Author's Note: [June 22, 2013] To everyone who submitted flames calling this a troll: You were correct.

Why? Because sometimes you just need to get the ya-yas out.

Because there are apparently people who genuinely enjoy this story for what it is (if the several positive reviews are any indication), and because I'm actually quite impressed with myself for coming up with this crazy shit, I am leaving this story up as-is, sans the bitchy author's notes. I would like to sincerely apologize to those people for my deception, as well as to the one reviewer who left an attempt at constructive criticism and only got yelled at and their review deleted in return.

None of the views expressed in this story by Persephone mirror my own. That should be obvious, but knowing the internet, someone will get confused unless I say that.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire: The Masquerade: Bloodlines or any of its characters. I just own Persephone. I'm not stealing, I'm just borrowing them for a bit!

You Belong With Me

Chapter 1: First Day

I absolutely, positively LOVE L.A.!

I mean, why wouldn't I? It's sunny and warm all year round, it has the BEST malls, AND the best restaurants, plus, you always run the chance of running into a movie star! Plus, since we have so many rich people living here, we have the best high school, Los Angeles High (of course)! There's never a dull moment around here. And my junior year certainly wasn't the exception!

Perhaps I should start at the beginning...

My name is Persephone Rose Iris. I'm sure you've heard of me. I do have a budding acting career and a record deal and CD (titled "Promise of the Rose") that will soon go gold. (As long all of you stupid PIRATES don't download it illegally! Remember: Only ugly poor people have to pirate music and movies off of the internet. You're not ugly or poor, are you?) I have long straight firey cherrywood red hair that shines almost a brilliant orange when it's in sunlight that goes down to my butt that I often add streaks to and put up in creative dos. I usually have emerald green eyes with sapphire and silver flecks in them, but my eyes sometimes change color. Then, they're usually a pretty amethyst purple with gold flecks. I have been absolutely blessed with a rocking body (there are curves whereever they should be and none where there shouldn't. I don't even have to workout to maintain it!) and movie star good looks with a creamy flawless complexion. I swear, I look good in almost everything I put on. Some people say I look like Lindsay Lohan before she started having drug problems. Normally, I wouldn't want to be associated with such a skanky slut ho-bag like her, but... it's true. I do look like her. The good-looking version of her, at least.

But enough about me, let's get to the story.

The first day of my junior year was bright and sunny, like it usually is around here. After waking up and having breakfast, I showered and put on the outfit that my personal stylist had laid out for me the night before: a glittery lavender tube top and jean hot pants with iridescent heels. My hair had lavender streaks and glitter that matched my top put into it and the whole thing was tied back into a thick braid. My eyes decided to be purple today to match as well! (Lucky!) Picking out my clothes is no easy feat for my stylist, I do have a walk-in closet that's about a mile long after all.

Oh, you are wondering how I could have a closet that big? Well, I'm rich, stupid! I told you that I had a acting and singing career, right? Well, both of my parents also come from money. (My dad's family are big in the oil industry and are old money and my mom was a model.) But when they died when a plane crashed into our private cabin in Aspen when I was 10, they left it all to me. So I live alone in this huge 120 room mansion in the Hollywood hills with my staff of servants (and nanny until I was old enough to get emancipated (bitch was trying to steal my money) and live on my own).

Anyway, after doing my makeup (sparkly lavender eye shadow and lipstick and some black mascara, I don't really need foundation) and grabbing my things, I got into my shiny brand new electric blue Mercedes convertible and drove off to school. Now that I was a junior, I had access to the school's parking lot! No one riding on the bus (and dealing with the uber creepy bus driver. Seriously, couldn't they find someone else? Or at least buy another bus? Maybe even a multi seated stretch limo deal? We live in freaking LA for pete sake!) with all of the retarded little underclassmen for me!

As I pulled into an open parking space, I heard a familiar voice cry out...

"O.M.G. Persi! You look so kawaii!"

