Chapter 1

First Chapter without any edit. Just... rough...

   My eyes fly open, but I don't scream or anything. The neighbors would probably call the cops and the city would go on lock down. That's the last thing I want.
   Instead, I slowly sit up-my green covers sliding down to expose my stomach. I'm confused for a second... Why aren't i wearing my shirt? I shrug it off, spotting it crumpled next to the bed.
   I swing my legs around and reach over to grab it, yawning. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!
   I jump, toppling over onto the rough carpet, and stare around in shock. My alarm clock. I feel like slapping myself; the dream made me way too jumpy this time. I should expect it. I mean, nothing about it ever changes.
   I crawl over to the grey shirt and swipe it up as I climb to my feet. On my way out the room, I slam the stupid clock to get it to shut up.
   I pull on the T-shirt and wander down the hallway. It's a weekend, so my shift at the place I work at isn't until eleven, and it's... I glance at the digital clock dangling like a chandelier above the kitchen table as I find my way into the room. It's eight.
   I consider making a real breakfast this morning because of my extra time, but I really just want to curl up on the couch with a coffee. So I do.
   I sip at the steaming mug and choke on the heat.
   "Idiot," I tell myself, coughing as it scalds my throat, and I set it down on the table next to me. I open my mouth wide as though that will encourage the heat to jump out or something.
   I sit there, listening to the silence, until I realize I'm remembering the dream. Those eyes... That laugh... I shudder and force myself away from the nightmare, turning to the wall that was a television in its entirety.
   "On," I tell it, and it obeys with a little jingle. A news broadcast pops up... Something about a couple vampires on a killing spree. Again.
    I shake my head and reach for my coffee. Won't they ever learn? Every time they decide, "Oh yeah, this vampire is trustworthy," the vampire in question goes out and eat everyone.
   As I sip tentatively at my drink, footsteps ring down the hall, and a tired groan comes from the kitchen. I hear cupboards being opened and shut as my roommate searches for something to eat.
   A dirt blonde appears in the doorway a minute later, jade-coloured eyes dull with exhaustion and annoyance at the morning sun filtering in through the blinds. He fiddles with the lid to the cereal before reaching in and stuffing his mouth with corn flakes.
   "Morning," I say, watching him stumble to the opposite side of the couch and fall into the cushion.
   "G'morning," he echoes, scratching his head with his free hand. He stares without seeing at the TV, and I turn my attention back to it too.
   Did they just say a vampire was going after the killers...who also happen to vampires? What is this world coming to?
   I sip my coffee and notice my roommate staring. I blink, all the question I need to ask in that gesture.
   "I want some," he replies, still groggy.
   "It's in the kitchen," I inform him, wrapping both my hands around the cup protectively. My coffee.
   He sighs and pushes off the sofa to go find it, trailing dropped cereal behind him. I'm going to have to pick it up.
   When he returns, his eyes are brighter. Coffee-it works wonders.
   "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" he asks, returning to his seat and popping some more cereal into his mouth.
   "It's Saturday." He knows I go later on weekends, but he tends to lose track of the days.
   "Oh," he says, frowning a little. He turns his frown on me and looks me up and down. "What happened to you?"
   It's my turn to frown. "Thanks a lot," I sigh, turning my scowl into a grin so he knows I'm kidding.
   He looks abashed anyway. "No, not..." He trails off as a yawn takes hold and finishes with, "You look amazing as always, my lady, even in the fowl clutches of the evil of morning."
   I roll my eyes. He does that. A lot. Sometimes I wonder where he finds these phrases, but then I remember that he loves old-fashioned soap operas. Oh, and flirting. He likes that quite a bit too.
   "Thanks," I reply, finishing my coffee and glaring down into the empty cup. why can't it be bottomless? I'd never have to refill it.
   "But really... What's wrong? You look a little less amazing today. No offense," he adds, watching me intently. He leans back so he almost vanishes into the couch, which I find kind of funny.
