How to Be a Vampire

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  About R. L. Stine

  1

  “Let’s move it, Andrew,” Emily said to her brother. “I have tons of homework.”

  “Wait,” Andrew whispered. “Just a second.” He glanced around Shadyside Park. It was almost dark. They needed to stay only a few more minutes. Only until it was really dark. That’s when they all came out. Everyone knew that.

  Emily brushed a strand of her wavy red hair off her face. “Not just a second,” she insisted. “Now.”

  Andrew couldn’t stand it when Emily got bossy. She was only twelve and a half. Just a year older than he was. So what if she was a head taller? Did that give her the right to be Emily Griffin, Know-It-All?

  Here’s what really killed Andrew: Emily thought she was perfect! She thought she was so good at softball. So smart. She thought she had a million friends. Plus she always bragged about her great taste in clothes. Personally, Andrew thought she looked like a moron, running around school in her little pleated skirts and stupid fake pearls. But here was the biggest joke of all—Emily thought she was gorgeous!

  Andrew knew he wasn’t great looking. He was skinny. His hair was somewhere between brown and red. His eyes were plain old brown. He had a million freckles. But so what? Big deal. At least his nose wasn’t stuck up in the air like Emily’s.

  “I must be losing it,” Emily was muttering. “Why did I let you talk me into getting off the bus at the high school? It’s a fifteen-minute walk home, at least. If I’d stayed on the bus, I’d be in my room now—halfway finished with my homework.”

  “Shhh!” Andrew said. How could he hear anything coming with her jabbering like that?

  “Let’s go!” Emily insisted. “Move it, Android.”

  Andrew made a face. Emily thought she was so clever when she called him “Android.” But he had to let it go now. Keep his mind on other things. Important things. He started walking. His feet crunched the leaves on the path around the pond.

  “Right now is when they wake up,” he told his sister.

  Emily frowned. “Who’s they?” she asked.

  “The creatures of the night,” Andrew answered. He tried to sound mysterious. Maybe that would make her stop.

  “What are you talking about?” She kept walking. “Owls?”

  “Not owls,” Andrew replied. “The undead. Vampires. See, the second day turns into night, they . . .”

  “Andrew!” Emily shouted. “Stop! I don’t want to know what’s inside that diseased brain of yours.”

  “But it’s true,” Andrew insisted.

  “Nothing about vampires is true!” Emily scoffed. “They don’t exist!” She shook her head. “I keep telling you—you’re getting a little old for make-believe monsters.”

  “Vampires aren’t make-believe,” Andrew said. “Real vampires have bitten real people in the neck. Really.” He fished a book out of the pocket of his jacket. “It says so right here.”

  Emily snatched the book and read the title. “Vampire Secrets.” She groaned loudly. “I can’t believe I’m related to someone who reads this garbage!”

  “It’s not garbage!” Andrew protested.

  “It is too,” Emily said. “I read good books. I’ve read almost every book on Ms. Parma’s literature list in the library.”

  Emily was always bragging about the big-deal books she read. Okay, they had big words. Andrew had to admit that. And they were as thick as dictionaries. But that didn’t make them good. That only made her backpack about ten pounds heavier than his.

  “I don’t remember seeing Vampire Secrets on Ms. Parma’s list,” Emily went on. “Or that thing you were reading last week.”

  “You mean The Mummies Are Coming?” Andrew asked. “That was totally awesome.”

  Emily tossed Vampire Secrets back to Andrew. “Where do you get this trash anyway?”

  “T.J. lent me this one,” Andrew told her.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Emily rolled her eyes. “T.J. is the only person in the world who’s weirder than you are.”

  “He is not!” Andrew protested.

  Emily laughed. “Okay. Maybe you two are tied for weirdness. All you and T.J. ever talk about is monsters. No wonder neither of you has any other friends.” She began walking more quickly.

  Andrew trudged along behind her. So what if he and T.J. loved talking about monsters? And reading monster stories? They were good. Really good. Emily didn’t know what she was missing.