Ahh, the high-pitched slightly and elegantly accented voice of one of my ultimate BFFs ever, Yukie Miyoumori. I recognize it anywhere! As I turned toward the sound of her voice, I saw her leaning up against her shiny candy apple red Cadillac Coupe. (Not the ancient version that your grandparents probably owned (I mean, if they had the money) but one of the newer models that's all slick and not boxy.) She was wearing her trademark outfit: one of the many super cute (or "kawaii" as she would say) school uniforms that she had imported from Japan. Yeah, apparently, schools in Japan, PUBLIC schools no less, make you wear uniforms. (They also have some weird fetish with making them look like navy sailor uniforms, weird.) When I first met her, I asked her why the hell she would want to wear something like that. But since we live in AMERICA, where only some private schools make you wear uniforms and the rest let you wear your own clothes (Like, HELLO, freedom of speech! Get with the program and join the rest of the free world, Japan!), that's just her style and not some STUPID SCHOOL making her wear them because they like restricting students' rights.

Anyway, the uniform she was wearing today had a blue pleated skirt that went down to her mid-thighs and a white blouse with a blue sailor collar and two red bows, one in the back, and one in the front. It went really well with the white socks and black dress shoes and her big jade green eyes with dark blue flecks. Her jet black black hair was done up in stylish braided pigtails with the tips all spiky and dyed an electric blue.

"Did you hear the news? We got a new student in our homeroom this year!"

"O.M.G.! Why should I care?" I chirped back at her. Honestly, new students aren't that big of a deal. Nowadays, it's usually just some fake z-grade reality show contestant who thinks they're good enough to go to school here. A lot of the My Super Sweet 16 and Sixteen and Pregnant retards. You should have seen what happened to the Laguna Beach kids when they tried to come here. Sometimes, it's an ACTUAL celebrity or someone whose parents are famous or, even rarer, mundane kids whose parents somehow managed to scrap up enough money to move here without being in the movie or music industry. But most of the time, it's just some reality show 'tard or someone who's been in one or two commercials and thinks they're hot shit. (Please, I've been in upwards of 20!)

"Actually, according to several of my contacts, he is on the fast track to being the most popular guy in school." Ahh, my other BFF, Therese Voerman. She's a real brainiac, 'take-every-extracurricular-so-my-transcript-looks -good-when-it-goes-to-Harvard' type, but she's cool and popular, unlike every other nerd on the planet. Seriously, Therese managed to do the impossible. And that's freaking awesome by itself. But unlike other nerds, she's also stylish. Today, she was wearing her gorgeous platinum blonde (almost silvery) hair up in a ponytail and was wearing a dark gray tweed business suit with brown pantyhose and a pair of cute black pumps. Yeah, it sounds dorky. But unlike everyone else on the planet, she can actually pull it off. You should see her when we go clubbing.

Anyway, when Therese busts out her contacts, she's usually right. They're accurate most of the time. (98.7% accuracy, according to her.) They even predicted when the Special Ed. kids were going to flip out and try to attack the lunch ladies right down to the minute! (And that's why we don't have Meatloaf Day here anymore! Lucky!)

"Oh really?" I asked, turning to her. "Well, I guess that's pretty cool. I mean, it's not like he'll bump me out of my spot as the most popular girl. It's like prom king and queen. You can have two most pops."

"True enough." Therese nodded.

"So what's the scoop on this guy, Therese?" Yukie asked. Therese propped her personalized thick (for her books) black leather briefcase on her knee and opened it up, pulling out a wad of papers.

"Well, his name i-" Just as she started to talk, the STUPID class warning bell rang. Fuck that bell. It always rings just when something juicy is about to happen.

"Oh goddamnit!" I sighed. "We better get going. Whoever that loser Grout got to replace him will probably make us bribe them if we're late." (Seriously, would YOU want to send the child of a rich person to the principal's office when you can just get money instead? It's so annoying sometimes. But I don't blame them. Some people are just monetarily challenged.)