Eighth Grade Bites (12 page)

V
AMPIRES DRINK BLOOD.SLEEP IN coffins,and fear garlic.” Mr. Otis stood in front of the class, dressed in a black suit and a cheap vinyl cape not so different from the one Vlad had worn on Halloween. Leaning against the desk, he looked at Vlad with a curious glint in his eye and smiled before turning toward the chalkboard, where he'd taped various artists' interpretations of vampires over the centuries. Vlad paid special attention to the Hungarian countess and the Transylvanian prince. Were they real vampires, too? Relatives of his?

Mr. Otis turned back to the class and stared at him intently. Vlad shifted in his seat. Several of his classmates looked from their teacher to Vlad. Mr. Otis blinked, awakening from whatever dreamland had occupied his mind for a minute. “Vlad, I want you to help me with something before you give your oral presentation.” His hand disappeared into one of the desk drawers, and he retrieved a plastic container, its lid tightly sealed. He held it out.

With a quick glance at Meredith, Vlad left his seat for the front of the class. He took the container and looked expectantly at his teacher. Mr. Otis seemed to be holding his breath, but then he spoke, his voice a low, almost growling whisper. “Please pass the garlic cloves out to the rest of the class, Vladimir.”

Vlad looked at the container in his hands. All that stood between him and one of the deadliest herbs known to vampirekind was an eighth of an inch of mustard-yellow plastic.

“I can't.” He held the container out to Mr. Otis, who tilted his head and crossed his arms stubbornly in front of him.

“Why not?” Mr. Otis, arms crossed, was tapping one finger against his biceps and watching the container in Vlad's hand with seeming indifference.

Vlad set the container on Mr. Otis's desk. “I'm allergic to garlic. If you don't believe me, check with the office. They have it on file.” He shrugged, ignoring the scoffs of some of his classmates.

Mr. Otis paused for a moment, then returned the container to his desk drawer and glanced up at the clock before turning back to Vlad. “All right, then. Let's carry on with your oral presentation on what it's like to be a vampire.” He raised his eyebrow. There had been no question in his tone, no suggestion of what it
must be like
. Mr. Otis had omitted those things because there was no question in his mind.

He knew Vlad's secret.

Vlad's legs felt like jelly. His insides had cooled to the point that it seemed his vocal cords were frozen and unable to make a mere utterance.

Vlad focused on pushing into Mr. Otis's thoughts. A blurry image began to form at the forefront of his mind. It was red—red like blood. The feeling that accompanied it was fear. Mr. Otis's crisp voice shook Vlad from his trance. “Vlad. Please continue with your presentation.”

Vlad cleared his throat and slowly turned to face the rest of the class. He looked back at his empty desk and wished that he was there before clearing his throat needlessly again. “My name is Vladimir Tod, and I'm . . . I'm a vampire.” His ears suddenly felt very warm. He glanced at Mr. Otis, who gestured for him to continue. Vlad's mind went blank. He couldn't remember what he'd previously written on the subject.

Mr. Otis looked irritated. The rest of the class shifted listlessly.

Vlad decided to wing it. “It's not easy, being a bloodsucking creature of the night. If I go out without my sunblock, I'll likely burst into flames.” Meredith chuckled. She wasn't alone. Suddenly Vlad didn't feel quite so mortified.

“Aside from characters in books and stories that I can't prove to be true, I'm pretty sure I'm the only vampire left. It's kind of lonely, but at least I don't have to wait in long lines at the blood bank.” Vlad smiled. To his immense surprise, he was enjoying this. “If I concentrate, I can make my body float, and sometimes I can read people's thoughts. But for the most part, being a vampire bites.”

The class erupted in applause. Even Mr. Otis gave a smile.

Vlad turned back to his seat, and as he walked away, he threw Mr. Otis another glance. His teacher reached for his coffee cup, his sleeve pulling up enough to reveal the hint of a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. The ink was thick and black.

Vlad gasped aloud. It looked a lot like the symbol that had been carved into Mr. Craig's porch—the one that had been haunting him for months. The only difference was that the lines were slanting in the opposite direction.

 

The bell rang its shrill tone, pronouncing school officially over. Vlad gathered his books and bolted from the classroom without so much as a glance at Mr. Otis.

