How to Be a Vampire (3 page)

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?”

“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!

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?”