Pale Moonlight {Vampire Romance/Love Story}

Hmmm, I hadn't change a bit. I'm still the same Franjessika “Jessie” Lowells with the same watery blue eyes and the long chocolate brown wavy curls.Same five foot frame. I shook my head. "Hm, well this sucks," I said to myself.

It's the first day of my sophmore year in high school along with my best friends Stephanie and David. I've known Stephanie since pre-school.

Stephanie's only a few inches shorter than me and her hair is gorgeous! They lay in these sheets of glowing flame. Her locks of flaming red hair glow even brighter against her pale skin, but she's not as pale as me, no one is. And her eyes . . . her eyes are just the perfect combination of brown with sapphire blue specks.

David. I shook my head, David David David. I've only known him since freshman year, but he's still one of my best friends. His hair ends just below his shoulders, perfectly straight and blonde. His eyes are just as watery as mine but they have more of a spark, they're more bright. David's skin is instead of pale, bronze. He moved here from California, but he's sweet and nice and, at times, hilarious. I don't remember a time when I haven't seen him in a good mood.

“Are you ready!?”

“Yes Mom!” I hollered.

“Great, we don't want to be late.”

My mom is the new principal of Sekiu High School. Mrs. Pearl died last year of a heart attack due to too much work. Am I lucky or what. Heh, yeah right.

“What about Dad?” I muttered to no one in particular.

“He left for work already,” Jessica said, my sister she's nine and is, too, lucky enough to be our brother's twin.

“Oh, yeah. I'm still not used to Dad being chief of the fire department.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Hurry up you two! We have to go!”

“Fine,” I rolled my eyes, “we're coming!”

At that Jess and I bounced down the stairs and through the living room to the door.

My hand was on the handle when I remembered, “Oh! My backpack.”

“Hurry! Go get it, quick,” my sister urged.

“Okay, I'll be back,” I said as I ran up the stairs and retrieved my violet backpack from it's spot, under my bed.

I turned around and peeked a look in the mirror. Everything was still in order. My faded jeans, my pink shirt and faded jean jacket with my tan leather shoes were still wrinkle and smudge free. There was a sudden blaring sound from the car below followed by my mother's shouts to hurry up.

I ran down to the car to find my brother and sister buckled up in the back seat of my mothers' black Buick.

“What took you so long?” my mother asked, slightly irritated.

“I was just looking at myself in the mirror, Mom,” Daniel mocked in a squeaky high pitched voice.

“Oh, shut up nit-wit.”

“Don't you dare talk to your brother that way, Franjessika!”

“Mom! That's so not fair!”

“Who cares? Just forget about it Jessie. He's only a boy . . . wait scratch that he's our brother-” I looked at Daniel, grinning happily taking Jess' words as a compliment “- which makes him a mutant.”

And his grin fell . . . but he started laughing anyway. “Hey, Daniel, I'm sorry for calling you a nit-wit.”

His smile broadened. “It's all right,” he said as he waved it off, glancing out the back window. “Wow! Look at that convertible!”

I rolled my eyes and smiled, boys.

Ten minutes later I was standing in line in the cramped fake wooden office of the high school.

“Jessie! Hey, Jessie! Over here.” I looked around and found Stephanie and David waving their arms in the air. I beckoned them towards me.

“Did you get your schedule yet?” David asked as he smiled.

Stephanie hit him upside the head.

“Ouch! What was that for?” David asked, rubbing his reddening ear.

“Are you serious?” she asked, eyeing him precariously.

He smiled impishly, “Mmaayyybe.”

She shook her head in disbelief, "God, you're such an idiot."

He leaned near her ear and whispered something I couldn't catch. Stephanie's face flushed, embarrassed, and he raised his hands protectively over his face as she swatted him. Out of nowhere he started laughing. His laughter and craziness was infectous and Stephanie and me started laughing, too, gasping for air.

After I caught my breath I said, “No . . . I'm waiting in line to get it," I paused, wrapping my arms around myself,"I'm so scared.”

“Why are you scared?” David asked as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. I saw Stephanie's pained expression and I turned out of David's reach.

“First of all, you need to seriously stop doing that. Our relationship is over now, David. And second, I just have a weird feeling. Like something bad is going to happen this year,” I said as I leaned against the counter, waiting once again.

A few minutes later I felt a tap against my right shoulder. “Miss Lowells, Miss Lowells. Here's your schedule, dear.”

I half turned. “Thanks Ms. Welling.”

She smiled and smoothed her dark purple T-shirt, pushing her grey hair away from her face. “Your welcome,” she said, her wide rimmed glasses slipping forward.

I smiled at her and left the small office.

~*~

“My first class is Algebra Two with a . . .” I read the name and found I didn't recognize it, “. . . Mr. Jamilson?”

“Me, too. What about you David?” Stephanie asked.

“Same here,” he smiled.

