“I hate that you don’t need more than an hour’s sleep.” Roman yawned after speaking. Roman was a Satyr which meant that in his true form he had the horns and legs of a goat. On maturity he was likely to become a wild womaniser. Right now, him being horny was just his natural virginal, biological state.
He was right. I was lucky. The development of medication meant that my species could now be out in sunlight whenever we liked, and an hour’s power nap was all we needed to re-set ourselves at some point during the dawn. It also meant it was not so easy to recognise vampires anymore, something else that was of huge value seeing as being awake all night and sleeping all day was a bit of a giveaway to any enemy. All they needed was a piece of wood to finish you off and a vacuum cleaner for the dust of the undead and it'd be like you'd never existed. Thank goodness there was a huge 'save the trees' and recycling initiative at the moment meaning wood was a hot commodity in London.
“So what is the actual plan?” Zak picked up a microphone and even moved the hair out of his face to look at it more closely.
“We’re going to work out, and we’re going to form a band. Completely in secret. Then we’ll book ourselves in with a hair stylist and a clothes stylist and relaunch ourselves on the world. It’ll take us some time, and we’ll need part-time jobs to save up for the hair and clothes, but we’re no longer going to be the victims, we’re going to be the victors. Who’s with me?”
"You don't need to work out or have a makeover. You just look like that anyway. It's not fair." Rex moaned. "I have to run about in the woods all the time to work off all my energy. I'll probably break these machines if I try to use them."
"Okay, they're for Roman and Zak then. You go jogging."
Rex growled and I laughed.
“What are we going to call ourselves?” Roman asked.
We debated different ideas for a while but nothing good surfaced as a potential winner. And then Zak said. "How about an in-joke? We're all paranormals; well, all of us except me. So how about The Para-not-normals? I'm the 'not'."
"I love that." I said.
"Me too." Said Roman.
Rex held up a drumstick. "Me three."
We high-fived his drumstick.
So The Para-not-normals were formed. Rex on drums, Zak with the microphone, me on bass guitar, and Roman on lead guitar. The rest of us could hold a tune and provide backing or occasional lead vocals.
Of course, my vamp speed meant I learned to play the bass guitar in super quick time. Rex was growly enough that banging on drums came naturally to him; and Roman had been forced into guitar lessons at a young age, by a father who believed all children should learn an instrument. Roman was keen to learn how to use an instrument all right, but one that laid between his legs, not against them.
Zak would later lose his 'not' status, but the band name remained for a long time.
Stacey
Seven-and-a-half years earlier
It had been six months. Six long months where I'd cried enough to fill several rivers. But the six-month anniversary was the day I drew a line through Noah and Stacey, literally, on my wooden maths desk. Scored it out with the pointy end of my compass.
"You want to go shopping after school?" My classmate Fiona asked. We'd ended up hanging together over the last month or so. We didn't particularly have anything in common bar loneliness, but it beat being on my own. She helped take my mind off things given she was a chatterbox and rarely needed an answer to her incessant spewing of words.
"Sure." I answered. I'd been saving my pocket and birthday money and finally had enough to buy what I wanted for my newly decorated bedroom. I'd seen a beautiful blue and green dreamcatcher in a small store hidden down a side street in the city centre, and some gorgeous cushion covers in the same hues.
My parents had decorated my bedroom. No doubt in the hope of bringing me out of my lovesick gloom. To an extent it had worked, as they'd let me choose the colour scheme of blues and teals, something that made me realise I was growing up. Sixteen now, I was in my final year of school and needed to study for my exams, not continue mooning around over my ex.
He certainly wasn't mooning around over me.
Now in the first year of sixth form, Noah was unrecognisable from the boy I'd shared a year of my life with. In body and in soul.
I'd see him with his friends as his college was only around eight minutes' walk away from school. He'd grown to over six feet tall and he looked so much older than most. I reluctantly had to admit to myself that he seemed far better suited to the red-haired woman I still occasionally saw him hanging around with than little old me.
My boobs were growing, but I remained five feet five. I’d never really bothered over my appearance, still didn't wear make-up, and now I kept my hair up in a messy knot. Wearing it down and long belonged to the old Stacey and I wasn't her anymore.
Noah now hung around with three other guys who he must have met at college because I'd not seen them around school.
They walked the streets like they were the fucking Beatles or something, having formed a band. No one had heard them play yet, but Rex Colton sauntered around with a drumstick in his hand all day, every day, and Noah now had a plectrum hanging from a chain around his neck. Zak would sing and hum to himself as they walked along and he could definitely hold a tune. The last one of them, Roman, remained the quieter of them and sometimes I'd catch him looking my way. He'd give me a sympathetic smile. That let me know that they all knew who I was—the ex-girlfriend. I ignored Roman, resisting the temptation to stick my middle finger up in his direction. It wasn't his fault his friend was a fucktard.
I knew far more about them all than I wanted to because they were all the girls in my year talked about now. If I heard 'your ex' one more time in a sentence I might strangle somebody.
Girls followed them around, giggling behind them and accidentally bumping into them. Occasionally, Noah would look my way, but I'd just turn my own gaze in a different direction. He just wasn't the guy I'd felt like I'd loved. I presumed puberty had hit him late and at times wished I had.
But today something different had happened. Last night The Para-not-normals had played their first gig at Rex's little sister's sweet sixteenth. A few of my classmates knew Paloma Carlton and had attended, and it was all I was hearing about.
"Oh my lord, they could really sing. Zak is so fit and he has the voice of an angel."
"But the body of a devil, right?"
"They're going to get famous; I just know it."
I wanted to put my hands over my ears, but not so much as when I heard, "Sonia says they're entering the Velvet Throat Lozenges, Voices of Tomorrow competition."
Anger coursed through my veins, burning acid coming up the back of my throat. He'd promised me we'd enter competitions together. As a duo. Now it was clear, though I'd known it as soon as I'd heard he was in a band—I'd been double dumped. Not good enough to be his girlfriend and not good enough to take over the charts.
Jack Brooks walked over to me while I was in the lunch queue waiting for my cheese flan, chips, and beans—my ultimate favourite food.