bookreader

“Let’s move it, Andrew,” Emily said to her brother. “I have tons of homework.” “Wait,” Andrew whispered. “Just a second.” He glanced around Shadyside Park. It was almost dark. They needed to stay only a few more minutes. Only until it was really dark. That’s when they all came out. Everyone knew that. Emily brushed a strand of her wavy red hair off her face. “Not just a second,” she insisted. “Now.” Andrew couldn’t stand it when Emily got bossy. She was only twelve and a half. Just a year older than he was. So what if she was a head taller? Did that give her the right to be Emily Griffin, Know-It-All? Here’s what really killed Andrew: Emily thought she was perfect! She thought she was so good at softball. So smart. She thought she had a million friends. Plus she always bragged about her great taste in clothes. Personally, Andrew thought she looked like a moron, running around school in her little pleated skirts and stupid fake pearls. But here was the biggest joke of all—Emily thought she was gorgeous! Andrew knew he wasn’t great looking. He was skinny. His hair was somewhere between brown and red. His eyes were plain old brown. He had a million freckles. But so what? Big deal. At least his nose wasn’t stuck up in the air like Emily’s. “I must be losing it,” Emily was muttering. “Why did I let you talk me into getting off the bus at the high school? It’s a fifteen-minute walk home, at least. If I’d stayed on the bus, I’d be in my room now—halfway finished with my homework.” “Shhh!” Andrew said. How could he hear anything coming with her jabbering like that? “Let’s go!” Emily insisted. “Move it, Android.” Andrew made a face. Emily thought she was so clever when she called him “Android.” But he had to let it go now. Keep his mind on other things. Important things. He started walking. His feet crunched the leaves on the path around the pond. “Right now is when they wake up,” he told his sister. Emily frowned. “Who’s they?” she asked. “The creatures of the night,” Andrew answered. He tried to sound mysterious. Maybe that would make her stop. “What are you talking about?” She kept walking. “Owls?” “Not owls,” Andrew replied. “The undead. Vampires. See, the second day turns into night, they . . .” “Andrew!” Emily shouted. “Stop! I don’t want to know what’s inside that diseased brain of yours.” “But it’s true,” Andrew insisted. “Nothing about vampires is true!” Emily scoffed. “They don’t exist!” She shook her head. “I keep telling you—you’re getting a little old for make-believe monsters.” “Vampires aren’t make-believe,” Andrew said. “Real vampires have bitten real people in the neck. Really.” He fished a book out of the pocket of his jacket. “It says so right here.” Emily snatched the book and read the title. “Vampire Secrets.” She groaned loudly. “I can’t believe I’m related to someone who reads this garbage!” “It’s not garbage!” Andrew protested. “It is too,” Emily said. “I read good books. I’ve read almost every book on Ms. Parma’s literature list in the library.” Emily was always bragging about the big-deal books she read. Okay, they had big words. Andrew had to admit that. And they were as thick as dictionaries. But that didn’t make them good. That only made her backpack about ten pounds heavier than his. “I don’t remember seeing Vampire Secrets on Ms. Parma’s list,” Emily went on. “Or that thing you were reading last week.” “You mean The Mummies Are Coming?” Andrew asked. “That was totally awesome.” Emily tossed Vampire Secrets back to Andrew. “Where do you get this trash anyway?” “T.J. lent me this one,” Andrew told her. “Why am I not surprised?” Emily rolled her eyes. “T.J. is the only person in the world who’s weirder than you are.” “He is not!” Andrew protested. Emily laughed. “Okay. Maybe you two are tied for weirdness. All you and T.J. ever talk about is monsters. No wonder neither of you has any other friends.” She began walking more quickly. Andrew trudged along behind her. So what if he and T.J. loved talking about monsters? And reading monster stories? They were good. Really good. Emily didn’t know what she was missing. “Walk faster, Andrew,” Emily commanded. But Andrew kept stalling. He dragged his feet. If he took long enough, they might see a vampire. He thought they would. Emily was heading for Division Street—and she was heading there fast. They’d never see a vampire on Division Street. The streetlights were too bright there. Way too bright for a creature of the night. “Wait, Emily. I, uh, twisted my foot.” Andrew leaned against a big oak tree, gripping his ankle. Then he let out a small cry of pain, hoping Emily would be totally convinced. “I’m not falling for that twisted-ankle story again.” Emily marched on. “You tried that one on me last week. Remember?” Andrew sighed. He took a few steps. Then stopped. Something dark and shadowy was creeping up behind Emily. Andrew watched as it dodged from tree to tree. “Emily, stop!” he called in a hoarse whisper. “Something’s following you!” Emily whirled around. “I’m not falling for any more of your stupid tricks, Andrew!” she warned him. Andrew scanned the trees—and saw the figure. A figure in a long, sweeping cape. The dark form slid out from behind a giant oak, inching closer and closer. “There he is!” Andrew shouted. “Behind you!” “Yeah, right.” Emily stood in place with her hands on her hips. The figure stepped silently up to Emily. It hovered over her. “Emily, I’m not kidding.” Andrew’s voice quivered. “Run!” Emily shook her head in disgust. The figure raised his dark hands. “Emily! Run!” Andrew pleaded. Too late. Andrew watched in horror—as a pair of twisted fingers lunged for Emily’s neck. 2 Emily screamed. Her cries pierced the chill November air. She twisted in the dark figure’s grasp, struggling to free herself. “A vampire!” she cried. “Help me, Andrew!” Andrew didn’t move. He stared at the caped figure. At his long fangs dripping with saliva. “Andrew, do something!” Emily shrieked. “Vat a screamer you are,” said the creature of the night. He released Emily from his grasp. He spat—and his fangs flew into his black-gloved hand. Andrew fell to his knees—and laughed. “Oh, man!” he cried. “That was awesome, T.J.!” Emily smoothed her hair. She centered her pearl necklace. “You immature creeps,” she growled. “You are so pitiful. You act like two-yearolds!” With that she whirled away from them. She marched toward the park exit. “Oh, man!” Andrew said again. He watched his sister stomp angrily past the baseball diamond. “I wish I had that on video.” “You’d think she’d be used to it by now,” T.J. said, shaking his head. “But she falls for our pranks every time.” T.J. picked up his backpack from behind a tree. He untied his cape and took it off. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the backpack. He placed his plastic fangs in their spot in his pen-holder compartment. Andrew admired T.J. When he pulled a prank, he went all the way. T.J. wasn’t very tall. In fact, he was short and stocky. But he’d slicked back his hair with some of his older brother’s mousse, and somehow managed to look like a full-sized vampire. Andrew admired T.J. for another reason. He was loyal to vampires. Andrew loved all kinds of monsters. Werewolves. Mummies. Ghouls. Swamp things. But T.J. stuck to vampires. He knew everything about them. He was a specialist. “This was better than when we scared Emily with the King Kong mask,” T.J. said. “It was even better than the time we slimed her.” Andrew grinned, remembering. He’d gotten in trouble for that one. Mega-trouble. But it was worth it. And Emily deserved it. She kept making fun of one of his monster books, Alien Slime from Mars. Then one night he and T.J. arranged for her to see some slime for herself. Andrew giggled, thinking about how she stared in horror as green goo dripped down from her light fixture. How it plopped right down on her head. He was pretty sure that, for a second, Emily believed it was alien slime from Mars. * * * The next morning, Andrew jolted awake. Somebody was screaming! Screaming his name! He sat straight up in bed. “Huh?” he cried. “Get up!” Emily shouted from the doorway of his room. “Now!” With a groan, Andrew fell back onto his bed. He burrowed deeper under his covers. He shut his eyes. Clearly Emily had not forgiven him for the vampire prank. “Turn off your stupid alarm!” Emily shouted. Alarm? Oh. That’s what was going beep, beep, beep. Andrew had been dreaming that a vampire was knocking on his window. The vampire said beep, beep, beep. Finally, Andrew got up and opened the window for him. What a stupid dream. A beeping vampire. Still half asleep, Andrew reached a hand out from under his blanket. He waved it in the direction of his clock. At last he made contact. He hit the alarm button. The beeping stopped. “We are going to catch the first bus this morning, Andrew,” Emily announced. “If you aren’t downstairs in fifteen minutes, I’m leaving without you. I don’t care what Mom says.” Andrew heard his sister stomp down the stairs. If Emily left by herself, their mom would have a fit. Shadyside Middle School was pretty far away from their development—but very close to Fear Street. Close to the Fear Street Cemetery. Scary things happened there. All the time. If you believed the stories . . . Andrew believed them. He knew that on Halloween, ghost kids rose from their graves. They tried to get real live kids to play a game with them. The game was called Hide and Shriek. The object of the game was to take the live kids back to the grave! And then there was Miss Gaunt. She used to be a substitute teacher at Shadyside Middle School. Before she died, that is. Now she haunted the cemetery. She was always out searching for new students to teach—forever! Andrew’s mother always told him that they were only stories—that she didn’t believe there was any truth in them. But still, she liked Andrew and Emily to travel to and from school together. With a groan, Andrew made himself open his eyes. He needed more sleep. Much more sleep. He wished he hadn’t stayed up so late the night before, reading. He wished he could sink back onto his soft pillow again. And close his eyes . . . He jerked his head up. Any minute now, Emily would be back, screaming at him. He pushed himself up on one arm. Ow! His elbow hit the corner of his book. The one he’d been up reading half the night. Running with Werewolves. Boy, what a great story! Now Andrew felt wide awake. He remembered where he left off in the story. Jason, the hero of Running with Werewolves, was about to join a werewolf pack. Andrew had read all but the last few pages. He’d die if he didn’t find out what happened. He glanced at his clock. He could skip brushing his teeth for once. And washing his face. Andrew sat on his bed. His eyes skimmed the words. Jason was in big trouble. He was a werewolf now. But the head werewolf didn’t want him in the pack. Jason and the head werewolf were about to engage in mortal combat! Only a werewolf can kill another werewolf. So one of them had to kill the other. Jason didn’t stand much of a chance. Andrew’s heart pounded as the snarling head werewolf reached out his huge, hairy paws. Reached out and grabbed Jason’s neck. He squeezed, tighter and tighter. Choking Jason. Andrew lifted his eyes from the book to catch his breath—and a hand from behind clutched his neck! Andrew tried to scream. But no sound came out. A voice came from behind Andrew. “Be ready in ten minutes!” It was Emily’s voice. Emily let go of Andrew’s neck. Then she reached around and snatched his book. “Hey!” Andrew cried. He leapt up. But he was too late. Emily was running out of his room with the book. Andrew chased her. “Give it back!” he cried. Emily whizzed down the stairs. She stood at the bottom, shaking her head. “Be down here in ten minutes, Andrew,” she said. “Or this book is history!” Andrew sighed. He knew when he was beaten. He plodded back to his room. There, he pulled on a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. Maybe Ms. Parma had a copy of Running with Werewolves in the school library. But probably not. Andrew would have to wait to find out what happened to Jason. He’d have to ask Emily for his book back. She might make him get down on his knees and beg! Andrew got dressed. All but his sneakers. He felt around under his bed. He thought his sneakers were under there. His fingers hit something. Something cold as ice. Not a sneaker. Definitely not. Andrew grasped the cold thing. He dragged it out from under his bed—and found himself gazing at a book. An old black book. It looked important somehow. Boy, did it ever feel cold. So cold, it stung his fingers. The book had no title. Andrew ran his hand over the smooth black leather. Why does this book feel like a frozen TV dinner? he wondered. And how did it get under my bed? He opened the book. A blank page stared back at him. Andrew flipped page after page. Blank, blank, blank. “Andrew?” Mrs. Griffin called from the bottom of the stairs. “What’s keeping you, honey? Emily’s waiting!” “Coming!” Andrew called back. He tossed the book down on his bed. He rummaged around, found his sneakers, and stuffed his feet into them. Maybe he’d take the black book to school with him. Show it to T.J. But—wait. That’s who must have put the book under his bed—T.J.! It had to be T.J. It was definitely a T.J. kind of joke. Andrew slipped his homework papers into his binder. He shoved his binder into his backpack. He reached for the black book. Then he stopped. He squinted down at the cover. It had been blank before. Totally blank. He was sure of it. But now spidery letters were beginning to appear. Old-fashioned letters—writing themselves onto the book! Andrew could only stare and wait as the writing continued. And then it stopped. The title was complete. Andrew felt his blood run cold as he whispered the words on the front of the book: HOW TO BE A VAMPIRE 3 Whoa! What a cool effect! Andrew opened the book. Maybe T.J. had stuck a computer chip inside the cover. Or maybe the writing was some kind of hightech invisible ink. He couldn’t tell. But . . . hey! Now writing began to appear on the first page! The words shimmered into view: CHAPTER 1 VAMPIRES-IN-TRAINING How did T.J. do these amazing effects? Brrr. And how did he make it so cold? Had T.J. surrounded it with cold packs from his freezer? How else could it stay so icy? Andrew turned another page. More writing began to appear. How would you like to sleep all day? Then, at sunset, turn into a wolf. Or a rat. Or a red mist. Or maybe a bat. How would you like to fly? To pass through a closed door? Or a thick stone wall? Does all this sound too good to be true? It isn’t. All you have to do is become a vampire. How can you do this? One way is to be bitten by a vampire. The most popular place for this bite is on your neck. Once you are bitten, you are a vampire-intraining. “Oh, wow,” Andrew whispered. This was even better than Running with Werewolves! How did T.J. manage this stuff? If it was T.J. And . . . if it wasn’t? Andrew swallowed. He didn’t want to think about that. Because if T.J. didn’t hide the book in his room, then . . . who did? Not Emily. She’d never think of anything like this. Not his mom. It had to be T.J. “Andrew?” His mother’s voice came from down the hallway. Quickly, Andrew shoved the black book under his pillow. He fell to his knees. He pretended to be looking for something under his bed. He didn’t want his mom to see what he’d been reading. He didn’t want to answer any questions about the black book. “Honey?” His mom stood in the doorway. “Oh, Mom! Hi!” Andrew said. He kept searching. He realized something. There weren’t any cold packs under his bed. “Emily is having a fit because you’re taking so long,” Mrs. Griffin said. “Is anything wrong?” “No!” Andrew’s voice hit a high note. “Nothing’s wrong! I can’t find my sneakers. That’s all.” Mrs. Griffin glanced at Andrew’s feet. “You’re wearing them, dear,” she pointed out. “Oh, right,” Andrew said. He pulled his head out from under his bed. “I mean, I couldn’t find them. And then I found them. Under my bed. There they were. So . . . I better tie them.” Andrew always babbled when he didn’t know what else to do. Now he bent down and began tying his laces. Then he stood up. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His mother brushed his hair off his face. She put a hand to his forehead. “Hmmm. No temperature. But you are a bit clammy.” She stepped back. “And so pale,” she added. “I think you may be coming down with something.” “I feel fine,” Andrew said. “Really.” No way could Andrew stay home. Not today. He had to go to school. He had to find out what the story was with this book. “Tell Emily we’ll make the late bus,” he said. He brushed by his mother on his way down the hall to the bathroom. “Tell her I’ll be down in three minutes,” he called. “I’ll butter a bagel for you,” Mrs. Griffin called back to him. “You can eat it on the bus.” Andrew locked the bathroom door behind him. It was a habit. A lifelong habit of keeping out Emily. Of protecting his privacy. As he reached for his toothbrush, he heard footsteps in the hallway outside the bathroom. He smiled. “Speed it up!” Emily called from outside the door. Andrew heard her try the knob. Too bad, Em! he thought. You can’t get in! “Andrew?” she called. “I swear, if we miss the late bus, I’ll kill you!” Still smiling, Andrew squeezed a strip of toothpaste onto his toothbrush. He glanced in the mirror. He froze. The toothbrush fell out of his hand. His face! It was pale! As pale as milk! No wonder his mother had been worried. “Andrew!” Emily pounded on the bathroom door with both fists. “Come out of there!” Andrew didn’t bother answering. He kept staring at his face. His skin was the same color as the white tile on the bathroom walls! He peered closer—at his lips. His red lips. His really red lips. He saw a smudge of red under his chin. He pulled back the collar of his shirt. Blood! He was bleeding! Quickly, Andrew tore off a few sheets of toilet paper. He wet them and dabbed at the cut on his neck. He peered closer. The spot on his neck didn’t look like a cut, really. It looked more like a pair of mosquito bites. As if he’d been stuck with a barbecue fork. Or a snake had sunk its teeth into his neck. Or . . . something else had. A vampire! Andrew’s hand trembled as he felt the two little bumps. He whisked his hand away. He stared at the puncture marks. What did they mean? Oh, no! Andrew gasped. Am I a vampire-in-training? 4 Andrew stared at the mirror—at the holes in his neck—when the bathroom door swung open. “I did it!” Emily crowed. She held up a twisted bobby pin. “You . . . you did?” Andrew stammered. He put a hand to his neck. “With that?” “Yes!” Emily cried. “I picked the lock!” “Oh.” Andrew let out a deep breath. “Um, Em? Could you come over here for a second?” “Sure,” Emily said sweetly. She walked over to where Andrew was standing. But before he could ask her to check out his neck, she grabbed his shirt collar. “Hey! Stop!” Andrew cried. “What are you doing?” What Emily was doing, he realized, was pulling him out of the bathroom. She dragged him down the hall. “I am sick of waiting for you every morning,” Emily ranted. “I am sick of having to walk all the way around the pond to catch the late bus!” “Hey . . . Em?” Andrew began. “I hate being almost late for school every single day!” Emily went on. “I hate going to middle school because you go there!” Andrew tried again. “Emily, stop!” “I can’t wait to go to high school all by myself,” she said. Emily started dragging him down the stairs. Andrew grabbed the banister. Emily pulled. But Andrew held tight. “Hold it!” he yelled. “I’m ready! I have to get my backpack. That’s it. I promise. Thirty seconds. We’re out of here.” Emily let go. “Twenty seconds!” she called after him. Andrew dashed to his room. He grabbed the black book from under his pillow. It still felt cold as ice. How was that possible? As Andrew stuck the book into his backpack, he gasped. The writing on the cover! It was gone! It had disappeared completely. Oh, man! He had plenty of questions for T.J. He sure hoped T.J. had some answers. Andrew shoved the icy book into his pack. He threw on his jacket and ran out of his room. At the bottom of the stairs, his mother handed him a small brown bag. He snagged it with one hand, never slowing his pace. He ran down the sidewalk after Emily. Mrs. Griffin waved from the front porch. “Have a good day, kids!” she called. * * * Andrew flopped down beside T.J. on the late bus. He and Emily barely made it. They had to run the whole way. “What’s wrong?” T.J. asked. Andrew was panting hard, trying to catch his breath. “What’s in the bag?” T.J. asked. Andrew handed him the bag. “A hot buttered bagel!” T.J. exclaimed. “Can I have a bite?” Still panting, Andrew nodded yes. “Thanks!” T.J. dug in. After a couple of bites, he glanced at Andrew. “You know, you don’t look so hot,” he said. He leaned closer to Andrew. “What have you got on your face?” Andrew frowned. He wiped a hand across his cheek. “It looks like white makeup,” T.J. said. He leaned even closer. “And . . . and your lips! Do you have on lipstick?” Andrew slumped down in his seat. “Andrew, what’s the story?” T.J. asked. “You look like you’re becoming . . .” Andrew shut his eyes. He waited for T.J. to say the V word. T.J.’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Andrew, are you turning into a clown?” Andrew shook his head. He finally caught his breath. “I am not becoming a clown,” Andrew said. He glanced darkly at his friend. “But I might be turning into something else.” “What are you talking about?” T.J. asked him. “Um . . . you want the rest of this bagel?” Andrew shook his head. He stared out the window as the bus crossed Winding Brook Bridge. Then he unzipped his backpack and pulled out the black book. He dropped it on T.J.’s lap. “Here,” he said. “Now tell me how it works.” T.J. popped the last of the bagel into his mouth. He licked his fingers. Then he ran a chubby hand over the blank cover. “It’s so cold,” T.J. said. He glanced up at Andrew. “Did you have it in your freezer, or what?” Andrew frowned. “You mean . . . this isn’t your book?” T.J. shook his head. “You didn’t put it under my bed?” “I’ve never seen it before.” T.J. handed back the book. “But if it isn’t yours—” Andrew stopped. His heart began to pound. He felt his stomach knotting up. If it wasn’t T.J.’s book, then whose was it? Where had it come from? “It was under your bed?” T.J. asked. Andrew nodded. “I found it this morning,” he said. Then he told T.J. everything. About finding the book. The strange writing. The chapter on vampires-in-training. When Andrew finished, T.J. shook his head. “Boy, I almost believed you for a minute. You made it sound so real.” “It is real, T.J.,” Andrew said. “Come on,” T.J. said. “I’m not as easy to fool as Emily.” “There’s more,” Andrew said. “I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I looked in the mirror. I was white as a sheet. My lips looked . . . weird. And then I saw this.” Slowly, Andrew pulled down the collar of his shirt. T.J. stared at the marks on Andrew’s neck. “Nah . . . No way.” But he didn’t sound so sure anymore. “Something bit me,” Andrew said. “Something with fangs.” T.J. reached out a finger. He ran it over the marks on Andrew’s neck. Then he jerked his hand away. “Oh, wow!” he said over and over. “I can’t believe it!” “Me either.” Andrew’s voice shook. “T.J., do . . . do you think I’m turning into a vampire?” 