“Who is this Mr. Jamilson?” I asked, “I've never heard of him.”

“He was a professor at my cousin Ray's university in Vermont. He said that Mr. Jamilson quit to teach here,” he shrugged.

“But . . . why? I mean, did something happen?” asked Stephanie.

“I'm not really sure. I heard it had something to do with his son.”

“Really? Why would ANYONE want to move here? To Sekiu of all places?” I asked studying David. He moved here last year.

“Why are you looking at me for?” he asked, returning my look.

“Well, you did move here from California . . . CAL-I-FORN-IA! Of ALL places you had to move FROM California to here. HERE!” I said, astounded. I sook my head. I've known him for a year now and I still didn't understand.

“Well,” he continued, walking backwards in front of Stephanie and me, “I'm glad I did.” He peeked at me as he flipped his blonde hair away from his eyes.

I shrugged. “I was just curious why you moved here. It's just . . . odd.”

“Hey!" Stephanie exclaimed, changing the topic, as she grasped David's wrist,"Do you know what his son's name is?”

He hesitated, caught off guard, before answering. “Sorry, no, I don't. But we will. He's a junior. He's the new student here. It's bound to be the new Hot Topic,” he made quotation marks in the air as he said Hot Topic, emphasizing it sarcastically.

Stephanie glanced down at her watch, “Hey guys, we have to get going if we don't want to be late on the first day.” We glanced around, the hall was almost empty. Only a few students were left standing by their lockers catching up.

“Okay, let's get a move on.”

~*~

We made it just in time. Just as we got seated the bell rang.

Mr. Jamilson was standing in front of the bleak classroom. His dark hair was slicked back; his eyes were a deep brown that gave the illusion of being black.

“Okay students, I'm not as mean as I may look,” he said. He had to talk a little louder than usual for it was pouring down rain and beating against the frail windows in the room. “So, are you ready to learn Algebra Two?” he continued, clapping his hands together in front of him merrily.

Everyone groaned and complained.

“I hate math.”

“It needs to die!”

“I wonder if this teacher is any better than Mrs. Swanson?”

“When are we-”

There was a loud BANG! as Mr. Jamilson slammed a text book against the podium. “That is enough students! I have heard those same exact statements thousands of times. And,” he said as he fixed his stare on the complaining students,“I have no idea if I'm any better, but we will find out though won't we?”

No one in the room moved an inch. Not even to blink. The guy in front of me didn't even appear to be breathing. “Now,” he continued calmly, “I don't know any of you so I'm going to have you come stand behind the podium and I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay?” We nodded mutely. “Good. So, let's start over here to the far right.”

A girl with short blonde hair pointed towards herself questioningly. “Yes you. Come up here now. That's a girl. Don't be scared now there's only eleven of you,” he assured her,sitting down at a vacant desk in the back of the class. “So,” he continued, “What's your name?”

“I- I'm Elizabeth Sh- Shirlee,” she stuttered.

“Elizabeth, huh?” she nodded. “Well, tell us about yourself?”

Lizzie fiddled with her hair compulsively through the entire thrity minutes. It was rather annoying really, but eventually she sat down and told the boy behind her it was his turn.

The boy sighed, rising to his feet, and walked a few yards to the podium.

“So, what is-” but before Mr. Jamilson could finish the boy answered.

“Josh Herts.” Josh had dirty-blonde hair that was carefully disarranged. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a white T-shirt and his blue jeans were oil stained. He was what you would call the rebel and it seemed just about every girl was lusting after him. I didn't understand why.“I work as a mechanic, but I prefer motorcycles,” he said coolly as he leaned against the podium, chin in hand. “But despite everything I'm a straight A student. I don't even smoke or drink. And that'sall you need to know . . . well, at least that's all I'm gonna tell ya,” he finished.

“Well, thank you, Josh.” He just nodded- once up, once down- and went back to his seat. By the time Mr. Jamilson looked back up there already was another student ready. He smiled, “Well, who are you little lady?”

“I'm, like, Christine Hertzog, sir,” she answered snobbishly, flipping her hair and studying her nails.

He raised an out stretched hand. “Please, just call me Mr. Jamilson,” he glanced around the room menacingly, “That goes for everyone.”

“Like, sorry, Mr. Jamilson,” she said, her voice high and irritating. Christine had slightly curled brown hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a pink skirt, close fitting top that read “2DG: Drop Dead Gorgeous”, pink pumps, and knee high socks. In other words . . . a brown haired barbie. I rolled my eyes and snorted, Oh my God, how corny could you get? I couldn't believe she was in here.

David leaned forward from the desk behind me. “She is such a ditz,” he whispered.

I leaned back so he could hear me better. “Tell me about it,” I muttered.

And on it went. I almost fell asleep it was so boring. Then the guy sitting in front of me stepped behind the podium. He was sitting so still in front of me I thought he had fallen asleep.

