Amos and the Vampire Read online

  OTHER YEARLING BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY:

  MR. TUCKET, Gary Paulsen

  THE MONUMENT, Gary Paulsen

  THE RIVER, Gary Paulsen

  THE COOKCAMP, Gary Paulsen

  THE VOYAGE OF THE FROG, Gary Paulsen

  THE BOY WHO OWNED THE SCHOOL, Gary Paulsen

  HOW TO EAT FRIED WORMS, Thomas Rockwell

  HOW TO FIGHT A GIRL, Thomas Rockwell

  CHOCOLATE FEVER, Robert Kimmel Smith

  BOBBY BASEBALL, Robert Kimmel Smith

  YEARLING BOOKS are designed especially to entertain and enlighten young people. Patricia Reilly Giff, consultant to this series, received her bachelor’s degree from Marymount College and a master’s degree in history from St. John’s University. She holds a Professional Diploma in Reading and a Doctorate of Humane Letters from Hofstra University. She was a teacher and reading consultant for many years, and is the author of numerous books for young readers.

  For a complete listing of all Yearling titles,

  write to Dell Readers Service,

  P.O. Box 1045, South Holland, IL 60473.

  Published by

  Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers

  a division of

  Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

  1540 Broadway

  New York, New York 10036

  Copyright © 1996 by Gary Paulsen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  The trademarks Yearling® and Dell® are registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-80391-7

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Yearling Books

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper sat in the back of the school library across from his best friend for life, Amos Binder. Dunc was working on a social studies report. Amos was trying to find a comfortable position on the library’s hard wooden chair while reading a comic book he had hidden inside an upside-down encyclopedia.

  The bell rang.

  Amos nearly tipped his chair over scrambling to stand up. “Come on, Dunc. That was the sound of freedom. It’s Friday. We’re outta here.”

  “Hold on. I’m almost finished.”

  Amos picked up one of Dunc’s research books, Dracula of the Night by Bertram Watson. “You’re doing your report on Dracula?”

  Dunc shrugged. “Mrs. Burnbottom said we could do it on anything that had to do with Halloween or its customs. Dracula’s kind of interesting. In fact, his whole family has a fascinating history.”

  “Right. A history of borrowing other people’s blood.” Amos opened the book and read a couple of lines: “ ‘The vampire feasts on any warm-blooded creature he is able to snare. Then he returns to the safety of his coffin before the light of day can catch him unaware.’ ”

  “It’s only a myth.” Dunc took the book and slid it into his backpack. “What are you doing your report on?”

  “Candy.”

  Dunc raised one eyebrow.

  Amos shrugged. “She said anything that had to do with Halloween, didn’t she?”

  Dunc tried not to smile. “That’s what she said. And speaking of candy, we need a better plan for trick-or-treating this time than we had last year.”

  “I don’t want to talk about last year.”

  “I understand. If I had talked my best friend into something impossible like covering the whole town in one night, I wouldn’t want to talk about it either.”

  Amos headed for the door.

  Dunc followed him down the library steps. “And if I had been responsible for that same best friend being chased all over town and nearly getting swallowed by a huge man-eating wolf, I’d probably just want to forget all about it.”

  Amos unlocked his bike.

  “And if I, personally, had been bitten by that wolf and had run around acting like a werepuppy in front of the whole world, I’d really try and put it out of my mind forever.”

  Dunc watched Amos roll his bike out of the rack and head down the street. “By the way, did you hear what James Morton told Justin Smeltzer about Melissa Hansen?”

  It worked. It always worked. Amos turned around, pedaled back to Dunc, and stopped. “What about Melissa?”

  Melissa Hansen was the only girl in the world as far as Amos was concerned. He was her devoted love slave—or at least he wanted to be. His knees turned to jelly and a large knot caught in his throat every time he saw her. Once, when he thought she was actually going to sit by him in the cafeteria, he got so excited he threw up on her shoes.

  Dunc shifted his backpack to one shoulder. “It’s only hearsay. You probably don’t want to know about it.”

  “Are you going to tell me, or do I stuff that backpack up your nose?”

  “It’s nothing really. James just heard that Melissa is throwing a big costume party on Halloween, and she’s inviting practically the whole school.”

  Amos sat back on his bike. “That explains why she called last night, to personally invite me to her party.”

  “Are you telling me that Melissa Hansen called you?”

  Amos nodded. “I’m pretty sure it was her. Her ring is sort of in a class by itself. It has that distinctive pulse to it.”

  Dunc sighed. Amos had convinced himself that one day Melissa would realize that he was the only man for her and call him. To be on the safe side, Amos tried to answer every ringing phone he could get his hands on.

  Amos went on, “I’m not positive it was her because I never quite made it to the phone. My sister Amy has this boyfriend named Clyde or Clod or something. He’s a wrestler.”

  “I don’t get it. What does Amy’s boyfriend have to do with Melissa Hansen calling your house?”

  “We were all in the family room watching Bowling for Groceries when the phone rang. The second I heard it, I was up and moving. You know how Melissa likes for me to get it on that all-important first ring?”

