by Steven Banks
“What happened to that guy, Lovick Zabrecky?” I asked.
“I have neither seen nor heard from him for over a hundred years. I suppose he was staked or perished in the sun. Would you like me to demonstrate a transformation to smoke, before I take my leave?”
“Yeah!”
She closed her eyes. Then she was gone, and there was a small white cloud about Martha’s size. It moved across the room, went under the crack in the door and disappeared.
“FIRE!” screamed Emma in the hallway.
I quickly unlocked my door and opened it. Emma was standing there, dressed in her Cleopatra costume, freaking out and pointing at the fog.
“Fire! Fire!”
“No, Emma! It’s not!” I yelled. “Shh! It’s not a fire!”
“What is it?” she said, holding her nose.
“It’s…uh…it’s a smoke-bomb magic trick that somebody gave us for trick-or-treat.”
Smoky Martha went back through the door and into my bedroom.
“I never got anything that good on Halloween!” said Emma. She went into her room and slammed the door.
“Don’t slam doors!” yelled Dad from somewhere.
I went back in my room and closed the door. The smoke was over by the window and turned back into Martha.
“Your sister is as spirited as ever.”
“Yeah. She is. That smoke thing is pretty amazing.”
“It is an excellent way to get in and out of places surreptitiously. Now, I must depart.”
“Why are you going to New Orleans?” I asked.
“For The Gathering, of course,” she said, like I was supposed to know.
“Of vampires?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, bagpipe players. Of course vampires!”
“Is it, like, a vampire convention? Like a Vampire-Con?” That sounded cool.
“No!” she sneered. “We do not trade Dracula action figures, or have costume contests or vampire sing-alongs, or buy and sell capes, or watch vampire movie marathons…. It is a serious event. Especially as our numbers dwindle. It is about survival and existing in the modern world.”
That sounded kind of boring.
Martha tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. “However…you would be quite the sensation, if you were to attend. Many would be curious to meet you—the world’s one and only Vam-Wolf-Zom. Perhaps you would care to join me?”
I didn’t want to hang out with a bunch of vampires staring at me.
“No, thanks.”
“Perhaps another time. Farewell, Thomas Marks.”
“Bye, Martha.”
“Good luck with your lessons, vampiric and scholastic…and with Annie and Capri,” she added with a smile.
She turned into a bat, hovered at the windowsill, and flew out into the night past the half moon. She made flying look so easy, but she’d been doing it for two hundred and forty-four years.
I was hungry. But not for blood or meat. I made some popcorn and settled down in the den with my pillowcase of candy. I turned off all the lights—which is what you should do when you watch a scary movie—and put on Carnival of Souls. Emma and Carrot Boy came home just as it started.
“Is this one of Gram’s boring, old black-and-white movies?” said Emma.
I ignored her.
“This looks awesome!” said Carrot Boy, plopping down on the sofa.
Emma had a semi-meltdown. “Lukey, we’re not going to watch this!”
“C’mon, Emmers, it’s Halloween; we gotta watch a scary movie.”
She sat down and ate three of my best candy bars. She kept saying the movie wasn’t scary, but she hid her face behind a pillow about ten times.
When it ended, Carrot Boy said to me, “Dude, we should start a Scary Movie Club!”
“No we shouldn’t!” said Emma.
All in all it wasn’t a bad first Halloween as a Vam-Wolf-Zom.
46.
Down the Rabbit Hole
I woke up the next morning and Emma was in my room. She was standing by my desk, reading a letter.
I sat up in bed. “What are you doing?!”
“Reading a letter from your girlfriend.”
“WHAT?!”
I jumped out of bed.
“Give it to me! Why are you reading it?”
“I thought it was to me,” said Emma. “There was no name on it.”
“Emma! It was a letter on my desk, in my room, and you thought it was for you?!”
I tried to grab it, but I didn’t want to tear it, in case it was important. Emma read it out loud.
“ ‘Dearest Thomas Marks…’ ”
Emma looked up. “That’s a little formal, don’t you think?”
Martha must have come back and left the letter after I was asleep. Why?
“ ‘We, who are not like others, must traverse a road that is not easily traveled. I wish you luck in your life. I am glad I was able to teach you a few things.’ ”
She looked up again. “Oooo! What did she teach you?”
I ignored her. She kept reading.
“ ‘But take heed, you must spread your wings and fly in the world. As Benjamin Franklin said, ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’”
Emma made a face. “Seriously? She’s quoting Ben Franklin? Who is this girl?”
“ ‘Fondly yours, Martha Livingston.’ ”
Emma shook her head. “Fondly is not good.”
“ ‘P.S. Do not forget to floss.’ ”
“Are you kidding me? Who says ‘floss’ at the end of a love letter? Does your girlfriend want to be a dentist when she grows up?”
