Chapter Three - Meeting Michael

I woke up in the dark with a panicked flinch that sent the ice pack thumping off of my pillow and onto the floor. I slid out of bed and fumbled for a lamp and found one next to the bed. I heard music playing downstairs, the music was slow and warm, kind of like a guitar. I fluffed my out my hair to make it somewhat presentable, put on a little foundation make-up and opened the bedroom door. The music was coming from downstairs, in the living room. I checked a clock hanging on the wall at the far end, it was after midnight. I had slept for more than twelve hours. My bruises felt better, and in fact my head hurt only a little. My ankle was still the worst of it, sending jabs of pain up my leg with every step down the stairs. I was halfway down the stairs when I saw the boy playing his guitar. Oh the music, I thought it was a recording, but no, this was real, this was live, and he was playing it.

I coughed. The boy turns, startled, and saw me standing there on the stairs, his frown cleared after a second or two. "Oh you're the one Shane said wanted to talk to me about the room. Hey, come on down. I'm Michael, and you're not even seventeen. We don't take anybody in this house who isn't legal. Not that you'd be signing onto orgy central, but sorry. Me and Shane have to worry about things like that. All it takes is you living here and somebody even hinting there's something going on," he says. "Wait, I wouldn't do that, or say that. I'm not looking to get you guys in trouble. I just need...." I say as he interrupts me. "No. I'm sorry , but you can't stay here. House rules," he says. I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. "How much? I ask and start counting bills.. "Three hundred enough? I can get more if I have to," I say. "How? he asks. "What? I reply. "How would you get more?" He asks. "Get a job or sell stuff. Not that I have much to sell. I want to stay here Michael, I really do. Yeah I'm under eighteen, but I swear, you won't have any trouble out of me. I'll stay out of your way. I go to school and study. That's all I do. I'm not a partyer, and I'm not a slacker. I'm useful. I'll help clean and cook," I say. "No.I'm sorry kid. But it's just too much risk," he says. "Eve's only a bit older than I am!" I say. "Eve's eighteen, you're what sixteen?" He asks. "Almost seventeen! I really am in college. I'm a freshman, look here's my student ID...." I say as I'm holding it up. He ignored it. "Come back in a year. We'll talk about it then. Look what about the dorm? He asks. "They'll kill me if I stay there. They tried to kill me today," I tell him. "What?" He asks. "The other girls. They punched me and shoved me down the stairs," I say. "What else? Besides what I can see? You're not going to drop dead on me are you?" he asks. "I'm ok. I saw the doctor and everything. It's just the bruises and a strained ankle. But they pushed me down the stairs, and they meant it, and she told me....."

Suddenly Eve's words about vampires came back to me and made me trip over my own tongue. "The girl in charge, she told me that tonight, I'd get what was coming to me. I can't go back to the dorm, Michael. If you send me out that door, they'll kill me, because I don't have any friends nor do I have any place to go!" I explain. He unlatched the guitar case again and cradled it. I thought was his comfort zone. He then asks me to have a seat on the couch as he starts to play his guitar again. "These girls, do they go out in daylight?" He asks. "You mean outside? Sure. They go to classes. Well sometimes," I reply. "Do they wear bracelets?" he asks. " You mean like...." Eve left hers on the table so I pick it up. "Like this? I never noticed. They wear a lot of stuff," I reply. I thought hard, and maybe remember something after all. "The bracelets didn't look like this though. They were gold, and Monica and her friends all had them on their left wrists, although I never paid much attention," I reply. "Bracelets with white symbols? Do you remember?" He asks. "No. Does that mean they have protection?" I ask. "You mean condoms? Doesn't everybody?" He asks. "You know what I mean," I say. "Don't think I do," he says playing dumb. "Eve said....." I start to say.

