My name is Vanity Harrison, and I’m seventeen years old. I’m not what you’d call a model student, or model citizen for anything, really. I’m more of that boy you definitely can’t bring home to mom, let alone be seen with around your friends. Basically, I’m trouble incarnate. I’m a sinner, but I love every minute of it.

I sighed as I walked into my high school with crowds of people. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my tight, skinny legged black and white checkered pants and turned the volume up on my MP3 player. I was not happy for summer to be over and to be back here. Hell, my parents were lucky I’d even shown up.

I walked over to my locker; my black messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and leaned against it, watching the people. My choppy, layered black hair fell into my face and over one eye, hiding one of my eyebrow rods. I had two, one in each eyebrow, along with my snake bites. When it comes to my facial piercings, I like symmetry.

I watched as people walked by, and saw someone running through the crowds. I lowered my headphones so they hung around my neck just as a blonde bob of hair broke through the crowd, and a girl ran over to me, brown eyes dancing.

“Hey Vanity!” She said, smiling overly cheerfully. Her name is Maya, and she’s my cousin. And probably the only person I can really call a friend. Sure, I have people I hang out with, but Maya’s the only one that really cares.

“Hey there Maya,” I said, reaching out and messing with her hair. She frowned and tried to fix the waves.

“Hey! Don’t do that! I have first period with Jacob-“

“The dreamy basketball player you’ve been crushing on all summer?” She blushed, and I rolled my grey eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don’t see what you see in him. He’s dull, fairly stupid, and too arrogant for me.”

“And you’re not stupid? You just barely pass your classes!” She stuck her tongue out at me, and I just smirked. Maya was right. But, I didn’t really care about school. I could fail, and I’d be just as happy.

“Maybe you should get to class then,” I said, and she smiled.

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Vanity!” She ran off, her designer jeans glittering with their designs. I sighed. It had to look weird to see her standing with me. I shoved off my locker, clicked my MP3 player off, and headed off to my first period class.

By the time I got to third, I was already bored out of my right mind and ready to sprint home. Fuck this; I didn’t need to be here today. We weren’t doing shit anyway.

But somehow I found myself sitting in junior English anyway, with a crowd of buzzing teenagers. Something about a new teacher coming to the school, and this was his class.

“I heard he was really cute,” one girl said, leaning over to her friend in front of me. I looked up from my sketch book. “He’s really young, too! I heard he’s only twenty two!”

“No way,” the other said, chewing on the back of her pen. I rolled my eyes and looked down, continuing my sketch of L from Death Note. If they wanted cute, they should open a manga, not oogle over their disgusting teachers.

I heard the door open, and footsteps. A very smooth voice said, “Good morning class.” I looked up, and my pencil slipped from my hand and onto my desk. “My name is Mr. Akio Kami, and I’ll be your English teacher this year.”

He walked over to his desk and picked up an audience chart, and I stared. He was tall and very slender, with feminine hips, just like mine. His hair fell past his collar bone in silky straight strands of pure black. His face was very soft, with supple pink lips and piercing green eyes. Dammit, he was gorgeous.

“Now,” he said, “I’m going to take attendance, and make a note of where everyone sits, so I can get to know you. Please, say here when I call your name.” He went through the list, and I just stared at him. Most of my teachers were old or ugly, so I was not prepared for this. Maybe English this year would be fun.

“…Vanity Harrison?” I looked up, and he caught my eye. Those green eyes pierced into mine, and I felt like someone had driven a needle through my body. “Is it really Vanity?” I nodded, and one of the girls in front of my leaned over and whispered to her friend.

“His parents must have been on crack. Not only did they have a freak, but they gave him a freak’s name!” They giggled, and I rolled my eyes. Once attendance was done, Mr. Kami stood in front of the room, smiling at us.

“Now, since I’ve got your names, I do hope over the next few weeks I’ll learn a lot about you. But, does anyone have any questions about me?” A few people raised their hands, asking about his age, and some girls even asked if he was single. He’d only laughed their question off.

I leaned back and raised my hand, and his eyes caught mine again. Another needle.

“Yes, Vanity?”

“Your name,” I said, “it’s Japanese. Are you Japanese, or is it buried deep in your heritage?” He smiled.

“Good question, most people have been ignoring that. My grandparents on my mother’s side lived in Japan until a few months before my mother was born, then moved here. So my mother is pure Japanese, my father is an American mix.” He smiled. “I can thank her for my hair and figure, the rest I got from my father.”

A few girls giggled and made their little perverted comments about his figure, but I ignored them. I was in my own world, slowly memorizing every detail about him.

I didn’t really remember anything from then on that day. Just Akio. He was stunning, and even I had to admit it.

“Wait, you’ve got Mr. Kami for English?” Maya asked as we were walking home. I nodded. “No friggin’ way! Jerk! I heard he’s gorgeous, is it true? Please, tell me!” She tugged on the back of my black Wednesday 13 shirt, and I shrugged.