  “Walk faster, Andrew,” Emily commanded.

  But Andrew kept stalling. He dragged his feet. If he took long enough, they might see a vampire. He thought they would.

  Emily was heading for Division Street—and she was heading there fast. They’d never see a vampire on Division Street. The streetlights were too bright there. Way too bright for a creature of the night.

  “Wait, Emily. I, uh, twisted my foot.” Andrew leaned against a big oak tree, gripping his ankle. Then he let out a small cry of pain, hoping Emily would be totally convinced.

  “I’m not falling for that twisted-ankle story again.” Emily marched on. “You tried that one on me last week. Remember?”

  Andrew sighed. He took a few steps. Then stopped.

  Something dark and shadowy was creeping up behind Emily. Andrew watched as it dodged from tree to tree.

  “Emily, stop!” he called in a hoarse whisper. “Something’s following you!”

  Emily whirled around. “I’m not falling for any more of your stupid tricks, Andrew!” she warned him.

  Andrew scanned the trees—and saw the figure.

  A figure in a long, sweeping cape.

  The dark form slid out from behind a giant oak, inching closer and closer.

  “There he is!” Andrew shouted. “Behind you!”

  “Yeah, right.” Emily stood in place with her hands on her hips.

  The figure stepped silently up to Emily.

  It hovered over her.

  “Emily, I’m not kidding.” Andrew’s voice quivered. “Run!”

  Emily shook her head in disgust.

  The figure raised his dark hands.

  “Emily! Run!” Andrew pleaded.

  Too late.

  Andrew watched in horror—as a pair of twisted fingers lunged for Emily’s neck.

  2

  Emily screamed.

  Her cries pierced the chill November air.

  She twisted in the dark figure’s grasp, struggling to free herself. “A vampire!” she cried. “Help me, Andrew!”

  Andrew didn’t move. He stared at the caped figure. At his long fangs dripping with saliva.

  “Andrew, do something!” Emily shrieked.

  “Vat a screamer you are,” said the creature of the night. He released Emily from his grasp. He spat—and his fangs flew into his black-gloved hand.

  Andrew fell to his knees—and laughed.

  “Oh, man!” he cried. “That was awesome, T.J.!”

  Emily smoothed her hair. She centered her pearl necklace.

  “You immature creeps,” she growled. “You are so pitiful. You act like two-year-olds!” With that she whirled away from them. She marched toward the park exit.

  “O
h, man!” Andrew said again. He watched his sister stomp angrily past the baseball diamond. “I wish I had that on video.”

  “You’d think she’d be used to it by now,” T.J. said, shaking his head. “But she falls for our pranks every time.”

  T.J. picked up his backpack from behind a tree. He untied his cape and took it off. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the backpack. He placed his plastic fangs in their spot in his pen-holder compartment.

  Andrew admired T.J. When he pulled a prank, he went all the way. T.J. wasn’t very tall. In fact, he was short and stocky. But he’d slicked back his hair with some of his older brother’s mousse, and somehow managed to look like a full-sized vampire.

  Andrew admired T.J. for another reason. He was loyal to vampires. Andrew loved all kinds of monsters. Werewolves. Mummies. Ghouls. Swamp things. But T.J. stuck to vampires. He knew everything about them. He was a specialist.

  “This was better than when we scared Emily with the King Kong mask,” T.J. said. “It was even better than the time we slimed her.”

  Andrew grinned, remembering. He’d gotten in trouble for that one. Mega-trouble. But it was worth it. And Emily deserved it. She kept making fun of one of his monster books, Alien Slime from Mars. Then one night he and T.J. arranged for her to see some slime for herself. Andrew giggled, thinking about how she stared in horror as green goo dripped down from her light fixture. How it plopped right down on her head. He was pretty sure that, for a second, Emily believed it was alien slime from Mars.

  * * *

  The next morning, Andrew jolted awake. Somebody was screaming! Screaming his name! He sat straight up in bed.