"Eve needs to keep her mouth shut. She's in enough danger as it is, trolling around out there in Goth gear. They already think she's mocking them. If they hear she's talking...." He says as his voice trails off. "They who? I ask. "People. Look I don't want your blood on my hands. You can stay for a couple of days. But only until you find a place, right? And make it fast, I'm not running a halfway house for bettered girls. I've got enough to worry about keeping Eve and Shane out of trouble," he says. I put the money on the table and he stares at it, with his jaw tense. "The rent's a hundred dollars a month. You buy the groceries, once a month too. First month in advance. But you're not staying past that, so keep the rest," he says. "Thanks," I say. "Don't thank me, just don't get us into any trouble. I mean it," he says. I went to the kitchen, spooned in two chilli bowls, added the bowls to the trays along with sppons and cokes, and brought it all back to set them on the coffee table. Michael took his bowl and tasted it. "Shane made it. It's pretty good," I tell him. "Yeah. Chilli and spaghetti, that's pretty much all Shane can cook. You know how to make anything?" he asks. "Sure," I reply. "Like?" he asks. "Ratatouille, Aloomasala, Potato and Truffle Torte, and hamburgers," I reply. "Could you make hamburgers tomorrow?" He asks. "Sure. I have classes from eleven to five, but I'll stop and pick up the stuff," I reply. "I'm sorry," he finally says. "About what?" I ask. "Being an ass. Look, it's just that I can't, I have to be careful. Really careful," he says. "You weren't being an ass, you're trying to protect yourself and your friends. That's ok. That's what you're supposed to do," I say. "If you're in this house, you're my friend. What's your name by the way?" He asks. "Claire, Claire Danvers," I reply. "Welcome to the Glass House Claire Danvers. But only temporarily," he says. I went up to my room, spread out my books on the desk, and started the day's studying, as I listened to Michael play the guitar downstairs.

Chapter Two - A New Home

Erica was right about the quack shack being the first stop. I got my ankle wrapped, an ice pack, and some frowns over the forming bruises. Nothing broken but I am going to be black and blue for days. The doctor asked some questions about boyfriends and stuff. She gave me an excuse note, pain killers, and told me to go home.

No way was I going back to the dorm. I limped down to the small cafe in the clinic and sat at a table. I picked up a campus paper from the table and opened it to The Housing section. Dorm rules were out of the question. Howard Hall and Landsdale Hill were the only two that took in girls under twenty. I'm not old enough to qualify for the coed dorms.

I dug in my backpack, found my cell phone, and started dialing numbers. The first person told me that they already found somebody and hung up before I could say thanks. The second sounded like a weird guy. The third one was a weird old lady. The forth one...., Well, the fourth one was just plain weird. The fifth listing down read, Three roommates seeking fourth, huge old house, privacy assured, reasonable rent and utilities. I called and got an answering machine with a mellow-sounding, young male voice. "Hello, you've reached The Glass House, If you're looking for Michael, he sleeps days, if you're looking for Shane, good luck with that, cause we never know where the hell he is, and if you're looking for Eve, you'll probably get her on her cell phone or at the shop. But hey leave a message, and if you're looking to audition for the room, come on by, it's 716 West Lot Street. Yeah just look for the mansion, Gone With The Wind meets The Munsters. Laughter and then a beep. "My name is Claire, Claire Danvers, and I um... was um... Sorry" and I hung up. I checked the rest of the listings, and felt my heart sink a little. Fine I thought, and snapped my phone shut, then open again to call a cab.

It didn't take too long for the cab to get to the clinic to pick me up. I got into the cab and told the driver "716 West Lot Street ." "Gone With The Wind meets The Munsters right? You meeting someone?" The cabbie asks. "No. Why?" I reply. The cabbie shrugged, "Usually you kids are meeting up with friends. If you're looking for a good time," he starts off as I interrupt him. I shivered. "I'm not.. I'm... Yes, I'm meeting people. If you could hurry please?" I say. He grunted and took a right turn, and the cab went from college town to creepy town in one block flat. "Lot Street," The cabbie announced, and squealed to a stop. "That will be ten fifty," he said. I paid him the money I owed him and got out of the cab. I hoisted my backpack again, hit a bruise on my shoulder, and nearly dropped the weight on my foot. Tears stung at my eyes. All of a sudden I felt tired, shaky, and scared again. At least at campus I'd kind of been on relatively familiar ground, but out here in town it was like being a stranger all over again. I counted the house numbers, and realized I was standing in front of 716. I turned and looked behind me, and gasped. Because whoever the guy was on the phone, he'd been dead on right in his description. 716 looked like a movie set, something straight out of the civilwar. The place was huge. Well, not huge, but bigger than I had imagined. 

