I gathered my books from my locker as I grumbled to myself about how much Physical Education is not necessary for school. All that happened to me in that wretched class is me getting hit in the face with casket balls. Today I had a very close call; my mask almost fell off. I have never shown anyone thee deformed right half of my face. The only two people who have seen it are I and my father, and I would very much like to keep it that way.

Now I was on my way to Fearology, a class my father had taught me about a hundred times. At least my father's Music class was after Fearology. He was my only friend; I was starting my first year- 10the grade- in school, because my father had home schooled me until then. But one day, he sat me down in the living room and had a talk with me.

"Operetta, you know one day I won't be with you to protect you from bad people." I replied somberly, "Yes, I know, Papa."

"You know I love you more than anything in this world, more than my music."

I chirped, "Yes, Papa."

He sighed and said, "Well, Operetta, this September I am going to send you to high school. I want to prepare you for the world that you will face in time."

My first reaction was joy. Finally I could make friends like normal teenager did. My second reaction was absolute terror. What if people ripped my mask off laughed at me and mocked me, like what happened to my father?

My father must have noticed my expression, for the next thing he said was:

"Don't worry, my dear, I will talk to your teachers about your deformity. And you'll get to see me every day; I teach Music at the school and you are signed up for the class."

Then, he got up, kissed my forehead, and left me sitting on the couch with these words:

"Don't worry, mon petit belle, you will have fun at high school."

I started off to Fearology in my happy place; singing my favorite song, Learn to be Lonely. I kept my head down with my wavy jet-black hair in my face. I ignored thee stares of other monsters and I walked down the hall hurriedly. I was in such a daze that I ran into a wall, or so it seemed a wall. I think it was a wall, but it was very warm. I fell back on my hindquarters and threw my hand up to my face, holding my mask in place. I rubbed my head and groaned when the "wall" turned around.

That someone reached a hand down to me and said, "Oh my god, I'm sorry! Are you all right?"

I took the hand and said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I wasn't paying atten-".

I suddenly stopped talking when I saw whoever was helping me. He wore a red vest over a puffy white dress shirt with a frilly collar. His thick ink-black hair was slicked back to the nape of his neck and on his forehead was a widow's peak. I looked into his scarlet eyes and I felt something I couldn't quite describe. It felt as if my heart was a drum roll that was pounding so loudly I thought it would burst out of my chest. His hand fell out of mine before I even had time to savor it.

"Hey," he said casually, "I think you're in my Fearology class. Can I walk you there?"

I stammered, "Um, yeah, I would like theat."

"Great," he replied, "Hey, I didn't catch your name."

"Operetta. Operetta le Fantome."

He smiled. "That's a really pretty name. I'm Draculogan."

I smiled at him and we started off to Fearology. What was this trembling feeling inside my chest? Even though it was weird, I kind of liked it. I think Draculogan caused it. He was very handsome, and he seemed like a very nice boy. Whatever it was, I know I didn't want Draculogan to leave me ever. I think we could be great friends.