Cammie's Quest

Cammie Morgan (from Gallagher Girls, by Ally Carter) is horrified when she learns that she's a vampire. I mean, she's a freaking teenage super-spy, but she really wasn't expecting that. She will move to the House of Night where she will learn how to survive while she changes. She will also learn what is going on and how she can fix it... before it smacks her in the face. Hard.

5Likes
4Comments
1264Views

1. ONE

 

“Ugh, I’m sorry, Liz, could you just shut up A second?” I asked, feeling very rude, but also very ill and in need of a break from the constant stream of Liz-Natter.

“Sure, you’re okay,” she replied understandingly, knowing just how I felt. She was like that.

Right on cue, Bex appeared, chorusing a cheerful “hey!” to Liz and I as we all joined together to go to advanced chemistry with Dr. Fibs.

“Hi, Bex,” I said, sounding like crap. Feeling like crap.

Stupid cold! I’d been feeling increasingly awful all day, and I definitely wasn’t getting any better. If I died, would I get out of my English exam tomorrow? One could only hope.

“Are you okay, Cam?” Bex asked, concerned as I launched into yet another spontaneous coughing fit.

“It’s just a virus, I’ll be fine soon. Thanks,” I said, but right at that moment, I didn’t believe it.

Liz and Bex shared a look, then glanced up at me in unison. They forget how observant I am. Nice to know how much they underestimated me. Seriously, it was good to know, as I could probably use it to my advantage sometime.

“Stop it guys, just give me a few days to be a bitch, I’ll be better before we know it,” I lied, trying to sound enthusiastic (possibly failing - I couldn’t be sure).

I sighed as I walked into the lab, and Bex, Liz and I took our seats in the middle row. We took out our notepads and pens, and before I knew it there was a note sitting on the desk in front of me.

Bex’s eyes were fixed on me as I mouthed, ‘took you long enough’ sarcastically. Too often have I been told that I need to quit sarcasm. It has been recommended that I use irony instead.

I unfolded the note while Bex watched, completely unaware of the guys in the classroom (there were very few – this was an advanced class) just foaming at the mouth after a single glance at her beauty.

Rebecca Baxter had a lovely golden glow to her skin, always, and her silky hair was darkest brown, with tones that appeared golden in the light and perfect curls - not too tight and not so loose to be waves. Her lips were a brown-pink cross, perfectly shaped. Her eyes were deep mahogany, and she had a look that could make you spill anything. Anything. Bex was really pretty. And she was strong as well as tall, AND brainy. Some girls get all the luck, I thought.

Little Liz Sutton, on the contrary, was pale-white and short, with sparkling blue eyes and brunette hair that flared out at the bottom, hovering just over her shoulders, with a straight full-fringe to her eyebrows. She always wore her uniform perfectly, the green and blue tartan skirt flared perfectly to just above her little knees, the white socks pulled up to the top of her shins, the white blouse tucked in properly and the little tartan neck-tie pinned just so. She was a little goody-two-shoes. With good shoes, I had to say.

Dr. Fibs had started lecturing on the chemical structure and bonding of nitro-glycerine, a highly dangerous, oily explosive, so we sat back and relaxed as I read the note. It said in Bex’s handwriting:

Cammie, did you see Ethan at the weekend?? Details!

I mouthed at her not to start, but she glared at me, so I wrote back:

Yeah, if you must know.

No details. I passed it back in front of Liz, who was squashed in between us, where Bex’s perfectly manicured hands waited. Hew expression was so excitable, then her face fell instantly and she lifted her head to glare at me. Again.

I stuck my tongue out at her childishly, which was at an unfortunate time, because Dr. Fibs called, “Cameron, why don’t you enlighten us?”

So I answered “Ascanio Sobrero, 1847,” which was the name of the guy who found nitro-glycerine in that year. There was a chance that was the question.

“Very good,” Dr. Fibs said, probably meaning it without annoyance. He was good like that, and he handed out a lot of extra credit.

Bex passed me back the note. I rolled my eyes and sighed, which brought on another bout of chesty coughing. My eyes were watering by the time the coughing finally stopped, so I looked at the note with blurry eyes. It read:

Cammie! Tell me!! Did you kiss yet?! Wait, did he  ask you out yet?!

