How to Be a Vampire

by R. L. Stine

  “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 i
t 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.