say it all the same.
It took ages to work up the nerve to let Madam Octa climb up my body and over my face, but I finally tried it on Friday afternoon. I played my best song and didn’t let her start until I’d told her several times what I wanted her to do. When I thought we were ready, I gave her the nod and she began creeping up the leg of my trousers.
It was fine until she reached my neck. The feel of those long thin hairy legs almost caused me to drop the flute. I would have been a dead duck if I had, because she was in the perfect place to sink her fangs. Luckily, my nerve held and I went on playing.
She crawled over my left ear and up to the top of my head, where she lay down for a rest. My scalp itched beneath her but I had sense enough not to try scratching it. I studied myself in the mirror and grinned. She looked like one of those French hats, a beret.
I made her slide down my face and dangle from my nose on one of her web-strings. I didn’t let her into my mouth, but I got her to swing from side to side like she’d done with Mr Crepsley, and had her tickle my chin with her legs.
I didn’t let her tickle me too much, in case I started laughing and dropped the flute!
When I put her back in her cage that Friday night, I felt like a king, like nothing could ever go wrong, that my whole life was going to be perfect. I was doing well in school and at football, and had the sort of pet any boy would trade all his worldly goods for. I couldn’t have been happier if I’d won the lottery or a chocolate factory.
That, of course, was when everything went wrong and the whole world crashed down around my ears.
STEVE POPPED over for a visit late Saturday afternoon. We hadn’t said much to each other all week and he was the last person I was expecting. Mum let him in and called me downstairs. I saw him when I was halfway down, paused, then shouted for him to come up.
He gazed about my room as though he hadn’t been here for months. “I’d almost forgotten what this place looks like,” he said.
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “You were here a couple of weeks ago.”
“It seems longer.” He sat on the bed and turned his eyes on me. His face was serious and lonely. “Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked softly.
“What do you mean?” I pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“You’ve been steering clear of me these past two weeks,” he said. “It wasn’t obvious at first, but each day you’ve been spending less time with me. You didn’t even pick me when we were playing basketball in P.E. last Thursday.”
“You’re not very good at basketball,” I said. It was a lame excuse, but I couldn’t think of a better one.
“I was confused at first,” Steve said, “but then I figured it out. You didn’t get lost the night of the freak show, did you? You stuck around, up in the balcony probably, and saw what happened between me and Vur Horston.”
“I saw nothing of the sort,” I snapped.
“No?” he asked.
“No,” I lied.
“You didn’t see anything?”
“No.”
“You didn’t see me talking to Vur Horston?”
“No!”
“You didn’t—”
“Look, Steve,” I interrupted, “whatever happened between you and Mr Crepsley is your business. I wasn’t there, didn’t see it, don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if—”
“Don’t lie to me, Darren,” he said.
“I’m not lying!” I lied.
“Then how did you know I was talking about Mr Crepsley?” he asked.
“Because …” I bit my tongue.
“I said I was talking to Vur Horston,” Steve smiled. “Unless you were there, how would you know that Vur Horston and Larten Crepsley are one and the same?”
My shoulders sagged. I sat on the bed beside Steve. “OK,” I said, “I admit it. I was in the balcony.”
“How much did you see and hear?” Steve asked.
“Everything. I couldn’t see what he was doing when he was sucking out your blood, or hear what he was saying. But apart from that …”
“… everything,” Steve finished with a sigh. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me: because he said I was evil.”
“Partly,” I said. “But mostly because of what you said. Steve, you asked him to turn you into a vampire! What if he had turned you into one and you’d come after me? Most vampires go after people they know first, don’t they?”
“In books and films, yes,” Steve said. “This is different. This is real life. I wouldn’t have hurt you, Darren.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not. The point is, I don’t want to find out. I don’t want to be friends with you any more. You could be dangerous. What if you met another vampire and this one granted your wish? Or what if Mr Crepsley was right and you’re really evil and—”
“I’m not evil!” Steve shouted, and shoved me back on the bed. He leapt on my chest and stuck his fingers in my face. “Take that back!” he roared. “Take that back, or so help me, I’ll jerk your head off and—”
“I take it back! I take it back!” I shrieked. Steve was heavy on my chest, his face flushed and furious. I would have said anything to get him off.
He sat perched on my chest a few seconds longer, then grunted and rolled off. I sat up, gasping, rubbing my face where he had poked it.
“Sorry,” Steve mumbled. “That was over the top. But I’m upset. It hurt, what Mr Crepsley said, and you ignoring me at school. You’re my best friend, Darren, the only person I can really talk to. If you break up our friendship, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He started to cry. I watched him for a few seconds, torn between fear and sympathy. Then my nobler self got the better of me and I put an arm around his shoulder. “It’s OK,” I said. “I’ll still be your friend. C’mon, Steve, quit crying, OK?”
He tried but it took a while for the tears to stop. “I must look a right fool,” he finally sniffed.
“Nonsense,” I said. “I’m the fool. I should have stood by you. I was a coward. I never stopped to imagine what you must be going through. I was only thinking of myself and Madam—” I pulled a face and stopped talking.
Steve stared at me curiously. “What were you going to say?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “It was a slip of the tongue.”
He grunted. “You’re a bad liar, Shan. Always were. Tell me what it was you were about to let slip.”
I studied his face, wondering if I should tell him. I knew I shouldn’t, that it could only mean trouble, but I felt sorry for him. Besides, I needed to tell someone. I wanted to show off my wonderful pet and the great tricks we could do.
“Can you keep a secret?” I asked.
“Of course,” he snorted.
“This is a big one. You can’t tell anyone, OK? If I tell you, it has to stay between the two of us. If you ever talk …”
“… you’ll talk about me and Mr Crepsley,” Steve said, grinning. “You have me over a barrel. No matter what you tell me, you know I can’t grass,