I woke up later from the bright light on my closed eyelids making the inside of them a bright orange colour. I opened them groggily and turned my head away. There was a dry taste in my mouth. I had to get up and go and brush it out.

I came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, running my fingers through my rumpled hair. Back in my room, I dragged a brush through it. Why had I gone to sleep in my clothes? I pulled them off even though they didn’t look dirty, and changed into something clean. I stood in front of the full-length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door to see if the outfit of blue knee-length jeans, silver flats and neon-guitar-patterned t-shirt looked okay on me. But there was something wrong with my reflection.

Looking back at me was my face, all right. But I didn’t look quite right. My reflection didn’t look substantial enough. It should be defined clearly in the mirror, but it wasn’t. I didn’t look pale, I just looked - translucent. As if I wasn’t quite there. As if the light could shine through me. I looked - well, like a ghost.

I turned away and closed the wardrobe door, deciding it was just the bright sunlight from the window directly behind me that was causing the odd effect. It was a very sunny day. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was almost ten. I felt a niggling sense of something forgotten that I was supposed to have done by now, but I didn’t let it bother me.

I found my phone lying on the floor - it must have fallen out of the pocket of the jeans I had just discarded on the floor. I switched it on and to my surprise there were six missed calls all from a number I didn’t know.

I hit the call-back button and held it to my ear.

“Hello?” I said, when after the third ring it was answered at the other end.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a male voice seethed. “You think you can mess me around?”

“I - I’m sorry?” I said, taken aback. “Who are you?”

There was a silence.

“Are you really as stupid as I thought you were pretending to be?” the voice demanded impatiently.

Then a hand struck the phone from behind, snatching it away and hanging up before I could even turn around. I recognised Willow and Meena stood behind me - they had come up the stairs - and Meena was holding the phone.

“I forgot,” she said with an ironic kind of half-smile, “about the fledgling memory loss.”

I stared at her blankly, wondering what they were doing at my house, and I realised that I couldn’t remember last night at all.

“Okay,” I said, resigned. I knew there was no stopping the weirdness when it came to their world. “What happened?”

Ten minutes later I was up-to-date on an abbreviated version of last night’s events. There was nothing like the feeling of knowing something was wrong and then being told you were a vampire (well, becoming one) and that was why you couldn’t remember getting into several fights and having several problems.

The good thing was, once I had been reminded, I could almost remember it properly. It was the blurry kind of memory you would have if you had been too tired at the time to focus on much.

“Oh, crap,” I mumbled, snatching my phone back.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Meena commented. “Didn’t want you answering that.”

“So where have you two been?”

“The Watermill,” Willow announced. “When your house phone rung this morning, we picked it up and were asked by Allan if you had left the house yet to go and meet him.”

“Um, why?”

“We pretended to be your mother. She was upstairs, asleep. Turns out, he was under the impression you were going to give him something.”

She narrowed her eyes and I felt nervous.

“I wasn’t.”

“Well, anyways, he saw us coming and was off like a shot.”

“Looks like he was a bit pissed at you about that,” Willow said, checking the mobile’s call log.

“Right. So, congrats, guys, you scared him off,” I said throwing my hands up in a sarcastic gesture. “What now?”

The End

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