“Yeah, he’s pretty hot.” She squealed.

“Oh goody! I’m glad the rumors are true! Wait…” She paused and pressed a finger to her lips. “Did you just admit he was hot? That means you were looking!”

“Yeah,” I said, “he was a hell of a lot pretty then the fuck faces in my class. And I needed something to look at, it’s not like I was going to pay attention.” I sighed. We stopped at the corner where we always parted ways, and I said, “Oh! Maya, hold on.” I dug around my bag, then pulled a picture out. “That picture you wanted, of Chi from Chobits, I finished it. You can add it to your sketch collection.” I handed her the drawing, and she squealed, holding it close.

“Thanks ‘cous!” She leaned in and kissed my cheek, and I dragged my hand over it, showing off my black nails.

“Ack! Don’t kiss me you freak! I don’t want your germs!” She laughed.

“Oh Vanity, we girls don’t have germs! But of course you wouldn’t know that, you don’t get close to us!” She giggled and started walking away, yelling, “see you tomorrow!”

I waved, then shoved my hands in my pockets and turned towards my route home.

It was true, what she said. I didn’t let girls close enough to me to even get their germs. I had no interest in them, I never really did. Sure, they might be fun to draw, but that ended it. They weren’t even attractive, in my opinion, except Maya. She was the exception, and that was probably because she was family and I was compelled to think that.

Truth be told, I only looked at guys. And everyone knew it. I never once tried to hide it. Probably should have, considering my family at home, but I didn’t. Why bother hiding that I was gay, it was only going to come out one day.

I walked up to my house and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. I slipped out of my black sneakers and headed towards the stairs, not wanting to see anyone. Of course, as I passed the living room, I heard the voice of my mother.

“Vanity!” I sighed and took a few steps back, looking in. She was sprawled out on the couch in a pair of jeans and a blue blouse that was riding up her slim stomach, and the lights were off.

“Yeah?”

“Did you go to school?” I smirked. I loved the fact my parents had to ask if I went before even asking about my day.

“Yeah.”

“How was it?”

“Dull.” I turned to walk away before she could say anything else. I wasn’t interested in talking to her. I could tell from the slight furrow in her brow she was dealing with a hang over, and I wasn’t interested in being around when she decided to drink it away.

I walked into my room and tossed my bag on the floor, then locked my door and collapsed down on my bed. My mother was a horrid drunk. She had been for the longest time. I think maybe once I was five she started drinking, and it just never stopped. And, of course, my “lifestyle” as my father called it, made her drink even more.

He, of course, meant my clothing, my interests, and my sexuality. He hated to think his son, his only child, was one of “those queers” he so hated. He hated to think that I had no interest in school, that I wanted to become an artist one day. And what he hated even more was that I had talent, so I had a chance.

I sighed and rummaged around in the top drawer of my nightstand, pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. I took a cigarette, then threw the pack back and knelt next to the window over my bed, I opened it and lit the cigarette, taking a long drag, then leaning against the window and letting the smoke filter out. I watched it swirl up into the September sky and wondered how I managed to get cursed with this family.

I took another drag and exhaled slowly, letting warm smoke flow over my pink lips. My eyes, lined heavily in black, took in everything outside. Our yard, the line of trees separating it and the people behind us. The sky, blue with a few fluffy clouds, and a sun no longer centered in the sky. A normal kid might be outside enjoying it. I didn’t want to go outside, though. I wanted to stay locked in my room.

Another drag. Slowly, the anxiety I’d been feeling since wondering when my mother would hit the bottle tonight began to fade. I guessed it didn’t really matter when she did it, because I’d be in here all night. And sneaking into the bathroom wasn’t hard. Or, I could always sneak out. She’d never notice, and it would sure piss my father off.

You see, my father is a cop. And because he’s a cop, he has this false sense of godhood that makes me sick to my stomach. He thinks everything he says is right, and if you think differently, you’re trouble. Hence why I’m a disaster in his eyes. Plus the fact that I did plenty of illegal stuff. That didn’t help.

I took another drag, then jabbed the cigarette out on my windowsill and threw the butt out the window, then closed it.

I settled back on my bed and sighed. I wondered if my father was even coming home tonight. For years he’d been having very obvious affairs, and often didn’t come home until well into the morning, if at all. That didn’t help mom’s drinking one bit, but he of course refused to believe that. Pompous asshole.

Suddenly I was craving another cigarette, badly. I shook it off and got up, grabbing my bag and settling back down on my bed. I pulled my sketch book out and my pencil, and thought back in my memory. A very soft face, supple lips. Long silky hair framing the face. I bit my lip as my pencil hit the paper, began sketching the image in my head. The entire time I drew, piercing green eyes stared at me from inside my mind, and I wondered why I was so suddenly fixated by them.