Here's chapter five up, where our resident vampires make their appearance. Since their arrival into the story is so darn special.

Thanks to everyone reading, please leave a review. For all I know, only three or four people have read this. That's a little depressing.

Five People with Special Needs

Maureen stayed up late that evening, working. The hours flew by, and she barely glanced at her watch. It was wonderful, if only for the way the time had passed. For Maureen, the best kind of time was the time you weren't aware of.

She'd carded the brown wool, and then spun it all on the wheel. She'd thought momentarily about taking a few days or even a week to finish it all, to savor the process. But once she started, she found she didn't want to stop.

I ask no questions, I desire no answers. Maureen thought as she spun. And her request was granted. She slipped into a mindless state, a haze of comfortable nepenthe, aware of nothing but the clicking of the wheel and the swift friction of the wool as she twisted it into a thin, even string. Once it was all spun onto two bobbins, Maureen set up the lazy kate, and plied the two stands into one. She preferred an s-twist for her handspun work, and checked carefully that the twist was even. She was halfway done when dinnertime came at eight, and she answered her Aunt and Uncle's questions with her mind still up in her room.

"Only two teachers gave out homework on the first day?" Uncle Thomas laughed. "You kids have it easy."

"Mm." Maureen assented.

After doing the dishes, Maureen hurried back up to her room, saying she wanted to finish her homework first thing. Jessica said much the same thing, though soon music was blaring from her room. Maureen went straight back to the wheel, and finished plying. After that she strung the yarn into a wide circle, by holding up an arm and looping the yarn between the crease of her elbow and under the arch of her bare foot. She tied the loop closed with a few bits of loose yarn, and went down to the kitchen to wash it in the sink. She descended the stairs quietly, just in case someone might object to her soaking wool in the kitchen. She needn't have worried—her Aunt was doing something in the study, and her Uncle was snoring in the living room, a rerun of some football game blaring on the television.

Maureen plugged the sink, turned on the hot faucet and added a little bit of dish soap—in her experience it worked more or less the same as laundry detergent, and was conveniently located right next to the sink. Maureen did do her homework then, bringing it down to the kitchen table. While the English assignment was easy, the 'weekly math problem' was more of a pain, obviously meant to take time and effort. Irritated, Maureen figured out the basics and scrawled a rough draft explanation of how she'd solved the problem. She'd write it up properly later, when she wasn't so frustrated.

It took and hour and a half for the water to cool. Maureen wrung out the yarn, then emptied the sink and filled it again with cold water. Another hour, and the yarn was free of soap. Maureen had drilled hooks into opposite walls in her room three days ago, and stretched a clothesline cord between them, two feet from the ceiling. Now she stood on a chair and draped the yarn across the clothesline, taking out the ties to make sure the yarn dried evenly. Stepping back, Maureen felt intensely satisfied. It wasn't much, but she had more to show for her time than if she'd spent the whole evening with her nose in a textbook. School achievement was an empty reward in comparison to actual production.

As a result, Maureen woke up the next morning feeling energetic and cheerful. She checked the yarn, delighted to find that it was dry (she silently thanked the central heating system, which kept out the cold and damp). Maureen quickly rolled the brown yarn into a large ball, finishing just in time to not beat Jessica to the bathroom. She heard the muffled noise of the shower nozzle blasting on.

"Please don't blow-dry your hair after you get out, I have to pee!" Maureen howled.

"Use the downstairs bathroom!" Was the reply.

Maureen did so, resisting the urge to be irritated. She was lucky to live in a home where there was another bathroom available. Why should she whine about needing to go down a flight of stairs?

"Screw you, entitlement." Maureen muttered.

She checked her e-mail, and saw that her father had sent her a message—all about how Cathy was doing, how the neighbors were doing, how they all missed her, yadda yadda. Maureen smiled. Her Dad was kind of a homebody, but nobody could say he wasn't sincere in his kindness.

Jessica did vacate the bathroom with enough time for Maureen to take a decent shower. She washed her short, dirt-colored hair, then combed out the tangles with brief, vicious strokes. She put on another pair of wool leggings—black, today—a dark blue wool skirt, and a sky blue cotton shirt with long sleeves. Breakfast was a hurried affair, with Aunt Joan repeatedly checking her watch. Maureen packed her books, then slipped the brown wool and a pair of circular knitting needles into a side pocket. After yesterday's delinquent incident, Maureen felt she deserved a little distraction during the day.

And hey, she could make something for the folks back in California. Mrs. Eberhardt had asked her to make Freddy a Halloween costume, before Maureen's departure had become public knowledge. Maureen could always make him a little something, and then mail it as a gesture of goodwill. And if it didn't reach the Freddy she knew, it would reach someone in this place.

