“I’ll never be your beast of burden. My back is broad, but it’s hurting.” –Beast Of Burden –Rolling Stones

The next day, I have zero classes with Damien, which gives me the space I need to breathe. And in addition to such great news, I don’t share the same lunch with him, either.

It’s a miracle. Truly it is.

“Nah, I think you’re just lucky,” Pay says as she pours some unknown clear liquid into a beaker.

“Not even lucky,” Izze replies from behind me.

I position my goggles on top of my nose and pick the beaker up carefully with tongs to hold it above an azure flame.

“I think it’s just a really odd coincidence. You never know, maybe he’ll show up in your last class.”

“Yeah, but this is the last class, Izze,” I respond happily.

But knock on wood because suddenly someone strides into the science lab.

“Speak of the Devil and the Devil shall appear,” Pay comments composedly.

“Ooooh,” Izze agrees.

Instinctively my hand shoots backwards and slaps her table, nearly making her lose her grip on her beaker.

“Hey, watch it!” she barks.

“Oops,” I sneer, “my bad.”

“Whatever, Page, it’s not our fault,” Pay defends Izze.

I ignore this comment and watch Damien be assigned a seat. Fortunately, my luck hasn’t completely abandoned me as he sits at the very front.

“I wonder where he was. I mean, why is he so late?” I wonder, filled with curiosity.

“Dunno,” Pay replies.

“It sounds like you actually care about him, Page,” Izze comments cautiously, obviously worried about me lashing out on her.

“Yeah right,” I grunt, setting the beaker back on the table. “The last person I would care about would be him. I’m just wondering if he’s come up with a plan to get me or something.”

“Yeah, he has a plan to pull someone on you.”

“Get real, Page.”

“I am getting real,” I complain. Granted, no one has actually bullied me since grade school but even before he stepped into French II I had a dreaded feeling. Like I was going to meet something I wouldn’t like.

I wasn’t wrong.

…

Lee has a special assignment that requires her to stay after school, leaving me with the grand opportunity of enjoying a lovely half hour walk home under eighty-seven-degree summer sun.

“I can’t!” I whimper to her. “You know how my skin reacts under sunlight. Please, please, please drive me home. You can come back after you drop me off!”

“No. No. Let go of me, Page. Now!” My own sister shoves me off. “Why can’t you have a friend drive you home?”

I look at my sister accusingly. Izze and Payton left for home as soon as school was over, just like every other normal student.

“Look, find someone else. You’re a high schooler. A junior. It’s your job to be able to figure things out on your own.”

“I can’t take the car and come pick you up later?” I question delicately.

“N.O. You are a terrible driver. Now,” Lee looks around, tying up her blonde hair as I stare angrily down at my ancient shoes. They need to be replaced, but we’ve been through so much together, I can’t imagine throwing them away the way my sister so easily throws me away.

“Oh, I know. Hey, Damien!”

DAMIEN?

My head shoots up and there he is, walking down the hall. He doesn’t look the least blown to see my sister.

“Can you give my sister a ride? I know you just got here and this might be asking a lot but it would really mean a bunch and-” Lee’s blabbing. She never talks this much; normally she’s uber withdrawn. But around him she’s like a pitcher of lemonade being spilled across the table. Keeps on going and going and going and going and-

“No problem, Lee. I’ll take your sister home,” Damien replies casually, acting as if we have never met before.

“Ah! Thank you so much!” I think she actually considers hugging him, but then remembers herself and darts around Damien without an apologetic glance at me.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Damien grins. “But you do look alike, if you scrub off all that sunscreen.”

I shrug and follow him down the hall, deserted and mute.

“So, is your home far?” he asks as we head into the parking lot. I shake my head and say it’s in walking distance.

“Then why do you need a ride?”

I point to my hand, my hood, and my skin.

“Right. A vampire can’t be under sunlight. I should’ve known.” Damien stops before a luxurious mock Batman vehicle.

“Hop in.” He holds the passenger door for me, but I stand and stare stupidly.

How has this car not been stolen? Or vandalized? How rich is this kid? Why doesn’t he go to a private school? This would explain his attitude. But-

“Hello?” Damien waves a hand before me and my thoughts are wiped away.

“Oh. Uh.” I slide onto the leather seat of his car. It smells new and looks it, too. After he shuts the passenger door, I realize that the windows are tinted. If only my truck had tinted windows. It would make life a little bit more tolerable.

Damien slides to my side and I watch his gorgeous hand turn on the car just by pressing a button.

Batman indeed.

“Do you want any music?” Damien asks, considerate.

“Not really.”

“Not really?” He grins. Could he ever stop smiling? Doesn’t that hurt his face? “I don’t think that’s an answer. Do you want music or not? Yes or no?”

“No,” I snap.

“Okay.” And then he starts humming. Actually humming.

I allow him to do it as he finds his way off school premises, thinking he’ll stop, but he doesn’t.

So, I say, “Okay, I change my mind. I want music.”

“Really? Okay.” Obediently, he turns on the stereo and Black-Eyed Peas swims through my ears. I haven’t head them in a long time.

“So, what’s your address?”

“You don’t know it?”

He looks confused. “Why would I know it?”

Yeah, why would he?

“Sorry.” I recite my address and he types it into the screen against his car. A map appears and we follow it.

“How do you know my sister?” I ask. After all, she’s a grade higher than us.

“I share the same AP History class with her,” he answered plainly.

“Oh. She never mentioned you.” But I never mentioned him, did I?

“She never mentioned you either,” Damien retorted, and I found myself unsurprised.

We sit in silence, listening to song after song, none of which I like but all of which I know. These are the songs my dad would enjoy.

Then, horrifically, the band Backstreet Boys appears.

“Oh my god!” I lean forward to change it but Damien grabs my hand and pushes it back.

His hands are as soft as I imagined.

“I like this song,” he teases, singing along. “Just want you to know, that I’ve been fighting to let-”

“Stooooop!” I cry. Then my eyes open and I say quickly, “Stop! Stop! Stop now!”

“Here?”

“Yes!”

He comes to a smooth, almost unnoticeable, stop, and the painful music disappears.

“That’s my house,” I explain, pointing at the quaint house outside. “Thanks for the ride.”

He unlocks the passenger door and I hop out with my bag.

I hesitate then turn around, unable to resist. “You don’t really like Backstreet Boys, do you?”

Damien answers with a mischievous smile and closes the door.

This time I’m the one to watch him leave.