  The logic of that statement always got away from Dunc, but he nodded anyway.

  “I jumped over Clod, who was on the floor with his face about three inches from the television. I guess he didn’t want to miss anything. Anyway, I cleared him and had my hand on the phone when it happened.”

  “What?”

  “Clod. Like I said, he’s a wrestler. When the phone rang and I jumped over him, his reflexes went berserk. When the sound of that ringing bell finally penetrated his brain, he grabbed me and tossed me across the room. Then he fell on me like a ton of bricks and pinned me in a full Willie Nelson.”

  “It’s called a half nelson, Amos.”

  “Not the way he did it. I’d probably still be there except my mom bribed him with a platter of fried chicken she’d made for my dad’s company picnic.”

  “That’s too bad. I mean about the phone and everything.”

  “Yeah. But now that I know what she wanted, I better get busy and start working on a costume.” He turned his bike and started back down the street.

  Dunc thought about mentioning the fact that Amos hadn’t actually been invited to the party and that maybe he was j
umping the gun a little.

  He didn’t. Instead he just shook his head, got on his bike, and followed Amos home.

  Dunc pushed the doorbell a second time. Finally the door opened. Amy stood on the step chewing a huge wad of pink bubble gum. She blew a bubble and let it pop. “What are you doing over here at this time of night?”

  “Hi, Amy. Nice to see you too.” Dunc squeezed past her and started up the stairs. He was halfway up before he noticed somebody else standing in the hall. An older boy, tall and thin, with slick black hair and a pale complexion, stared at him with dark, smoldering eyes.

  “Hi.” Dunc smiled and waved.

  The boy turned without a sound, took Amy’s arm, and led her into the next room.

  Dunc pushed open Amos’s door. “Your sister’s boyfriends are getting weirder every—” He stopped short and his mouth fell open. Amos was standing in the middle of his bed holding a sunflower and wearing a long brown wig, sunglasses, a wild Hawaiian shirt, and bell-bottom pants.

  “Peace, man. Can you dig it?”

  “You called me over here at this time of night to show me this?”

  Amos nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to get your opinion. I thought if I wore something from the seventies, Melissa would think that I was into that whole hippie love thing and be impressed with my sensitivity. What do you think?”

  “I think you better keep trying.” Dunc looked for a clean spot to sit down on. There wasn’t one, so he stood. “Who’s the jerk downstairs? I said hi and he didn’t answer me.”

  “He probably didn’t understand you. I don’t think he speaks much English. His family just moved here from somewhere in Europe. They bought the Van Helseg estate out on Hanover. Amy calls him C.D. I guess he likes music or something.” Amos rummaged through his closet. “What about a groom?”

  “What?”

  “You know, like on a wedding cake. Maybe Melissa would be motivated if I came as a groom.”

  “Too pushy.” Dunc kicked aside a pile of dirty clothes and plopped down on the floor. “That guy downstairs gives me the creeps. Do your parents know she’s seeing him?”

  “They don’t care. They were just happy she dumped the biker with the snake tattoo on his upper lip. Besides, they’re gone. They went to visit my uncle Alfred for the weekend. You remember him, the one who picks his toes through his smelly socks?”

  “Hmm.” Dunc rubbed his chin.

  “Stop that.” Amos jumped off the bed. “I know that sound. It’s dangerous. When you make it, it means you’re thinking up some way to get me into trouble. Besides, you’re supposed to be helping me with my costume so I can wow Melissa.”

  Dunc stood and walked out on the landing.

  “Get back in here,” Amos whispered. “The last time I made Amy mad at me I wound up in traction.”

  “I only want to get another look at the guy. He reminds me of someone.”

  “Why are you doing this? As long as he keeps Amy out of my hair, I don’t care if he’s a member of the Mafia.”

  Dunc inched down the stairs one at a time. “Don’t you care if your sister is in danger?” he whispered.

  “No. I care if I’m in danger, and that’s exactly where you’re putting me. Revenge is Amy’s specialty.”

  Dunc put his fingers to his lips and motioned for Amos to follow him across the hall to the living room. Amos folded his arms and stayed where he was.

  When he reached the door, Dunc dropped to his knees and peeked around the corner. Amy was sitting on the couch next to C.D., staring into his dark eyes. He kissed her hand and then slowly started to kiss his way up her arm.

  Dunc turned and motioned frantically for Amos to join him.

  Amos groaned, reluctantly crawled across the carpet to the door, and looked in.

  Amy was sitting alone on the couch.

  “It’s late and I don’t want to hear any more of your theories. I’m going to bed.”

  “Wait, Amos. This could be serious. We’ve never had a case quite like this one before.” Dunc flipped through his pocket notebook. “So far we have two clues.”

  “Arrg!” Amos fell backward on the bed and pulled a pillow over his face. “You don’t have any clues, and we are not the cops. Amy goes out with creeps all the time. For her it’s normal. I’d be more worried if she chose a regular guy.”

  “It’s not normal for her date to be in the room one minute slobbering on her arm and gone the next. Especially when there were only two exits. A window, which was open a crack, and the door, right past you and me.”