   "Just a nightmare," I tell him, standing to get a refill.
   "Again? You know they make spell for that?" He crosses his ankles.
   "Yeah, and you know I've tried them. They don't work."
   "Where are you going?" he questions, leaning forward again so he can see me.
   I keep walking, glancing over my shoulder. "To get more." I wiggle the cup so he can see it, and he suddenly looks sheepish.
   "Well, I... don't think there's much left," he calls, and i find that o be true when I spot the coffee maker, and there's a ring of the dark liquid at the very bottom.
   Why? Why leave just that little amount? He might as well have taken the rest. I shake my head and return to sitting on the couch. I shoot him the best dirty look I can manage.
   "Sorry," he murmurs, but he's not really sorry. A silent moment passes before, "Was it worse than usual?"
   I'm confused. "The coffee? You know, if you don't like-"
   "No, not the coffee," he interrupts, waving his hand impatiently, "the dream. The nightmare." He tilts his head so he can see my face. When I don't response, he prompts me with a, "Colette...?"
   "Yeah," I finally say, not matching his gaze.
   He hesitates, not something he normally does. And then, "What was it about?" Every time he asked before, I responded with an anger I shouldn't, and he doesn't take anger very well. He ignored me for at least two days. That's what he told me, anyway, but he never succeeded. He's quick to forgive, and I like that about him.
   This time, though, I consider it. He's good at cheering people up, whether he realizes it or not.
   I turn my head to meet his gaze, and he waits, probably for me to explode on him.
   "It's stupid," I tell him instead, and he seems encouraged because I'm not yelling.
   "So am I. Spill it." He raises an eyebrow, and I fold my arms.
   I think he'll laugh. It's not really nightmarish at all when I think about how to describe it, but it is when I'm dreaming it.
   He tugs at the small stud in his right ear, still looking at me. And I tell him.
   He doesn't laugh. He just frowns, like he did earlier. "Sometimes dreams mean things that are deeper than just what's in them," he says slowly, "You know... Metaphors."
   I shrug, biting on the inside of my cheek.
   "I'll ask Ed if he has any spells he knows will work. They might cost a little more, but..."
   I feel suddenly horrible. He is not spending any money on me. None. "Zane, no. They won't work. You know that. It's fine. And if every time I tell you something, you decide you're going to spend money on me, I'm going to start keeping all my secrets," I mutter. There, that'll teach him.
   He grins. "You suck at keeping secrets anyway."
   "What!? I do not!" I exclaim, "hmph"ing.
   "Yeah, you do. Remember that one-"
   "Aren't you supposed to be at school?" I interrupt, leaning an elbow on the side of the couch.
   He shakes his head, overlong bangs wagging across his eyes. "Class doesn't start until one, remember?"
   I raise my eyebrows. "I thought it started at nine?"
   "Nine-thirty," he corrects, "and only on weekends." He finishes off his coffee before a bit of realization lights up in his face. He remains silent for a moment, without looking at me, before sighing. "You said it was Saturday?"
   I bite my lip to make sure I don't laugh. "Mhm."
   He squints at the clock in the corner of the TV, blowing the hair from his face. "Well, I'm late," he says and rubs his neck, "That's not the only thing that's late, before I forget. The bills..." He casts a glance at the kitchen as though he can see the little table through the wall.
   I nod. "Can't forget those." The guy who'd rented us the place would have a fit. When I applied for a room, he went on rambling about how the age people were considered adults around here was too young, and he didn't want to rent out an apartment to a kid. Personally, I think he's a little too on edge. Sixteen isn't all that young to be coming of age. I hear that to the east, kids come to age at thirteen. Now that's young. Then again, I also hear kids up in the Rimeland aren't called adults until twenty.
   I don't understand what his deal is. I have a perfect record and a good, paying job, and I'm a year older than sixteen anyway.