5 “I wish I were a vampire-in-training.” T.J. sighed as the bus headed for Park Drive. “Let me look at your bite again.” Andrew glanced around. “Be cool, okay?” he said. “I don’t want anybody else asking to see it.” He pulled down his collar. “It looks like the real thing to me,” T.J. said at last. Andrew groaned. “A vampire bite would explain why you’re so pale,” T.J. went on. “And the red lips.” He grinned. “All you have to do is wait until the tooth marks disappear, and you’ll be a real vampire!” Andrew groaned again. “You really think a vampire was in your room?” T.J. asked. “I don’t know,” Andrew answered. “I . . . I dreamed about a vampire,” he said, remembering. “At least I think it was a dream. But . . . maybe not. How else could the book have gotten there?” “A vampire must have left it for you,” T.J. said thoughtfully. “Right after he bit you.” Andrew shuddered at the thought. A vampire in his room! A vampire standing over him in the dark. Bending down. Baring his fangs. Biting him in the neck! The knot in Andrew’s stomach tightened. “What’s wrong?” T.J. asked. “Aren’t you excited?” “No!” Andrew exclaimed. “I’m scared to death.” “Death!” T.J. almost shouted. “That’s it! No death!” “Shhh!” Andrew cautioned him. “You’re becoming one of the undead!” T.J. whispered. “But I don’t want to be undead!” Andrew said. “I want to be alive. Just the way I am right now.” He frowned. “I mean, the way I was. Before I got this stupid bite.” “But, Andrew,” T.J. said. “Think about it! You’re going to be around forever. Forever! And you’ll be able to fly. Every night you can go zipping around through the clouds!” “That part sounds cool,” Andrew admitted. “But—” “You can put people in trances,” T.J. interrupted. “You can zap them with your Dracula stare.” Andrew only nodded. T.J. was on a roll now. “Think about when Emily gets bossy. All you’ll have to do is stare at her and . . . bingo! She’ll be in a trance! She’ll have to obey your every command!” A small smile appeared on Andrew’s redder-than-usual lips. “Okay, there’s some good stuff,” he admitted as the bus came to a stop in front of Shadyside Middle School. “But what do I do when I get hungry, T.J.?” T.J. shrugged. “You’ll have to find a victim,” he said. “You’ll have to . . . go out for a bite!” Andrew didn’t even smile at T.J.’s stupid joke. “If I turn into a vampire, I’ll have to drink blood!” he said. “Think about that! Ugh! It would be horrible, T.J.!” Andrew followed T.J. down the bus steps with the other students. They headed up the sidewalk. T.J. stopped in front of the school. “Anyway, you don’t have to worry about it,” he said. “You’re not a vampire.” “I’m not?” Andrew felt a flood of relief. T.J. shook his head. “You’re standing in bright sunlight.” “So?” “A real vampire can’t be in sunlight,” T.J. told him. “If sunlight hits a real vampire, it turns him to dust. Too bad.” Andrew watched T.J. run off to his locker. He hoped he wasn’t turning into a vampire. He hoped T.J. was right. He usually was. After all, T.J. knew everything about vampires. But, Andrew wondered, how much does he know about vampires-in-training? * * * I could eat a cow, Andrew thought. He stood in the hot-lunch line. He took a plate of spaghetti and meatballs with red sauce. He asked for extra sauce. He wasn’t usually crazy about school lunches. But this one looked delicious! He reached for a double side order of bread, a carton of milk, and a huge slice of chocolate cake. Then he walked across the cafeteria and sat down across from T.J. T.J. eyed Andrew’s tray. “What’s with all the food?” he asked. “Are you going out for sumo wrestling or something?” Andrew shrugged. “I’m starved,” he said. He didn’t waste any more time talking. He dug into that spaghetti. Mmmmm! The sauce was even better than it looked! He stuffed a whole meatball into his mouth. T.J. watched, wide-eyed. Andrew opened his mouth and gave T.J. a gross-out meatball view. Then he kept right on scarfing down his enormous lunch. The spaghetti and meatballs quickly vanished. A puddle of red sauce was still on the plate. Andrew tore off a piece of his bread and sopped up the sauce. He popped it into his mouth. He chewed the bread slowly. It had a funny, sour taste. Then he grabbed his throat. He made a horrible choking noise. “Andrew?” T.J. said. “What’s wrong?” Andrew tried to tell him. But he couldn’t. The sour taste flooded his mouth. He had to get rid of that taste! He raked his fingers over his tongue. Oh, no! His tongue felt numb. Totally numb! And now the tingling feeling swept over his lips. “Andrew! What’s wrong?” T.J. was practically shouting. But Andrew couldn’t answer. His whole face was going numb. And his throat! He clutched at his throat. It was closing! His eyes bugged out in horror. I—I can’t swallow! Andrew screamed inside his head. I can’t breathe! 6 T.J. ran around to Andrew’s side of the table. He grabbed Andrew under the arms. He yanked him out of his chair. He spun him around. Then he threw his arms around his middle and began pumping his fist above Andrew’s stomach. “St-st-stop!” Andrew managed at last. “T.J.! Stop!” T.J. stopped. “Hey, I did the Heimlich maneuver!” he cried. T.J. waved away the two teachers and the cafeteria monitor who ran over to help. “He’s okay now. Everything’s fine.” Andrew sank back into his chair, breathing hard. “I know what happened,” T.J. said. “You . . . you do?” Andrew asked. T.J. nodded. “A meatball got stuck in your throat, right?” Andrew shook his head. “It was the bread,” he said between breaths. “It had poison on it or something.” “Poison?” T.J. said. “On your bread?” “That’s what it tasted like,” Andrew told him. “Here.” T.J. thrust what was left of his grape juice at Andrew. “Drink this.” Andrew gulped it down. A wonderful coolness filled his mouth. The numb feeling faded. He finished the juice. He took a breath. Then another. The numbness disappeared. “Oh, man,” Andrew exclaimed. “That was scary!” T.J. stared at Andrew for a few seconds. Then he reached over to Andrew’s plate. He took the other half of his bread and tossed it into his mouth. “T.J.!” Andrew gasped. “Are you crazy? Don’t!” T.J. began chewing. “Doesn’t it taste horrible?” Andrew cried. “Doesn’t it make your mouth feel all numb?” T.J. shook his head. He kept chewing and then swallowed. “Then . . . it wasn’t the bread.” Andrew drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Must have been the tomato sauce.” “No, it was the bread,” T.J. told him. “And I was wrong.” “Wrong about what?” Andrew asked. T.J. leaned forward. “You are becoming a vampire,” he said. Andrew frowned. “Why? Are vampires allergic to bread?” “Not all bread,” T.J. told him. “Only garlic bread!” “Garlic.” Andrew shuddered. Saying the word almost brought back that horrible sour taste. “You’ve read the stories,” T.J. went on. “You’ve seen the movies. Vampires can’t stand garlic. And now neither can you.” * * * School seemed to last forever that day. Andrew was glad when it was over. When he got on the bus, he walked down the narrow aisle, past his sister. She pretended not to see him. He walked all the way to the back of the bus and sat down next to T.J. Right away T.J. started talking about vampires. Andrew tried to listen. But he’d had a hard day. And he’d been up late the night before. Now he could barely keep his eyes open. “See, ghosts are the living spirits of the dead,” T.J. was explaining. “And vampires are the semi-living bodies.” “Uh-huh,” Andrew agreed. “Vampires can do cool things. Like turn into bats or wolves. And they have supernatural strength,” T.J. went on. “But ghosts have it easier. They don’t have to eat or