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Description
His hair was black as night. His eyes were a brown to match. I am Brett Michael Pierce, and I am a vampire.
Three weeks ago...

Brett threw his book bag over his right shoulder, as he walked up the steep concrete stairs to the auditorium. Brett Pierce was an eighth grader at Reddendale Middle School, home of the falcons. Either way, he could care less of what team his school represented. He dappled in the football scores sometimes, but other than that he just didn't care. Brett pushed open a dark burgundy iron door that was chipping paint into a large room full of screaming teenagers. A stage rested at the front of the room, where the entrance doors were, and about ten feet away rested fifteen to twenty rows of seats. Brett shivered and brushed his bangs down over his forehead. He walked up the rows, looking for a free seat, away from the obnoxious teenagers of this school. Stepping on the back of his jeans clumsily, he scooted up the walkway to some seats. He tossed his bag on the seat beside him at he flopped into it. He sat for around some time, just listening to the sound of the yelling kids around him. Finally, a sharp, piercing ring went through the entire room and everyone stood, getting into groups and walking to classes. Brett gathered his bag and hauled it to class, entering the room to find his best friend, Jared, and other friend, Dante, awaiting him. "Sup' bro!" Jared called, letting out a laugh. "Sup' man." Brett replied, falling into the desk beside Jared, while Dante sat on the other side of Jared. Jared ran his fingers through his own dirty blonde hair, and he and Dante started taking and comparing pictures of each other on their computers. Brett logged onto his email, checking it for any messages. "No new messages" It read, and Brett sighed, just shutting his computer. The annoying, piercing sound of the bell rang out again through the building, and the middle schoolers fled out to their extra-curriculum classes. Brett first went to the farm, where he was taught about, what his teacher called, "The magic of castration." Brett shuttered as Mr. Finely, his teacher, demonstrated on a pig. "Now children, watch as I take the scalpel and run it across..." Brett just ignored him, looking at the sheep and goats chewing on hay. Two small, speckled kids romped and played around in the dust. It turned their white fur brown, and they let out squeaky "baa"s. Brett smiled, and turned, seeing the group moving on already. After that class was over, he moved on to home economics. "Today, class, we will be learning how to sew!" Mrs. Ambrose announced with a high, older voice. Brett picked up a thin, iron needle, carefully threading some dark blue thread through the small tear shaped oval. "Now, take the needle and carefully run it through the cloth, make sure the string follows!" Mrs. Ambrose announced, demonstrating. Brett did as she said, but his long fingers slipped. "Ah! Dammit!" he cursed aloud, pricking his finger sharply. The class burst into an immature laughter, as Mrs. Ambrose looked at Brett in a slight, innocent state of shock. "Mr. Pierce! We do not use that sort of language in my class, please, excuse yourself to the office." Brett put the needle and thread on the table, and walked quickly out into the hall. Brett hung his head in embarrassment, the laughter of his peers making his face red. He licked his lips and sighed, and walking down the T-shaped hall to the office, on the left branch at the end of the hall. "God, I hate it here. My life sucks." he thought, scuffing his feet on the tiles. Brett turned the corner and walked to the office.

Description
His hair was black as night. His eyes were a brown to match. I am Brett Michael Pierce, and I am a vampire.
Three weeks ago...

Brett threw his book bag over his right shoulder, as he walked up the steep concrete stairs to the auditorium. Brett Pierce was an eighth grader at Reddendale Middle School, home of the falcons. Either way, he could care less of what team his school represented. He dappled in the football scores sometimes, but other than that he just didn't care. Brett pushed open a dark burgundy iron door that was chipping paint into a large room full of screaming teenagers. A stage rested at the front of the room, where the entrance doors were, and about ten feet away rested fifteen to twenty rows of seats. Brett shivered and brushed his bangs down over his forehead. He walked up the rows, looking for a free seat, away from the obnoxious teenagers of this school. Stepping on the back of his jeans clumsily, he scooted up the walkway to some seats. He tossed his bag on the seat beside him at he flopped into it. He sat for around some time, just listening to the sound of the yelling kids around him. Finally, a sharp, piercing ring went through the entire room and everyone stood, getting into groups and walking to classes. Brett gathered his bag and hauled it to class, entering the room to find his best friend, Jared, and other friend, Dante, awaiting him. "Sup' bro!" Jared called, letting out a laugh. "Sup' man." Brett replied, falling into the desk beside Jared, while Dante sat on the other side of Jared. Jared ran his fingers through his own dirty blonde hair, and he and Dante started taking and comparing pictures of each other on their computers. Brett logged onto his email, checking it for any messages. "No new messages" It read, and Brett sighed, just shutting his computer. The annoying, piercing sound of the bell rang out again through the building, and the middle schoolers fled out to their extra-curriculum classes. Brett first went to the farm, where he was taught about, what his teacher called, "The magic of castration." Brett shuttered as Mr. Finely, his teacher, demonstrated on a pig. "Now children, watch as I take the scalpel and run it across..." Brett just ignored him, looking at the sheep and goats chewing on hay. Two small, speckled kids romped and played around in the dust. It turned their white fur brown, and they let out squeaky "baa"s. Brett smiled, and turned, seeing the group moving on already. After that class was over, he moved on to home economics. "Today, class, we will be learning how to sew!" Mrs. Ambrose announced with a high, older voice. Brett picked up a thin, iron needle, carefully threading some dark blue thread through the small tear shaped oval. "Now, take the needle and carefully run it through the cloth, make sure the string follows!" Mrs. Ambrose announced, demonstrating. Brett did as she said, but his long fingers slipped. "Ah! Dammit!" he cursed aloud, pricking his finger sharply. The class burst into an immature laughter, as Mrs. Ambrose looked at Brett in a slight, innocent state of shock. "Mr. Pierce! We do not use that sort of language in my class, please, excuse yourself to the office." Brett put the needle and thread on the table, and walked quickly out into the hall. Brett hung his head in embarrassment, the laughter of his peers making his face red. He licked his lips and sighed, and walking down the T-shaped hall to the office, on the left branch at the end of the hall. "God, I hate it here. My life sucks." he thought, scuffing his feet on the tiles. Brett turned the corner and walked to the office.