CHAPTER 1
DRACULA! On the shadowy screen, he glared up from his coffin, pale and horrible in the light of the grave robber's lantern!
Every pair of eyes in the dark movie house stared frozenly as Dracula's terrible bony hand reached up along the coffin edge. And when the bony fingers of the foul fiend of Transylvania curved into claws, shrieks, gasps, and moans swept the audience.
Twelve-year-old Alfie Booth, aspiring movie producer, and Morgan Harris, his best friend, weren't missing one bloodcurdling moment. Their eyes scarcely blinked. But suddenly Morgan sensed a diving motion at his side. He glanced quickly toward Alfie's young brother, Leonard. Sure enough, Leonard had scrunched down in the seat, his fingers clamped across his eyes. Then the fingers, like Venetian blinds, widened into slits and Morgan knew that Leonard was peeking fearfully between them.
He nudged Alfie and nodded his head in Leonard's direction. Both boys chuckled, then looked quickly back at the screen where Dracula was now swirling off in a mist, his black cloak spread like batwings.
To young Leonard Booth, who had been dragged unwillingly to this Sunday matinee by his older brother, it seemed forever before a wild burst of music ended the movie and Dracula faded from view. The lights came up, and the boys straggled out into the lobby. As soon as Leonard reached the door, he hurried ahead of Alfie and Morgan, out into the wonderful light of day — the wonderful California sunshine that would have tortured Count Dracula but that ten-year-old Leonard had never loved so much as now.
Behind him, Alfie fell into step beside Morgan.
"That movie wasn't even scary," he said thoughtfully, speaking as an experienced movie producer. "I bet my film will be a lot better."
"I bet it will," Morgan agreed. "That Dracula wasn't nearly mean enough. And there should have been more blood."
Alfie frowned. "Yeah. He should have had bigger fangs. In
my
Dracula film there's going to be plenty of blood — just like in the Super-8 Frankenstein movie we made last winter. Remember?"
Morgan nodded. He angled his arms up and forward, then lurched along the sidewalk like Frankenstein. "That film was good and gory, Alfie," he said. "You're really a great director — and I was a pretty good monster too."
Leonard swung around. "I didn't like it," he said firmly.
"You didn't like it!" Alfie exclaimed. "What do you mean you didn't like it? What was wrong with it? You were
in
it, and you made a great Igor."
"It was awful. I'm never going to be in one of your dumb movies ever again!" Leonard burst out.
"Nobody's asking you," Alfie returned. "Any time I ask
you
to be in one of my movies again…"
"Listen!" Leonard's hand shot up. "Listen!" He started running like a bloodhound following a trail. Alfie could call himself a producer, but Leonard was a dedicated detective, and in the distance a burglar alarm was blaring.
"Who are you going to get to play Dracula in your new movie?" Morgan asked, not bothering to comment on the sounding alarm.
Alfie tugged at his ear. He sighed. "I don't know, Morg. You'd be great for the part — even better than you were in Frankenstein."
Morgan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's right. I'd be great. But you're going away to the beach for the summer. So that ends that. You can't have it both ways, Alfie."
"Can't have it both ways!" Alfie exclaimed. "I suppose if I was staying here, you wouldn't be going to camp? Who's leaving who, anyhow?"
Morgan sighed, "Well — what can you expect when you've got parents? Sure I'll be going to camp. But nothing would be happening around this town anyway with you gone."
"Hey!" Alfie exclaimed suddenly. "Flack's jewelry store! That's the big one with all the real expensive stuff. It's their burglar alarm ringing! Come on, Morg. This could be interesting."
The boys broke into a fast trot and caught up with Leonard, who was already standing in front of the jewelry store.
"Here come the police cars."
DRACULA! On the shadowy screen, he glared up from his coffin, pale and horrible in the light of the grave robber's lantern!
Every pair of eyes in the dark movie house stared frozenly as Dracula's terrible bony hand reached up along the coffin edge. And when the bony fingers of the foul fiend of Transylvania curved into claws, shrieks, gasps, and moans swept the audience.
Twelve-year-old Alfie Booth, aspiring movie producer, and Morgan Harris, his best friend, weren't missing one bloodcurdling moment. Their eyes scarcely blinked. But suddenly Morgan sensed a diving motion at his side. He glanced quickly toward Alfie's young brother, Leonard. Sure enough, Leonard had scrunched down in the seat, his fingers clamped across his eyes. Then the fingers, like Venetian blinds, widened into slits and Morgan knew that Leonard was peeking fearfully between them.
He nudged Alfie and nodded his head in Leonard's direction. Both boys chuckled, then looked quickly back at the screen where Dracula was now swirling off in a mist, his black cloak spread like batwings.
To young Leonard Booth, who had been dragged unwillingly to this Sunday matinee by his older brother, it seemed forever before a wild burst of music ended the movie and Dracula faded from view. The lights came up, and the boys straggled out into the lobby. As soon as Leonard reached the door, he hurried ahead of Alfie and Morgan, out into the wonderful light of day — the wonderful California sunshine that would have tortured Count Dracula but that ten-year-old Leonard had never loved so much as now.
Behind him, Alfie fell into step beside Morgan.
"That movie wasn't even scary," he said thoughtfully, speaking as an experienced movie producer. "I bet my film will be a lot better."
"I bet it will," Morgan agreed. "That Dracula wasn't nearly mean enough. And there should have been more blood."
Alfie frowned. "Yeah. He should have had bigger fangs. In
my
Dracula film there's going to be plenty of blood — just like in the Super-8 Frankenstein movie we made last winter. Remember?"
Morgan nodded. He angled his arms up and forward, then lurched along the sidewalk like Frankenstein. "That film was good and gory, Alfie," he said. "You're really a great director — and I was a pretty good monster too."
Leonard swung around. "I didn't like it," he said firmly.
"You didn't like it!" Alfie exclaimed. "What do you mean you didn't like it? What was wrong with it? You were
in
it, and you made a great Igor."
"It was awful. I'm never going to be in one of your dumb movies ever again!" Leonard burst out.
"Nobody's asking you," Alfie returned. "Any time I ask
you
to be in one of my movies again…"
"Listen!" Leonard's hand shot up. "Listen!" He started running like a bloodhound following a trail. Alfie could call himself a producer, but Leonard was a dedicated detective, and in the distance a burglar alarm was blaring.
"Who are you going to get to play Dracula in your new movie?" Morgan asked, not bothering to comment on the sounding alarm.
Alfie tugged at his ear. He sighed. "I don't know, Morg. You'd be great for the part — even better than you were in Frankenstein."
Morgan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's right. I'd be great. But you're going away to the beach for the summer. So that ends that. You can't have it both ways, Alfie."
"Can't have it both ways!" Alfie exclaimed. "I suppose if I was staying here, you wouldn't be going to camp? Who's leaving who, anyhow?"
Morgan sighed, "Well — what can you expect when you've got parents? Sure I'll be going to camp. But nothing would be happening around this town anyway with you gone."
"Hey!" Alfie exclaimed suddenly. "Flack's jewelry store! That's the big one with all the real expensive stuff. It's their burglar alarm ringing! Come on, Morg. This could be interesting."
The boys broke into a fast trot and caught up with Leonard, who was already standing in front of the jewelry store.
"Here come the police cars."
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