All at once, everything became still and muddled. The fly that had been buzzing around the room seemed to disappear, dead in its tracks. The mur of voices quieted, and, for some strange reason, David went rigid in his seat as he and the guy in front of me locked gazes. If I hadn't been paying so close attention to the guy I wouldn't have noticed his lip twitch, snarling fleetingly. I heard David's jaw clench behind me, nails grating the top of his desk. I shrugged it off. I'd ask him later about it.

The first thing I noticed when he faced the bleak room was his eyes. They were liquid neon green that were so immersed in color I thought they were going to drip and burn a hole in the podium like acid. I swear you'd be able to see them a mile away. His hair was as black as midnight and carefully disarranged, falling just below his jaw. Then when I thought it couldn't get any better, he smiled.

Oh. My. God. I thought I was going to DIE! He spoke. I thought I had drifted into a dream. His voice was mesmerising . . . like velvet or chocolate. Perfectly creamy, silky, smooth chocolate. He was . . . perfect. “Hi, I'm new here . . .to Sekiu. My name is, uh, Julian Jamilson.”

Wait, did he say Jamilson!? He's the new student? That can't possibly be right. JAMILSON! He doesn't look like Mr. Jamilson at ALL. Maybe the hair but Julians' was darker. This can't be right.

I skimmed my notebook absentmindedly, thinking, as Julian finished and sat down in his chair in front of me.

“Miss? Miss? It's your turn. Miss are you all right?” I looked up, feeling a light tap on the back of my pale hand. It was Julian.

"Uh . . ." I was speechless. I didn't know what to say! I had completely lost my train of thought. David shoved me forward urging me out of my seat. I stared back at him.

“Go!” he whispered.

I walked to the front of the class nervously and stood behind the podium.

“Hello, how are you?” Mr. Jamilson asked with a smile, his chin resting in his hands.

“Good, and you, Mr.Jamilson?” I asked shyly. I didn't like standing in front of classes. All of them staring, watching, waiting.

His smile broadened. “Well, that's a first. I'm fine. Thank you very much, Miss?”

“Oh, I'm Franjessika Lowells, but I prefer to be called Jessie.”

“Lowells did you say?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, Mr. Jamilson. That's what I said.”

“So you're Mrs. Jamye Lowells daughter, are you not?”

“Um . . . yes, I am, Mr. Jamilson.”

“So, Jessie. Tell me. What's it like having your mother be the principal?” he asked, leaning back, arms crossed in front of his frail chest.

“Um . . . well, it's-” I struggled for words. I was caught off guard by his question.

“Tata , voi tu într-adevar a fi întrebând acest întrebare? Nimeni a cunoaste. Acesta este arthot primul zi.”

I scanned my classmates. What the heck were they saying? And who?

I froze. It was Julian. The last person I would have expected. He was staring right at Mr. Jamilson; his green eyes blazing.

Mr. Jamilson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Julian, Julian, Julian. Didn't I say to call me Mr. Jamilson?”

“Supärat . . . Mr. Jamilson,” he seemed a little awkward, uncomfortable, “it just seemed to me as a question you shouldn't ask. Sorry.”

“Yes, yes. I guess you're right, Julian,” Mr. Jamilson's attention returned to me, “Jessie? Can you forget that I ever asked that?”

I nodded. “Yes, Mr. Jamilson. I can.”

“Great. You can take your seat now.”

Thank God! “Thank you,” I said and headed to my seat.

When I sat down I leaned forward towards Julian ignoring David's horrified glances. “Excuse me, Julian?”

He turned around in his seat. “Da?” he shook his head, “Sorry. I mean, yeah?” He looked at me. His eyes overbearing.

“I-I, uh. I just-just wanted to say, uh, say . . .th-thank you,” I stuttered. I had completely lost my train of thought. Again!

He smiled, bowing his head slightly. I could have sworn I had died and gone to heaven. “Cu placere.”

“Wh-what?” I asked, not understanding what he said.

He smiled again and my pulse raced. His smile grew, the left curling a bit more.“It means, You're welcome,” he said and turned back around.

“Oh, Okay,” I said to myself in shock.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, “Are you okay, Jessie?”

I turned reluctantly to David. “Y-yeah,” I smiled, “I'm fine.”

Then the most annoying sound blared over the speaker . . . the bell.

I gathered my things and stuffed them into my pack. I walked out the door and said bye to Stephanie and David, forgetting entirely to ask him about earlier. Their classes were elsewhere. I started walking down the congested hall.

“Hey, Jessie. Wait up!” I stopped in the center of the crowded hall. People were bumping into me as they hurried to their next class. I jumped and shrieked as someone clasped my shoulder.

“Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”

I faced the voice and was immersed in a sea of green. “Oh. Julian. Hi,” I said.

