Vampire High

by Douglas Rees

  I put the books on my desk, feeling like a genius. I

  would read Chaucer; then I'd be ready to write my own epic. Then Ileana would read it and see how great I was and fall in love with me.

  I got into bed and lay there listening to the soft little hiss of the snow coming down in the parfit, gentil night.

  GADJE GRADES

  The next day, after breakfast, I got to work.

  I set the two versions of The Canterbury Tales side by side and read them together. First I read a line in the modern English, then I read it in Chaucer's kind.

  After an hour of that, I was ready to quit. It was like trying to run with my feet in two buckets of cement.

  Plus, Chaucer wasn't that interesting. He had to introduce everybody who was going to tell the stories, and that took twenty-eight pages. And most of it didn't make sense. I knew what a knyght was, but what was a pri-oresse? Or a reve, or a maunciple? Only love kept me going to the end of the first part. By then it was lunchtime.

  By the time I got back to work, I had some ideas of my own. My epic would have two poets in love with the same princess. Their names would be Anaxander and

  Vasco. They would have a contest. Each of them would go to her palace to tell her stories, and the one who told the best one would get to marry her.

  This was such a great idea that I bounced around in my chair while I was writing it down. All I needed now was the stories for them to tell, and Ileana had said she'd give me those.

  I took the piece of paper I'd written The on a few nights before and added Illyriad. On the next line down I put By Cody Elliot.

  I was so excited that I started writing my Prologue:

  When in August with its days so hot

  The poets' horses in the dusty fields all trot,

  Then Anaxander and his friend Vasco

  Both to Ileana's castle go

  To tell her stories while she sits and listens

  And snow outside the windows glistens.

  Because they both want to marry her,

  But only one of them can carry her

  Away from her high tower,

  Where she lives every hour.

  To his own strong castle.

  And since they're friends, they cannot fight for her.

  They need some other way to compete for her.

  So they will entertain her

  And hope that then her brain hears

  The knight her heart prefers.

  No wonder Shadwell liked writing epics. I had nearly one page done already. I needed to make a few changes; I

  could see that. For one thing, the princess couldn't be named Ueana. But that was easy. My big problem was how to explain the snow glistening outside in the middle of August. But I didn't want to stop and figure that out now. I was rolling.

  Monday morning started out pretty well. I had ten pages done on my epic. I had something done on each of my homework assignments. I was anxious to see what grades I'd gotten on the ones I'd already turned in, and I was looking forward to seeing Ileana and Justin. Plus, there was the natatorium to look forward to. Life wasn't easy, but it was starting to get interesting.

  Then, about five minutes before Mom was going to take me to school, there was a knock on the door. When she opened it, a chauffeur was standing there.

  "Master Cody?" he said.

  Mom was in her old sweats and the chauffeur was dressed like a German general. She just stared. She hadn't seen any jenti close up before, and this guy was something. Tall, pale, long-faced, and his voice was oh so soft.

  "Uh . . . yes. He lives here" was all she could say.

  "See you, Mom," I said, sliding past her.

  I turned and looked back as the chauffeur opened the car door for me. Mom was smiling and waving, but I could tell she was stunned.

  I waved back, shouted, "Later," and got in, feeling good about how surprised she was.

  This lasted about one second.

  There were already four other kids in the car,

  drinking coffee from the little espresso maker in the back. They were all older than me.

  They looked me up and down, then went back to talking about whatever they had been talking about in that private language of theirs. Sometimes it sounded like grinding rocks. Sometimes it rippled like water over stones. In the middle of it, I heard two words I recognized: gadje and stoker.

  "Just in case anybody in this car speaks English, I'm not a stoker," I said.

  The four of them looked at me with blank faces, then went on talking. At least I didn't hear those words again.

  But when I walked through those big gold doors, Ms. Prentiss was standing right there, waiting for me.

  "Master Cody," she said, smiling. "Please come with me. Principal Horvath would like to speak with you."

