I watched the girls until they rolled up the blanket and went away, but I continued to sit under the huge tree: I had bad luck with the weather. And why was I sitting there listening to the silly girls like an ordered spy? I had nothing of the sort in my plans: I was walking from college, taking advantage of the fact that the sun was hidden behind a white cloud for a minute, but I saw Misha and, not knowing why or why not, sat under the tree.

Since the two girlfriends had left the park, I had sat under the tree for another three hours, unable to leave my prison of fresh air. I cracked open a book and tried to read, but my attention span was non-existent. I wanted to smoke, but smoking in public places was strictly forbidden. Everyone was against me.

«Shit. I'm so screwed!» – I thought with annoyance.

My car was far away in the parking lot, and I couldn't get to it because of the goddamn bright sun, so I sat under a tree until sunset (fortunately, it was early in November) and only then was able to drive home.

And this Mary, without knowing it, got it right – I am Swede with a typical Swedish dream: a lakeside house in Scandinavia, and the Swedish national anthem as a ringtone on my phone. A typical Swede, different from other Swedes only in the fact that I have fangs and a need to drink liters of human blood.

The next afternoon, after the lectures were over, walking over to my bike, I suddenly discovered a small note printed on a printer in my coat pocket. The contents of this secret notice surprised and made me laugh: it was an invitation to take part in some sort of «Fox Hunt» and for this purpose I was to arrive at the back gate of St. Hugo's College at half-past ten in the evening, wearing a short skirt, heels, and «fox ears» on my head. There was also a pub route – mandatory stops where I would have to drink a bunch of alcoholic drinks and then run to the finish line – the last pub. Bullshit. Underneath the text was a plea not to show this note to anyone and to destroy it.

«What idiot planted this on me? Does anyone seriously expect me to show up? Nonsense, that's all!» – I thought mockingly.

Contrary to the call for absolute secrecy, I decided to show the note to Mary to laugh with her.

– Don't be a fool and don't go! It's fun for the rich idiots, but dangerous for the girls. This «hunt» is idiotic. Haven't you ever heard of it? – Mary frowned, crumpled up the note and handed it to me.

«How ridiculous! Vampires hunting humans, and humans hunting girls dressed as foxes!» – I smiled to myself, but out loud I said: – No, never. And what is this «hunt»?

– It's when squealing freshman girls in short skirts and high heels run away from «hunters» – guys in red jackets. Do you know who the «hunters» are?

– I have no idea.

– It's a group of Playboys who are members of a secret society, and this «hunt» is their main annual fun. I don't think I need to tell you what happens to the foxhunters at the end of the night. So just keep your nose out of it, okay?

– I wasn't going to: in my opinion, all this action is ridiculous! – I replied grudgingly and threw the paper into the trash can under the sink.

– By the way, the role of «foxy» invite only the most attractive girls. So you're one of them» said Mary.

– But I'm not happy to be considered pretty! It's a very unpleasant word. Do any girls voluntarily accept it? – I was genuinely surprised. – After all, it is such a nonsense!

– If no one would not agree, «hunting» would not be organized. And every year. And there are always a lot of girls there, – said my neighbor. – Okay, I'm going to the bathroom!

She left, and I went to the Internet and found a detailed article about the «Fox Hunt». It turns out that she organized a secret men's society «Black Swan», and in some year all its members were expelled from the university. But with a new set of students the society was revived and again organized this stupid entertainment. How vulgar!

Mary came to see me later.

– By the way, your Playboy asked me today if we were lesbians» she said cheerfully.

– What?» I was surprised beyond belief.

– Yeah, I had the same reaction.

– And what did you say?

– That he was ill-mannered.

– Good for you. – I praised him. – And he's a tactless pig!

– He is! I'm good with lesbians, but I wanted to knock him on the head.

– Now it's my turn to lie in the bathtub! – I said hastily to avoid further conversation on the subject. – Is the shower gel in there?

– Uh-huh. – Mary sat down at my laptop.

Ever since she'd forgotten her shower gel in Scotland, we'd been using mine: Mary still hadn't bought a new one, but I did it regularly, but I thought it was a friendly, neighbourly thing to do.

I went into the bathroom and immediately heard my smartphone ringing: since I had specially set different tunes on all my relatives, I knew that if Kaiser Chiefs was playing, it was my mum calling me.

– Misha, there's a call for you! – Mary shouted. – I'll get the phone for you!