The Vampire Diaries 1 - The Awakening | Page 7

in particular stood out from the others. She had been among those watching him in the main
corridor of the school building. He didn't know what she looked like, but her personality was powerful.
He felt sure he'd recognize it again.

So far, at least, he'd survived the first day of the masquerade. He'd used the Powers only twice, and then
sparingly. But he was tired, and, he admitted ruefully, hungry. The rabbit hadn't been enough.
Worry about that later. He found his last classroom and sat down. And immediately he felt the presence
of that mind again.
It glowed at the edge of his consciousness, a golden light, soft and yet vibrant. And, for the first time, he
could locate the girl it was coming from. She was seated right in front of him.
Even as he thought it, she turned around and he saw her face. It was all he could do not to gasp in shock.
Katherine! But of course it couldn't be. Katherine was dead; no one knew that better than he did.
Still, the resemblance was uncanny. That pale golden hair, so fair it almost seemed to shimmer. That
creamy skin, which had always made him think of swans, or alabaster, flushing faintly pink over the
cheekbones. And the eyes… Katherine's eyes had been a color he had never seen before; darker than
sky blue, as rich as the lapis lazuli in her jeweled headband. This girl had those same eyes.
And they were fixed directly on his as she smiled.
He looked down from the smile quickly. Of all things, he did not want to think about Katherine. He didn't
want to look at this girl who reminded him of her, and he didn't want to feel her presence any longer. He
kept his eyes on the desk, blocking his mind as strongly as he knew how. And at last, slowly, she turned
around again.
She was hurt. Even through the blocks, he could feel that. He didn't care. In fact, he was glad of it, and
he hoped it would keep her away from him. Other than that, he had no feelings about her at all.
He kept telling himself this as he sat, the droning voice of the teacher pouring over him unheard. But he
could smell a subtle hint of some perfume—violets, he thought. And her slender white neck was bowed
over her book, the fair hair falling on either side of it.
In anger and frustration he recognized the seductive feeling in his teeth—more a tickling or a tingling than
an ache. It was hunger, a specific hunger. And not one he was about to indulge.
The teacher was pacing about the room like a ferret, asking questions, and Stefan deliberately fixed his
attention on the man. At first he was puzzled, for although none of the students knew the answers, the
questions kept coming. Then he realized that that was the man's purpose. To shame the students with
what they didn't know.
Just now he'd found another victim, a small girl with clusters of red curls and a heart-shaped face. Stefan
watched in distaste as the teacher badgered her with questions. She looked wretched as he turned away
from her to address the entire class.
"You see what I mean? You think you're pretty hot stuff; you're seniors now, ready to graduate. Well, let
me tell you, some of you aren't ready to graduate kindergarten. Like this!" He gestured toward the
red-haired girl. "No idea about the French Revolution. Thinks Marie Antoinette was a silent film star."
Students all around Stefan were shifting uncomfortably. He could feel the resentment in their minds, and
the humiliation. And the fear. They were all afraid of this thin little man with eyes like a weasel, even the
husky boys who were taller than he was.
"All right, let's try another era." The teacher swung back to the same girl he'd been questioning. "During
the Renaissance—" He broke off. "You do know what the Renaissance is, don't you? The period

between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries, in which Europe rediscovered the great ideas of ancient
Greece and Rome? The period that produced so many of Europe's greatest artists and thinkers?" When
the girl nodded confusedly, he continued. "During the Renaissance, what would students your age be
doing at school? Well? Any idea at all? Any guesses?"
The girl swallowed hard. With a weak smile she said, "Playing football?"
At the ensuing laughter, the teacher's face darkened. "Hardly!" he snapped, and the classroom quieted.
"You think this is a joke? Well, in those days, students your age would already be proficient in several
languages. They would also have mastered logic, mathematics, astronomy, philosophy, and grammar.
They would be ready to go on to a university, in which every course was taught in Latin. Football would
be absolutely the last thing on—"
"Excuse me."
The quiet voice stopped the teacher in midharangue. Everyone turned to stare at Stefan.
"What? What did you say?"
"I said, excuse me," Stefan repeated, removing his glasses and standing up. "But you're wrong. Students
in the