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"Entertaining, disturbing, memorable, and sophisticated, this mortality tale will continue to haunt after the last pages are turned." — SCHOOL LIBRARY JOURNAL
All Chris really wants is to be a normal kid, to hang out with his friends, avoid his parents, and get a date with Rebecca Schwartz. Unfortunately, Chris appears to be turning into a vampire. So while his hometown performs an ancient ritual that keeps Tch’muchgar, the Vampire Lord, locked in another world, Chris desperately tries to save himself from his own vampiric fate. He needs help, but whom can he trust? A savagely funny tale of terror, teen angst, suspense, and satire from National Book Award winner M. T. Anderson.
moment he knows that he is destined to be a vampire, Chris thirsts for the blood of people around him while also struggling to remain human. ISBN 978-0-7636-0048-8 (hardcover) [1. Vampires — Fiction. 2. Horror stories.] I. Title. PZ7.A54395Th 1997 [Fic] — dc20 96-30744 ISBN 978-0-7636-3895-5 (paperback) ISBN 978-0-7636-5154-1 (electronic) Candlewick Press 99 Dover Street Somerville, Massachusetts 02144 visit us at www.candlewick.com IN THE SPRING, THERE ARE VAMPIRES IN THE WIND.
tray in the garage?” But the main thing is the chewing. That I see now. I cannot believe how loud human ingestion is. I sit there, unable to eat, astonished. I am staring at my plate with eyes as big as plates. I can’t believe my ears, hearing the factoryful of noises, the squelching and popping, crunching and scratching. The rattle of forks against ceramic. The slurp of liquids. The clanging of glasses against teeth. It’s like cannon fire. It’s like hydraulic tubes and stormy surf against
the surface, so many, foot after foot after foot, the grass — never hear — never — Stay boy — Ha! Stay! — never hear — Down! — trapped — Stay! And then Chet sends for me. I feel the sigil on my arm pulsing with light. I feel the red glow of the portal all around me. It seeps into my bones, the sweet air of earth, and warms my muscles, draws me out — — away from the dark — — across time and space I fly, shooting, wafting, away from the laughter of Tch’muchgar, the confinement, through
to stop me, but my strength, I find, is great. I rotate the snout up by eighty degrees, until the dog is looking almost straight up. It is gulping with fear. I can see its throat flexing. I move my other hand, almost lovingly, to the soft down below its neck. Pushing the head up a few more degrees, I encounter the resistance of bone. The head will twist only a few more degrees before things start to pop and snap. I lower my head, drooling. Good-bye, Bongo, I think sardonically. My heart beats
“Let’s go,” says Tom. We head toward the Rigozzis’ party. Over the scream of people on Captain Hook’s Giddy Galleon, there is a sound of broadcasted voices. “Testing,” it says across the uneven grass, the crowds, and the litter of ticket stubs and crushed cups. “Testing.” “They’re going to start the ritual,” says Jerk. “Cool.” “I’m so glad you could all make it this evening,” the speakers say. “I’d like to thank everyone who made tonight’s ritual sacrifice possible and, of course, everyone