  “Huh?” he cried.

  “Get up!” Emily shouted from the doorway of his room. “Now!”

  With a groan, Andrew fell back onto his bed. He burrowed deeper under his covers. He shut his eyes. Clearly Emily had not forgiven him for the vampire prank.

  “Turn off your stupid alarm!” Emily shouted.

  Alarm? Oh. That’s what was going beep, beep, beep. Andrew had been dreaming that a vampire was knocking on his window. The vampire said beep, beep, beep. Finally, Andrew got up and opened the window for him. What a stupid dream. A beeping vampire.

  Still half asleep, Andrew reached a hand out from under his blanket. He waved it in the direction of his clock. At last he made contact. He hit the alarm button. The beeping stopped.

  “We are going to catch the first bus this morning, Andrew,” Emily announced. “If you aren’t downstairs in fifteen minutes, I’m leaving without you. I don’t care what Mom says.”

  Andrew heard his sister stomp down the stairs. If Emily left by herself, their mom would have a fit. Shadyside Middle School was pretty far away from their development—but very close to Fear Street. Close to the Fear Street Cemetery. Scary things happened there. All the time. If you believed the stories . . .

  Andrew believed them. He knew that on Halloween, ghost kids rose from their graves. They tried to get real live kids to play a game with them. The game was called Hide and Shriek. The object of the game was to take the live kids back to the grave!

  And then there was Miss Gaunt. She used to be a substitute teacher at Shadyside Middle School. Before she died, that is. Now she haunted the cemetery. She was always out searching for new students to teach—forever!

  Andrew’s mother always told him that they were only stories—that she didn’t believe there was any truth in them. But still, she liked Andrew and Emily to travel to and from school together.

  With a groan, Andrew made himself open his eyes. He needed more sleep. Much more sleep. He wished he hadn’t stayed up so late the night before, reading. He wished he could sink back onto his soft pillow again. And close his eyes . . .

  He jerked his head up. Any minute now, Emily would be back, screaming at him. He pushed himself up on one arm. Ow! His elbow hit the corner of his book. The one he’d been up reading half the night. Running with Werewolves. Boy, what a great story!

  Now Andrew felt wide awake. He remembered where he left off in the story. Jason, the hero of Running with Werewolves, was about to join a werewolf pack.

  Andrew had read all but the last few pages. He’d die if he didn’t find out what happened. He glanced at his clock. He could skip brushing his teeth for once. And washing his face.

  Andrew sat on his bed. His eyes skimmed the words. Jason was in big trouble. He was a werewolf now. But the head werewolf didn’t want him in the pack. Jason and the head werewolf were about to engage in mortal combat! Only a werewolf can kill another werewolf. So one of them had to kill the other. Jason didn’t stand much of a chance.

  Andrew’s heart pounded as the snarling head werewolf reached out his huge, hairy paws. Reached out and grabbed Jason’s neck. He squeezed, tighter and tighter. Choking Jason.

  Andrew lifted his eyes from the book to catch his breath—and a hand from behind clutched his neck!

  Andrew tried to scream. But no sound came out.

  A voice came from behind Andrew. “Be ready in ten minutes!”

  It was Emily’s voice.

  Emily let go of Andrew’s neck. Then she reached around and snatched his book.

  “Hey!” Andrew cried. He leapt up. But he was too late.

  Emily was running out of his room with the book.

  Andrew chased her. “Give it back!” he cried.

  Emily whizzed down the stairs. She stood at the bottom, shaking her head. “Be down here in ten minutes, Andrew,” she said. “Or this book is history!”

  Andrew sighed. He knew when he was beaten. He plodded back to his room. There, he pulled on a polo shirt and a pair of jeans. Maybe Ms. Parma had a copy of Running with Werewolves in the school library. But probably not. Andrew would have to wait to find out what happened to Jason. He’d have to ask Emily for his book back. She might make him get down on his knees and beg!

