Greg was quite possibly the coolest guy in existence and the only person, besides Henry, who ever made Vlad wish his parents had given him a brother. Like Henry, everybody wanted to be near Greg. You’d think that would make him obnoxious, but it didn’t. He set the standard for what cool was in Bathory High.
Vlad walked under the arch and followed the flow of hesitant freshmen into the gym. The gym looked pretty much like the junior high’s gymnasium, but for the large wooden beams lining the ceiling. Three tables had been set up along one wall. Vlad followed the crowd from one to the next, and when he walked out of the gym, he held a map, a school guidebook, and an assigned locker number, 131. He found his locker just down the hall, and beside it, Henry.
Henry grinned and, in his best Mister Rogers voice, said, “Hi there, neighbor. How cool is it that our lockers are right next to each other?”
“Seriously cool.” Vlad pulled a red padlock out of his backpack and hooked it on the handle of his open locker. He slipped a notebook and a pen out of his bag and dropped the bag into the bottom of his locker. He was closing the door when a flash of pink caught his eye, and he turned his head.
Meredith was standing at an open locker, brushing a strand of chocolate brown hair behind her ear before hanging her pink backpack carefully inside the locker. Vlad felt his heart swell up to the size of a football. It had become so big, in fact, that he feared his chest might burst open right then and there.
Henry said, “Are you going to say hello or just stand here staring and drooling all over your shoes?”
Vlad shot him a look but didn’t reply. The fact was that he wasn’t sure if “hello” would be enough. He thought “sorry” might be more appropriate, but exactly what was he sorry for? For not kissing the prettiest girl in school when she kindly went with him to the last dance of the year? Absolutely. But somehow Vlad doubted that “sorry we didn’t make out” would make Meredith feel like going to another dance with him anytime soon.
Vlad ducked behind his locker door, sneaking occasional peeks at her from behind the gray metal. He took a few deep breaths and closed the door. “Hi, Meredith.”
Meredith clutched a folder to her chest and turned toward Vlad. “Hi.”
“You have class now, huh?” Oh. My. God. What did he just say? Open foot, insert mouth, Vlad. “I mean, math. Right? You have math?”
Meredith raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “I have English. Why?”
Vlad’s mouth went completely dry with the realization that they shared a class together. He swallowed hard, but apparently, every drop of spit in his body had evaporated. “Just . . . ’cuz.”
Vlad thought of crawling into his locker to hide, but he wasn’t sure he’d fit. Meredith parted her pretty pink lips, but before she could prolong their already awkward conversation, the locker next to hers closed, revealing a very blonde, much-older-looking-than-last-year Melissa Hart. Meredith and Melissa started talking and soon passed by Vlad and Henry without so much as a glance . . . even when Henry whispered a breathy, “Hi, Melissa.”
Henry looked like he might melt into the floor with happiness. After she’d passed, he nudged Vlad and wiggled his eyebrows. “Somebody’s been drinking their milk over the summer.”
Joss rolled his eyes.
Vlad watched after Meredith, wondering what he’d just said to her, exactly—and what it was about pretty girls that could make a person ramble on like an idiot. After chewing his bottom lip for a moment in contemplation, Vlad closed his locker. “Hey, Joss, Henry’s ditching me this afternoon for a student council meeting. You wanna hang out at my house later?”
Joss smiled. “Anything to escape Aunt Matilda’s quilting club.”
As the trio walked into class, the bell rang shrilly. Mrs. Bell looked up from her book. Vlad had expected crooked teeth, blue hair, and painted-on eyebrows. Instead, he was greeted with straight teeth, tawny brown hair, and painted-on eyebrows. Some things never changed. “Take your seats.”
Vlad moved to the back of the room and sat. Henry chose the desk next to his. Joss sat in front of Henry.
Mrs. Bell stood, snapping her book closed. “The bell signifying that class and the school day have begun rings precisely at eight o’clock and I expect you to be in your seats at that time. Not a minute after, not three minutes after. Eight o’clock. I will forgive today with a warning, but the next time we have stragglers”—she flashed a sharp look at Vlad, Henry, and Joss—“detention slips will be handed out.”