drink or anything.” But vampires do, Andrew thought. They have to drink blood! Andrew’s stomach tightened. He felt sick. He tried to think about something else. Jason. Jason turning into a werewolf. But that only made him think about himself, turning into a— The bus jolted to a sudden stop. Andrew and T.J. jerked forward in their seats. “Nice one, Mr. Metz!” someone called out to the driver. Andrew peered out the window. The bus had stopped right on the entrance to Winding Brook Bridge. “What’s the problem?” someone else called. “I’m not sure,” the driver answered. “The engine’s running. But nothing happens when I step on the gas.” Andrew groaned. Things were not going right for him today. “I’ll have a look under the hood,” Mr. Metz announced. The driver turned off the engine, climbed out of the bus, and opened the hood. After a few minutes he climbed back onto the bus. The engine started right up. He pressed down on the gas. The bus didn’t move. Everyone groaned. Mr. Metz scratched his head, puzzled. T.J. gave a sudden gasp. He tugged on Andrew’s elbow. “We have to get off,” T.J. whispered. “What?” Andrew couldn’t believe his ears. “Why?” “Come on!” T.J. insisted. He pulled Andrew out of his seat and to the front of the bus. “We’re walking, Mr. Metz,” T.J. said. “Suit yourself.” The driver opened the door of the bus. Andrew followed T.J. down the steps. “Hold it!” Emily called. “Getting off!” She hurried off the bus too. “What do you think you’re doing?” she growled at her brother. “I swear, Andrew. I’m asking Mom to double my allowance if I have to keep track of you.” “We have to walk the long way,” T.J. said as Mr. Metz shut the bus door. “Around the pond. Andrew can’t cross the brook.” “Why?” Andrew almost yelled. “What’s going on? Why did we have to get off the bus? Why do we have to walk around the pond?” T.J. only nodded his head in the direction of the bus. Andrew saw that it was now driving across the bridge. “It couldn’t cross with you on it, Andrew,” T.J. said. “Oh?” Emily whirled around to face T.J. “And why is that?” “Because,” T.J. answered, “Andrew’s turning into a vampire.” Emily clenched up her fists and glared at T.J. “Vampires can’t cross running water,” T.J. went on. “It’s one of the rules. So the bus couldn’t go until Andrew got off.” “Oh, come on!” Emily cried. “Do you really think you can get me with another one of your pranks?” T.J. shook his head. “This isn’t a prank. Tell her, Andrew.” Andrew smiled weakly. “I think it’s true,” he told her. “Oh, right,” Emily scoffed. “My brother, the vampire.” The three of them began walking around the pond. Andrew didn’t feel much like talking. And even after his big lunch, he was hungry. He checked the pockets of his jacket, hoping to find something to eat. He fished out an old chocolate cookie. He started nibbling on it. T.J. and Emily, meanwhile, kept up a steady argument about whether Andrew was or wasn’t turning into a vampire. When a black Labrador retriever began following them, Andrew didn’t think much about it. When that dog was joined by a few more dogs, it didn’t seem that odd. Then one of the dogs started barking. Andrew turned. He gasped. Behind him stood a pack of dogs! Now every dog began to bark at the top of its lungs. “Holy cow!” T.J. exclaimed. The dogs circled Andrew. He stepped back. “Hey, dogs,” he said nervously. “Nice dogs.” He backed away some more. His heart beat hard with fear. A big yellow dog came around behind him then. It drew back its lips, baring its teeth. A low growl came from its throat. “Stop!” Emily screamed at the yellow dog. “Beat it!” The yellow dog only curled its lips in a snarl. It never took its brown eyes off Andrew. “T.J.?” Andrew called. He backed up some more. “Help me!” “Your cookie!” T.J. called. “Maybe that’s what they want.” Andrew tossed what was left of his cookie to the yellow dog. It dropped to the ground. The yellow dog only growled louder, its eyes fixed on Andrew. “Go home!” Emily yelled over and over. She swung at the dogs with her backpack. But they easily ducked away. “Get, dogs!” T.J. cried. “Go attack somebody else!” The dogs circled more closely around Andrew. They drove him back. Away from T.J. and Emily. “T.J.?” Andrew cried again. “Why are they doing this?” T.J. yelled something. But the dogs were barking. Barking was all Andrew could hear. Dogs ran at him from every direction now. They kept coming. Dozens of them, all barking like mad. Andrew broke out in a sweat. He’d never been so scared. The dogs barked crazily, their faces twisted with hate. Their angry eyes glared up at him. Their white teeth glistened. They snapped at him. He was beyond scared now. Way beyond. He was numb with fear. The yellow dog leapt toward Andrew. Reared up on its hind legs, slamming into Andrew’s chest. Knocked him to the ground. Andrew put an arm up to protect his face. “Help!” he cried as the dogs closed in over him. “Help!” 7 Andrew could hardly breathe. Not with the dogs churning over him. So many of them! Barking and yapping. Drooling and licking him. And the smell. The overpowering odor of dog breath. Andrew squeezed his eyes shut. He was about to be torn limb from limb! Then the barking stopped. The yellow dog gave a piercing howl. As if it were a signal, the other dogs backed off. They ran in every direction, back where they had come from. Emily and T.J. rushed over to Andrew. They knelt down beside him. “Are you okay?” Emily asked. Andrew nodded from where he lay on the ground. “Did they bite you?” she asked. “Of course they didn’t,” T.J. said knowingly. Andrew got to his feet. He brushed himself off. “They just sniffed around mostly,” he said. “And licked me.” Emily shook her head. “The dogs around here are usually so friendly,” she said. “I’ve never seen them act like that.” T.J. folded his arms across his chest. “This is more proof,” he told Emily. “Andrew is turning into a vampire.” Emily glared at T.J. “This had nothing to do with vampires!” she shouted. “But something’s going on. Something strange.” She turned to her brother. “I mean, why did the dogs go after only you, Andrew? Why not me or T.J.?” Andrew shrugged. “Because dogs know vampires are their masters,” T.J. told her. “Count Dracula called wolves and dogs Children of the Night.” “T.J.!” Emily shouted. “Stop! I mean it. If you say one more word about vampires, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” “Take it easy, Emily,” T.J. advised. Emily sniffed. “Anyway,” she said, “it’s only three-thirty in the afternoon. It’s a little early for Children of the Night.” “Good point.” T.J. grinned. “Can we get going?” Andrew broke in, his voice shaky. “I am not having the greatest day of my life. I’d like to get home.” The three of them headed toward their development. Nobody said much on the way. * * * When they got to the Griffins’ house, Emily went inside. She ran straight up to her room. “See you, T.J.,” Andrew said. He started to go inside. “Wait,” T.J. whispered. “I have to see that book again.” Andrew nodded. T.J. followed him up to his room. Andrew hung up his Do Not Disturb sign. Then he locked the door. T.J. sat down on the bed while Andrew pulled the book out of his backpack. The black leather cover was blank, the way it had been that morning on the bus. But as Andrew held it, the spidery writing began to show up. “There!” Andrew exclaimed. “See?” “What?” T.J. said. “It’s writing the title.” Andrew glanced at T.J. “Don’t you see it?” T.J. frowned and shook his head. “I don’t see anything.” “You don’t? Look.” Andrew pointed to the spot where the unseen hand was writing. “Right here.” “Rats!” T.J. exclaimed. “I guess only vampires can see it.” “Vampires-in-training,” Andrew groaned. Andrew sat down next to T.J. He opened the book. The table of contents quickly appeared on the page. “ ‘Chapter Two,’ ” he read aloud. “ ‘Vampire Rules.’ ” Andrew turned to Chapter Two. Delicate handwriting began to fill the page. “Is there writing?” T.J. asked. Andrew nodded. “So read it!” T.J. said impatiently. “ ‘As a vampire-in-training,’ ” Andrew read, “ ‘you must obey the vampire rules. One. Avoid garlic. All parts of the plant will cause you to sicken and retreat.’ ” “Now it tells you,” T.J. commented. “ ‘Two,’ ” Andrew read on. “ ‘You cannot cross running water. You may, however, be transported across a river or stream while sleeping in your coffin.’ ” T.J. giggled. “Guess you’ll have to ride the school bus in your coffin, Andrew.” “Not funny, T.J.,” Andrew said. “You should have read this part this morning,” T.J. added. “But I couldn’t,” Andrew told him. “The only writing in the book then was Chapter One. There wasn’t any Chapter Two.” T.J. rolled his eyes. “Keep going.” “ ‘Three,’ ” Andrew read. “ ‘You will become appealing to canines. Dogs and their brothers, the wolves, will bark and howl at your approach. They will want to be near you.’ ” Andrew slammed the book shut. “Keep going!” T.J. cried. “I can’t,” Andrew told him. “The writing stopped.” “Bummer,” T.J. muttered. Andrew threw the book down in disgust. “This isn’t any good!” he exclaimed. “The rules are showing up too late! I’ve already had garlic poisoning. I’ve already had a problem crossing running water. And I’ve already been attacked by a pack of dogs.” He shook his head. “If this book is going to do me any good, it has to tell me stuff before it happens. Not after.” T.J. looked thoughtful. “Maybe you’re ahead of schedule,” he suggested. “Maybe you’re a super-talented vampire-in-training.” “Yeah, right.” Andrew picked the book up again. He flipped to the back. The pages were blank. All blank. Andrew sighed. “I have to know what’s coming up,” he told T.J. “I have to know the rules! What if I break one by mistake?” “You might not survive.” T.J. frowned. “Look what that garlic did to you.” Andrew groaned. “There has to be a way to make the writing appear,” he insisted. “Help me, T.J.!” T.J. hopped up and turned off the lights. “See anything?” Andrew shook his head. T.J. ran to the bathroom. He came back with a glass of water. He sprinkled a few drops on a page. Andrew squinted hard at the book. “Nothing,” he declared. “I know! Get your mom’s iron,” T.J. suggested. When Andrew returned with the iron, T.J. plugged it in. He turned the dial to the lowest setting. “We don’t want the book to burst into flames,” he said as he ran the iron over a page. Andrew stared at the book. Nothing. “I give up,” he moaned. He unplugged the iron, dropped the book, and kicked it back where it had come from—under his bed. Then he turned to T.J. “Okay, you’re the vampire expert. What am I going to do?” T.J. grew serious. “You have to totally trust me on this, Andrew,” he said. “I’ll tell you what you have to do. But do you promise to do it?” Andrew nodded. He was desperate. “Okay,” T.J. said. “The first thing you have to do is get a coffin.” 8 “Are you crazy?” Andrew cried. “Get a coffin?” T.J. nodded. “You have to. Vampires sleep in coffins.” “But why? I mean, what would happen if I didn’t?” “Vampires can’t really rest unless they sleep in a coffin,” T.J. said. “Okay, so I don’t get a good night’s sleep.” Andrew shrugged. “Big deal. I’d rather toss and turn all night in my own bed than sleep in a coffin.” T.J. shook his head. “You might be okay for a few nights. But a vampire has to sleep in a coffin. It’s one of the rules.” Andrew sighed. “Yeah, I’ll probably read all about it tomorrow in Chapter Three.” “And not an empty coffin either,” T.J. added. “What do you mean?” Andrew asked. “It has to have some of your native soil in it,” T.J. said. “Native soil?” Andrew’s eyebrows arched up. “Soil? Like dirt? Like dirt out of my own backyard?” “Exactly,” T.J. agreed. “Face it, Andrew. Sooner or later you have to get a coffin.” “Oh, great,” Andrew groaned. “So how do I get a coffin? Go to Fear Street Cemetery and dig one up?” “Hey, yeah!” T.J. exclaimed. Then he frowned. “But how would you get rid of the body that’s already in it?” “B-b-body?” Andrew managed to get out. “I don’t want a coffin that’s had a body in it! If I have to sleep in a coffin, I want a new one!” “A new one . . .” T.J. repeated. Then he raced for the door. Andrew threw himself down on his bed. Why was this happening to him? Only this morning he’d been a normal kid. He’d been worried about finding his sneakers. Now he was some kind of a freak. Now he had to worry about finding a coffin! T.J. rushed back into Andrew’s room, flipping through the Yellow Pages. “ ‘Clowns,’ ” he said. “ ‘Coffee. Coins.’ ” He stopped. “No coffins. Hmmm. I’ll try ‘Funeral Homes.’ Hey, great! They’ve got ten listings for funeral homes.” T.J. picked up the phone. Andrew couldn’t stand to listen to T.J. asking about a coffin. A coffin for him! He went down to the kitchen. When he came back with a bag of chips, T.J. was frowning. “What?” said Andrew. “They don’t sell coffins?” “Oh, they sell them.” T.J. reached for a chip. “And you can have a not-too-fancy one for only twelve hundred dollars.” Andrew handed T.J. the bag of chips. His appetite was gone. T.J. thought while he ate. “For tonight,” he said, “find a coffin substitute.” “Like what?” Andrew asked. “A big box. A drawer. A closet.” T.J. finished the chips and tossed the empty bag into the wastebasket. “Any small space where you can put your native soil.” * * * That night after dinner, Andrew went out to the backyard and dug up a little native soil. He felt like an idiot. But he didn’t want to break any more vampire rules. He put the dirt into a small plastic bag. Then he walked around his house, looking for something that might serve as a coffin. In the basement, he found a battered cardboard refrigerator box. It was full of old clothes. But it might work. Andrew pushed the box over on its side. He took out the clothes through one end. He tossed in his bag of native soil. Then he crawled in to try it out. Andrew lay there with his head at the closed end of the box. His feet stuck out the other end. The box smelled funny and damp. He didn’t think he could handle a whole night of that smell. “Andrew?” Emily’s voice boomed from above the box. “What are you doing in there?” “Uh . . .” Andrew didn’t know what to say. “I’m . . . doing an experiment. For science class.” “An experiment on what?” Emily asked. “On how being in a small space affects the human brain?” “Hey . . . right,” Andrew said. “You got it.” Emily bent down. She peered in at her brother. “And have you found that most brains turn to mush?” she asked him. “Or only your brain?” Emily didn’t wait for him to answer. She grabbed him by both ankles and yanked him out of the box. “I don’t know why you were in there,” Emily said. “And I don’t want to know. But it has something to do with vampires. Right?” Andrew nodded. “How can you be so stupid?” Emily was practically screaming. Andrew sat up. He tried to stay calm while he laid out all the evidence for his sister. She’d see. He was becoming a vampire. But for every single thing, she had a reasonable answer. His pale color? A touch of the flu. The bumps on his neck? Mosquito bites. The garlic-bread incident? Spoiled butter. The bus not going over the brook? Simple engine trouble. The dogs swarming around him? The cookie in his pocket. Emily went upstairs then. Andrew stuffed the old clothes back into the refrigerator box. He felt a huge sense of relief. Emily had to be right. Vampires weren’t real! With T.J. around, of course he thought he was turning into a vampire. Because T.J. was so into vampires. Because T.J. wanted it to be true! But now, with T.J. gone, he saw that Emily was right. No way was he turning into a vampire! But . . . what if he was? Andrew shivered. That was too horrible to think about! * * * Late that night, Andrew lay staring at the ceiling. The ceiling of his closet. He hoped with all his might that he wasn’t turning into a vampire. But just in case . . . he didn’t want to break any more rules. So he made a bed for himself inside his closet. A closet wasn’t exactly like a coffin. But it was shaped like one—a coffin standing on end. And it was dark. Anyway, it was the best he could do on short notice. Andrew had lined the floor of the closet with towels. He brought in his pillow. And a blanket. And the bag of dirt. Andrew didn’t like to admit it. But he felt pretty good curled up inside his closet! * * * Andrew heard something. It half woke him up. He opened his eyes. It was dark. Very dark. For a second, he forgot where he was. Then he remembered. The closet. But why did it feel so different now? Why couldn’t he feel the floor? Andrew had a strange, floating feeling. His head felt heavy. A muffled voice outside the closet said, “Where is he?” “His bed hasn’t been slept in,” came another voice. Andrew woke all the way up now. “Where in the world could he be?” a voice said. Then the closet door swung open. There stood his mom! And Emily! But . . . they were upside down! Something was wrong. Horribly wrong! What was happening to him? 9 Andrew shut his eyes. Then he opened them. Emily and his mom stared back at him. They had wide-open eyes. And wide-open mouths. But . . . their mouths were over their eyes! They were still upside down. Seeing them like that made Andrew feel sick and dizzy. “What in the world . . .” his mother’s upside-down mouth said. “Uh . . .” Andrew tilted his head up. He found himself staring at the floor of his closet. Now he realized where he was. He was hanging by his knees from his clothes rod! Emily and his mom weren’t upside down. He was! “Get down, Andrew,” Emily demanded. Andrew tried. But he discovered that he couldn’t move his arms. They were pinned to his sides by his blanket, which was wrapped tightly around his shoulders. How did this happen? Could he have wrapped himself up like this? Andrew struggled. Finally he freed his arms from the blanket. He lowered himself to the floor. “Andrew?” his mom said. “Were you in there the whole night?” “Yeah,” Andrew said slowly. “See . . . it’s sort of like . . . practicing for . . . survival training.” His mom’s eyes narrowed. “Hanging by your knees in your closet? How is that supposed to help you survive?” “Well, you know,” Andrew said. “In case I was ever in the woods and I had to sleep hanging from a tree branch or—” “Give me a break!” Emily cut in. His mom reached out and felt his forehead. “No temperature,” she said, tilting her head as she glanced at him. “I thought maybe you had a high fever with hallucinations.” “I’m okay, Mom,” Andrew said. “Really.” He wished it were true! “I’ll get ready for school really fast, okay? Ten minutes.” “You better,” Emily growled at him. His mother shook her head. “All right,” she said. “I have to be at work early today. Don’t keep your sister waiting.” “No way,” Andrew told her. “Don’t worry.” He shooed his mom and Emily out of his room. He shut the door. Then he leaned on it, his mind racing. This can’t be happening! he thought. But it is! I’m really turning into a vampire! Andrew dove for his backpack. He yanked out How to Be a Vampire. He flipped madly through its pages. He was becoming a vampire! He had to know more about the vampire rules. But . . . no! The pages were blank! “Please!” Andrew begged the unseen hand. “Write something!” And as if on command, writing began to appear. A mature vampire is a day sleeper. At dawn, he retires to his coffin. There, he may sleep with the lid open or closed. As a vampire-in-training, you still sleep at night. It is best for you to sleep in a coffin. If a coffin cannot be found, any small, dark place will do. A mature vampire must return to his coffin at daybreak. If this is not possible, a vampire searches for a cave. Or a tree in a dark forest. There, he will hang upside down to sleep, wrapping his wings around his body. As a vampire-in-training, you must practice sleeping upside down. If possible, wrap yourself in a sheet or blanket before you go to sleep. This will help you get used to having wings. The writing stopped there. Andrew started shaking the book. “Tell me what I need to know today!” he yelled. “Tell me things before they happen, you stupid book! Not after!” What if he broke some serious rule? What if Chapter Four said something like: Any vampire-in-training who says the word “sneaker” will instantly die a horrible death. He needed to know what to do. And what not to do. He needed to know now! Before it was too late! “Ten minutes are up!” Emily called from downstairs. With a groan, Andrew stuffed the book into his backpack. He threw on his clothes and ran down the stairs. Emily was waiting at the bottom. “Let’s go,” she said. “Hold it,” Andrew said. “I’m starving.” Emily followed Andrew into the kitchen. “I cannot believe the torture you put me through in the mornings,” she told him. Andrew stuck two pieces of bread into the toaster oven. “How did you even think of hanging upside down in your closet?” Emily continued. “What is wrong with your brain?” Andrew wasn’t listening. He was spreading jam on his toast. Beautiful bright red jam. He sank his teeth into the toast. Mmmm! He couldn’t remember anything tasting this delicious, ever! “We’re leaving now!” Emily declared. She grabbed him by his shirt collar. She began dragging him out of the kitchen. Andrew crammed the rest of his toast into his mouth. He barely had time to grab his backpack off the floor. Outside, Emily let go and marched ahead of him. Andrew shielded his eyes from the sun. He saw lots of kids waiting for the bus. He stopped. He couldn’t get on the bus! If he did, it couldn’t cross Winding Brook. It would get stuck again. “Emily!” Andrew shouted. “I’m riding my bike!” Without waiting for her answer, Andrew turned and ran for the garage. He’d take the long way to school, around the pond. Tossing his backpack into his basket, he hopped on his bike and took off. Andrew steered down his driveway. He pedaled hard, gathering speed for the hill ahead. He’d never gone this fast before. He shot up the hill, then down. He whizzed along the street. Lampposts and street signs blurred as he passed. He felt the wind against his face as he rode. “Whooooeeee!” he yelled. How fast could he go? he wondered. He pedaled harder. He rocketed along the streets of Shadyside, whizzing through intersections, zooming around corners. He wasn’t even breathing hard. He wasn’t panting. Nothing to it! And then he knew. He had supernatural strength! There was no other way to explain it. There was no other way he could have gotten to Hawthorne Drive so quickly. He’d almost reached his school. A few teachers’ cars were parked in the lot. But not the bus. He’d beaten the bus! “All right!” Andrew cried. He sped toward the school. He’d beaten Emily! All her rushing him around, and now he was here first! He couldn’t wait until she spotted him! He couldn’t wait to see her face! Andrew hopped off his bike at the curb. He guided it over to the bike rack. He began putting on his bike lock. “Are you crazy?” someone called. Andrew glanced up. He saw T.J. running toward him. “Hey, T.J.!” Andrew said. “Guess what? I beat—” But T.J. didn’t wait to hear. He grabbed Andrew by the elbow. He dragged him inside the front door of the school. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” T.J. asked. He held Andrew’s arm. He dragged him down to the boys’ room. He pulled him inside. He shoved Andrew in front of a mirror. “Look!” T.J. cried. Andrew kept his eyes glued to the floor. He was afraid to look. “Look!” T.J. said again. “Look what you’ve done!” Slowly Andrew raised his eyes to the mirror. He gasped! 