This was such a bad idea, I thought, and there were those tears again, bubbling up along with panic. What am I going to do? Walk up to the door and beg to be a roommate? How lame was that? I dropped my backpack, burried my bruised face in both hands, and just started sobbing. "Hey," a concerned girls voice said behind me. "Hey are you ok? My name is Eve," The girl said, and smiled. Her smile faded, and she took a good look at my face. "Wow Jeez, nice black eye. Who hit you?" Eve asks. "Nobody, I had an accident," I reply. "Yeah, I used to have those kinds of accidents, falling into fists and stuff. Are you ok? I can drive you to the doctor if you would like?" She says. "I.... Look I'm sorry, it's been an awful day. I was coming to ask about the room," I started to say, as Eve interrupts me. "Right, the room!" Eve snaps her fingers as, she'd forgotten all about it, and jumped up and down in excitement. "Great! I'm home for break, I work over at Common Grounds, you know, the coffee shop? And Michael won;t be up for a while yet, but you can come in and see the house if you want, I don't know if Shane's around, but..." she says. "I don't know if I should....." "You totally should. You wouldn't believe the freaks we see trying to get in the door. You're the first normal one I've seen so far. Michael would kick my ass if I let you get away without at least trying a sales pitch," she says. "Yeah, I'd like that," I reply. Eve grabbed my backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "Follow me," she says as she bounces away, up the walk to the front porch to unlock the door. Up close the house looked old, but not really run down. "Yo!" Eve yells, and dumps my backpack on a table. "Roomies! We've got a live one!" Eve yells. I stop moving, frozen, and just look around. Nothing overtly creepy about the inside of the house, at least. It smells like chilli? "Yo!" Eve yells again, and clumps down the hall. "Shane, I smell the chilli. I know your here! Get your headphones out of your ears," she yells again. I take a couple of hesitant steps down the hallway. Eve's footsteps are clinking off into another room, maybe the kitchen. The house seems very quiet. Nothing jumps out to scare me, so I proceed, one careful foot after another, all the way into the family room.

As I enter the family room, I spot a guy lying sprawled on the couch, the way only guys sprawl, yawns and sits up. He surprises me into silence by grinning at me and putting his finger over his mouth to shush me. "Hey," he whispers. "What's up?" He asks as he blinks a couple of times, and without any change of his expression, says, "Dude, that's a badass shiner. Hurts huh? So I guess you're gonna say the other chic looks worse?" He asks. "No, I um... How did you know it was?" I start to say. "A chick? Easy. Size you are, a guys would have put you in the hospital with a punch hard enough to leave a mark like that. So what's up with that? You don't look like you go looking for trouble," he says. "I'm Claire," I say and wave awkwardly. "Hi," says and nods toward a leather chair. I slide into it, feet dangling, and feel a weird sense of relief wash over me. "You want something? Coke maybe? Chilli? Bus ticket back home?" He says and grins at me. "Coke and chilli please," I ask. "Good choice," he says as he slides off of the couch weirdly, boneless for his size and padded bare foot into the kitchen where Eve had gone. I listen to a blur of voices as the two of them talk, and relax, one muscle at a time, into the soft embrace of the chair.

I open my eyes at the sound of Eves boots clomping back into the room. She calls me into the kitchen to eat the chilli Shane had made, sits an ice pack on the counter. "Ice pack first. You can never tell what Shane puts in the chilli. Be afraid," she says. Shane flops on a chair in the kitchen next to me, sucking on his own can of coke... Eve shot him an exasperated look. "Yeah man, thanks for bringing me one too," she says. "Dork! Didn't know if you wanted zombie dirt sprinkled on it or anything, if you're eating this week," Shane replies to Eve. "Go on and eat Claire, I'll get my own," says Eve. I pick up the spoon and try a small bite of the chilli, which is thick, meaty, spicey, and heavy on the garlic. Delicious in fact. "Well how is it?" Shane asks. "It's very good," I say. he gives me a lazy salute. By the time I'm halfway done through the bowl, Eve is back with her bowl of chilli, which she plunks down on the counter next to me. Eve sits in the chair next to me, crosses her legs, and digs in. "Not bad. At least you left the oh-my-god-sauce this time," she says. "Made myself a batch with it. It's got the biohazard sticker on it in the fridge, so don't complain if you get flamed. Where'd you pick up the stray? Shane asks. "Outside. She came to see the room," Eve replies. "You beat her up first, just to make sure she's tough enough?" Shane asks. "Bite me chilli boy," Eve shot back. "Don't mind Eve, she hates working days. She's afraid she'll tan," Shane says. "Yeah, and  Shane just hates working. So what's your name?" Eve asks. I open my mouth but Shane beat me to it, happy to one-up his roomie. "Claire. What, you didn't even ask? A chic beat her up too. Probably some skank in the dorms. You know how that place is," Shane says. They exchange a long look. "Is that true? You got beat up in the dorm?" Eve asks. I nod, as I shovel more food in my mouth to keep from having to say much. "Well that blows. No wonder you're looking for the room. You didn't bring much with you," Eve says. "I don't have much. Just the books and maybe some things back at my room. But I..... Don't want to go back there to get stuff. Not tonight," I reply. "Why not? Somebody still looking to pound you?" Shane asks. "I guess so. It's not just her, she's got friends and I don't," I reply.