I could imagine her intense expression as she wrote it, but as I looked over at her now she looked pretty worried. As did Liz, who held my elbow comfortingly, though her eyebrows were pushed into an upside-down V on her forehead and her skin was wrinkling above it.

I smiled at her to tell her I was okay, but she didn’t look convinced. Nor did Bex. I remembered the note again, and wrote a reply to her.

Bex, I don’t think that’s any of your big, fat, nosy business!

She gave me a look that said yes, of course it was, but her reply was not nearly as glare-y or heavy as her face.

Are you sure you're okay, Cam??

I sighed exasperatedly, but smiled and assured her with a thumbs-up, then attempted a charade to say as long as I didn’t cough. Which I think she understood, actually.

We laughed a little at that, and I think she and Liz were relieved until the laugh made me cough so hard it threw me forward.

Bex even looked a little desperate right now, and Liz raised her hand. Oh joy, she was going to draw even MORE attention to me!

Sure enough, she followed through, asking, “Dr. Fibs, could we take Cammie to the nurse? Or to get a drink?”

“Of course, of course,” he replied, “don’t want us all to get the teenage plague.”

I glared at Dr. Fibs’ back as he turned to write something on the chalkboard, but I didn’t care for too long because I enjoyed how he’d neglected the fact that Liz said “we” when any other teacher would have said that only one of them could go or that I could manage on my own.

So all three of us walked outside and Bex bought me a bottle of water from the vending machine, which settled my painfully tight chest just a little bit. Bex and Liz sat across from me, still concerned, while Tina Walters marched behind me from the loos to her foundation physics lesson elbowing me on purpose as she went. Bex and Liz glared at her.

Just then, the worst thing happened. Worse than Madame Dabney walking by and sending my best friends back to Dr. Fibs.

We saw a dead guy – and worse than that, a tracker dead guy – coming towards us

Of course he wasn’t actually dead, because if he was he couldn’t be walking. He was undead. Or un-human or whatever. They say one thing, the scientists say another; we all have our own opinion. Except I was still undecided.

He approached us without expression and the bright blue crescent screamed out from his forehead. He came closer and closer and as he approached he began to raise his finger.

“Cameron Morgan! Night has chosen thee; thy death will be thy birth. Night calls to thee; hearken to Her sweet voice. Your destiny awaits you at the House of Night!”

The long, white finger aimed at me shot out pure power with a blue glow and as it touched my forehead, it overwhelmed me.

 

 

I woke up a little while later with a blazing headache. I was disorientated, and my best friends were crying above me.

“Cammie!” Bex screeched, “Oh, Cammie! He Marked you! No Cammie! No! I don’t wanna lose you!”

Liz was too hysterical to speak. She sat next to me, crying and squeezed me in the circle of her little arms.

“Guys, calm down, it’s fine,” I said. My throat was sore, my voice rusty and hoarse.

“Oh, Cammie!” Bex cried again. “Cammie, you’ll have to go there! You’ll have to leave!”

“I know.” I said. And it was true, I did know. If I didn’t go and live at the House of Night with the other vampires, my body would reject the change and I’d die. Forever.

I looked at my best friends desperately and we hurried off to the toilets as the bell went. Bex and Liz stayed by the long mirror in the bathroom, while I locked myself in one of the cubicles as the final bell went. People reluctantly accepted vampires into society nowadays, but I knew that the news would travel fast, people would gawk, more people would run in fear, and more people would trail me constantly for answers and gossip (naming no names, but Tina Walters, daughter to the editor of OK! magazine.).

I called out, and Liz ran upstairs – tiny Liz – to get all our bags. She managed in three minutes, despite the flowing crowd of students.

No-one came into the bathroom, but we weren’t taking any chances. After ten minutes I emerged from the cubicle and stared into the reflective glass, Liz and Bex red faced and damp cheeked by my shaking sides.

I was the familiar stranger. You know, when you see someone in a crowd, and you think you know them, but you actually don’t? Well I was that person, the familiar stranger.

I still looked like me. I had the same hazel eyes that were more green than brown and the same insanely curly, Taylor Swift-style, tumbling brunette hair with pretty complimentary, well-shaped eyebrows. My nose was sweet and straight, my eyes almond-shaped. My face was fairly round until my pointy chin. I had a baby face, yet I was five feet and ten inches tall.

