If she says one more thing about my “F” I swear I’m going to murder her in her sleep. I’ve only been out of school for a few minutes and Mom is already busting my chops. Doesn’t she know that math is my toughest subject? She should, I mean I told her. She knows I can’t multiply to save my life. Why is she staking so much on a single subject?
Shouldn’t she be taking a chance to find out that I’ve been bullied? That non one believes me when I report it? Shouldn’t take a chance to find out the teacher was taking advantage of half the class’ ignorance about the subject to berate us? I love my mother, I think. I’m not really sure how I feel. I know I used to. Of course that was back when I was eight.
I peer at my watch. Only a few minutes has passed. Why do I have to deal with her now? My plans for the weekend are ruined. There will be no watching TV until I pass out or hanging out with my Masque de Vampyre friends at Hot Topic.
“Don’t expect to go anywhere. All you have to do is get one fucking ‘A’ in math. What is wrong with you?” she growls. I roll my eyes. Like she cares. I know that she’s with another man. Someone to make my dad jealous. Like Dad would care. He stopped coming around years ago. I definitely hate him.
“I don’t give a shit,” I say. I’m used to her. Gotta be after living with her for nineteen years, my entire life. My mother doesn’t seem to care. Why would she? I’m just some kid she got stuck after the man she thought loved her walked out on her.
How the hell will I sneak to the Masque de Vampire? I enjoy going to the ball. A long, navy blue ballgown and the crystal chandelier. The ballroom is positively beautiful.
The ten minute drive home feels like six hours, like always. Maybe I should just move out. I can’t afford an apartment, but the excellent Vampyre Emperor would help me. I could stay at his hous until we can find a suitable place to live. Emperor Aron has many more resources than these Mortals, these Humans could ever have. Mom would freak if she knew I’m apart of this “strange” world about Vampyres and the beautiful exchange of blood.
Walking up the steps of our little, brown shack at four-fifteen in the afternoon seems more like a punishment than being locked in my room. When locked in, I’m left alone and I can escape. The shack has thin walls that can be knocked down just by knocking on them. I’ve done it before. A couple of times on accident, actually.
“Karmin, are you listening?”
“Why are you being so antagonizing?”
“Good job, Mom. You actually used a word with more than three syllables.”
“For God’s sake, Karmin!” she gasped, closing our wonderfully thin front door.
“God has nothing to do with it,” I mumble. The three steps to my room are nothing more than three seconds. Three seconds of our painfully pink kitchen that mom had decided at one point was the central part of our universe, though we have no stove or oven, just a sink and a microwave. The time it takes my mother to lock me in is about twenty minutes. My door opens towards the kitchen, but has no lock. So Mother wraps the chains around two posts that are about the same height as the door and locks the chains. The chains rattle as she pulls and yanks. She always forgets the window. As soon as the clanging stops I leap.