   He wanted to pair me with some old person to make sure I would stay in line at first. Those who rent apartments are required by law to have a roommate. In case there's some kind of bomb threat that one person doesn't hear about. Buddy system.
   I ended up getting paired with Zane Eldritch, though, and he's younger than me. Actually, when he applied, he was shy of sixteen by two weeks. And he still got the place, so I don't understand what the guy's age complex is about.
   I mean, Zane doesn't even have a well-paying job. He works at a diner a couple hours every night and runs some errands every now and then for Ed. It's not because he's lazy (but he is very lazy). He's going to school to become an astronomer, and half the time, I'm surprised he isn't suffocating under all the work he has. No, he does what he can, and when he graduates, he'll haul in so much cash, he'll ditch this place.
   Personally, I'm not sure what use astronomy is to life, but I bet someone out there knows. Otherwise, the job wouldn't exist, right?
   "...and feast! You're coming, right?" Zane's voice echoes into my head, ruining my train of thought.
   "Uh... What?" I ask, feeling a little guilty.
   Zane blinks before opening his mouth into a little "o". "You weren't listening to me, were you?" he groans, forcing an appalled sort of ring into his voice. He places a hand over his heart and twists his expression into a pained one, as though someone stuck him with a knife. "How could you, Coal?" he cried over-dramatically as he puts his arm to his forehead.
   "That's the worse nickname ever," I tell him, ignoring his act.
   He doesn't remove his arm and only half-opens an eye to glance at me. "Really? I think it's pretty good. I came up with it myself."
   "That explains it," I mutter, but he hears me.
   "What does that mean?" He keeps that offended air to his voice but drops it for his next comment. "Anyway, as I was saying while you were zoning out-" He shoots me a sardonic grin. "-everyone who works at the diner is invited to a party after the place closes tonight, and we can bring a guest or two. There's going to be a load of food so we can feast. Are you coming?"
   He looks hopeful, and excited glint in his eye.
   "I... don't know," I murmur uncomfortably, "I probably have to stay for the conference tonight, an... yeah. I don't know."
   Zane looks put out, like a candle someone clew on. "Come on, Colette, please? You never come. Always too much work. If I have time, I bet you do." He stops to think of some more persuasive details before leaning toward me and whispering as though it's a secret, "I bet they have coffee. Sweet, glorious, shining, warm-"
   I hold up my hands. "Alright, the coffee made me change my mind. If I can get away from the conference," I add, and he pulls on a triumphantly arrogant face.
   He gets up and stretches his arms above him, still wearing that expression. "Guess I should go. It takes an hour to get there, and it's nine." He begins to make his way toward the kitchen, swinging the very, very fragile cup on his index finger.
   "Zane?"
   He stops walking, but doesn't stop the cup. I internally scowl.
   "I think you should get dressed before heading out. Just a suggestion."
   He looks down at his attire and pinches the old, torn-up T-shirt he uses for pajamas. He makes a face. "I wasn't going to leave like this," he explains as if I'm a kid, "I meant I'm going to get ready and go."
   "Oh, I see," I say, raising my eyebrows. I bet he would've left like that if I hadn't reminded him. I should've just let him. It would've been pretty funny.
   He turns to continue to the kitchen but spins to face me again before he's even taken a step. "Oh hey, I almost forgot. How would you say my face is shaped?" he asks, forehead wrinkling as he frowns.
   "Uh... Why?"
   He throws his hands into the air, the cup flying up with them. I eye it in apprehension, waiting for him to drop it. "Because Ed was talking about it. I guess his sister is an artist or something, and she was doing a portrait for her class, and she complimented how his face was shaped. So all day yesterday, he was telling people that their face looked like a potato or a square or a perfect circle or that they had nice cheeks."
   I refrain from pointing out that he only sees Ed for about an hour between classes and the diner, so he has no way of knowing if Ed was doing it all day or just when Zane was there. You know, to bother him. Ed's like that.
