Vampire University (Book One in the Vampire University Series)

VU

VAMPIRE UNIVERSITY

Book One in the Vampire University Series

VJ Erickson

Copyright © 2013 by VJ Erickson

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

CHAPTER ONE

The taxi pulled up behind a row of cars and vans backed up so far from the freshmen dorms at VanCamp University that the usually bustling city traffic had come to a complete standstill. Crowds of family members and supporters spilled out into the street, and children darted between their legs. Among them their soon-to-be college students milled about, pretending not to be terrified.

Here is fine, Taylor said and opened the door.

Are you sure, Miss? If we wait just a minute, we can pull up closer.

No, thank you, she said.

The sooner she got out, the sooner she could blend in. Sitting by herself in the backseat of a taxi, it was obvious that she had arrived alone, but once in the middle of a crowd she would be invisible. No longer the lone girl in a cab, she would be indistinguishable from the other students who had parents, siblings, and friends all waiting for them nearby.

Taylor quickly counted out the fare, while stealing glances to her side to see if anyone was watching. She fidgeted anxiously while the driver removed her two suitcases from the trunk. When the driver offered to help carry her things to the door, she quickly refused.

No, thank you. It’s not far. Have a nice day.

The driver shrugged and hopped back into the car, leaving Taylor standing alone on the curb. She strapped one bag over her shoulder, clutched the other in her hand, and began to walk briskly in the direction of the parade of mom-mobiles and city taxis, trying to blend into the crowd.

She came to the end of the procession of cars and stopped, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and read:

Summers Hall # 304

Looking up, Taylor saw the name of her dormitory in shiny black letters that stood in contrast to the dirty grey stonework of the seemingly ancient building they labeled. Summers Hall was noticeably less impressive than the New England architecture that covered the brochures for VU. Taylor saw nothing like it anywhere on the street where she stood. Instead of stately columns, aged stone, and brick, the building in front of her was constructed from dull gray rectangles of indeterminate material. Aged metal beams criss-crossed the facade like faded ribbons wrapping a worn package. The building was windowless except for the top two floors, which seemed to be at least ten floors above the third floor where her room assignment would be located.

She didn’t mind that these dorms revealed the university’s trick. They lured students with the promise of a beautiful campus full of historic urban character and then pulled back the curtain to reveal that they would instead spend their student lives in cinderblock silos. This might disappoint other students, but Taylor found it reassuring. The cheery world of distinguished privilege depicted on the brochures was not one Taylor was familiar with. This world in front of her, with its gray windowless walls, was one she knew well.

Taylor gathered her possessions and her courage and turned resolutely to face the imposing structure. She marched towards the building with as much confidence as she could fake.

Inside the front lobby, the chaos outside was condensed and amplified and younger siblings that were once running free, ducking in and out of crowds, were now trying to recreate the reckless outdoor scene in a ten-foot waiting area. Scattered amongst the confusion were quiet teenagers, looking around nervously. Seeing her new neighbors looking as alone as she felt, despite their crowds of supporters, Taylor’s fears calmed a little. She had imagined that she would be the only one alone and scared, but reading the faces of those around her she imagined that they might have felt as alone and scared as she did.

She stopped in front of a metal sign pointing to the elevators and caught her reflection. Dots of perspiration had formed along her hairline that she carefully dabbed with the end of her sleeve. She tried to imagine that she looked like a college student, that her dark-framed glasses were the height of hipster fashion, and that her plain brown ponytail was cute and not just lazy. She told herself that she was an adult confidently inhabiting her world and not the freckle-faced child she felt like.

Feeling unsure of herself, she pulled the ponytail out, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. After a quick glance in each direction, she discretely tucked her glasses into her purse. Her reflection turned fuzzy, but she convinced herself that these changes had transformed her from ugly-duckling teenager into the swan-like adult that always emerged in these scenes in movies. Simply take off the glasses and voila: makeover complete! Now, she tried to tell herself, she looked the part.

She ducked into the elevator ahead of the crowds and pressed herself against the back corner. In filed parents and their children, their features blurring as they entered into her field of far-sighted vision. Taylor stared at her feet.

At the third floor, she squeezed through the crowded elevator, apologized to the little girl she practically knocked over, and stepped towards her new home.

She had spoken to her new roommate on the phone. What she knew of her new dorm-mate could be summed up in a handful of words: Hannah Cohen, freshman, undeclared. Hannah seemed friendly and spoke with ease and confidence. This had made Taylor a little nervous on the phone, as Hannah talked so easily to a perfect stranger that Taylor was sure that her new roommate must be well-liked and popular. While she was liked well-enough, Taylor was certainly never popular, and she worried about being the uncool roommate by virtue of comparative proximity. There goes Hannah's dorky roommate, everyone would say in pitying whispers.

Taylor squinted to make out the door numbers. Was that 304 or 309? This was silly, she decided. Her Hollywood makeover would have to wait. Her new surroundings were nerve-wracking enough without being able to see them properly. Taylor reconsidered the glasses, quickly retrieved them from her purse, and put them on. She inserted her key into the door, but it was unlocked. As soon as the first sliver of light peeked through the crack of the door, she heard Hannah’s voice exclaim excitedly, Taylor!

The door swung open from the other side, and every one of Taylor's fears faded away in that moment. A girl, grinning from ear to ear, stood inside with her hand outstretched.