We all head back into the living room so that we can carry on our conversation more comfortably. "That place is just.... well, it's creepy," I start off. "Been there, oh wait still there," Eve says. "What time is Michael getting up?" Eve asks. "Hell Eve, I don't know. I love the guy, but I don't love the guy. Go bang on his door and ask him. As for me, I'm gonna go and get ready,"Shane says. "Ready for what? You're not seriously going out again are you?" Eve asks Shane. "Seriously yeah. Bowling. Her name's Laura. If you want more details, you're gonna have to download the video like everybody else!" Shane says as he heads to the second floor. "See you later Claire," Shane says. Eve made a frustrated sound. "Wait a minute! So what you say? You think she'd do ok here, or what?" Eve says. Shane waves a hand. "Whatever man. Far as I'm concerned, she's ok," Shane says."Guys,"Eve sighs. "Damn, it would be good to have another girl in here. They're all like yeah whatever, and when it comes to picking up the place or washing dishes, they turn into ghosts," Eve says. "Um, I guess I should ask about the room? I ask. "Well, you have to talk to Michael, and he has to say yes, but Michael's a sweetie, really. Oh, and he owns this place. His family does anyway. i think they moved away and left him the house a couple of years ago. He's about six months older than I am. We're all about eighteen. Michael's sort of the oldest," Eve says. "he sleeps days?" I ask. "Yeah. I mean I like to sleep days, but he has a thing about it. I called him a vampire once, cause he really doesn't like being up in the daytime. Like ever. He didn't think it was very funny," Eve says. "You're sure he isn't a vampire? I've seen movies. They're sneaky," I say. I was kidding. Eve didn't even smile. "Oh pretty sure. For one thing, he eats Shane's chilli, which God knows, has enough garlic to explode a dozen high-quality Dracs. And I made him touch a cross once," Eve says as she takes a big swallow of her coke. "You what? Made him?" I say in shock. "Well sure.... I mean a girl can't be too careful, especially around here," She replies.

"In Morganville? You know? Eve says. "What about it?" I ask. "How can you not know? Morganville's full of vampires," Eve says. I started laughing because I don't believe in such things. Eve didn't find it funny at all. She just stands there with her arms crossed looking very serious. "Um... You're kidding? How many kids graduate TPU every year?" Eve asks. "I don't know. It's a crappy college, most everybody transfers out...." I reply. "Everybody leaves. Or at least stops showing up right? I can't believe you don't know this. Didn't anybody tell you the score before you moved in? Look, the vamps run the town. They're in charge, and either you're in, or you're out. If you work for them, if you pretend they're not here and they don't exist, and you look the other way when things happen, then you and your family get a free pass. You get protection. Otherwise...."Eve says. Eve pulls a finger across her throat and bugs out her eyes. "Right. No wonder nobody rented a room with these people, they're all nuts, I thought. "You think I'm wacko? I get that. I'd think I was too, except I grew up in a protected house. My dad works for the water company and my mom is a teacher, but we all wear these," she says. She extends her wrist. On it is a black leather bracelet, with a symbol on it in red, nothing I had ever seen before. "See how mine's red? Expired. It's like health insurance. Kids are only covered until they're eighteen. Mine was up six months ago. Might as well stop wearing it, I guess. It sure wouldn't fool anyone," Eve says as she drops it on the table. "Fine, think I'm nuts. Why wouldn't I be? And I won't try to convince you or anything, just....don't go out after dusk unless you're with somebody. Somebody protected, if you can find them. Look for the bracelet," she says as she nudges the bracelet on the table. "The symbol's white when it's active," She says. "But I... Is Shane?" I ask. "Shane? Protected? As if! Even if he was, which i doubt, he'd never admit it, and he doesn't wear the bracelet or anything. Michael isn't either, but there's sort of a standard protection on houses. We're sort of outcasts here. there's safety in numbers too," she says.