   "And so I walk in, and he's all, 'Heya, Zane. How 'bout I tell ya' how your face is shaped?' All these people turn from looking around at spells to watch, because that's what happens when Ed talks.
   "And he points and does that chin scratch, and he's all 'Definitely heart-shaped.' And the woman he was helping out agreed! Heart-shaped?? My face isn't heart-shaped, is it, Coal?"
   As I look at it, I can see why Ed said heart-shaped. It has the curves of a heart, but I think it's too narrow and long. Like a squished heart. His cheeks are a little too pointy too, but he's really offended that Ed would think that about his face. That's why I tell him, "Yeah, Ed was right. Heart-shaped."
   His free hand rubs at the side of his cheek, and his brows come together. "What?! No! Not even..." He continues shouting denials as he wanders into the kitchen and sets down the mug. I'm immediately relieved.
   I decide as he heads down the hallway-"Heart-shaped. No. Way..."-that I should probably get ready too, before I forget and lose track of time. As I make my way to the kitchen, I bend down to swipe up the cereal Zane dropped earlier. I put everything where it goes-cereal in the trash, cup in the sink-and walk back to my room.

--------

    After I shove a bunch of things into my jean pockets-chap-stick, phone, apartment key, switchblade-I head to the front door. Zane is still standing there... and he's wearing a suit.
   "What are you wearing?" I ask him incredulously.
   "A suit," he answers as he turns to pull open the door. He steps aside and gestures for me to go on through ahead of him.
   "Yeah, I know it's a suit, but... Why?" I walk by him but stop in the door frame to turn and look back.
   "We're going to a party tonight. I want to look my best."
   "You could just change before you go. So you don't have to wear that all day. Why are you still hear anyway? You said you were leaving an hour ago."
   He edges me the rest of the way out of the apartment and closes the door behind him with a soft 'click'. The security pad to the left of it lights up red to inform anyone who looks at it that it is locked... and armed.
   "Yeah, I figured 'Hey, I'm already late, so I'll just wait for Coal and escort her downstairs.' But... Uh... I didn't think it would take you so long. I'm going to miss my second class too now," he sighs and walks beside me as we head toward the elevator. "You aren't even dressed to look your best."
   I would've felt bad if he hadn't added in that last snide remark. "At least my hair looks nice. Yours is just wild; it doesn't look like you brushed it." I press down on the button that calls up the elevator and hear it whir somewhere far away.
   He attacks me while I'm turned, wrapping an arm around me and using the other to rub the top of my head. I struggle in vain to slip out of his grip but end up just waiting it out, my hand wrapped around his wrist so he doesn't choke me or something.
   "Ha! Who's hair just looks wild now?" he cries over the ding of the elevator.
   The doors slide open and he freezes, still holding me in a headlock. The couple and old man inside stare at us with huge eyes until Zane's grip finally loosens and I duck out from under his arm.
   I waltz into the tiny space and stick out my tongue; he mimics me... including the waltzing. He's a little too good at it. The people in the elevator watch him warily.
   As the elevator stops at another floor to pick up more passengers-who are a lot louder than the three who were in here-Zane glances at me out of the corner of his eye.
   "I think you should visit your parents before coming tonight," he murmurs, looking guilty for saying it.
   That doesn't sound like something I'd want to do before a party. "If I come. Why?"
   He shrugs. "You haven't seen them in awhile-"
   "For good reason," I mutter under my breath.
   "-and...I don't know. It just feels like a good day for it," he finishes.
   "I don't want to go to one side of town and then back to the other before going to a party, Zane. And I don't really  want to hear their rants about how much they hate one another," I pretty much growl.
   He bites his lips and shakes his head. "Then don't go. I was just suggesting." His eyebrows knit together suddenly and he grabs a strand of my hair, pulling it across to the other side of my head. "It was on the wrong side of the part," he explains as the elevator slows to a stop.
   I follow the small crowd out into the lobby and toward the main doors. "Gee, I wonder why," I grumble, and he grins.
