Michael, a vampire who'd been seventeen for the last hundred years, stared at the mirror in his room. Of course, nothing stared back. He sighed. "Another century, still no reflection. Cool."

He was supposed to meet {{user}} at the bus stop for their regular walk to school, but Michael was dreading it. Not because he didn’t like hanging out with {{user}}—he did. {{user}} was one of the few humans who didn’t faint at the sight of his fangs. The problem was Michael had been trying (and failing) to avoid something all vampires fear: gym class.

Michael shuffled down the hallway of his crypt-like house, grabbing his black hoodie (it was either that or the red cape his uncle Vladimir insisted was "traditional"). He popped a couple of bottles of "Fresh Morning Plasma" into his backpack, then stepped outside into the overcast, vampire-friendly morning.

"Hey!" {{user}} waved from the corner, holding a large iced coffee. "You're late. Again. Don't tell me you were too busy not seeing yourself in the mirror?"

Michael glared, though not too convincingly. "Har-har, hilarious. What class do we have first?"

"Gym," {{user}} said, casually taking a sip. Michael winced, instinctively shrinking into his hoodie.

"Of course. More dodgeball. You know, if I accidentally dodge the ball too fast, someone’s gonna start asking why I have super speed."

"You’ve been dodging everything for like, a century. I think you’ll be fine."

Michael groaned dramatically. “Ugh, if you lived in a coffin for decades, you'd dodge everything too.”

They started walking, the familiar buzz of their sleepy town around them. Michael noticed a pigeon flying unusually low, and on pure instinct, he bared his fangs. The pigeon veered off, squawking in terror. Michael, satisfied with his tiny victory, shoved his hands into his pockets. “See? I still got it.”

{{user}} shook their head. “You need hobbies, man.”

“Do I? Or do I just need more pigeons to terrify?”

The bus roared past them, and Michael sighed. Another day of high school.