Vampire Notebook, Ch. 1 part 1

It's not easy being a vampire in a human middle school.
It's hard! Just look at me! I'm a vampire disguised as a human so I can get an education. Goodness, humans are strange creatures. They eat like there's no tomorrow, and they act like school is prison. I mean, I don't like it either, but for the sake of blood, it's required by law!!
And it's almost like they don't believe in vampires. I told someone in one of my classes that I was a vampire, and she giggled, then responded (in a "You're crazy" joke format) "Don't bite me!" I feel like an outsider. A few girls asked me where I got my "necklace". This thing ain't from a store! It was forged from a true vampire's fang to protect my powers from the sunlight! I told them it was my own and walked away.
"Hitomi!"
I paused for a moment, then realized my teacher had called me. "Bring that book you're reading."
Oh boy.
Hastily snatching the bookmark and sliding it into place, I walked over to my teacher.
"What's this... 'Dracula'...? What do you do in your spare time, child?!"
I was so close to saying, "Don't call me a child, I'm 1,374,820 years old!", but luckily I was able to refrain myself. "I like monsters and horror stories, is there something wrong with that?"
~Teacher's POV~
This girl was scary. For one thing, that cross necklace never came off. She also had silver hair, an unusual color for a 14-year-old. And it wasn't the nearly-white kind of silver, it was pure, noticable silver. Some people might've called it gray, but it was a bit too light-colored to be gray. When deep in thought, or even emotional, her icy-blue eyes would flash blood red. The girl had perfect skin, a perfect pale shade and not a single freckle, zit or scratch to be seen. She also seemed to havea thing for black and purple. Today, she was wearing a black tank top with fishnet sleeves down to her fingers. She followed the rules, and wore the plaid skirt all girls were required to wear, but hers was blue, purple and black plaid, while most girls had the red and black ordusty yellow and orange plaid. Her knee socks were black and purple striped, and had black boots with lots of chains. She was beautiful simply by herself, but the way she dressed seemed as though she was trying to hide her face from the world, possibly conceiling sorrow or confusion. She didn't even seem to care what she looked like. Sometimes she'd come in with her beautiful silver hair half-brushed or even looking like it hadn't seen a brush in years. Sometimes she'd come in with food sprawled all over her clothes and didn't have a care about it in the world. I frequently called her up to ask her questions. I wanted to know more about this girl, yet she seemed so distant. It was like trying to catch a butterfly: The closer you got to nabbing her, the harder it got to catch her, and she'd fly even further. It was so hard to fling your net over her head. You could almost see a hint of teasing in her eyes as she flew just out of your reach.