I’m Hannah. It’s so great to meet you! she said, forcing her hand a few inches from Taylor’s side.

Taylor felt herself relax, and she returned the handshake.

I’m Taylor. Pleased to meet you too.

Given Hannah’s confident demeanor on the phone, Taylor had tried to construct an image of her in her mind using all the popular pretty-girl TV stereotypes she could assemble: tall, skinny, and fresh off the set of a CW show. Instead, the girl standing before her was nothing like what she had imagined.

Hannah was small—at least a foot shorter than Taylor—and she was dressed like no popular teenager Taylor had ever seen before. She wore bright red khaki pants that were high-waisted, pleated in the front, and tucked into a pair of matching red flats. Her crisp white blouse was covered by a sweater vest in the same bright red as her pants. Her hair was short, straight, dark, and meticulously groomed–almost businesslike. If forced into a comparison, Hannah would definitely be the dorky roommate. What a relief, thought Taylor.

Taylor took a moment to look around the room. It too was tiny. But unlike Hannah, it was completely devoid of character. Against one cinderblock wall, two nondescript mattresses were arranged in a row just barely off the floor. Between those, a tiny refrigerator sat on the carpet. On the opposite side of the room, particle board shelving and drawers covered the entire wall except for two spots with standalone desks. Just as the nondescript gray buildings calmed her fears, the unpretentious accommodations reassured Taylor. They were modest, simple, ordinary–like her.

Oh here, let me get that for you! Hannah said while pulling Taylor’s bag from her shoulder, not even pretending to hear her polite protesting. Is your family coming up?

No, Taylor said softly.

If Hannah noticed any awkwardness, she didn't let on.

Well then, you probably could use a hand with the rest of your stuff. I’ll come with you!

This is it, Taylor said, her voice even quieter.

Hannah paused for a moment, and the smile vanished so briefly that Taylor wondered if she had imagined it.

Well, you’re all set then! My parents couldn’t come either. They’re stationed overseas, so they just loaded me up on a plane and sent me on my way.

Oh...

Hannah paused again. This time the smile was clearly gone. Taylor could see that Hannah was contemplating Taylor. She seemed to be wondering what Taylor’s story was and wondering if she was allowed to ask.

Taylor knew if she didn’t say it now, then it would only get harder. She set her bag against a chair and sat on the edge of one of the mattresses, letting out a sigh that was far louder than she intended. Taylor cleared her throat and prepared to tell her story.

My parents passed away when I was young, she began.

Oh... I’m... I’m sorry. Hannah stammered.

Any traces of her earlier confidence vanished quickly.

Oh no, it’s okay, Taylor reassured her. I mean... you know, I’m used to it now.

Oh, well that’s good! I mean...

Hannah’s eyes lowered.

I mean... she continued, I don’t mean ‘good’. I’m sorry, it’s just...

No really, it’s fine, Taylor said, attempting a smile.

Taylor had meant to explain further, but even a lifetime later she felt it difficult to talk about, and it was not often she was given the opportunity to try. Everyone assumed that her uncle was her father. They shared the same last name, after all. And a single father, or at least what people assumed was a single father, inspired many gossipy whispers but few direct questions. Besides, she remembered nothing of what happened and didn't really care to. She felt fortunate that she was too young to remember the details of the fire that took her parents' lives. Her brother was old enough to remember, but he refused to talk about it, and she learned early in her life to stop asking.

To Taylor’s surprise, Hannah lunged towards her with arms outstretched and dropped down onto the bed beside her, embracing her in a side hug while burying her face against Taylor’s shoulder. Hannah looked back up, and the uncertainty on her face had vanished, replaced again with the broadly-grinning confident pixie Taylor had first met.

Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, you just let me know! said Hannah. We’re roommates now, so we’ve got to look out for each other!

Taylor was surprised that she wasn’t pressed for further information, but she supposed that it was obvious that the topic was an uncomfortable one for her, and she was grateful that she did not have to explain herself further.

The rest of the afternoon passed as if the previous conversation had never happened. For now, any lingering discomfort was dispelled by her new roommate. It seemed there was no danger of awkward silence whenever Hannah was in the room. Despite having unintentionally revived painful past memories, Hannah did not appear deterred from peppering Taylor with questions, but she carefully avoided any questions of home life that might lead to uncomfortable answers. So instead of parents, high schools, and hometowns, their conversation turned ahead to things like laundry, dining plans, and room decor.

It was just as Taylor was beginning to really relax that there was a loud knock on the dorm-room door, and a female voice shouted through it, Meet for dinner downstairs in one hour!

A few seconds later, they could hear her repeating the message at the next door.

They have scheduled dinners here? Taylor asked.

Just this week, Hannah replied. Everything is scheduled out this week. Didn’t you get the orientation schedule from the RA in the lobby?

I guess I didn’t see her.

"It’s all optional, but I want to do everything. When are we going to get a chance again to meet this many new people all at once? With activities designed for meeting people! Here. Look," Hannah said, thrusting the week’s schedule into Taylor’s hands.

A week full of constantly meeting new people sounded exhausting to Taylor, but the schedule seemed harmless enough with plenty of emphasis on games and free food. Taylor found the first item on the schedule.

6:00 Dinner with Family – Meet @ 5:30 in front of Summers Hall.

Beneath that:

Students without visiting family meet in Harris Hall