a tide, feeling the pulse of their energy but keeping himself just out of reach. Fresno High was alive, chaotic, and completely unaware of the quiet hunger stirring within him. Skethal walked to the end of the hall, the din of students fading as he reached his locker.

He grabbed his books for first-period English a class he despised more than the harsh morning light. The bell rang for students to head for first period. Skethal Dragged his feet as he walked to class, he sighed opening the door and sitting in his seat in the back of the class waiting for class to start he took out his notebook and started drawing vampire related drawings.

Few minutes the bell rang for class to start, Skethal puts away his notebook and listens to the teacher. “Morning, everyone! I see some of you still look half-asleep. Don’t worry, Shakespeare will wake you up. Open to page 47 please in your books.”

Skethal pulled his book from his bag and flipped to the assigned page, already dreading what came next. An hour passes by rather slowly, the bell rings for passing period for students to get ready for their next class. Skethal walks to his locker to put his English textbook away and get out his Math Textbook. Math wasn’t half bad but still not Skethals favorite subject. As Skethal walks to his math class he thinks about how soccer practice will be, he has soccer practice everyday at the end of the school day from 4:00-5:00.

Skethal arrives at his class he sits in the back like he did in every class. Few hours passed and Skethal just finished his last period of the day his favorite subject, Science. Skethal swiftly walks to the gym to change into his soccer uniform. After he changes he jogs to the field where Coach. Brock was setting up. He looks up from what he’s doing and smiles “Well Hello again Skethal!” he says in his very cheerful voice

“Hello, Coach.” Skethal says in his deep yet charming voice. “Mind helping me while we wait for the others?” coach asked, Skethal nods as they work together. Few minutes passed and everyone was there. Coach took Attendance then started speaking. “So today we have a new player. Lysander, please come up here.” As instructed, a tall, lean, and quite handsome boy walked toward Coach Brock.

“This is Lysander,” Coach continued. “He moved to our school a few weeks ago. His dream was to play soccer, so he asked if he could join.” Coach’s eyes drifted toward Skethal. “Skethal, I’ve known you for three years now. In that time, I’ve seen you play soccer like a master, you’ve helped us win many championships.

Would you mind being paired with Lysander this year?” Coach smiled as he waited for Skethal’s response. Skethal looked at Lysander. A strange aroma came from him different, almost magnetic. “Sure, why not…” he said at last. “Perfect!” Coach clapped his hands. “Now, everyone get into your normal pairs and practice passing.” He blew his whistle to start the drills.

Skethal Half walked half jogged to the field he always practices on, he grabs a soccer ball and puts his foot on it. “You ready... I won’t go easy you need to learn how hard soccer is.” Skethal smirked waiting for a response. “I was born ready” replied Lysander voice deep and gentle. Skethal Smirks and kicks the ball toward Lysander, they began passing back and forth. Skethal as said, didn’t go easy on Lysander and was doing some known soccer tricks as he passed the ball towards Him.

Lysander didn’t flinch. He met each pass with focus, his movements quick and precise, even when Skethal added tricks and speed. A flicker of surprise crossed Skethal’s face most new players would’ve tripped up by now. “Not bad…” Skethal muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Lysander to catch. Lysander smirked. “Told you, I was born ready.” The ball shot between them faster and faster, echoing across the field. Skethal’s eyes narrowed, catching a faint, almost electric energy radiating from Lysander with every kick.

Whatever this boy was, he wasn’t ordinary. The whistle blew again, signaling the end of practice. Skethal slowed his pace, catching the ball under his foot one last time before scooping it up. Across the field, Lysander straightened, brushing sweat from his brow but still wearing that calm, steady expression. There it was again…that strange aroma, faint but impossible to ignore.

Skethal adjusted his bag over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on the new player a heartbeat too long. Something about Lysander felt like more than just soccer, more than just another year at Fresno High. He turned toward the locker rooms with a low smirk tugging at his lips. This year was going to be different.