He glanced at his feet nervously and I noticed that he was wearing a black cotton vest and a white long-sleeved shirt tucked into a pair of black cotton slacks, a silver buckle gleamed in the glaring light overhead.Tying it all together were, I assumed,a pair of horse-back riding boots.

“You like horse-back riding?” I asked shyly, looking down towards my feet.

He shrugged and took my backpack. I looked up in surprise. I wasn't used to people carrying my things for me. I quickly looked away, he was watching me, “I like fencing better.”

“Fencing?” I asked, confused looking back up. Crossing my arms in front of me.

“Yeah, it's basically sword fighting, but safer . . . at least until you bring in the real thing. So, what's your next class?” he asked, slinging my pack over his shoulder along with his. What a sight it was. He got a lot of odd looks. It isn't everyday you see a guy like him and I don't mean carrying a violet backpack either. But he didn't seem to notice, he completely phased them.

I reached into my back pocket and read the slip of paper in my hand. “Um . . .," I scanned the slip,"biology with Mrs. Knowells. You?”

“Same. It's this way, right?” he asked, smiling. I swear his smile is going to kill me one day.

I smiled back and replaced a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Yeah. It's that way.”

As we walked down the hall he looked all around. Even pausing long enough to talk to a group of students. The girls couldn't stop staring at him, neither could their boyfriends . . . with disdain. He was completely oblivious! He didn't even notice, again.

I'm not going to lie, I snuck a peek at him every chance I got, too. Though I never let him see.

I was completely floored! No matter what angle I saw him in he was absolutely perfect, beautiful even. He flipped his hair away from his eyes, but it fell back. I bit my lip, self-conscious,“If you don't mind me asking, but how tall are you? Oh, take a left here. We have to walk through this class.”

He smiled. “Okay, and to answer your question: I'm six foot five.”

“Really? I never would have thought. I mean, you don't look like you're that tall. I'm not trying to call you short because you obviously aren't. Well not obviously. I mean, I wasn't sure . . . I-I'm going to shut up now. I'm babbling,” I said glancing towards my feet as we walked through the door into the biology room. I felt my cheeks heating up, flushing. Then I heard the most beautiful sound, like bells in the night. I glanced feverishly around me and found Julian laughing. My cheeks grew even warmer. He was laughing at me!

“You're funny you know that,” he said, fixing his hand on the small of my back as he hoisted our packs a bit further up his shoulder.

I smiled shyly, maybe he wasn't laughing at me after all. “So, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

We sat down at a black granite lab table in the back of the room. “One. A sister. Kate. She's nine. You?”

“I have a brother AND a sister. They're both nine. They're twins. Third grade,” I answered as he dropped our backpacks on the table. The bell rang signalling class had begun and you better be in class or else.

“Stop the chit-chat. Class has started,” Mrs. Knowells snapped. The class was silent instantly. The tight bun on her head pulled her skin back grotesquely, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. She wore a grey plaid skirt and a white shirt with a matching plaid jacket.

Julian gave me a sideways glance and leaned towards me, whispering, “That's Mrs. Knowells?”

I nodded. I glanced at him and at that moment his eyes smoldered. “How-how old are you?” I asked, speechless once again.

He smiled and leaned near my ear, his breath tickling my neck. It was unbelievably sweet, “I'm seventeen. Born on August second,” he paused, glancing down suddenly, and brushed his finger tips across my arm, “You're shivering. Are you all right?”

I broke into a cold sweat, dizzy, and light-headed, and fell towards the table. I gasped for air as a warm firm arm caught me around the waist. Julian smelled heavenly. I couldn't believe how fantastic he smelt.

The edges of my vision began to darken. Slowly, but surely, everything faded replaced by pure darkness.

Suddenly, I gasped and jerked awake. A few people were standing around me, watching. Julians' face was no more than a few inches away above me, concern in his eyes.

“Are you okay, Jessie?” he asked, worried, kneeling near me on the floor.

I nodded. “Ugh,” I groaned as my head swam, I felt sick. “I think I'm gonna be sick,” my stomach heaved and its contents was expelled. “Ugh. I'm sorry,” I mumbled and my stomach heaved again. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Here,” Julian held a cool cloth against my forehead.

“Thank you,” I pressed my hand to the cloth and found his was still there. Our fingers brushed against each others, he was unbelievably warm. I felt my cheeks flush and I looked away, dropping my hand; my head swam again. “Ugh,” I became dizzy and light-headed again.

Suddenly, I was lifted into the air.

“A blama! Eu abil a crede acesta este întâmplare! Uh! This is enough. You're going home,” he said as he held me close to his chest. My lids grew heavy and they started to droop closed.

“Where do you think you're going, Mr. Jamilson?” Mrs. Knowells asked sternly, she hated it when she was interrupted.

“I'm taking her home,” he answered just as stern.

“Why?”