They say everything has a price. If you want something, you must be prepared to lose something. You are always expected to pay.
No one told me the price of immortality was a prison of hormones and angst.
In all my years as a vampire, I have found nothing that is less intellectually stimulating than high school. At the moment, I was sitting in American History, and had already mentally counted the inaccuracies that I had heard on the War of the South (I will never get used to calling it the Civil War; there was nothing civil about thousands dead on the field of battle). I could not work up the energy to be angry at the textbook author's utter lack of research. I was just too bored. I saw a boy in the front row in front of me with his head on his arms, blissfully asleep. I felt envy.
I sighed, even though I didn't need to. This is ridiculous! I have masters degrees in Civil War History, Philosophy, Psychology—I am done with this!Unlike these meat-sacks around me, I had a weapon that may alleviate the boredom. I could sense the lethargic emotions around me. Well, that just simply wouldn't do.
Mrs. Smith, our ancient educator, continued her lecture on Custer's Last Stand. I focused my power toward her, and her voice slowed as her eyes glistened. She gave a hearty sniff and pulled out a handkerchief.
"I'm sorry, class," she said as she dabbed her eyes. "It just makes me sad to know that Custer never got to see his family again. He had two little daughters, you know." She blew her nose.
At my mental provocation, the quarterback of the Forks High Spartans felt a surge of sympathy toward his teacher and rushed to the front of the classroom. Mrs. Smith had a good long cry on his shoulder as he stroked her short gray hair.
"But what happens next?" said one girl. "The suspense is killing me! Tell me what happened!" Her knuckles were white as she clutched the desk, her eyes bugging out of her head.
A boy named Joey slammed his fists on the desk and rose to his feet. "Would you shut up?" he shouted. "Custer died, the North won! Now can we please move on?"
The tears, shrieks, hugs, fights, and, in one case, singing, continued until the bell rang. As if on cue, all action halted as the class, as if in a dream, gathered their belongings and left for their next class. Mrs. Smith simply sat down at her desk, staring off into space. I smirked inwardly. It was times like these that made eternity all the more bearable.
Two buildings over, a certain pixie-like vampire suddenly felt as if her entertainment value had been replaced by a gaggle of teenagers by her precious empathetic husband. Somebody was going to get an earful tonight…