Thirsty - M. T. Anderson [23]
And everywhere at once, he lowers his head; and everywhere at once, his voice falls silent.
One night, Tom and Jerk decide to go on a vampire hunt.
I do not think it is a very good idea. I say I don’t generally seek the company of anything with fangs. There are three of us, however, which always means that it’s one against two. I end up protesting uselessly. Tom has not quite forgiven me for trying to beat him up, so I have to play along.
I really don’t want to go at all. The Thing has been following me off and on for three days, and I don’t want to go out of the house more than is absolutely necessary. But I have to. Tom has started watching me at school. He can see that I have not been sleeping well. He notices at lunch that I am not eating well. I am worried that he might have guessed what is wrong. Maybe it is nothing; but maybe he knows.
He is judging me carefully. There’s a suspicion in the way he looks at me. I can tell that this vampire hunt idea of his is a test. He has something up his sleeve.
I am terrified that he might know. And once he knows for sure, he will blow the whistle.
I do not have much homework, and I do it all before dinner. I have to translate a dialogue between two French people buying greeting cards. After dinner, I lie to my mother.
“I’m going over to play video games with Tom and Jerk,” I say.
“Video games?”
“At Tom’s house,” I say. “His mother said it was okay.”
“Get your father to drive you. I don’t want you walking after dark.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“It’s only about five minutes to Tom’s house.”
“I don’t want you walking after dark.”
“At all?” I say. “Can I crawl?”
“Don’t get sarcastic with me, Chris. I said I don’t want — ,” and so on. We have this sort of conversation for a while. In the end, my father drives me.
While we drive over to Tom’s, which is about a minute’s drive, my father listens to the oldies station and hums along. Occasionally he’ll remember three words and sing them. The blossoms are coming out on some of the trees. The telephone lines are drooping over the street.
It’s about half an hour later that we set out for the forest. Tom’s parents know we are going, but they are lax and not very bright. “Have a good time!” they say. “Be careful!”
We pick up Jerk on the way. The two of them insist on bringing Jerk’s dog, Bongo.
Bongo runs around the three of us, huffing. He bounces on me for a while. Then he bounces on Tom.
“We are not taking that dog,” I say.
“Why?” says Jerk. “If he’d like to he can come.”
“Who says?” I ask.
“Let him bring the dog,” says Tom, who is being bounced on. Tom bumps his palms against Bongo’s chest to fend the animal off. “It’ll protect us,” he says.
“That stupid dog will no more protect us —”
“He is not stupid,” says Jerk hotly.
“He is stupid.”
“He is not stupid.”
“Jerk,” I say, “that dog is stupider than a thing made out of wood.”
But Tom is being indulgent with Jerk, so he says that Jerk can bring the dog if he wants and what is my problem. We head off for the town forest.
It is dark by now. The stars are only out sometimes, as clouds keep sliding in front of them. The trees are scratching in the breeze.
We go through a few streets of houses. Most of the town is old, tall houses, or at least the memorable part is. The part where Jerk lives is all short and squat, and it’s looking a little rundown. A few windows are lit badly and dimly, like aquarium lights.
We kick a stone back and forth, and I lose it in a drain.
“How long do we have to hunt for vampires?” I ask Tom. “When do we give up?”
“You don’t have to come,” says Tom sourly. He perches his eyebrows carefully, as if he’s studying me, speculating.
I shrug. “I just want to know when we’re going to turn around.”
“What’s your problem tonight?” he says.
We go under the metal railroad bridge. On the brown iron panels, someone has spray painted “Goat legs.”
The road winds up the hillside, and for the moment we stick to it, as it is very dark out.
Tom and Jerk are now walking side by side