The morning was uneventful—people seemed to be getting used to her presence, as the undeserved questions and attention had slacked off. Maureen cast the brown wool onto her needles during second period, and was able to more or less ignore the teacher. Third period she was told to 'sit up and pay attention' by Mr. Casey, but he didn't notice her knitting.

I hide what I'm doing for three more years, and then I can do it all the time. Maureen reassured herself. It wouldn't be awful unless she decided it was.

At lunchtime, Maureen casually slipped away from Jessica, and walked to the cafeteria on her own. She'd wanted to buy something for lunch, like a slice of pizza or a burrito. Something that was tasty and unhealthy. But when she'd asked Aunt Joan for lunch money, she'd been swiftly turned down. Apparently the fridge was still full of leftover turkey slices, just dying to be made into sandwiches. Maureen could have spent her own money on lunch, but she considered that to be a waste. Money was for things like roving and new needles. It mattered what she did, not what she ate.

Slinging her backpack off her shoulder, Maureen scanned the room for a place to sit. She spotted one of Jessica's friends—Angela?—sitting at a table on one end of the room, so Maureen headed straight for the opposite side. She slid into a seat at an empty table close to the wall, and pulled out her lunch bag. Three bites in, and Maureen was bored of eating. She quickly wolfed down the sandwich, and chased it with a long slug from her water bottle. One fun-sized bag of Fritos later, and Maureen had consumed her entire lunch in five minutes.

That must have looked gross. Maureen thought. But there were more important things to think about.

Maureen pulled out the brown hat she'd started knitting, and picked up were she left off last period. The wooden needles clicked quietly against each other as she knit in a seamless circle, adding and dropping stitches as necessary. Without fear of discovery by a teacher, the rhythm was easy to fall into.

"You're at our table."

Maureen looked up.

Five albinos were standing around the table, flanking it like cavalry horses. Maureen blinked—okay, not albinos. None of them had white hair, so pigment was definitely a factor in their genetic makeup.

Maureen let her knitting rest on the table. There was an awkward pause.

"This is where we usually sit." The big one who looked like a weightlifter said. He looked sheepish, as if he'd suddenly realized that 'this is our table' was not enough of an explanation.

"Well, it's not marked." Maureen said. "The table, I mean. It's fair game for whoever gets their first. Failing that, there's enough room for six people. You could still sit here."

The men are attractive. She observed. So are the women, for that matter. But someone needs to talk to them about the image they're projecting. They look like they just went shopping at Douche r' Us. High-end designer clothes, which is impressive in this Wal-Marty town…but it's just gussied up prep gear. Their clothing has no soul. Dear lord, how much product is in his hair?

Right on cue, the one with the exploding douche hair touched his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

"But to be perfectly honest." Maureen continued. "My ass is comfortable where it is."

She waited for a response. None of the teenagers spoke, simply choosing to stare. Maureen wasn't sure if they were attempting a deadly glare, or just had no idea how to retort.

Though maybe the small blonde guy in the back was just constipated, judging from the look on his face. Maureen couldn't fault that. It happened to everyone now and then.

"Again, I don't mind if you sit here." Maureen said, speaking slightly slower that she normally did. "But I'm knitting a baby hat, and I'm kind of on a roll—"

"A baby hat?" This from the blonde girl…who was, now that Maureen looked closer, intensely and unnervingly pretty, even compared to her marble-hewn entourage. "For whom?"

A baby, duh. Was Maureen's first thought. She kept it back—none of these stoned-looking albinos had called her a delinquent (yet).

"My next-door neighbor in Sacramento." Maureen said. "Where I used to live. She has a six-month-old. His first Halloween is coming, so I figured I'd make him something cute."

She held up the half-finished cap. "His Mom's an entomologist—studies insects and stuff, right? So it's shaped like a horned beetle, with wings on top and the horn in front."

"That's…really adorable actually." The blonde girl said, letting out a soft, approving laugh.

Maureen grinned. "Thanks, that's very kind of you to say. Do you knit at all?"

"No, but—" The girl suddenly shook her head. "I'm sorry, we have to be going."

The girl spun around, motioning the others to follow her. They sauntered back out the cafeteria door, like J. Crew's personal honor guard.

Maureen was so stunned by the abrupt departure; it took her a moment too long to respond.

"Your social skills are poor!" She shouted after them. But they were already halfway out the door.

"What the fuck?" Maureen muttered.

She put her head down, and fell back into the rhythm of the clicking needles. First vindictive high school girls, and now five Greek statues from the Awkward Brigade…what wonders would tomorrow's lunch hour bring?

Next chapter will probably go up tomorrow. Please Read & Review, especially if you thought any of this was funny. : )