Without even knowing I was going to do it, I yawned. Eve laughed. "Call it a bedtime story," she says. "Listen, let me show you the room. Worst case, you lie down for a while, let the ice pack work, then bug out. Or hey, you wake up and decide you want to talk to Michael before you leave. your choice," she says. I dig into my pocket, find the package of pills the doctor had prescribed for me, and swallow one with the last gulp of coke. Then I head into the kitchen and help Eve with the dishes. When we finished, we went to head to the second floor so that Eve could show me the room. Eve turns around as we reach the top of the first step and says... "Hey do you think you can make it up the stairs? Because you know?" She says. "I'm ok," I reply. I lied. My ankle hurts like hell, but I want to see the room. As we reach the second floor, Eve pointed and named..." Shane's the first door, Michaels' the second door, the main bathroom is the third door. The second bathroom is downstairs that's kind of the emergency back-up bathroom when Shane's in there mousing his hair for like an hour or something," she says. "Bit me," Shane yells from behind a closed door. Eve pounds her fist on the door and leads me to the last two doors. "This one's mine. Yours is in the middle there," she says. When Eve swings the door open, I actually gasp. "Is that a TV?" I ask. "Yeah. satel-lite cable. You'd pitch in, though, unless you want to take it out of the room. Oh, and there's internet too. broadband, over there. I should probably warn you, they monitor internet traffic around here though. You have to be careful of what you say in messages and stuff. You don't have to decide right now. You ought to rest first. Here, here's your ice pack. When you get up, Michael'll probably be awake. I have to get back to work, but it'll be ok. Really," she says. "Thank you Eve," I say. "This... Wow," I say. "Yeah, well, you look like you could use a little wow today. Sleep well, and don't worry, the vampires won't come in here. This house has protection, even if we don't," she says. I turn that over in my mind for a few seconds as Eve left the room and shut the door. the pain medication kicks in and I fall into a deep sleep.

Chapter One - The Beginning

On the day I became a member of the Glass house, someone stole my laundry. I reached down into the washer and found just one sock and the worst pair of underwear I own.

Mom said this would happen, I thought. I just have to think and keep my cool. It sucked being smart, because this is where it got you. As I sit back and wonder if I could call Mom and Dad for an extension on my allowance, or use the credit card that is "just for emergencies."

Then I saw the note. Not so much note as graffiti, but it was addressed to me on the wall. Dear dork, it read. We found trash in the machines and threw it down the chute. If you want it, dive for it.

"Crap," I breathed, and had to blink back tears. Monica , well Monica and the Monicaettes, anyway. Why was it the hot mean girls always ran in packs, like hyenas? And why did they always have to focus on me? No. I knew the answer to that. I made Monica look stupid in front of her friends, and some hot upperclassmen. Not that it had been hard, I'd just been walking by, heard Monica saying that world war II had been "that stupid Chinese thing," and by simple reflex I's said, it wasn't. The whole lot of them, slouched over all the couches in the dorm lobby, looked at me with as much blank surprise as if the coke machine had just spoken up. Monica, her friends, and three of the cool older frat boys. "World War II, had plunged on, panicked and not quite sure how to get myself out of what I'd gotten myself into. "I just meant it wasn't the Korean War. That was later. World War II was with the Germans and the Japanese. You know Pearl Harbor?" The guys looked at Monica and laughed, and Monica had flushed, not much, but enough yo ruin the cool perfection of her make-up. "Remind me not to buy and history papers off you," the cutest guy said to Monica. "What kind of dummy doesn't know that? Though I had been sure none of them had. Really. "Chinese right," I had seen the fury in Monica's eyes, quickly covered over with smiles and laughter and flirting. For most of my (brief, two year) high school experience, being ignored was worse by far.I'd gotten there a year earlier than everybody else, and left a year ahead of them. Nobody liked that. Nobody but teachers anyway. The problem was that I really loved school, books, and reading. Ok not calculus, but pretty much everything else. Physics. What normal girl loved physics? Abnormal ones. Ones who were not ever going to be hot. It wasn't fair. I'd dived in and worked my butt off through high school. Graduated with a perfect 4.0, scored enough on the tests to qualify for admission to the great schools, the legendary schools, the ones where being a brainiac mutant girl freak wasn't necessarily a downside. (except that, of course, at those schools, there were probably hot tall leggy brainiac mutant girl freaks.) Didn't matter. Mom and Dad had taken one look at the stack of enthusiastic thumbs-up replies from universities like MIT, Caltech, and Yale, and clamped down hard. No way was their sixteen-year old daughter (nearly seventeen, I kept insisting, although it wasn't really true) going to run off three thousand miles to go to school. At least not at first. I had tried, unsuccessfully, to get across the concept that if anything would kill me budding academic career worse than being a transfer student at one of those places, it was being a transfer student from Texas Prairie University. Otherwise know as TPEWWWWWW.

