Vampire Boyfriend: Oleander (special preview)

Hard times are hard, especially when surmounting student loan debt is with it. Who knew wanting to be a drama teacher was such a bad idea? I thought it would be fun. Unfortunately schools are laughing at the idea of hiring drama teachers as arts get passed over time and time again. By this point after earning my degree, I’m used to it. I’ve found jobs, I’ve memorized interviews so I go on charming autopilot, and I’ve submitted and submitted and forced my resume into every available school I can. For now, I’ll live with hard times.

Currently, I am working two jobs. One during the day where I work in a party store, then one during the weekends where I go to parties dressed as whatever princess is requested of me. I try to cheer myself up by reassuring myself I’m doing something that’s at least akin to theatre. But sometimes it’s difficult to avoid the writing on the wall.

For the past few years, this was my life; submitting resumes, getting my foot in the door, and putting my foot into uncomfortable shoes ranging from clear plastic to wooden clogs. I had convinced myself that this was okay and that I would be fine doing it for as long I needed to. Once I got into the comfort of settling, that’s when I got the most amazing call.

I still have two jobs, working as a party princess and now I am a theatre professor for the Willow Art School. It was close to the Hephaestus Academy, so the campus had become quite popular and was growing. I really don’t remember sending my resume to this school, then again I sent so many. Luckily, it was still close by, so I didn’t have to move too far. It didn’t matter to me how meager my new apartment was, or that I still had to work two jobs to afford it. What mattered most to me is that I was finally able to work my dream job. I know that it isn’t glamorous to want to be a theatre teacher, but it’s what my dad did. He taught band and theatre and he made them both seem like the most magical of experiences. I was ready for this, I had my syllabus planned out when I was fourteen. I even had my hopes high on the first production I wanted to put on.

I am so ready for my first class it isn’t funny, the only problem is, though, I only had a handful of students. Apparently, I was not told that the previous theatre professor was so very hated here on campus and the theatre program was all but abandoned because of him. The few students I have are only there because they think it’ll be an easy A with the new teacher.

“You just have to get through your first semester. Once the students realize you’re not a piece of shit like Kirkman was, you’ll get some authentically interested students lined up.” Urata was the head of the art department at Willow, as well as a professor. He’s my boss, but since we met, I’ve considered him a friend and mentor even. He was also an Oni.

“That’s just the thing, what am I supposed to do with this semester? I can’t blow it off. I have to actually work, show progress. I have to show I’m worth the time and effort to the higher ups here.”

Urata smirks. “You know I am one of them.”

“Sure, but how far can you throw me and my pathetic first class to impress the others?” I slouch back in my chair, scratching at my scalp. My scalp always feels tingly and itchy when I’m aggravated. Probably because I associate it with wearing a bad wig. “Not only that, I have to figure out how to get costumes, where to build sets. I also have to figure out a production I can do with five disinterested people.”

Urata tilts his head to the side. “If you want to vent, I can take you out for drinks tonight. If you want solutions, I could suggest to you someone on campus.”

“Someone on campus?” I sit up. “There’s a magic person who can do all these things?”

Urata nods, and the look on his face seems to be taking me in. As if he’s assessing if I am good enough to know this privy information. “Not all of them, but at least one who can help you with the costume dilemma. He works here part time during the evening classes, so you’d be able to catch him before his classes start and yours end. He teaches a gemology class.”

I can’t help but smirk a little. “Gemology is a real thing? I thought that was something fancy used to sell products on QVC.”

“It’s real and it’s a science. He teaches it for our jeweler curriculum. Teaches the sciences as well as how to make beautiful jewelry. His display last year for the graduation gallery were some of the best works of art we’ve seen here.” He takes a business card from his desk. “Oleander Baudelaire is his name.”

I take the card, looking over the information printed there. The card is quite plain, to my surprise. “But what does a gemologist have to do with my horribly lacking wardrobe department?”

Urata tilts his chin up. “He makes his own clothes.”