“She’s not my girlfriend!”
“How old is she?
“Thirteen.”
“Ooo! An older woman! Who is she?”
“None of your business!”
Emma dropped the letter on my desk and walked out the door and down the hall. “Tom has a new girlfriend named Martha Livingston!”
“Who’s Martha Livingston?” yelled Mom from the living room.
“What happened to Annie Barstow?” yelled Dad from the living room.
* * *
Later that day I went over to Zeke’s to see if Martha’s hypnotizing had really worked on him. He didn’t say anything about seeing her, but I had to try one more thing.
“Hey, Zeke, do you want to play Rabbit Attack!?”
I never ask Zeke to play Rabbit Attack! He knows how much I hate it.
“Really, T-Man? Excellent!”
Normally, he would have started doing jumping jacks. But he didn’t.
Martha had cured him.
We started playing and it was just as boring as I remembered.
“T-Man, want to see a really cool thing?”
I pretended I was interested. “Sure, Zeke.”
“See that little rabbit hole in the corner of the screen? Throw three carrots down there.”
I threw three carrots down the hole, and Randee Rabbit went to this amazing underworld. There were cool weapons and big battles and robot rabbits and awesome creatures. We played for three hours until my mom said I had to come home. Rabbit Attack! is the greatest game ever.
“Zeke, why didn’t you tell me how cool this game was?” I said as I was leaving.
“I did. About a million times. But you never listened. You only played it that one time.”
“Sorry, Zeke.”
“It’s cool, T-Man.”
Sometimes Zeke is right about stuff. I have to remember that.
* * *
That night, I thought about what Martha had said about “spreading my wings and flying in the world.”
I decided I was going to try flying outside. I was ready to do it, but then I looked up “owls and bats” on YouTube
. I watched some videos of owls chasing bats. They end up catching them and eating them. I strongly suggest you don’t watch them. They are terrifying and gross.
I decided to wait a little longer.
47.
The Tanner Gantt Technique
We had another band practice the next week at Annie’s.
“I wrote a new song,” she said. “If you guys like it, then I’ll teach it to everyone. It’s called ‘Thinking of You.’ ”
She slowly strummed some chords on her guitar, and then started singing:
“Thinking about you and what you’re going through,
Thinking about you and what you have to do.
I know that every day is a challenge, just to get through it,
Sometimes I wonder, how do you do it?”
Was Annie singing about me?
“Late at night, I wonder what you’re doin’,
I wish I could make it better for you.
I know it’s hard, to get through the night,
There’s got to be something I can do to make it right.”
Annie was totally singing about me!
“Looking for a place to rest, looking for someplace safe,
Somewhere warm and dry, and maybe a friendly face.
Looking for a home, to call your own.”
I didn’t know what that verse meant. I’d have to ask Annie.
“There’s got to be a way—We can make it better,
To help you through your day—Let’s all work together,
We’ve all got to reach out a hand—It’s something we must do,
So, remember tonight, I’m thinking about you.”
She strummed the last chord and looked up. Everybody clapped. I couldn’t believe it. Annie had written a song about me. It was really cool and really embarrassing at the same time.
“Excellent song!” said Zeke.
“Annie, that was beautiful,” said Capri.
“Wonderful melodic tonal structure and phrasing,” said Abel (whatever that meant).
“Can we play it faster and louder?” asked Dog Hots.
“No, it’s a slow song,” said Annie. She looked over at me. “What’d you think, Tom?”
“Um…I…I don’t know what to say. Thanks, Annie.”
She looked confused. “Thanks?”
“Yeah, I appreciate it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I mean, it’s nice for somebody to say that stuff and understand what it’s like…. You wrote a song about me.”
“What?” she said.
Capri laughed.
“It’s not about you,” said Annie. “It’s about homeless people and what they go through.”
I felt like The Stupidest, Dumbest, Most Idiotic, Biggest Ninnyhammer Dunderhead of All Time.
* * *
I was pretty quiet when Zeke and I walked home afterward. I was feeling depressed, like Van Gogh. I mean, homeless people make me sad and everything, but I wish Annie’s song had been about me.
Zeke tried to cheer me up.
“It could have been about you, T-Man. Except the part about not having a home and being alone. Maybe Annie will write a song about you someday.”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
I left Zeke at his house and ended up at the park. It was dark, but I could see everything thanks to my night vision. Tanner Gantt wasn’t on the swings that night.
I looked around to make sure no one was watching me and then I sat down on one of the swings. I didn’t swing, exactly; I sort of sat there and moved back and forth a little.
I have to admit, I felt better afterward.
48.