Well nothing to do but try to get my stuff back. I gulped a couple a couple more times, wiped my tears, and hauled the arm twisting weight of my backpack up and over my shoulder. I stared for a few seconds at the wet pair of panties and one sock clutched in my right hand, then hastily unzipped the front pocket of the backpack and stuffed them in. Man, that would kill whatever cool I had left, if I walked around carrying those."Well," said a low, satisfied voice from the open door opposite the stairs,"look who it is. The dumpster diver."

I stopped, one hand on the trusted iron railing. Something was telling me to run, but something always told me : fight or flight, I have read the text books, and I was tired of fighting. I turned around slowly, as Monica Morrell stepped out of the dorm room (not hers,) so she's busted Erica's lock again. Monica's running buddies Jennifer and Gina filed out to surround me. Soldiers in flip-flops and low-rise jeans and french manicures.

Monica struck a pose. It was something she was good at, I had to admit. Nearly six feet tall, Monica had flowing, shiny blonde hair, big blue eyes, accented with just the right amount of liner and mascara. Perfect skin. One of those model-shaped faces, all cheekbones and pouty lips. And if she had a model's body, it was Victoria's Secret model, all curves, not angles. She was rich, she was pretty, and as far as I could tell, it didn't make her a bit happy. What made those big blue eyes glow right now was the idea of tormenting me just a little more.

"Shouldn't you be in first period at the Junior High by now?" Monica laughed. "Or at least getting your first period?" "Maybe she's looking for the clothes she left lying around," Gina piled on and laughed. Jennifer laughed with her. I swore their eyes, their pretty jewled-colored eyes, just glowed with the joy of making me feel like crap. "Litterbug! Clothes?" Monica folded her arms and pretended to think. " You mean like those rags we threw away?" "The ones she left cluttering up the washer?" "Yeah those. I wouldn't wear those to sweat in." "I wouldn't wear them to to scrub out the boys toilet," Jennifer blurted. Monica annoyed, turned and shoved me. "Yeah, you know all about the boy's toilet don't you?" "Didn't you do Steve Gillespie in ninth grade in there? She made sucking sounds, and they all laughed again, though Jennifer looked uncomfortable. I suddenly felt my cheeks falre red, even though it wasn't for a change a dis against me. "Jeez, Jen, Steve Gillespie? Keep your mouth shut if you can't think of something that won't embarrass yourself."

Jennifer, of course turned her anger target on a safer target. Which of course happens to be me. She lunged forward and shoved me back a step, towards the stairs. "Go get your stupid clothes already! I'm sick of looking at you, with your pasty skin." "Yeah Junior High, ever heard of sunshine?" Gina rolled her eyes. "Watch it," Monica snapped, which was odd, because all three of them had the best tans money could buy. I scrambled to steady myself, as the heavy backpack pulled me off-balance, and I grabbed onto the banister.

Jen lunged at me again and slammed the heel of her hand painfully hard into my collarbone. "Don't," I yelped, and batted Jen's hand away, hard. There was a second of breathless silence. "Did you just hit my friend, you stupid twit? Where do you think you get off, doing things like that around here?" Monica said very quietly.

Monica stepped forward and slapped me across the face, hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to make flares and comets streak across my vision, hard enough to make everything turn red and boiling hot.

I let go of the banister and slapped Monica right back, full across her pouty mouth, and for just a tight, white-hot second i actually felt good about it, but then Monica hissed like a scorched cat, and I had time to think, oh crap, I really shouldn't have done that.

I never saw the punch coming. Didn't even really feel the impact, except as a blank sensation and confusion, but then the weight of my backpack on my shoulder was pulling me to one side and I staggered. 

