Miss Lecky asked Jonathan and Caddie to stand up.
They did, and the room was filled with murmurs. Every head, even Caddie’s, swiveled around to look at Jonathan. So he was grateful when Tobi called out, “Jonathan likes to be called Jon.”
“Thank you, Tobi,” said Miss Lecky, “but please remember to raise your hand. And now it’s time for our reading period.”
Reading period, Jonathan repeated to himself. He must try to remember all these new things.
The next three hours passed very quickly. Jonathan found the work quite easy, but there were some things he just didn’t understand at all. One of them was raising his hand. When he worked with Mr. Saginaw, he didn’t have to raise his hand. But Miss Lecky insisted on it. “No calling out, please,” she kept saying.
“Why not?” Jonathan finally asked. He really needed to know.
Before Miss Lecky could answer him, Sharrod began waving his hand wildly. “Miss Lecky! Miss Lecky!”
“What is it, Sharrod?” she replied.
“Jonathan just called out. You said, ‘No calling out, please,’ and he called out. He said, ‘Why not?’”
“Thank you, Sharrod—”
“Excuse me, Miss Lecky,” Jonathan spoke up, “but did Sharrod not just call out himself? He was saying, ‘Miss Lecky, Miss Lecky’ while he was still waving his hand. Is that not calling out?”
“But, Miss Lecky, now Jonathan just called out,” said Sharrod.
“So did you, Sharrod,” spoke up Tobi.
“So did you, Tobi,” said a friend of Tobi’s named Eric Davis.
“So did you, Eric,” said Sharrod.
Miss Lecky closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she held up both hands. “Class!” she said loudly.
Everyone stopped talking.
“Jonathan,” said Miss Lecky patiently, “we raise our hands so that this will not happen. When we call out, the room becomes noisy and we are distracted from our work. Do you understand?”
Jonathan raised his hand.
“Yes?” said Miss Lecky.
“I think so,” Jonathan replied.
Miss Lecky closed her eyes again briefly. “Good,” she said.
At last it was lunchtime.
“I love lunch—but I hate the cafeteria,” said Tobi with a groan.
“What is a cafeteria?” asked Jonathan, as his class walked down the hall.
Rusty, Eric, and Sharrod snickered.
Jonathan had a feeling he should know what a cafeteria was. He’d read the word in books. He just couldn’t remember what it meant.
“It’s the place where you get your food, dum—Jon,” Tobi whispered. “You stick with me. I have to loan you money, anyway.”
Jonathan wasn’t about to leave Tobi. How could he? Tobi knew everything about school; Jonathan knew nothing.
As Jonathan and his class walked down the hallway, Jonathan heard a noise that grew louder and louder. Then Miss Lecky opened a door and the noise became a roar.
“Well, this is it,” said Tobi. “Littleton’s good old cafeteria.”
Jonathan stepped into one of the biggest rooms he’d ever seen. It was filled with long tables, and each table was filled with kids. And lunches.
“My heavens,” said Jonathan.
Tobi nudged him. “Don’t say that, remember?”
“What should I say?”
“Awesome.”
“Awesome,” murmured Jonathan.
“Now, come on, let’s get our lunches before the line’s too long. You’ve only got two choices at this school—hot lunch or bring your own.”
“What is the hot lunch?” asked Jonathan.
“Um,” said Tobi, straining to see, “pizzaburgers, salad, and Jell-O. Let’s go.”
Tobi showed Jonathan how to take a tray, a plate, a fork, a spoon, and a knife, and slide the tray along a counter. Behind the counter were three women. They were dressed in white. They were wearing plastic bags on their hands.
“Tobi,” said Jonathan, “why are those—”
But Tobi wasn’t paying attention. She had reached the first woman. She held her plate out. The woman dropped a helping of salad on it. Then Tobi slid her tray along. Jonathan followed her. He didn’t stop in front of the salad lady.
“Young man,” called the woman, “come back here!”
“Go get your salad,” Tobi hissed to Jonathan.
“I do not like salad.”
“It doesn’t matter. They make you take it anyway.”
Well, that was the silliest thing Jonathan had ever heard of. It was sillier than raising your hand. School, Jonathan realized, had rules. And he did not like all of them.