 But I was different. My skin was ghostly white, though I’d always been pale, and the few freckles across my nose had vanished.

Bex, shining and golden, stood about two inches below me, little Liz barely reached my shoulder.

But there was one more thing that set us apart, that made me different. On my forehead was the outline of a bright-blue crescent moon. I stared at it; I couldn’t help it. The rest of my skin made it even more obvious, with the newer, more pronounced whiteness of my face.

A wet tear fell from my left eye, slowly, the first tear I’d shed all this time.

More tears followed and soon I was sobbing. I had nothing against what I was; I was curious more than anything but... I just didn’t want to leave my life. Plus, I hardly ever cried.

I hugged me friends closely and we all cried together.

 

 

Around four o’clock, half an hour after school had finished, we decided it should be safe-ish to go outside.

We walked holding hands, me in the middle, towards my little car. I had a sky blue 1982 MINI Cooper, going a little rusty at the edges. It was my baby.

Halfway between the car and the school, we saw a figure approaching us. We froze.

My eyes went big and round. It was Ethan.

We staggered to a halt, still holding hands, and he stopped about two feet away. I did nothing. Neither did Bex or Liz.

Ethan looked at my Mark. For about a minute, he just focused completely on my Mark, and the three of us focused on his eyes.

After that he stepped forward gingerly, then in a sudden, more forceful movement he hugged me close.

Ethan looked right into my eyes, and leaned down. I could feel his sweet breath, and right there, in front of my very best friends, he kissed me. He kissed me tenderly, softly and gently, and then the kiss became harder and stronger.

What I wasn’t expecting was my reaction. I completely forgot the presence of Rebecca Baxter and Elizabeth Sutton, my most amazing friends who I definitely should have been more aware of. But I ignored them completely, my right hand curving around the back of Ethan’s neck, my left hand tangling in his hair, gripping on tight. I pulled him to me and kissed him heartily, and my body pressed against his.

He reached up and grabbed my wrists gently, pulling me free, smiling at me. I smiled back breathlessly, and for a minute, just a minute, I forgot the entire day. But it soon came rushing back.

I took a step back, and my expression turned to one of desperation and sadness.

“But... you saw... and you still...” I said, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Cammie, this just taught me that... I don’t care what you are... you’re still beautiful,” and he smiled.

I almost cried with joy, but doubled over as a coughing fit racked my whole body. I stood up again after about a minute and there were three pairs of very concerned eyes on me.

The trouble was not the pain or the suffering or the loss... it was not what I was to become, what life I had to leave behind.

In life there are many things a person takes for granted, from the water they drink to the education and love they receive. There are many things, also, that a person does not really realise the importance of until they are gone, such as the family you don’t often see (or the family you see too often).

Some things such as the weather or the land around you are taken for granted, though you may not even know it. You just expect it to be there, it is where you have made your home. It is what you roll your eyes at or complain about, but until it is all taken away, you don’t realize how much you love it and how much you are going to miss it.

I was going to miss my friends and my family and my car and my home and my school. I was even going to miss English! These were the things that made my life, and now that life was being taken away. My whole world was being taken away from me.

My A-Levels were just two months away, and I’d been studying hard as I possibly could to become a vet for almost two years now. Veterinary science had been my dream. I had wanted to be a well-sought-after zoo vet living in a detached country cottage with climbers clinging to the walls and windows with criss-crosses through them. I wanted two grey huskies and two horses and a red Audi R8 Spyder V10 with a 5.2 FSI engine and a black roof and red leather seats and ceramic brakes (I’ve always been a little obsessed with cars in a guy-like way). I wanted a warm, homey kitchen and loads of animals around the house like cockatoos and rabbits and chickens and anything that didn’t have a better home.

I wanted a husband to kiss me when he came home, and a little baby girl who would grow up to be my best and most beautiful friend. But that possibility was out for me now. Vampires age really slowly. I didn’t even know if I could have kids. I wanted to buy little babygros, then little jeans and then training bras. I wanted a life that I could make perfect, a child with a mother and a father, a luxury I didn’t have.

There were lots of things I took for granted. Lots of things I didn’t want to leave behind.

But the trouble wasn’t the pain or the suffering or the things I would miss. The trouble, I realised, was that the situation was all too real.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...