Diary of a Wimpy Vampire (8 page)

In future, I will be more careful about how much blood I consume. It’s said that if vampires regularly drink too much, they become bloodoholics. You used to hear about drifter vampires who lived in a constant state of thirst, becoming too slow and clumsy to hunt, and leading a miserable existence of sneaking into blood banks through windows. By the time they were caught and destroyed by irate mobs, they were usually relieved.

M
ONDAY
21
ST
F
EBRUARY

I am feeling better today and have decided to limit myself to three flasks of blood a night.

I went down to the shopping precinct today and sat on a bench. I noticed that a nearby group of older teenagers were smoking, so I asked them to stop but they refused. I can’t believe how anti-social they were. Don’t they know they could kill someone with those things? Obviously, they couldn’t kill me with them, but they could have damaged the lungs of a human. What if my precious Chloe had been walking past?

I know I wouldn’t like it if someone went out in public and did something harmful to me, like throwing holy water and garlic everywhere. If I had vampire speed, I would have snatched their cigarettes and thrown them away in a rapid blur of motion. As it was, I had to make do with tutting and shaking my head, but I think I made my point.

T
UESDAY
22
ND
F
EBRUARY

10
AM

Dad told me off this morning for hogging the bathroom when I brush my teeth. He said that vampires don’t even need to do it, as our teeth can’t decay. That may be true, but I still need to keep my breath minty fresh. After my experience with the deodorant, I’m not taking any chances.

1
AM

If you think half term can be boring, you should try going without sleep for the whole thing.

There’s nothing to watch on TV and I’m stuck on an end-of- level boss in my current PlayStation game. Welcome to the shadowy, fiendish realm of the undead. I don’t think.

I will now try and count up to 10,000 just to pass the time.

2
AM

I got as far as 148 before I realized how much I resembled The Count from
Sesame Street
. I refuse to conform to these vicious stereotypes.

W
EDNESDAY
23
RD
F
EBRUARY

8
AM

How can it only be Wednesday? This half-term holiday has already felt longer than most summer holidays. What if Chloe has moved again to a different town? What if another boy has stolen her from me while I languish here? What if she’s dead? And I don’t mean dead in a cool way like me, but actually a dead body.

I must stop torturing myself with these possibilities.

7
PM

I tried to shave my upper lip tonight because I’ve heard that it makes a moustache grow quicker so you look older.

I kept cutting my lip and having to wait for it to heal, so I got bored. I don’t really want a moustache anyway, because Dad has one, and it’s not cool to look like a miniature version of your parents. In the nineties I had a human friend whose dad used to make the entire family wear matching orange tracksuits. He said it would make it easier for them to find each other in the event of a fire, although why he chose such easily flammable items of clothing for this, I have no idea.

1
AM

Why has this forbidden desire taken over my life? Why did I have to fall in love with a mortal? I am the predator stalking over moonlit hillsides, and she is the sheep for whom I burn with desire.

That last bit came out wrong.

T
HURSDAY
24
TH
F
EBRUARY

I think something very odd happened to me today, but I’m not sure if I was imagining it. I was walking down the road to the shopping precinct when a coach full of old people drove past. I caught the eyes of one of the old ladies in it, and I thought for a second that she was Caroline Blake, a girl I used to fancy in the fifties. As the coach drove away, I tried to work out if it was possible. If she was fifteen in the early fifties, then I suppose she could be in her seventies now.

I’ve got so used to moving around that I forget humans get older. Since I knew Caroline, she’s probably got married, had kids, had grandkids, bought a house, moved house, got a job, lost a job, got another job, got ill, got better and gone grey. And what have I done in all this time? Nothing.

Even my heroic attempt to memorize all the statistics on Supercars Top Trumps seems trivial and pointless in this light.

F
RIDAY
25
TH
F
EBRUARY

The experience that I might or might not have had yesterday has made me realize I have to declare my love to Chloe soon. I can’t let her slip away and watch her go past in a coachload of old folk in the 2070s. Today I shall reveal that I’m immortal and announce my everlasting love for her.

On second thoughts, I might start by asking her to come to the cinema with me.

S
ATURDAY
26
TH
F
EBRUARY

Tomorrow my sister and I will celebrate our transformation day, which is the vampire equivalent of a birthday.