  "What did I do?" I asked.

  "It's nothing like that, Master Cody," she said, smiling more widely and guiding me toward the office with her strong hand. Her nails had bright red polish and were really long.

  Horvath was sitting in front of the fire. Charon was there, watching the door with his tail curled around his feet. So was every one of my teachers. There was one empty seat, between Horvath and Charon.

  "Master Cody, come in," Horvath said, standing up and shaking my hand. "Please sit down."

  So I sat down between the principal and his wolf.

  "Master Cody, do you recall that on the day you came to us I told you that you might find our ways strange at

  first?" Horvath asked. "That I suggested you come to me with any questions you might have?"

  "Yeah, I mean yes," I said.

  The fire was casting shadows on the wall across the room. Mach's, Vukovitch's, Gibbon's, and Shadwell's looked like ghosts or monsters dancing. Charon's looked like a devil.

  "Well, I wish you had done that," Horvath said, leaning forward. "From what your teachers tell me, you may have been getting information from sources that will lead you astray if you are not careful. That is why we are here. That is what we wish to prevent."

  I looked around at their faces. They were all smiling at me except Charon.

  "Please proceed, Mr. Mach," Horvath said.

  Mach reached inside his coat and took out my homework assignment.

  "It's the note you wrote at the bottom of this paper that concerns me," he said. "It sounds as though you think you have a guaranteed A in my class."

  "That's what I heard," I said.

  "I see. Well, it's a little more complicated than that," he said.

  "If I may interject, we grade the whole student here, Master Cody," Mr. Horvath said. "As opposed to more ordinary schools where the assignments stand in isolation, apart from the total personality of the young scholar."

  "But do you grade gadje and jenti kids the same way?" I asked.

  Horvath raised his eyebrows. "Those terms are never used here," he said. "There is no need of them since, as I

  just explained to you, every student is treated as the individual he or she is."

  "So if a jenti kid turned in my math assignment, what grade would he get?" I asked Mach.

  "He'd get whatever grade he deserved based on his past performance and his background," Mach said.

  "What grade did I get?" I asked.

  "An A-minus," Mach said. "I think your work shows promise."

  "How about my grade in science?" I asked Ms. Vukovitch.

  "An A, of course," she purred, putting her fingers together. "After all, you were quite right; no one really knows what will happen when Betelgeuse goes nova. No other grade would have been possible."

  "And how about social studies?" I said to Gibbon.

  "A-plus," he said. "Not only did you fulfill the assignment, but it was the best piece of beef jerky I've ever had in my life. Thank you."

  I turned to the last teacher in the circle. "You know what, Mr. Shadwell? Since you like epics so much, that's what I'm writing. I did ten pages this weekend, and I'll bet I can do three hundred easy by June."
>
  "I'm sure whatever you do will be very acceptable," he said. "Please don't overexert yourself."

  "Wait a minute," I said. "Last Wednesday you said you expected three hundred pages from us by the end of the year."

  "A rough estimate," Shadwell said. "It's quite possible that the ten pages you have already written meet the assignment. Brevity is the soul of wit, you know. Multum in parvo. All of that."

  "Every student brings something uniquely valuable to Vlad Draeul," Horvath said. "That is why each of you is here. In your case it is only fair to bear in mind that you have not had the advantages of an elementary education at our school. And yet you are talented in areas where we need talent. Water sports, for instance."

  "But you don't have a real team," I said. "Those guys don't even want to get in the water. And Underskinker is a drunk."

  Everyone laughed but Charon.

  "I think you're mistaken there," Horvath said. "We have everything a team has—uniforms, a name, the nata-torium. As for Mr. Underskinker, he's almost an institution here. Perhaps you just haven't seen him at his best yet."

  "So what you're really telling me is that this school is just for jenti kids and as long as the gadje get in the water for you, you don't give a damn about us."