Bat–Tom Rises
I practiced flying every night in my room. I was slowly getting better. One night in early November, I decided to fly around the house after everybody went to bed. I set my alarm for midnight. Quietly, I opened my bedroom door and changed into a bat. I flew down the hallway, down the stairs, around the living room, and into the kitchen.
My turns were okay and I did three perfect landings. I was taking one more spin through the kitchen when Emma came sneaking in the back door and I flew right into her hair.
She freaked out and started yelling.
“Help! Help!”
“Emma! It’s me!” I yelled, but she didn’t hear me because my voice isn’t very loud when I’m a bat and she was screaming her head off. She tried to swat me with her purse, but she kept hitting herself in the head.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” she yelled.
“Emma, stop! It’s me!”
I finally got untangled and flew out of her hair. I hovered far enough away so she couldn’t swat me.
“Emma! It’s me! It’s Tom! I’m a bat!”
She stared at me with her mouth open.
“You are the most disgusting thing I have ever seen! You are sooooo gross! Look at you. You’ve got big, bulging eyes and giant ears and fangy, little teeth!”
“Yeah, I know, Emma. I’m a bat. This is what bats look like.”
She collapsed into a chair and moaned. “I have a bat for a brother…. My life just gets worse and worse every single day!”
I landed on the table. “Emma, I’m the Vam-Wolf-Zom, not you!”
“When did you learn to turn into a bat and fly?” she asked.
“Up at Gram’s.”
“How?”
I couldn’t tell her about Martha Livingston. “I…I read a book.”
“Is it called How to Be a Bat and Fly?”
“No. It’s called A Vampiric Education.”
She crossed her arms. “Where’d you get a book like that?”
“I found it on eBay.”
“Okay, change back into yourself! This is too creepy! I don’t want to talk to a bat!”
I turned back into me.
“Emma, please don’t tell anybody I can turn into a bat and fly.”
“Why would I tell anybody that my brother is even freakier than I thought?”
49.
Tree House Tears
Over the weeks before Thanksgiving, Zeke started taking banjo lessons on YouTube, Tanner Gantt got detention five times, Capri sang “Let it Go” at a band practice and we found out she can’t sing at all and Annie made me tell her and she cried, Emma and Carrot Boy made up new nicknames for each other—Em-Em and Lukester, which are even worse than Emmers and Lukey—and my dad let Dog Hots use his old drum set. I read A Vampiric Education and found out that transforming into smoke is way harder than turning into a bat, and I still hadn’t flown outside. But that was about to happen.
* * *
I was out in the backyard picking up Muffin’s poop. For a small dog, Muffin poops a lot. I had just picked up Poop #4 when I heard a noise coming from our tree house. Mom and Dad built the tree house when Emma and I were little. Zeke and I used to play pirates and spaceship in it all the time. Emma used to go up there and write poetry when she was twelve and thought she was going to be the world’s greatest poet.
Her poetry was worse than her flower paintings.
So, I was putting Muffin’s poop into a bag when I heard somebody in the tree house crying.
“Emma?”
“Go away!” she yelled.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing!…Go…away,” she said. It didn’t sound like her fake crying.
I climbed up the wooden ladder. Emma was sitting on the floor of the tree house next to her phone, wiping her eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m…I’m watching a sad movie.”
“What movie?”
“Romeo and Juliet.”
She’s watched that movie a million times. I tried to watch it once because Annie said it was good, but I couldn’t understand what anybody
was saying.
Spoiler Alert: They both die in the end.
I looked down at Emma’s phone. There was no movie playing.
“What’s the matter?” I said.
“None of your business,” she answered, wiping her nose on her sleeve. If I had done that, she would’ve said, “You are so disgusting!”
“What happened?” I asked.
She looked at me and her bottom lip started to tremble and then she blurted out, “Lucas is in love with Madison Debney!”
“Who’s Madison Debney?”
“This new girl in Arts and Craft class! She thinks she’s all talented at making stuff and—and she has awesome dreadlocks and beautiful eyes and perfect cheekbones and the best smile and every guy at school is in love with her including Carrot Boy!”
I couldn’t believe she called him Carrot Boy. That proved she was really mad. I was a little sorry they might break up. I was starting to think Carrot Boy was okay.
“How do you know he’s in love with her?” I asked.
“He’s been talking to her a lot at school.”
“Why don’t you just ask him about her?”
“You don’t understand anything! Pari just called and she thinks she saw Madison at Luke’s house tonight. I wish I could go spy on him and— WAIT!”
She got a crazy look in her eyes and pointed at me.
“You can go spy on him!”
“What?”
“Go turn into a bat and fly over to his house right now and see if Madison Debney is there!”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“Why not? Think of all the things I’ve done for you!”
I couldn’t think of anything she’d done for me lately, except when she yelled at that guy at the Halloween store.