Henry was waiting on the steps outside. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, and one of his thumbs was threaded through a belt loop on his jeans. He smiled at Vlad, but his smile quickly melted as Vlad moved closer. “What's wrong? You look pale.”

Though he normally laughed at Henry's puns, Vlad ignored the quip and grabbed a handful of Henry's shirt. “I think Mr. Otis killed my parents.”

Henry gaped at him.

Vlad let go of his shirt and leaned in close. He glanced over his shoulder and back at Henry. “And Mr. Craig, too.”

Regaining his composure a bit, Henry said, “But Vlad, we don't even know for sure if Mr. Craig is dead or not. That's crazy.”

On the walk home, Vlad spilled almost all of it, outlining in detail his visit to Mr. Craig's house, seeing Otis's top hat there and the mysterious symbol that he'd seen in four other places—and the similar mark on the inner wrist of Mr. Otis. He told Henry about his dad's mention of a tattoo that he'd planned to remove with sunlight and of the conversation he'd overheard between Otis and a man dressed entirely in black, who went by the name D'Ablo.

Henry shook his head, but didn't discount Vlad's theories. “So what is he, some kind of gang member? A mob assassin?”

Vlad shook his head and brushed the wisp of bangs from his eyes. “He's a vampire.”

Henry laughed, but stopped when he looked at Vlad. “You can't be serious.”

“I'm dead serious.” Vlad slowed his steps as they neared his house. He glanced at the house and wondered whether Nelly was home yet. “I think he's going to try to hurt me. In Dad's journal, he said—”

“Vlad, that's nuts. I mean, I know you miss your parents and Mr. Craig, but accusing your teacher of being a vampire? That sucks, dude.” Henry smirked, pleased at the new pun. All traces of a smile faded when Vlad failed to laugh. “Even if he is a vampire—and I'm not saying for sure he's not—if he were going to hurt you, wouldn't he have done it by now?”

“Not if he thinks he needs me to locate my dad.”

“But your dad is—”

“I know, Henry! I was the one who found them!” Vlad was fuming. He tightened his grip on his backpack's strap and turned toward his house. “Dead. My parents are dead. Why do people keep reminding me?” Henry opened his mouth to answer, but Vlad quickened his pace and slammed the front door of his house behind him.

Vlad threw the journal across the room, sending the lamp on the end table crashing to the floor. Then he bolted back outside. “Henry?”

Henry just looked at him. His eyes were full of hurt.

So were Vlad's. “You believe me, don't you?”

Henry examined the hole in Vlad's shoe before meeting his eyes. “I believe you're scared. And there has to be some reason for it. So . . . sure. Why not vampires?”

“In my dad's journal, he talks about a whole world of vampires, entire cities populated by them. They couldn't all have vanished, could they?”

Vlad must have looked terrified, because Henry lowered his voice and gave him a reassuring nod. “It's not impossible to believe other vampires are out there. And they might be horrible people. You could be right. But don't go freaking out over something we can't prove yet. We'll find out what's going on, Vlad. Just . . . be careful.” With another nod, Henry walked off.

Vlad looked up at his house and let out a groan. He'd completely forgotten that this was the night Mr. Otis was coming over for dinner. He let his backpack slip from his shoulder and lugged it into the house.

After tossing his backpack and jacket into his bedroom, Vlad changed his shirt and headed back downstairs. He heated a bag of blood in the microwave and bit into it, then sucked the sweet, warm juices into his mouth and rolled them around on his tongue before swallowing.

Vlad had once seen a book at the mall called
Bloodsucking Fiends
. He didn't remember the author or even what the book was about, apart from its vampire theme, but he found himself mulling over that description of his species and wondered whether people would refer to him as a fiend if they ever found out about him. The thought bothered him at first, but after a while he became drawn to the term. He already sucked blood; he might as well have a cool title like
fiend
to go with it.

Vlad rounded the stairs just as Nelly was shutting the front door with her heel. Her arms were full of grocery bags. “What happened to the lamp?”

“Amenti knocked it over.”

The pudgy black cat meowed her protest.

Nelly shook her head at Vlad's shirt. “You're not wearing that.”