Jonathan went back for his salad. Then he caught up with Tobi in time to get his square of green Jell-O. He had never seen Jell-O before.
“Excuse me,” said Jonathan to the Jell-O lady, “I think something is wrong with this. It is moving.”
Tobi rolled her eyes. “Forget it, Jon,” she said. “Come on.” She pulled him along to the last woman in white. The woman put two pizzaburgers on Tobi’s plate.
Then Jonathan held out his plate. The woman put two pizzaburgers on it. Jonathan looked at them. He handed his plate back.
“Yes?” said the woman.
“May I have one more, please?”
“Two’s the limit.”
“But I will not be eating the green thing that moves or the salad—”
“Hey, quit holding up the line!” someone shouted.
“Yeah, get moving!”
“Jon,” said Tobi, “come on. Your lunch is your lunch. Now let me buy it for you.”
Goodness, thought Jonathan, school certainly was confusing.
After Tobi had paid for the lunches, she and Jonathan sat with a bunch of boys from their class. They talked about monsters. Jonathan knew more than any of them about vampires. He talked a lot. He ate his pizzaburgers. He did not let his fork touch the moving Jell-O.
When lunch was over, Tobi showed Jonathan what to do with his tray. Later, she showed him where the boys’ room was, how to work the copy machine, and how to hide gum under his desk. And as they left school together that afternoon, she politely suggested that perhaps Jonathan should stop wearing his suit and carrying the briefcase. Jonathan nodded wearily.
When Jonathan finally returned to his house that afternoon, he felt overwhelmed. But when Mr. Saginaw asked him how school had gone, Jonathan replied, “Awesome!”
He went to his room feeling angry, though. He was angry with Ma and Pa. Maybe school had been a little confusing, but it really had been awesome, too. And all those years since he was four or five he could have been going to one school or another. (He would have known about cafeterias and Jell-O.) But he hadn’t gone. And why not? Because Ma and Pa had adopted a kid even though they were vampires. Then they’d tried to hide the truth from Jonathan. Why, he wondered, couldn’t he have been adopted by a nice, regular family who didn’t have to break into a blood bank every time they got hungry?
This is not fair, thought Jonathan, not fair at all. He sat on his bed. Then he went downstairs and looked at the basement door. Closed. Great. Ma and Pa were still asleep. How was Jonathan supposed to tell them about his first day at school?
He sighed. Oh, well. And then he remembered that he had … homework.
“My first homework!” said Jonathan as he ran back to his bedroom. “Oh, boy, time for math!”
6
Don’t Bite!
JONATHAN HAD BEEN GOING to Littleton for several days when Tobi unexpectedly said to him, “So when are you going to ask me over to your house, Jon?”
It was lunchtime. Jonathan was seated in the noisy cafeteria. He was on a bench squished between Sharrod and Rusty. Tobi and Eric sat across from them.
“Excuse me?” said Jonathan.
“I said, when are you going to invite me over?”
Jonathan almost harrumphed, just like Mr. Saginaw. “Well,” he said, “well … um, my parents don’t
let me have friends over.”
“Ever?” exclaimed Tobi.
“Well, not for very long. I mean, they—”
R-R-R-I-I-I-N-N-N-G-G-G!
“Fire drill!” shrieked Tobi, and the kids ran out of the cafeteria.
Jonathan was saved—until the next day when Tobi said, “So are you going to invite me over? It would be so much fun. And I could just walk home with you and then walk to my own house. A cinch.”
Jonathan didn’t bother to ask what a cinch was. He thought for a moment. Then he said, “Sure you can come over. I’ll just have to ask my moth—I mean, my mom what day is all right. Then I’ll let you know.”
Jonathan walked home from school slowly that day. What was he getting himself into? he wondered. But if he was going to be like other kids, he would have to invite friends over to his house, wouldn’t he? There was one big problem, though. Jonathan wanted Tobi—or any friend—to find his house just like other houses.
Furthermore, Jonathan had read plenty of old books, and in those books, mothers were not only awake when their kids got home from school, but they were in the kitchen baking cookies, or they were gardening or working or setting the table for dinner.
