Ninth Grade Slays (3 page)

Vlad shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together, tracing the glyphlike tattoo on the inside of his left wrist lightly. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke. “If they were good enough for my dad to live on, they're good enough for me. Besides, the day I start feeding on people is the day I start beating you at video games.”

Henry laughed and picked up his controller. “So you're saying it'll never happen.”

3

BATHORY HIGH

VLAD SHOVED TWO PENS into the front pocket of his backpack and zipped it closed. Henry had tried convincing him over the summer to buy a new bag, specifically a cool coffin-shaped one they'd seen at the mall in Stokerton, but Vlad preferred his old one. He wasn't against the gag—in fact, he found it quite hilarious that he and Henry would make such obvious statements about his being a vampire and that everyone in the town of Bathory shrugged it off, presuming Vlad to be just another goth kid—but he and his backpack had been through two years together. It had been up the flagpole almost as many times as Vlad had been shoved against a locker. In a way, it was his friend. Like Henry.

If he could strap Henry to his back and force him to carry his books.

Vlad pinned a new button to his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. Seeing it in the store had sent him into a hysterical fit, so he knew Henry would love it. The pin read CAREFUL, I BITE.

Aunt Nelly's voice drifted up the stairs. “You'd better hurry or you'll be late for your first day!”

Vlad started to slip the small black cylinder into his back pocket and paused, then placed the Lucis on his dresser. He knew Otis and Nelly would freak out about him not carrying the vampire weapon for even a day, but he wasn't exactly sure what effect it might have on humans, and the idea of carrying it into class made him feel a little queasy. Weapons, even vampire weapons, had no place at school.

He took the stairs by two and flashed a smile at his aunt at the bottom.

Nelly smiled back and handed him a snack pack, which he slurped down with glee. The blood was warm and gooey and slid down his throat with ease. The breakfast of champions, indeed.

Vlad handed the plastic container back to Nelly and had just brushed the tips of his fingers against the doorknob when Nelly asked, “Did you remember to put your sunblock on?”

Vlad chuckled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Why do you ask? Am I getting too tan?”

Nelly shook her head, a bemused smile on her lips, and Vlad slipped out the door.

Henry was standing on the sidewalk across the street, waiting. A bronze-skinned, good-looking kid stood next to him, and Vlad could tell by the similar facial features that they were related. Vlad gave a nod to Henry. “Hey.”

Henry beamed and nodded toward the newcomer. “Hey. This is my cousin Joss.”

Joss smiled but didn't say anything. Oh good. The strong, silent type.

They trudged toward the school together, following beaten paths between houses and worrying aloud about their impending first day as high schoolers. Vlad's heart was hammering its objections against his ribs. And just as he'd taken enough deep breaths to calm the beating in his chest, he rounded the corner to face the front steps of Bathory High.

Bathory High School was quite a source of gossip in the small town of Bathory, as it had once been a Catholic church. The church had been deserted sometime in the mid-1800s, due to some sort of horrific affair that no one in town—including the librarian, who knew everything about Bathory's history and seemed to take great joy in sharing it with everyone—would talk about. Nearly a hundred years later, a wealthy businessman had purchased the property and developed it into what had been known as Bathory Preparatory Academy. Twenty years after that, the school had been turned into a public institution and eventually became what Vlad was squinting up at as he approached with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Henry!” Carrie Anderson waved her hand enthusiastically through the air.

Henry smiled sheepishly. “Be right back, guys.” In a moment, he was enveloped by a wave of the kind of popularity that Vlad had only managed to witness from the shore.

Vlad sighed and turned to Joss. “Henry says you moved in from Cali.”

Joss nodded. “He tells me you suck at video games.”

After a moment, they both burst into laughter. Vlad beamed. “He's a funny guy.”

“Popular, too, it seems.” The look on Joss's face was one of disdain.

Vlad raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “I assumed all McMillans were popular.”

“Not me, man. Not my thing.” Joss shook his head, casting an unsettled glance at the crowd. “I prefer a select group of friends—generally people who don't suck up to you because of who your family is or how much money they have.”

Vlad smiled. He and Joss were going to get along just fine.

Henry waved, and before Joss was swallowed up by the throng, Joss adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder and smiled at Vlad. “Well . . . see ya, I guess.”

“See ya.” Vlad watched Joss disappear into the crowd and turned to squint up at the school again.

But he didn't squint for long.

As hands gripped his shirt and yanked him to the side of the building, Vlad's eyes widened in fear.

Bill Jensen and Tom Gaiber. Just his luck.

They hated him and had ever since the first grade for no particular reason as far as Vlad could tell.

Together, Bill and Tom slammed Vlad against the school's stone wall, their mouths distorted into wicked grins. Tom snarled, “Welcome to your first day of high school, goth boy.”