Vlad looked down at his black T-shirt and the crimson letters that dripped down his chest, mimicking blood. It read VAMPIRES SUCK—Henry's gift to him last Christmas. Vlad sucked some blood off his thumb. “What? I like this shirt.”

Nelly gave him that you've-got-to-be-kidding-me-if-you-think-I'm-giving-in-on-this-one look and carried the bags into the kitchen. Vlad followed her. “What's for dinner?”

She was pulling fresh hamburger out of one bag, and Vlad stared at the red juices that clung to the plastic wrap around the meat. “Meat loaf. Will you be okay faking through a meal? I know you don't like swallowing cooked meat, but—”

“No big deal, Aunt Nelly. You act like I haven't been pretending to be normal my entire life.” He raised the corner of his mouth in a half smile, pulled the eggs and rice from a bag, and set them on the counter.

Nelly gave him a matter-of-fact nod. “Pretending to be
human
. You
are
normal, Vladimir. A perfectly normal, healthy teenage vampire. Some people are vegetarians, you drink blood—it's not weird or bizarre or abnormal in the least. You're just different from the rest of this town.” She set the hamburger next to the eggs and sighed. “I do worry how they'd react if they learned about you. People fear what they can't understand and harm what they fear.”

Nelly was right, of course. And Vlad would go on pretending to be something he was not until the world was safe for him to stop . . . which would be never, as Vlad saw it. He watched Nelly putting the groceries away and wondered why she'd asked Mr. Otis over for dinner. He was about to ask when the curious idea entered his mind to simply steal his way into her thoughts and see. He concentrated hard and pushed with his mind.

Nelly pressed her palm against her forehead. “I have the worst headache.”

Vlad frowned and pushed again with his mind, but nothing happened. Nelly reached for some ibuprofen on the counter and popped two of them into her mouth, then gave Vlad a curious glance. “Are you nervous about having your teacher over?”

“
Substitute
teacher.” Vlad ran a finger along the side of the hamburger packet and licked it. He could feel the pressure of his fangs elongating and was tempted to let them remain in plain view during Mr. Otis's visit. Maybe a close encounter with another bloodsucking fiend would shake any information Mr. Otis had out of him. “They still haven't found Mr. Craig.”

Nelly shook her head. “I wonder if they ever will. That poor man.”

Vlad reached out and covered Nelly's hand with his own. “Aunt Nelly? I kind of need to talk to you about Mr. Otis.”

He told her everything: about the book, Otis's hat, Tomas's journal, Otis's tattoo. When he finished, she patted him on the shoulder. “You've been under a ridiculous amount of stress, Vladimir. I'm not surprised you're seeing vampires everywhere. Why, the other day I thought I saw—”

“Not everywhere. Just in my English class.” He pulled out the slip of paper he had drawn from Otis's hat weeks before—the one that had read
werewolf
and now read
vampire.

Nelly read Mr. Otis's horrible handwriting and sighed. “Sweetheart, we're all worried about Mr. Craig. But that's no reason to dislike Mr. Otis. Give him a chance.” Giving his shoulder a squeeze, she clapped her hands together, as if signifying some momentous decision. “I'd better get started or dinner will never be ready in time.”

Vlad stepped back, stunned that his aunt didn't believe him or even take his concerns seriously. But there was no point in arguing. He'd just have to whittle some hard evidence out of Mr. Otis tonight. Then Nelly and Henry would have to believe him.

Vlad touched one of his fangs with the tip of his finger and shivered as the sharp enamel slipped into his skin. He sucked the blood for a moment and shrugged at Nelly's concerned gaze. She was going to go on looking at him like that forever if he didn't say anything to put her fears at rest. He forced a smile. “Want help with dinner?”

Vlad helped her pull out bowls and pans, crack open eggs, and drizzle their gooey insides into a big glass bowl. He watched Nelly mush the rice and meat together, his thoughts never far away from that tattoo on Mr. Otis's wrist. It was so like the symbol on the porch. It had to be a curse of some kind, or something used by vampires to identify their kill. Vlad's thoughts turned to the black cylinder, and the symbol engraved at the bottom. He wasn't sure how that fit in, but it was clear to Vlad that someone had reached Tomas before D'Ablo could. And that someone was Mr. Otis.