Jonathan knew very well that if he asked Mr. Saginaw to put on an apron and be in the kitchen baking cookies one day, he would do it.
But that was not what Jonathan wanted.
Jonathan wanted his mother. He wanted her awake, reasonably well dressed, baking cookies, and not turning into a bat. Or biting necks. What if she suddenly became very hungry, but couldn’t break into the blood bank because it was daytime? Jonathan tried not to think about it.
But did he dare ask Ma to be a real mother? Could she be one?
That night, Jonathan sat silently at the table in the kitchen. Mr. Saginaw was serving him dinner, and Ma and Pa were about to change into bats and visit the blood bank.
“Jonathan,” said Ma, “you have been awfully quiet the past few days.”
Jonathan ate a mouthful of rice, but he didn’t say anything.
“Ever since school began,” Pa added.
“School is not too difficult, is it?” asked Ma.
“Nope,” said Jonathan without looking up.
“Sometimes,” Ma went on, “you seem … angry”
“With us,” said Pa.
Jonathan did look up then. “It’s not easy being the son of vampires,” he told them. “Especially when you’re not a vampire yourself.”
“We understand,” said Pa.
“Is there anything we could do to make things easier?” asked Ma.
Jonathan thought hard. Should he ask Ma about baking cookies? She would have to get up during the day. She would have to see sunlight …
Jonathan decided to take a chance. He put his fork down. Very solemnly he said to his parents (who were growing paler by the second), “I would like to invite Tobi to come over after school someday.”
“Oh,” said Ma, breathing a sigh of relief, “is that all?”
“No,” said Jonathan. “When she comes over, I want you to be here like other mothers, Ma.”
“Well, I will be here. I am always here during the day.”
“Other mothers,” said Jonathan, “are not sleeping in coffins during the day. Could you get up early—just this once—and bake cookies? And when Tobi and I come through the door, could you take the cookies out of the oven? Please?”
“Get up early? … Bake cookies? But, Jonathan, I have not baked in centuries. Furthermore, I do not need to bake,” Mrs. Primave pointed out.
“I will be happy to do it,” spoke up Mr. Saginaw.
“No,” said Jonathan. “Thanks, but I want Ma. And I want her to put on regular clothes.”
“Oh, Jonathan.” Ma sank into one of the chairs. “Is this very important to you?”
“Very,” Jonathan told her.
“Then I will do it. What would you like me to wear?”
Hmm, thought Jonathan, Miss Lecky always wears a skirt or a dress. Sometimes pants, but not very often. “A—a dress,” he told Ma.
“All right, I have plenty of dresses. Of course, some of them are just a bit old.”
“How old?” asked Jonathan.
Ma wrinkled her forehead. Then she turned to Pa. “Well, there is that one I wore when we went to the Vampire Ball. When was that, dear? Sixteen twenty-eight?”
“Or twenty-nine.”
“So the ball gown,” Ma told Jonathan, “would be, oh, three hundred fifty, four hundred years old. How is that?”
“Don’t wear it,” said Jonathan. Then he added politely, “Please, something more modern would be fine. Do you have anything more modern?”
“Most definitely,” replied Ma. “Is that what you would like me to wear?”
Jonathan nodded.
Ma nodded.
It was settled.
One week later, Tobi walked home from school with Jonathan. While she talked about school and how dumb most of the girls were, Jonathan wondered just what his mother would be wearing when they got home. And would she have remembered to bake cookies? More important, would she have remembered to wake up? She had to get up five or six hours earlier than usual. Jonathan felt kind of bad about that, but surely she could do it just once.
When Jonathan and Tobi reached the Primaves’s house, Tobi shivered. It was as run-down and spooky as ever.
“The old Drumthwacket place always gives me the creeps,” said Tobi. “Especially on a gray day like this one.”
“Really?” said Jonathan vaguely. His heart was pounding. He opened the front door.
He could smell something baking!
“Hi, Ma, I’m home!” he called, as if he did that every day.
“Gosh, your house is dark,” commented Tobi as they walked through the first floor to the kitchen. “All the shades are drawn and—”
“Ma!” exclaimed Jonathan. “You baked cookies! And—and you’re, um, all dressed up.”
