Fat Vampire by Adam Rex

home.
    â€œHi, kids,” said Dad.
    â€œHello, Mr. and Mrs. Lee.”
    â€œMom, can Jay stay for dinner?”
    Mom paused in the driveway, her arms hugging her briefcase and two bags of groceries. Her expression conveyed to Doug, via a bit of family-only telepathy, that he k nows he’s not supposed to ask in front of Jay like that because now how can she say no even though they’re only having Manwiches? “If it’s okay with Jay’s mom” was all she said out loud.
    â€œYou can help me figure out the best route to ride my bike to the party,” Doug told Jay when his parents were out of sight. He hoped that hook wasn’t too flagrantly baited, but what he really wanted was for Jay to offer him a ride.
    â€œYou’re definitely going?”
    â€œI don’t think it’s the Vampire Hunters. Do you? It doesn’t seem like their style.”
    â€œNo,” Jay admitted. “Do you want a ride? You don’t want to show up all sweaty.”
    â€œThat would be awesome.”
    Â 
    The boys ate and finished their homework. Then they drove early to the Hawthorne to be sure they could find it.
    â€œThis has to be it,” said Doug. “It’s perfect. You can’t even see the house from the road.”
    Past a NO OUTLET sign the dark and quiet street stretched into a sharp, thin curve. The front gate of the Polidori residence was garnished with thick ivy. You didn’t borrow a cup of sugar from this sort of neighbor. This neighbor had no sugar for you.
    Jay backed out to the NO OUTLET sign again and turned around.
    â€œWe’ll go down to the creek somewhere,” said Jay.
    â€œGood,” said Doug. “We should have done this before. I want to go into that house with as few questions as possible.”
    They walked through the shimmering trees toward the smell of water. Jay carried a grocery bag in addition to his schoolbag, and it was from the former that he produced a set of high galoshes. He sat on a rock and slipped them over his shoes.
    â€œWe’re going to the other side of the creek,” he said. “There’ll be less chance of running into anyone else over there.”
    â€œUh-huh. Where are my galoshes?”
    â€œI didn’t think you’d care. You don’t really feel cold when you’re full of blood, right?”
    â€œBut I still feel this acute sense of embarrassment when I show up for a vampire party later with wet feet.”
    Jay avoided his eyes. “Oh. Well, you’ll be dry by then, with this wind,” he said, and started across the rushing water.
    There was nothing else to do but follow. Doug didn’t feel the cold, but he felt the damp, and there was no mistaking the transcendental goose of a suddenly wet crotch. He stumbled over the slick rocks and leaned into the incline on the other side.
    â€œSorry about that,” said Jay after a few minutes of walking, “but that was actually the first test. Some sources saythat vampires can’t cross running water. It didn’t hurt or anything?”
    â€œOf course not. That was a test? I’ve crossed running water all kinds of times since getting made. In planes. In cars. I’m even the only guy I know who washes his hands after he pees. Not that I pee much anymore…”
    â€œCan cross running water,” said Jay as he made notes in a big red binder. “Doesn’t pee much. Okay”—he brandished a big silver crucifix from his backpack—“take that!”
    â€œTake that?”
    â€œYeah. Anything?”
    â€œNo, but like you said before, I’m Jewish. Where’d you get that thing?”
    â€œDark Matter. Here.”
    Jay threw Doug the cross. Doug fumbled it, picked it up off the wet leaves. “What am I supposed to do with it?” he said.
    â€œIt’s real silver. Plated. It doesn’t hurt?”
    â€œSilver is for werewolves.”
    â€œSome sources say