Vlad looked at Henry and nearly laughed but managed to contain his amusement. Henry was sitting absurdly straight in his seat, with his hands folded neatly on the desk, batting his eyelashes in the direction of Mrs. Bell. Joss glanced back at Henry and smirked.
Mrs. Bell didn’t seem to notice. Instead she turned to the chalkboard and began scribbling things that Vlad wasn’t paying attention to. He was too busy watching Meredith walk in the door without Mrs. Bell noticing. Meredith scanned the class, offered Vlad a polite nod, and took a seat at the front.
Despite feeling enormously happy to see her, Vlad slid down in his seat.
He wasn’t exactly sure why he was avoiding Meredith. It’s not like they’d declared their undying love for each other or something stupid like that. It was just a date. Followed by an almost-but-then-not kiss. But ever since then, he’d felt a huge weight on his shoulders. Guilt. He was almost sure of it.
Henry was writing something down in his open notebook. At first Vlad thought it was a note, perhaps some snide comment on Mrs. Bell—or maybe some crucial info on Meredith. But then he realized that everyone was writing . . . everyone but him.
Mrs. Bell snarled. Well, she might not have snarled, but with the expression on her face it was hard to tell. She may have been smiling, but Vlad doubted it very much. People like Mrs. Bell don’t smile. They gnash their teeth at innocent passersby. “Vladimir Tod, I suggest you pay attention and get busy copying down this week’s assignments.”
Thankfully, the rest of first period English flew by, but by the time the bell rang, Vlad was convinced that it was going to be an awful year.
He, Henry, and Joss parted ways for second and third hour, with brief breaks at their lockers that were filled with short conversations about how much biology sucked and how fine arts was okay, that Mr. Kareb was pretty cool for a history teacher and that Mrs. Bell was going to make this the longest school year ever.
After third period, they rushed to the lunchroom and looked around for Greg. They found him sitting with several other popular juniors at the back. After Henry and Joss grabbed trays of hot lunch, Vlad followed them to Greg’s table with bagged lunch in hand, where Greg introduced them to his friends.
“Hey, guys, this is my brother, Henry, and my cousin, Joss. And this is Vlad. They’re off limits. The only one who gets to shove them inside lockers is me.” Greg punched Henry playfully in the arm and smiled at Vlad. “How’s the first day going?”
Vlad shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
Vlad had always envied Henry for having such a wonderful family. Henry’s parents were thoughtful and generous—even if they did annoy Henry from time to time. Matilda, Henry’s mother, baked cookies and other sweet treats every time she knew Vlad was coming over. His father, Peter, had made it a regular habit when he was handing Greg and Henry their allowances to slip Vlad some cash as well. And Greg was tons of fun to hang out with. Vlad couldn’t imagine why Henry chose his and Nelly’s house to escape to, with all those cool people around. Still, Vlad could stay at Henry’s only so often, as being near Henry’s parents reminded him how much he missed his own.
One of the boys across the table snatched Vlad’s cup-cake. Before Vlad could say Stop! the boy took a bite and the blood capsules inside must have burst into his mouth because he turned green. Vlad looked quickly to Henry, whose jaw had hit the table. No one but Henry and Nelly knew Vlad’s secret, and now a high schooler had discovered how Vlad had been sneaking blood into the school for nourishment. Vlad looked bac
k at the boy, whose eyes had grown very wide. It looked like he was going to scream.
But instead, he threw up.
Vlad and Henry locked eyes again and then Greg said, “Point of order, gentlemen. Don’t take food from Vlad. His aunt can’t cook.”
The table erupted in laughter.
Vlad breathed a sigh of relief, and after the group moved to a new table, he finished his blood-mixed-with-strawberry-jam sandwich quietly.
After lunch and three more hours of first-day notes, new people, getting lost, and noticing that Meredith shared only one of his classes, but Henry was in three, and Joss was in five, Vlad arrived at his locker at the end of the day triumphant, but exhausted. He’d survived the first day of his freshman year virtually unscathed.
He pulled his backpack out of his locker and glanced down the hall for any sign of Henry. Unfortunately, leather-clad shoulders obstructed his view.