   "You deserved it."
   I catch the door as the person in front of me lets it go, and I push it so that Zane can catch it before it closes on him. We step out onto the pavement, him holding a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes and me trying to wave down a taxi from the sky.
   One lowers, engine grumbling quietly as it hovers a couple inches from the cement. A guy leans out the window and winks at me. "Where to, miss?" he asks.
   "Subway," I reply, yanking on the back door and hoisting myself up to sit inside. Zane climbs up after me and lets the door clang into place behind him.
   The guy raises the vehicle before either of us even have our seat belts on and slams the pedal. I'm pinned back against the ripped leather as we speed forward, dodging slower cars and taller building with precision.
   I keep trying to get the stupid strap to buckle, but Zane's already quit. Instead, he has his window rolled down and his head stuck out of it like a dog. He pulls himself back in to take a deep breath and leans out again, oblivious to the driver's warnings that his head could be knocked right off.
   I finally get the stupid seat belt to click together as we slow to a stop and sink to the ground in front of the stairs that lead down to our destination. Zane sits back just in time to miss a rusty, bent-over stop sign and yanks on the door handle.
   I follow him out, waving to the taxi guy and putting the cash on the little thing between the driver and passenger seats. He takes it and nods with a crinkly grin, soaring up the moment our shoes hit the sidewalk.
   Zane and I pay our way in and make our way through the crowds, animated sculptures, and random beggars. More than once, I have to drag Zane away from a sculpture trying to sell him things he really doesn't need.
   As we approach my ride, he slows and says, "Remember: tonight. You're coming." He sounds certain, but the face under his windblown hair is unsure.
   "Maybe," I say as the doors pull apart and people begin boarding. I turn and take a step, but a salesman heading our way distracts me. "Zane," I call over my shoulder. He glances up from the pavement. "Don't buy anything!"
   He grins, and I take that as a bad but jump into the subway without another word. All the seats are taken, so I have hang on to one of the poles.
   We're in darkness for maybe two seconds before we burst out into the open. We head uphill steadily until I can see the vehicles clouding the sky beside us, and the subway meets the bridge shortly after. I blink out over the city as the bridge leads us over the short building and curves around the skyscrapers.
   I don't sit, even after some seats open up as people file out at the periodic stops. It's half an hour before I too follow the group of people out into the sun and hitch a ride in one of the elevators that take us to the ground floor.
   It's about a five minute walk to the large building that flashes with lights. A huge game controller-one of the old-fashioned ones that don't exist anymore-decorates the front under the words "Game Gateway".
   I lean against one of the doors to swing it open and walk in. The usual cacophony of dozens of games running and the whisper of systems doesn't reach me-it surrounds me. But instead of feeling closed in, the noise comforts me like like a hug. I push by a crowd of excited kids trying out the new virtual reality game; one girl has on the ridiculous-looking helmet that is too big for her. It looks like it's eating her head.
   I look away to hide the fact that the corner of my mouth is twitching and catch sight of Emily. She waves me over even as she continues talking to an old lady with a very confused expression.
   I wind around the obstacles with practiced ease and slide over the smooth counter to join her.
   "But how is she supposed to save without a memory card?" the woman questions, clearly frustrated. I grin despite myself, wondering idly if she even understood half of that sentence.
   "It has internal memory. And you can get a chip to transfer the memory to different systems," Emily answer, mood matching the lady's.
   "But how do you save, then?" the woman counters, a dirty look on her face.
   Emily barely stops herself from slapping the customer. I can tell by the way her hand twitches.
   "Colette, can you please help this kind lady while I go check some stuff in the back?" she asks with false sweetness. Without waiting for an answer, she storms away toward the doors marked for use only by employees.
   "I need to buy a memory card," the elderly lady informs m. I pull on a polite smile.
   "Miss, we don't carry memory cards anymore..."

Author's Note

Does it need more action, less dialogue...?