Mrs. Primave wasn’t wearing her usual flowing, filmy dress. She was wearing a different one. It was blue with sparkles on the top.
“Are you going to a ball?” asked Tobi, awed. “You’re all—That dress is beautiful!”
“This old thing? It is just a housecoat. I have had it for years.”
“I guess I should introduce you,” said Jonathan nervously. “Ma, this is Tobi Maxwell. Tobi, this is my mother.”
Tobi reached out to shake Ma’s hand, but Jonathan cried, “Hey, Ma, I think your cookies are burning.”
Ma turned around to check the oven, and Tobi whispered to Jonathan, “How come your mom’s wearing sunglasses in the house?”
Before Jonathan could answer, Mrs. Primave said, “Why, the cookies are not burned at all. They are done perfectly.” She pulled a sheet of gorgeous chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Jonathan was certain Mr. Saginaw had baked them, but that was okay. So far, Ma was doing a great job. Well, a pretty good job. Jonathan couldn’t ask for more.
When the cookies had cooled, Jonathan and Tobi put them on a plate and each ate several.
“Want some?” Tobi asked Mrs. Primave, passing her the plate.
“No, thank you, dear,” Ma replied. “I am not a bit hungry.”
Thank goodness, thought Jonathan.
And then Tobi said, “You know what we should do this afternoon, Jon? I mean, if it’s okay with you, Mrs. Primave.” (Jonathan began to feel worried.) “We should go to the mall and play video games. Sharrod and some of the kids in our class are going to be there.”
The mall? Video games? Jonathan had a vague idea what they were, but—
“Well, perhaps Mr. Saginaw could drive you over there,” said Ma.
“Mr. Saginaw? Your governor?” asked Tobi.
No one answered her. Instead, Jonathan said, “Do you know the mall, Ma?”
“Why, certainly. I have flown over it—I mean, driven over there—dozens of times.”
“Then could you take us?” Jonathan asked, suddenly feeling bold. He
knew Mrs. Maxwell would take Tobi if she asked.
Ma looked narrowly at Jonathan. “But it is so bright outside today. And I have not driven the car in …”
Jonathan paused. What was he thinking of—asking his mother to go out in public. In the daylight? Imagine the things that could happen. Ma hadn’t been awake during the day in centuries. What if she got hungry? What if she turned into a bat? What if she forgot she was civilized and bit someone’s neck?
And what would the sunlight do to her? Why did she have to stay out of it? Would it make her sick?
Tobi interrupted Jonathan’s thoughts. “You haven’t driven the car in … what?” she asked Mrs. Primave.
“In, um, in this area … much.”
“Do you know the mall?” Tobi went on.
Mrs. Primave nodded.
Tobi looked confused. But all she said was, “Well, anyway, I can tell you how to get over there.”
Now what? thought Jonathan. “You know,” he said suddenly, “maybe we shouldn’t go to the mall after all, Tobi.”
“Why not?”
“Well … well … I don’t think Sharrod likes me.”
Tobi waved her hand as if that thought were the silliest in the world. “Who cares? And what does that have to do with whether you play video games? Don’t you want to play, Jon? Big Video is where all the cool kids go.”
All the cool kids? “Ma,” said Jonathan, “Let’s go!”
“But I said it is bright out today,” hissed Ma.
“It’s not bright, it’s cloudy,” Jonathan replied, which was perfect since Tobi wouldn’t be able to see that Mrs. Primave did not cast a shadow.
“Who cares about the weather?” asked Tobi, and Jonathan just replied, “Ma is particular.”
Ten minutes later, Ma, Jonathan, and Tobi were climbing into the Primaves’s car. Ma was wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a veil, a long coat, and gloves—the old-fashioned kind that went up over her elbows.
“Are you sure you’re not going to a ball or something?” Tobi asked. But Mrs. Primave had to concentrate on her driving, so she couldn’t answer. She kept screeching around corners, jerking to a halt long before they reached stop signs, and slowing down whenever a car came toward her in the opposite direction.
Jonathan answered Tobi’s question for Ma. “She has expensive taste,” he said. It was the only excuse he could think of. He had probably read it in a book.