Bill turned and, despite Vlad’s effort to shrink inside his locker, saw Vlad. He tapped Tom on the shoulder, and they locked on to Vlad with their menacing eyes. They both wore leather jackets—probably an attempt to appear tough to any of the older bullies who might try anything with the two hotheaded freshmen. To Vlad’s dismay, they sauntered closer. Bill slammed Vlad’s locker shut. Vlad watched as the strap of his backpack got caught in the locker door, like a snake that had wormed its way through an incredibly tight space and then gotten stuck. Vlad looked from Bill to Tom, who was cracking his knuckles loudly. “Hey, goth boy. We didn’t get to finish our little chat earlier.”
He was dead. After his luck at getting away this morning, after having survived almost his entire first day of his freshman year, Vlad was going to die. He could picture his tombstone now: HERE LIES VLADIMIR TOD, BEATEN TO DEATH BY THE TWO MISSING LINKS.
“Hey, Vlad. What’s going on?” Joss leaned against the locker next to his and raised his eyebrows.
Vlad glanced at Joss. What was this guy, a trained bodyguard? Some kind of heroic stalker? Not that it was a bad thing to know that someone had your back, but still . . . it was mildly embarrassing to know that he had to be rescued, like some loser in distress.
He wanted to tell Joss to run, to get out of there while he still could, because Vlad was about to get the beating of his life, and anyone who associated with Vlad might be subject to the same punishment. But instead, he shoved Bill out of the way and opened his locker again. “Lay off, caveman.”
To Vlad’s horror, Joss gave Bill’s shoulder a light push, almost like they were ganging up on the bullies together. “You’re not giving Vlad any trouble, are you? Not after our little talk this morning.”
“Freshman, he’s about to enter the kidney donor program. If you don’t wanna join him, I suggest you back off.”
Vlad wrinkled his forehead. How would that work, exactly? If the idea was to punch a kidney out, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be a viable organ anymore. And what was with Bill calling Joss “freshman”? He and Tom were in the same grade as Vlad and Joss.
Bill swiveled around until he was facing Vlad again and raised his fist. Vlad got ready to dodge, but in a blink, Joss had Bill by the wrist and flipped him around, pinning his fist behind him. Joss shoved Bill into the locker until Bill’s cheek was perfectly flat against the metal. “Now, I want you to listen really closely to what I’m about to tell you. Leave Vlad alone. Or next time, I’ll break your arm. You got me?”
He released Bill just as Mrs. Bell rounded the corner. She flashed them all a disapproving snarl, but Vlad didn’t think she’d seen Joss’s karate-fast reflexes.
Tom grabbed Bill by the sleeve, and they moved quickly down the hall and out the front doors without another word.
Again. Just like this morning. Once more, Vlad had been a loser in distress, despite shoving Bill back. Once more, someone else had come to his aid, because Vlad hadn’t been capable of defending himself.
His thoughts trailed briefly to Otis’s letter and the notion of mind control.
He grabbed his backpack and shut the locker door. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
Joss shrugged, as if it had been no big deal. “So you said earlier we could hang out. I just got Race to Armageddon for the PS2 and—”
Vlad held up a hand, his initial irritation at being rescued quickly melting away. “Dude, I’ve got Race to Armageddon2.”
“What’s the difference?”
Vlad shook his head. “What rock does your family live under?” He moved down the hall toward the exit, gesturing for Joss to follow.
Three hours later they were sprawled in front of the couch in Vlad’s living room, surrounded by potato chip bags and empty Pepsi cans. Joss’s eyes were wide with amazement. “That’s the goriest game I’ve ever seen.”
Vlad smiled. It felt good to hang out with someone besides Henry. Henry, of course, was his closest friend in the world. But Joss was pretty cool. Besides, Joss was just a regular guy—probably as imperfect as Vlad. Henry was great, but Vlad got tired of always being in his shadow.
That, and it was nice to actually win a video game once in a while.
Nelly poked her head out of the kitchen. “Vladimir, is your new friend staying for dinner?”
Vlad looked at Joss, who blushed and nodded. “I’ll have to call Aunt Matilda, but yeah . . . I’d love to.”
Nelly handed Joss the phone, and he stepped into the other room.
Once Vlad could hear mumbled conversation, he turned to Nelly. “Let me guess . . . spaghetti again?”
Nelly just smiled.