  Andrew got dressed. All but his sneakers. He felt around under his bed. He thought his sneakers were under there.

  His fingers hit something. Something cold as ice. Not a sneaker. Definitely not. Andrew grasped the cold thing. He dragged it out from under his bed—and found himself gazing at a book.

  An old black book. It looked important somehow. Boy, did it ever feel cold. So cold, it stung his fingers.

  The book had no title. Andrew ran his hand over the smooth black leather. Why does this book feel like a frozen TV dinner? he wondered. And how did it get under my bed?

  He opened the book. A blank page stared back at him. Andrew flipped page after page. Blank, blank, blank.

  “Andrew?” Mrs. Griffin called from the bottom of the stairs. “What’s keeping you, honey? Emily’s waiting!”

  “Coming!” Andrew called back.

  He tossed the book down on his bed. He rummaged around, found his sneakers, and stuffed his feet into them. Maybe he’d take the black book to school with him. Show it to T.J.

  But—wait. That’s who must have put the book under his bed—T.J.! It had to be T.J. It was definitely a T.J. kind of joke.

  Andrew slipped his homework papers into his binder. He shoved his binder into his backpack. He reached for the black book. Then he stopped.

  He squinted down at the cover.

  It had been blank before. Totally blank. He was sure of it. But now spidery letters were beginning to appear. Old-fashioned letters—writing themselves onto the book!

  Andrew could only stare and wait as the writing continued.

  And then it stopped.

  The title was complete.

  Andrew felt his blood run cold as he whispered the words on the front of the book:

  HOW TO BE A VAMPIRE

  3

  Whoa! What a cool effect! Andrew opened the book. Maybe T.J. had stuck a computer chip inside the cover. Or maybe the writing was some kind of hightech invisible ink. He couldn’t tell. But . . . hey! Now writing began to appear on the first page! The words shimmered into view:

  CHAPTER 1

  VAMPIRES-IN
-TRAINING

  How did T.J. do these amazing effects? Brrr. And how did he make it so cold? Had T.J. surrounded it with cold packs from his freezer? How else could it stay so icy?

  Andrew turned another page. More writing began to appear.

  How would you like to sleep all day? Then, at sunset, turn into a wolf. Or a rat. Or a red mist. Or maybe a bat.

  How would you like to fly? To pass through a closed door? Or a thick stone wall? Does all this sound too good to be true? It isn’t. All you have to do is become a vampire.

  How can you do this? One way is to be bitten by a vampire. The most popular place for this bite is on your neck. Once you are bitten, you are a vampire-in-training.

  “Oh, wow,” Andrew whispered. This was even better than Running with Werewolves! How did T.J. manage this stuff?

  If it was T.J.

  And . . . if it wasn’t? Andrew swallowed. He didn’t want to think about that. Because if T.J. didn’t hide the book in his room, then . . . who did? Not Emily. She’d never think of anything like this. Not his mom. It had to be T.J.

  “Andrew?” His mother’s voice came from down the hallway.

  Quickly, Andrew shoved the black book under his pillow. He fell to his knees. He pretended to be looking for something under his bed. He didn’t want his mom to see what he’d been reading. He didn’t want to answer any questions about the black book.

  “Honey?” His mom stood in the doorway.

  “Oh, Mom! Hi!” Andrew said. He kept searching. He realized something. There weren’t any cold packs under his bed.

  “Emily is having a fit because you’re taking so long,” Mrs. Griffin said. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No!” Andrew’s voice hit a high note. “Nothing’s wrong! I can’t find my sneakers. That’s all.”

  Mrs. Griffin glanced at Andrew’s feet. “You’re wearing them, dear,” she pointed out.

  “Oh, right,” Andrew said. He pulled his head out from under his bed. “I mean, I couldn’t find them. And then I found them. Under my bed. There they were. So . . . I better tie them.”

  Andrew always babbled when he didn’t know what else to do. Now he bent down and began tying his laces. Then he stood up.