  "I am telling you," Horvath said, putting his hand on my leg and squeezing a little, "that your grades are your teachers' concern. And that they are concerned about you. As we all are."

  He stood up. So did everyone else. Their smiles came back on. Charon left the circle and went to lie down.

  I was so mad I could barely talk. I hate to be lied to. It makes me crazy. And I was in a weird cave of a room where everyone was lying his head off except the wolf.

  Horvath shook my hand again.

  "I think—I hope—you understand us better now," he said. "But come to see me again anytime you are confused. Or at any other time. And remember, Master Cody, Vlad Dracul is not an ordinary school."

  It was the first thing he'd told me that wasn't a lie.

  Don't ask me what we covered in math or English or social studies that day. I was too mad to listen. And in gym I ended up doing a hundred jumping jacks because I forgot to stop when everyone else did.

  When I got to dinner, Justin and Brian Blatt were already at the table, ignoring each other. But when I sat down, Brian took his face out of his plate and said, " 'S' up, stoker?"

  That did it.

  "Look, pizza face," I said. "Don't call me a stoker unless you want to finish that food without your front teeth."

  Brian stood up and said something short, ugly, and as far as I know, impossible.

  "I think I'd apologize for that if I were you," Justin said calmly.

  "Who's gonna make me—you?"

  "Well, if I have to, I suppose I could," Justin said. "What do you think?"

  "Ooh, I'm so scared," Brian said. But he got up from the table without finishing his food. He even forgot to steal the rolls.

  As soon as he was gone, Justin said, "That's the first time I've ever seen you act like a gadje."

  "When you get treated like a gadje, maybe you start acting like one."

  "What's the matter?" Justin said. "You've been looking mad all morning."

  I took my math paper out of my backpack and showed it to him.

  "What do you think you'd get on this if you turned it in?"

  Justin looked at it closely.

  "I'd guess I'd get an F."

  "Can I see your paper?" I asked.

  Justin took out his work. He had written pages of equations. There were even some sketches of music notes that were supposed to make his point, I guess. Mach had written all over his paper, and at the bottom was his grade: B—.

  "Justin," I said, "you guys are different from us. You're stronger. You can fly. You can change shape. Are you smarter than we are, too?"

  Justin thought it over.

  "Don't think so," he said at last. "I think we just try harder. It's kind of expected."

  Ileana sat down.

  "You were in Mr. Horvath's office for a long time today," she said.

  I told her what had happened.

  "Would you care to show me some of your work?"

  I showed her my assignments.

  "Taking everything together, I think you are doing work on about a third-grade level," she said. "That puts you six years behind. It is a long way to come, but I am sure you can do it."

  "Third grade," I said. "I'm dead."

  When I got to water polo, Underskinker was standing on his hind legs near the diving board.

  "You punks gadda game tomorrow," he announced. "Dat means two tings. First, when we play St. Biddulph's,

  I want you punks to make it look like a game. No back floats or gettin' outta da pool before the game's over. Second, you gotta wear da caps. I don't care if you look stoopid in 'em. You look stoopid anyway. Tird, the backup team's gonna be here. Don't mess with 'em. Fourt . . ," Underskinker stopped talking. His forehead wrinkled up like a wet towel. For a minute his eyes almost focused. Finally he spoke. "Fourt is, don't forget what I told yuh."

  He did one of his slow revolves and went back into his office.

  As soon as he was gone, everyone else got out of the pool. I swam back and forth with my eyes closed, just enjoying the water.

  The natatorium got quieter and quieter as the other guys left. Pretty soon there was nothing but the sound of me in the water, and that good, warm feeling came back. The feeling that I wasn't in Massachusetts, wasn't anywhere but right here, right now.

  This feeling lasted until I opened my eyes.

  When I did, there was Charon sitting by the pool. His big yellow eyes were staring straight at me.

  "I think Underskinker is in his office," I told him. "I'd look for him under his desk if I were you."

