SOPHIE LEANED AGAINST the door wearily, and let out an exasperated sigh. The chaos had finally died down a bit.

Tabatha plopped down on the bed and rolled over onto her back, one arm strewn across her eyes. "Okay," she said. She sounded as worn as Sophie felt. "I know rumors travel fast, but that was just ridiculous."

The second Sophie had stepped foot in the common room of their dorm, she'd been bombarded by a hoard of crazed females and fiery questions. The interrogation was so intense, Sophie's head still ached and she couldn't escape the suffocating feeling that had wrapped around her like a shroud of death.

"I don't see the big deal," Sophie remarked as she pushed herself away from the door. The guy had just come over to talk to her --to introduce himself to her, really. It wasn't anything special. 

She walked over to her bed, where she'd left her suitcase zipped neatly on top. Tabatha simply shrugged at her and rolled over in her bed, back facing Sophie. "It's just very rare that one of the Night Class-men cross over the border between their tables and ours."

Sophie harrumphed in response, and unzipped her bag. She still didn't see why it was such a huge ordeal. Yeah, the Night Class was almost inhumanly gorgeous. But they were still high-school aged students with crazy hormones. They were all the same. "It's kind of stupid how they separate us, though," she muttered under her breath. "It's so superficial." 

"Why do you think that?"

"Well the Night Class is exclusive, isn't it?" Sophie pulled out pile after pile of clothing, and marched it over to the dresser. She stuffed the clothes into her drawer and tried her best to keep it organized. She glanced at Tabatha from the corners of her eyes, and when she noticed the girl's confused expression, continued. "It's like they're saying we're not attractive enough to join them. They're all perfect, so they get to be part of a special class. It's discrimination!"

Tabatha stared at her for several long moments. Then her expression underwent a metamorphosis --it twisted from confusion into a constipated-looking expression of deep thought, and then finally brightened with understanding, and contorted with laughter. She snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. 

Sophie stared at her, eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

"Sophie," Tabatha gasped through her laughter. "You know why we're separated, right?" 

Shaking her head, Sophie twisted around and sat on the edge of her bed. She eyed Tabatha precariously and waited for her roommate to stop laughing long enough to speak. It took a few moments, before Tabatha calmed down long enough to breathe properly. When she did, she climbed up off her bed and walked toward the vanity, snatching a slender white laptop off its smooth surface. "Come look at this," she said as she gingerly sat back down on the edge of the bed. She turned the laptop on and waved Sophie over.

Sophie walked over, and sat down on the bed beside her, glancing at the bright screen from over her shoulder. Tabatha muttered, "You obviously didn't do any kind of research before coming here, did you?"

Sophie frowned. "I didn't think there was anything to research. It's a school."

"Yeah, and it still has a history. Luckily, the media doesn't take the Wikipedia page seriously." Tabatha chuckled. "Otherwise we'd have all kinds of parasites here." 

Her eyebrows furrowed as Tabatha passed the laptop to Sophie, and Sophie squinted at the tiny words. It was a page from the internet about the 'rich' history surrounding Redstone Academy. The castle was constructed in the late eighteen hundreds, as a home away from home for the wealthy. Around the early dawning of the nineteen hundreds, a very wealthy man brought it from the rich and turned it into a training ground. 

For...vampires.

"What?" Sophie's eyebrows pinched together. She glanced at Tabatha out of the corners of her eyes, and almost grimaced at the expectant look on her face. "Do you seriously believe this?" It was on Wikipedia, which meant it could be rewritten by anybody. 

 Tabatha smiled. "You don't?"

She shook her head slowly. Sophie really didn't want to offend her roommate. She was going to be rooming with her for the next few years, and the last thing she needed was to create tension. 

But Tabatha simply smiled at her as she nodded and took back the laptop. "We'll see if you still believe that by the end of the week." 

~

Sophie didn't get any sleep that night. She tossed and turned aimlessly throughout the night, until she became hopelessly tangled up in her sheets. Instead of tearing them off, though, Sophie inhaled the familiar scent of her old room and remembered --no matter how weird this school was, it was a lot better compared to what she'd left behind.

Morning came slowly. One of the alarm clocks on the long dresser between Sophie's bed and Tabatha's began to wail loudly. Sophie rolled over in her bed and watched, amused, as Tabatha's hand appeared from under the mountain of blankets on her bed. Tabatha's hand smacked around the top of the dresser, before finally hitting the snooze button. She poked her head out next and squinted at the bright letters for a few seconds. 

"Sophie." Tabatha's head sunk back down into her pillow. 

"Hm?" Sophie grunted. 

"Shower first?" Tabatha grumbled into her pillow. 

Sophie wriggled free from her encasement, and stretched her arms out wide. Her shoulder popped and she let out one of those orgasmic moans of pleasure --which made Tabatha chuck a free pillow at her face. Sophie grunted upon impact and threw it back at her as she stood, snickering under her breath. She walked to the dresser and pulled a change of clothes, before stalking toward the bathroom. She flipped on the light and shut the door behind her.

Once she was sparkly clean, Sophie emerged from the bathroom and had to jump to the side to avoid being run over by Tabatha. "We have twenty minutes before breakfast," she said as she passed. 

Sophie grunted in response and rubbed at her eyes. Even with the refreshing feeling that showers usually brought, she was still extremely exhausted. She walked over to the dresser and pulled out a t-shirt and some jeans. As Tabatha showered, she wiggled into the clothing items and ran a brush through her hair. Five minutes later, after Sophie finished getting dressed, Tabatha emerged from the bathroom, clothed and towel drying her hair.

She glanced at the clock and scowled. "We won't have time to go by the dining hall. Do you mind just getting a snack?" 

Sophie shrugged. "I don't mind."

Tabatha nodded and lead Sophie out of the room. They had to double back once, when Sophie realized she'd forgotten her ring, so Tabatha was rushing when they turned toward the arched doorway. The room was kitchen like --with a white island counter-top in the center, matching cabinets lining the walls, several microwaves, and two large white fridges. 

"We're not really supposed to have food in our dorms," Tabatha explained as she opened one of the fridges, and Sophie's nose crinkled at the sight of several gallons of milk. She'd never really liked the creamy substance. Other than the milk, and a drawer of fruit, there wasn't much.

"Then why bother to stock the fridges at all?" Sophie asked, as Tabatha pulled out two apples and handed one over. 

Sophie took it and walked over to the sink to rinse it off. When she turned around, Tabatha was at the doorway, fiddling through her backpack. Her apple hung from her mouth, and she forgot its presence when she tried to talk. 

"Ugh." Tabatha yanked the apple from her mouth and Sophie giggled at her. 

Tabatha rolled her eyes. "Come on. We've got to get to History," she said, glancing at Sophie with a devilish gleam in her eyes. "You'll like Mr. Wolfe." Sophie quirked a brow at Tabatha when the girl nudged her. "He's hotter than all the students in the Night Class combined."

It took about five minutes to walk across the length of the castle, where the history classes were held. There was an entire wing dedicated to History, and each class focused on something different. The History of Medicine, the History of the Arts, the History of Food, the History of America; a small placard was drilled into the wall beside each door, listing the topic each classroom covered. 

"Historical studies is a general class," Tabatha said as she dragged Sophie toward the end of the hall, "It's a precursor to other historical classes. I didn't take any History last year, so I have to take it this semester."

She stopped her in front of a door. Tabatha opened it, and walked inside, holding it long enough for Sophie to grab it and slip inside herself. Sophie looked around curiously, taking in the colorful maps that hung neatly from the stone walls. 

But then Sophie paused.

Because there sat Mr. Blue Eyes, behind the teacher's desk.