It’s celebrated because we’re supposed to believe that the day you became a vampire is more important than the day you were born as a human.

We were both transformed in East London on 27th February 1927. Mum and Dad fed on our necks until we were weak, and then mixed vampire blood into our veins. A few moments later we effectively ‘died’ and then came back to life as vampires. A transformation isn’t always a pleasant thing to watch, but then again neither is human childbirth if we’re being honest.

My parents took us from the crowded orphanage where we lived to a comfortable town house, so they’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. But I still find it arrogant of them to assume that we want to celebrate the end of our human lives. They’ve been vampires for so long now that all their human memories have gone, but every now and then I still get an echo of how it felt to enjoy a satisfying roast dinner or drift off to sleep with the rain falling on the window.

I haven’t forgotten the actual day I was born on, either. It was 14th May 1911. This is how I know I’m nearly 100 years old.

Note to self:
One way or another, I must win Chloe’s heart before my 100th birthday. I can’t turn 100 without having had a girlfriend. That would just be tragic.

S
UNDAY
27
TH
F
EBRUARY

My sister came bounding into my room at six this morning to remind me about our transformation day. I don’t know why it still thrills her so much. I admit I used to find it exciting, but after a while it begins to serve as a depressing reminder of how long you’ve been undead, and how little you’ve achieved in that time.

I was quite happy lying in bed and thinking about Chloe, but my sister insisted on dragging me downstairs. For breakfast Mum took a flask of type AB+ out of the fridge that she’s been saving for a special occasion.

After we drank it, we opened our presents. I got a Faberge Egg, some original Leonardo da Vinci sketches and a smoking jacket that once belonged to Lord Byron. I would have preferred Guitar Hero, but I made an effort to pretend that I got what I wanted. Mum and Dad are being suspiciously nice to me at the moment. They must be trying to win back my trust after I found out about their attack on the caretaker.

My sister got a Stradivari violin, a crystal skull and a ballgown that once belonged to the young Marie Antoinette. She seemed overjoyed with her presents, although I can’t imagine what use she’ll make of them. You can bet that skull will be broken this time next week.

I’m back at school tomorrow, and I’ve promised myself that I’ll ask Chloe to come on a date with me.

M
ONDAY
28
TH
F
EBRUARY

I went back to school today, and am happy to report that cruel fate has not yet snatched Chloe from me. I had a good chat with her in the library at lunchtime, although I didn’t ask her to come on a date with me as I’d promised myself. I think I spent too long talking to her about the questions on fish farming we had to do for Science. It wasn’t a very seductive topic, in retrospect.

I tried to think of something I did in the holidays to tell her about, but the only things I could thing of were the time I drank too much blood and my transformation day, and that side of my life must remain cloaked for now.

But soon you shall know the truth, flower of the mortal realm.

T
UESDAY
1
ST
M
ARCH

10
AM

Craig was giving everyone a pinch and a thump this morning, saying ‘Pinch, punch, first of the month’. I didn’t mind because I don’t feel pain, but Wayne looked rather angry.

1
PM

Craig has given Susan from our class (who looks like a troll) a note saying that he fancies her. Except he hasn’t really, because the note was a fake written by Wayne to get revenge, and now Craig has found out that there will be a fight in the playing fields after school. Chloe and I had a chat about how childish all of this behaviour is. We have chosen to attend the fight nonetheless.

7
PM

The fight was a disappointment to say the very least. We all stood around in a circle chanting the word ‘fight’ and then Craig and Wayne pushed each other a bit until Mr Morris came along and broke it up.

It’s times like this when I wish there were still a few vampires around to give us some proper entertainment. Although all vampires would face permanent exclusion if they killed one of their own kind, they could formally challenge each other to duels. These duels were epic physical struggles of vampire martial arts that often went on for days and crossed several continents. Which sounds more entertaining than a couple of teenagers shoving each other until a teacher turns up.

After the non-fight, I walked Chloe home for the first time. She lives on Heywood Lane, the poshest road in Stockfield, as her dad works in insurance. We could afford to live there if we wanted, but Dad won’t spend money on anything because he says it will draw attention to us. Yet he lets Mum hang her ancient ballgowns and corsets on the washing line where everyone can see them. Could he be any more of a hypocrite?