Spaghetti was the easiest food that they’d found to hide blood in whenever company was over. That is, company that wasn’t Henry. Vlad hated the slimy noodles, but blood mixed with tomato sauce—and just a hint of oregano—was pretty tasty, so he didn’t mind that much.
Joss came back to the living room, looking happy and relieved. “She said I can stay, but I have to go home right after.”
Knowing it would be a while before dinner was ready, Vlad led Joss upstairs, pausing on the steps to scratch Amenti behind the ears. As they passed through the library, Joss gasped. “Wow, you have a great collection of books.”
Vlad raised a curious brow. He didn’t know many guys his age that were much into reading. With a smile, he pointed to the set of shelves nearest his bedroom door. “Those are my favorites over there.”
Joss ran his fingers over the spines of the books. The Practice and Theory of Telepathy, Vlad Tepes: A History, Myths and Legends of Our Modern World, Vampires: Real or Make-Believe? He paused with his fingertips on the vampire book and glanced over his shoulder at Vlad. “So what do you think? Are vampires real or just some pretend nightmare that people keep writing about?”
At first, Vlad said nothing. Then, after Joss looked over his collection for several minutes, it became clear that he was really expecting Vlad to answer. Given how many years Vlad had been pretending to be human, his reply came as second nature. “Nobody believes in vampires, but that book does present some pretty good arguments.”
His tone turned serious as he met Joss’s eyes. “Personally, I think that anything is possible.”
Joss nodded.
Vlad opened his bedroom door and gave a quick glance around before inviting Joss in. His room was cluttered with dirty laundry, but Vlad tossed the clothes behind the door and sat on the bed. “So where’d you move from anyway?”
Joss was looking about the room, curiously approving what he saw with a nod. “Santa Carla. Before that, I lived in Romania, and before that, New Orleans, Paris, and San Francisco.”
“You move around a lot.”
A sad glimmer lurked in Joss’s eyes. “It’s my dad’s job. I hate it. It’d be nice to stay in one place for a while.”
Joss shook his head and managed a smile. “Hey, have you ever seen what happens when you drop Mentos in diet soda?”
Vlad smiled. At least things would be more interesting with Joss around.
4
PSYCHO SLASHER CHAIN-SAW GUY FROM HEL
L
WHAT ABOUT HER?”
Vlad sighed. They were never going to go to the movies if Henry didn’t stop asking what every girl who passed was thinking. It wouldn’t normally bother Vlad—he was totally curious, himself, and for the last two hours solid, he’d been both willing and able to traipse through the minds of cute girls—but the fact that he might be missing out on the filmtastic gore and mayhem of Psycho Slasher Chain-saw Guy from Hell was starting to make his eye twitch. He’d been waiting six weeks, ever since the first day of school, to see this film. Waiting even one more minute might make his brain explode.
He turned his twitching eyes to the long-legged blonde standing outside the theater. Her tiny feet were wedged into high heels, and her long, muscular legs reached all the way up to the small strip of cotton that passed for a skirt. He took a deep breath and focused on her. Ever so gently, he pushed with his mind.
She frowned. These heels were killing her feet, but whatever. Just as long as she looked nice for Brad. And so help her, if that snob Brenda Carlton took her seat by Brad one more time, it was hair-pulling time. Where was Brad, anyway? Oooh, there’s a cute boy. Henry something. What’s his name? He goes to Bathory, has an older brother. McMillan! God, he’s hot. But what’s with the scrawny, pale kid next to him? Word to the wise, honey, get a tan . . . and a gym membership.
Vlad pulled out of her mind with a snort. He glanced over at Henry, who was wearing an expectant look on his face. “So? What’s she thinking?”
Vlad watched the girl and nodded. “She thinks I’m hot.”
Henry’s eyes followed. “Nice.”
Vlad looked up at the clock on the wall. “Movie starts in ten minutes. We better get in line.”
Henry’s eyes were locked on a short, curvy brunette who was walking out of a lingerie shop. “One more.”
Vlad groaned. “Okay, but that’s it. I need some bloodshed after this.”
Henry chuckled. “It’ll make you hungry. Seeing a gory movie always does. And my mom won’t pick us up for another two hours. Have you considered that?”
Ninth Grade Slays Page 3