10 The skin on Andrew’s face glowed bright pink. His freckles had turned into blazing red dots. He looked like a total freak! Andrew put his hands to his cheeks. He thought they’d feel feverish. But his skin was cold. Cold and clammy. “What’s happening to me?” he whispered. “It’s the sunlight, jerk,” T.J. said. “Vampires can’t be out in it. Remember? Let me check your neck.” Andrew tilted his head. T.J. studied his bite marks. “Still there,” T.J. declared. “So you’re not a real vampire yet. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” T.J. scurried out of the boys’ room. When he came back, he had an armload of clothes. “I raided the Lost and Found.” He dropped everything on the floor except for a navy blue hooded sweatshirt. That he handed to Andrew. “Put this on.” Andrew did. “What’s wrong with you anyway?” T.J. pulled the sweatshirt hood up over Andrew’s head. “Yesterday you ate garlic. Today you almost fried yourself.” He tightened the cord inside the hood until only a small circle of Andrew’s face showed. “T.J., I have to breathe!” Andrew objected. T.J. loosened the cord. But not much. “You’re almost a vampire,” he added as he began tying a bow. “Act like one!” T.J. stuck a floppy yellow rain hat over the sweatshirt hood. He handed Andrew a pair of white plastic sunglasses. “Sorry,” he said. “It was the only pair in the Lost and Found.” Andrew put on the sunglasses. He turned toward the mirror. He looked like a deranged tourist, ready for rain or shine. “You think Mr. Landis will let me into English class like this?” Andrew asked. T.J. looked thoughtful. “Talk with an accent,” he suggested. “Maybe he’ll think you’re a new student from some other country.” “From some other planet,” Andrew said glumly. “I know!” T.J. said. “Tell him you have sun poisoning. It’s a real disease. My uncle Henry used to get it.” “And it’s the truth,” Andrew pointed out. “Sort of.” T.J. handed him a pair of black wool gloves. “Every day you’re becoming more of a vampire,” T.J. warned. “Pretty soon the sun will destroy you.” He snapped his fingers. “Instantly! It’ll turn you to dust!” “You mean . . . I can’t ever go out in the daytime?” Fear showed in Andrew’s face. “I’ll never be able to go to the beach? I’ll never be able to go swimming?” “Swimming might be okay,” T.J. said. “In an indoor pool.” “T.J.!” Andrew cried. “I don’t want to be a vampire! Help me! Please! There has to be a way to turn this thing around!” T.J. shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Anyway, I can’t wait until you’re a real vampire!” Andrew drew back from his friend. “Why?” he asked. “Because then you can make me one!” T.J. explained. “It’ll be great! We can hang out together all night and play pranks! We’ll scare people out of their minds! And flying! Think about it, Andrew! Flying is going to be so cool!” Andrew smiled weakly. Okay, if he was becoming a vampire, he might as well think about the good parts. He knew who he’d scare out of her mind. Emily! Miss Know-ItAll thought Alien Slime from Mars was scary. But that was nothing. Not compared to how scared she was going to be when a couple of bats flew in her window! Andrew thought some more. His smile faded. Scaring Emily was one good thing about becoming a vampire. The only one! T.J. put up a hand as the first bell rang. “Hey, Andrew! Give me a high five!” he said. Then he added in his best Draculese: “Beink a vampire ees goink to be vunderful!” * * * That night Andrew lay in his bed. But he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept replaying the day. What a horrible day! He’d walked around Shadyside Middle School looking like an idiot. In class kids pointed at him and shrieked with laughter. When he walked down the hall, kids punched their friends and said, “Hey, look! That guy in the goofy sunglasses! That’s Andrew Griffin!” It had been a long, miserable day. Andrew turned over. Maybe it was his bed. Maybe he couldn’t sleep in a bed anymore. But he wasn’t ready to go into his closet. Not yet. He was worn out. But he wasn’t sleepy. Andrew threw back his covers. Maybe a snack would help. Milk and cookies. Andrew tiptoed downstairs. He tried to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake his mom. She was worried about him. About his red face. About him sleeping in the closet. He didn’t want to worry her anymore. At least not yet. Not until he had to break the big news. Hey, Mom? Guess what? I’m a vampire! In the front hallway, Andrew shivered. His mom always turned the heat down at night. He began rummaging around in the hall closet, looking for a sweater. But he found something better than a sweater. Much better! An old cape of his mother’s. A long, black cape. Cool! Andrew carried the cape into the kitchen. The nearly full moon shone in through the big windows. He didn’t even need to turn on the light. Andrew put the cape around his shoulders. His mom never wore it anymore. He didn’t think she’d mind him trying it on. He fastened the silver clasp. Wow! The cape seemed to give him a blast of energy! He wished he were outside on his bike. He wanted to ride, to feel that burst of speed again. Before he realized what he was doing, Andrew began running around the kitchen table. He flapped his arms up and down. He felt light. Lighter than air. Almost as if he were flying. Any second, he might take off! “Andrew!” Emily’s voice boomed into the kitchen. Andrew caught a glimpse of her, standing in the doorway. He grinned and pretended not to see her. He kept running and flapping. He circled the table again. Then he leapt at Emily. “Hey!” she cried, backing away. “Cut it out!” Andrew veered away from her and circled the table again. Then he lunged over and stopped right in front of her. He stared into her eyes. He felt a rush of energy coming from his own eyes. A power so strong that it startled him. And the strange thing was— he wanted to use it. He wanted to put Emily into a trance! “Stop!” Emily cried. She glanced away. “I swear, if you ever do this vampire act in front of my friends, I’ll murder you!” Andrew felt himself power-down then. Without her eyes meeting his, the rush of energy left him. As it did, Andrew started trembling. He realized he was standing in the kitchen. He was wearing his mom’s old cape. Over his pajamas! And he had tried to put his sister into a trance! A vampire trance! He hadn’t meant to do any of those things. It was as if he were the one in the trance. Not Emily. He was the one doing strange things. A wave of tiredness swept over Andrew then. He brushed by Emily as he walked to the front hallway. Emily followed him. “Andrew?” she said. “What now?” He didn’t answer. He simply hung up his mom’s cape and headed up the stairs. “Andrew!” Emily called after him. “I’ve had it with this vampire stuff. I’m not kidding!” Andrew locked the door to his room. Then he set himself up inside his closet. The same way he had the night before. It wasn’t easy, hanging by his knees and trying to wrap himself up in his blanket. But at last he managed it. He hung there for a long time, thinking. He started to doze, when he heard a noise. The door to his room creaked open. Someone was there! In his room! He heard footsteps. Closer and closer. Andrew held his breath. He felt the pounding of his heart. His mom had been asleep when he came upstairs. But Emily wasn’t, Andrew realized. It was only Emily. She must have picked the lock. “Beat it, Emily!” he shouted through the closet door. Emily didn’t answer. “I’m not kidding, Emily!” Andrew yelled. “Go away!” “I’m not Emily,” a low voice answered. It didn’t sound much like Emily. The closet door swung open. “Noooo!” Andrew choked on his scream. “Noooo!”