Vlad winced as his head bounced off the wall. He tried to keep his eyes glazed with indifference, but they betrayed him by flitting back to the sidewalk for any sign of help. He was about to have his face pounded into hamburger. Where was Henry when he needed him?

Bill leaned close. His breath smelled like tuna fish and three-day-old mayonnaise. “What's the matter, goth boy? Cat got your tongue?”

Several witty retorts flitted through Vlad's mind, but he thought better of saying anything and kept his mouth shut.

Sometimes your best defense against bullies is silence. Of course, if you let a bully push you around, you're nothing but a total wuss. Straightening his shoulders, Vlad shoved back against Bill, but Tom grabbed him by the collar. A pain shot through Vlad's back as he returned forcefully to the wall.

“Let him go.”

Vlad turned his head toward the sidewalk. Joss had apparently ducked away from Henry's entourage and was looking at Bill and Tom matter-of-factly. His head was tilted slightly and one of his eyebrows was raised, as if he wasn't used to people not doing what he told them to.

Apparently, Henry's cousin was funny, but not terribly bright. Vlad wanted to tell Joss to beat it, but just then Tom rolled his eyes and pushed Vlad harder against the wall. Vlad's spine was lodged against a rather pointy stone. He winced and fought to get away, but Tom had him pinned. “You're gonna get it this year, goth boy. We've got plans for you.”

“I said, let him go.” Joss had sat his bag on the sidewalk and was looking at Tom without so much as a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

Tom and Bill released Vlad and turned to the newcomer.

Run
, Vlad thought,
run for your life
,
Joss. Trust me
.

Tom and Bill exchanged glances that said that they weren't really sure whether Joss was easy prey or not. With a final, deciding shove from Tom, they slinked back toward the front of the school without another word.

Vlad wondered what it was about Joss that had made them back off so quickly. Whatever it was, Vlad certainly didn't have it.

He picked up his backpack and rubbed the lump on the back of his head thoughtfully. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about being rescued, but it was better than getting pummeled, he supposed. “Thanks.”

Joss smiled. “No problem. Those guys were jerks. Brainless Neanderthal jerks.”

“You've met them already?”

“Didn't need to. I could tell by their sloped foreheads and unibrows.” Joss smirked. “Want me to break their arms off for you?”

Vlad chuckled. “That might be nice. I'd like to see them try to bully me then. What could they do, bump into me until it got really annoying?”

Crossing behind Joss on the sidewalk was Meredith Brookstone, dressed in a pink dress that swished about her knees as she walked. Her cheeks blushed slightly as she smiled at Vlad. Joss followed Vlad's eyes, and when he saw Meredith, he smiled, too.

Uh-oh.

Henry rejoined them and looked up at the building. “Kinda scary, isn't it?”

Vlad nodded, looking at the building looming in front of them. He'd been here a hundred times before, but what felt welcoming under a moonlit glow was about as creepy as you can get in full sunlight.

Vlad followed Henry and Joss up the steps. It felt strange to be approaching the school from the front. He kept his head down and tried not to look up at the belfry.

A sign on the door directed freshmen to the gym. Adjusting his backpack into a more comfortable position on his shoulder, Vlad took a deep breath and walked into the school.

Along either side of the lobby were thirteen large stone pillars, with arches between each at the top. Above them, on the second floor, were another, smaller set of arches. Black wrought iron closed off the top set. Vlad looked up at the high ceiling. It had clearly been painted at one time, perhaps with images of men in flowing robes and golden rings around their heads. But all that remained now were faded flecks of paint, only vaguely pictures. Several dark stones formed the shape of crosses high above Vlad's head.

Henry nudged him and whispered so that no one else would hear. “So is there any truth to the old vampires-hate-crosses myth?”

Vlad chuckled. He'd never really considered the possibility that he would burst into flames the moment he encountered a cross. In truth, he never really thought about any religion at all, one way or another. “Guess not.”

A large, burly man who reminded Vlad of a giant leprechaun held up his arms and spoke in a loud, gruff, no-nonsense tone. “Freshmen, you will make your way beneath the third arch to my right and down the hall to the gym. Hurry now. Everyone else, get to class. Stevenson, that means you!”

Vlad felt a hand pat him roughly on the back and turned his head to see Greg, Henry's older brother. Greg smiled. “Don't mind Mr. Hunjo. He's always like that. You know where you're going?”

Vlad nodded and looked around for Henry and Joss, who had apparently disappeared. “Hey, where'd your brother and cousin go?”

“Probably the gym. Look for me in fourth period lunch, okay? I'll show you guys the ropes, and make sure the upperclassmen know to leave you alone.” Greg patted his back again and disappeared into the crowd. Vlad watched until he could no longer see the black wool and crimson leather of Greg's letterman jacket. Greg had been the starting pitcher for the Bathory Bats for the past two years, and you could be sure that once baseball season rolled around in the spring, he'd take that position again.

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.”