I almost caught myself, and then Gina, grinning spitefully, reached over and shoved me backward, down the stairs, and there was nothing but air behind me. I hit the edge of every stair, all the way down to the bottom. My backpack broke open and spilt books as I tumbled, and at the top of the stairs Monica and the Monicketts laughed and hooted and High-fived, but I saw it only in disconnected little jerks of motion, freeze-frames.

It seemed like seconds, but when I woke up again there was somebody kneeling next to me, and it wasn't Monica or her nail-polish mafia. It was Erica, who had the room at the top of the stairs, four doors down from my room. Erica looked pale, strained, and scared. I tried to smile, because that was what you did when somebody was scared.

I didn't hurt until I moved, and then my head started to throb. There was a red-hot ache near the top, and when I reached up to touch it I felt a hard raised knot. No bloob though. It hurt worse when I probed the spot, but noy in a oh-my-God-skull-fracture kind of way, or at least that was what I hoped.

"Are you ok?" Erica asked, waving her hands kind of helplessly in mid-air as I wiggled my way up to a sitting position against the wall. I risked a quick look past her upstairs, then down. The coast looked clear. Nobody else had come out to see what was up either, most of them were afraid of getting in trouble, and the rest just flat didn't care. "Yeah. I guess I tripped," I said and managed a shaky laugh.

"You need to go to the quack shack?" Which was college code for the University Clinic. "Or, God an ambulance, or whatever?" "No. No, I'm ok,"I replied. Wishful thinking, but although basicly everything in my body hurt like hell, nothing felt like it had been broken into pieces. I got to my feet, winced at a sore ankle, and picked up my backpack. Notebooks tumbled out. Erica grabbed a couple and jammed them back in, then ran lightly up a few steps to gather the scattered textbooks. "Better get to the quack shack, seriously. You look like crap," she says. I pasted a smile and kept it there until Erica got to the top of the stairs, and started complaining about the broken lock on her dorm room.

I tasted blood. My lip was split, and it was bleeding. I wiped at the mess with the back of my hand, then the hem of my shirt before realizing that it really was literally the only thing I had to wear.

I need to go down to the basement and get my clothes out of the trash. the idea of going down there, going anywhere alone in this dorm suddenly terrified me. Monica was waiting, and the other girls wouldn't do anything. Even Erica, who was probably the nicest one in the whole place, was scared to come right out on my side. Hell, Erica got hassled too, but she was probably just glad that I was there to get the worst of it. I am alone, and if I hadn't been before, I'm scared now. Really, really scared. What I'd seen in the Monica mafia's eyes today wasn't just the usual lazy menace of cool girls versus the geeks, this was worse. I'd gotten casual punches before, trips, and mean laughter, but this was more like lions coming in for the kill. they're going to kill me. I started shakily down the flights of stairs. Every step a wincing pain through my body, and remembered that I slapped Monica hard enough to leave a mark. Yeah, they're going to kill me. If Monica ended up with a bruise on that perfect face, there wasn't any question about it.

Introduction to The Glass House Series

This story is based on a chapter book series I have been reading called Morganville Vampires, so I take no credit for this story or the names of the characters. All the credit goes to Rachel Caine the author. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed reading and creating the characters for it :)

Hi my name is Claire, just moved into Howard Hall two weeks ago here in Morganville, Texas. This is supposed to be one of the most exciting and best time of my life. The frat parties, hot guys, meeting new people, and making new friends. I was never good at talking to strange people, along with making new friends. I was always considered, I guess you can say an outcast. All the popular girls, no matter what school I have gone to in the past have always been so cruel and know just how to make you feel unwanted. I know I am not the first girl to ever get picked on and that it has been going on for many years, but come on... Doesn't it ever get old?

I'm just an average girl, only sixteen and a half years old (almost 17), graduated from high school with a score of 4.0 ahead of my class. I had to beg and plead Mom and Dad to let me go away to college, and as persuasive as I am they finally agreed to let me go. Just as long as I keep in touch and let them know if I need anything. My parents have always been strict and firm on their decisions, so for them to actually let me go to college was a big surprise to me. In no way am I perfect, I just want to make Mom and Dad proud.

What was supposed to be the best time in my life, turned into me running for my life and in and out of hiding. I had found roommates that owned a house that was protected or so we all thought. I didn't know whether to believe such a thing or not, and this is where my story begins.