“Get real, Mom.” I chuckled. “It’s only a flute.”
“From small acorns, oak trees grow,” she said.
“He’s as thick as an oak tree,” Annie said, and giggled.
I stuck my tongue out at her in response.
The next few days were great. I played with Madam Octa whenever I could, feeding her every afternoon (she only needed one meal a day, as long as it was a large one). And I didn’t have to worry about locking my bedroom door because Mom and Dad agreed not to enter when they heard me practicing the flute.
I considered telling Annie about Madam Octa but decided to wait a while longer. I was getting along well with the spider but could tell she was still uneasy around me. I wouldn’t bring Annie in until I was sure it was completely safe.
My schoolwork improved during the next week, and so did my goal-scoring. I scored twenty-eight goals between Monday and Friday. Even Mr. Dalton was impressed.
“With your good grades in class and your prowess on the field,” he said, “you could turn into the world’s first professional soccer player-cum-university professor! A cross between Pele and Einstein!”
I knew he was only pulling my leg, but it was nice of him to say it all the same.
It took a long time 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 pants.
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 enough sense 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 soccer, and had the kind 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. Mom 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 around my room as though he hadn’t been there 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 gym 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.”
“No, I didn’t! “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. “Okay,” 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 movies, 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 anymore. 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…”