  Charon didn't move.

  "Are you here for me?" I asked him.

  Charon stood up.

  "Okay, just a minute."

  "Does Horvath want to see me again?" I asked as I climbed out of the pool.

  Charon wagged low.

  "That means no, right?" I said.

  The tail wagged high.

  "Okay, what is it then?"

  His answer was to come right up to me. I took a step back. He followed.

  What was this about? Was he going to attack me for mouthing off to Horvath? I took another step back. He followed me again.

  "Is this about my grades?"

  One wag very high.

  Two more steps and I had my back against the wall.

  "Listen," I began, "wait a minute. ..."

  Charon stood up on his hind legs and put his huge paws so heavily on my shoulders that I almost staggered.

  He bent his head down and gave me a sloppy lick.

  He dropped onto all fours and trotted to the door without looking back.

  RULES OF THE GAME

  The next day was Tuesday. That meant the Impalers had a game. Since we had never practiced, and I had never even learned what the rules were supposed to be, I was kind of curious to see what would happen.

  At two-thirty, a small yellow bus drove up next to the natatorium. On the side of the bus it said ST. biddulph's

  EPISCOPAL SCHOOL EAST GEHENNA.

  Fifteen guys got out. There were thirteen boys and two men. They walked to the natatorium in double file, almost like they were marching. They went in, keeping almost as quiet as jenti, and headed for the locker room.

  Why so many? I wondered. The men were probably coaches, but why so many boys? Were some of them

  fans? No, all the boys had gym bags with the words ST. biddulph's saints on the side.

  I followed the Saints into the natatorium.

  The pool was set up for the game. There were cages floating at either end to catch the ball, and white lines at the sides of the pool to mark the halfwa}^ point. There was a table at one side with four men sitting at it, and two more by the half-distance line and four more at the corners of the pool, all wit
h whistles and little flags. It all looked very official.

  I went into the locker room.

  Underskinker was walking up and down the aisles, looking madder than I had ever seen him. He had a can of beer in his hand, of course, but he wasn't paying any .attention to it.

  Louis Lapierre saw him coming and shouted, "Coach, about this game—we don't have to get wet, do we?"

  Underskinker crushed the can and beer sprayed out over his feet. Everyone on both teams laughed.

  "You punks are all punks, you punks!" Underskinker shouted, and left.

  Jason Barzini was putting on the little blue rubber bathing cap we had to wear.

  "Hey, Barzini, you look cute in that," I said.

  "Shut up, stoker, or you die," Master Barzini replied.

  Brian Blatt said, "Come on, Barzini. Time for the real men to get out of here before the vamps show up." They followed the rest of the Impalers out to the pool.

  I took a closer look at my own cap. Blue on the inside, white on the outside. Reversible. I turned it blue side out and put it on.

  Around me the St. BidduVph's team were changing as quickly and quietly as they could.

  "Say, how come there are so many of you and so few of us?" I asked.

  None of them answered.

  "So you're the Saints, huh?" I said.

  No one answered me. They slipped on their white caps without looking left or right. In a minute, I was alone.

  When I came out, the Impalers were in the deep end of the pool horsing around. The St. Biddulph's team had seven guys in the water and six along the back wall on a bench. I figured it out. They were replacements. They had replacements and we didn't. What a rip-off.

  Then a line of jenti in team trunks and rubber caps came in.

  Jenti in trunks? I figured it out in a minute. Our team needed a certain number of players, but there weren't enough gadjes. So to make everything look normal, Horvath had assigned six jenti guys to be on the team as replacements. They couldn't get into the water, of course. Replacements, only they would never replace anybody.

  I saw Gregor at the head of the line. Behind him were Hie, Vladimir, and Constantin. Then came one guy I didn't know. All tall, pale, fierce-looking guys. At the end of the line was Justin, like a period at the end of a sentence.

  "Hey, man," I called.

  "Hi," Justin said back.