  Amos turned over. “Maybe it was your imagination. The guy probably wasn’t ever there.”

  “He was there, and he was acting pretty strange.”

  “That’s Amy for you. The stranger the better. Can I go to sleep now?”

  “You can—if you tell me why it took so long to snap Amy out of whatever spell that guy had her under. She sat on the couch for a good five minutes, staring into space like she was in some kind of trance.”

  “That’s easy—brain damage.”

  Dunc sat on the edge of the bed with a solemn look on his face. “I don’t know how to break this to you, Amos, but I think Amy’s boyfriend is … well, I don’t think he’s quite human.”

  Amos laughed and flipped over again. “You’re kidding, right? Right?”

  Dunc shook his head. “I’ve been doing a lot of research on the subject, and C.D. has all the classic characteristics—pale skin, dark hair, weird eyes, and, of course, a tendency to disappear.”

  “I know I’ll hate myself later for asking this,” Amos said, “but here goes … classic characteristics of what?”

  Dunc shifted to face him.

  “A vampire.”

  “I must be crazy. How did I let you talk me into this?” Amos pedaled along slowly behind Dunc, muttering under his breath. “Of all the dumb things you’ve come up with, this is the dumbest.”

  Dunc stopped and waited for him to catch up. “Did you say something?”

  “Yes, not that you ever listen to me. How much farther is it?”

  “We’re almost there, Amos. The Von Helseg estate is just around the next turn.”

  “And just what do you plan to do when we get there? Go up to the door and ask them politely if any vampires live there?”

  “No. That’s what this is for.” Dunc pointed to a basket of fruit hanging from his handlebars. “We’ll get inside by pretending to be part of the Welcome Wagon, and then we’ll look for any obvious signs.”

  Amos cocked his head. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Not that I actually believe any of this garbage, but what exactly are these signs you keep talking about?”

  “If my sources are correct, there are a couple of dead giveaways—excuse the play on words. A vampire won’t eat real food, has no reflection in a mirror, and absolutely hates the smell of garlic.”

  Dunc reached into the pack he’d tied to the back of his bike. “Here. Put some of this in your pocket just in case.”

  “Yuck!” Amos held his nose. “What’s that awful smell?”

  “Garlic. Remember, I told you vampires really hate it.”

  Amos took a piece. “I’m not exactly crazy about it myself. Why do I have to put it in my pocket? Why don’t you just wave some around and see what happens?”

  “We don’t want to be too obvious. Vampires are liable to get nasty if they think someone is on to them.” Dunc pushed off. Over his shoulder he yelled. “Isn’t this great, Amos? If we’re right, we’ll probably be heroes and get our pictures on the cover of the National Intruder.”

  Amos stuffed the garlic into his T-shirt pocket and followed Dunc around the corner. “Yeah, and if we’re wrong, C.D.’s family will probably call the police and have us arrested and thrown in jail till we’re as old as Ms. Fishbeck, the new principal.”

  They pedaled down a tree-lined country lane, passing several tall white statues of mythological creatures. The drive made a circle in front of an old, three-story brick house. The hous
e looked as if no one had taken care of it in years. The vines and hedges were scraggly and overgrown. A shutter had come loose on one of the second-story windows and was banging against the wall.

  Amos looked around. “They sure wouldn’t win any prizes from House Beautiful.”

  Dunc slid the basket over his arm and leaned his bike against the hedge. “Come on, Amos. Let’s see if anybody’s home.”

  Amos sat on his bicycle. “You know, Dunc, maybe we should take a little time and think this one over. Chances are, you’re way off base as usual. But then again, suppose you’re right for once. If this guy is what you think he is, we could be into some serious stuff here.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen, Amos. If he is a vampire, he’ll be just as scared of us as we are of him. Remember, we’ve got the garlic.”

  There wasn’t a doorbell. Dunc dropped the big brass lion’s head knocker three times against the door and waited. They heard a strange shuffling sound, and then the door creaked open.

  A little man with a hunchback and long gray hair looked at them suspiciously.

  Dunc whipped out the basket. “Welcome Wagon!”

  The oak door slammed in his face.

  “Maybe he doesn’t eat fruit,” Amos said.

  Dunc tried the knocker again. This time when the little man pulled the door open, Dunc stuck his foot inside. “Sorry to bother you, mister, but my friend and I have a quota. We have to welcome at least three people this morning or we could lose our jobs.”

  The little man picked at something in his hair, examined it, and then put it in his mouth.

  Amos made a face. “I was right. He doesn’t eat fruit.”

  Dunc leaned against the door. “Excuse me, sir, is there someone else here I could talk to?”

  The little man looked past him. His eyes lit up. He clapped his hands together and raced out the door and down the drive.

  Amos watched him run. “I’d take that as a definite no, if I were you.”

  Dunc stepped inside the house. “Hello? Is anybody home?” His words echoed in the emptiness.

  “Maybe we should come back later?” Amos suggested. “When someone who doesn’t eat bugs is here.”