"Oh, hey," said Doug. "I just tried to call you. Had you tried to call? I didn’t get the messages yet."
Jay just narrowed his eyes and frowned like a bulldog and shook his head. Then he turned and started back to the curb.
"Hey! Seriously! I just got home! Some crazy shit happened at the drainpipe! Secret meetings and this-message-will-self-destruct kind of shit. I need to tell you about it. I need help deciding what to do."
Jay paused at the car door.
In what felt like the marathon of run-on sentences, Doug caught Jay up on the events of the day. Sort of. In this version Victor just wanted to talk to Doug about some private math tutoring, and the dead butler didn’t arrive until after Victor left. When Doug finished, the sun was behind the trees and his mom and dad were returning home.
"Hi, kids," said Dad.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lee."
"Mom, 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 knows 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.
"You 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.
"You’re definitely going?"
"I don’t think it’s the Vampire Hunters. Do you? It doesn’t seem like their style."
"No," Jay admitted. "Do you want a ride? You don’t want to show up all sweaty."
"That would be awesome."
The boys ate and finished their homework. Then they drove early to the Hawthorne to be sure they could find it.
"This 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.
"We’ll go down to the creek somewhere," said Jay.
"Good," 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.
"We’re going to the other side of the creek," he said. "There’ll be less chance of running into anyone else over there."
"Uh-huh. Where are my galoshes?"
"I didn’t think you’d care. You don’t really feel cold when you’re full of blood, right?"
"But 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.
"Sorry about that," said Jay after a few minutes of walking, "but that was actually the first test. Some sources say that vampires can’t cross running water. It didn’t hurt or anything?"
"Of 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…"
"Can 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!"
"Take that?"
"Yeah. Anything?"
"No, but like you said before, I’m Jewish. Where’d you get that thing?"
"Dark 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.
"It’s real silver. Plated. It doesn’t hurt?"
"Silver is for werewolves."
"Some sources say vampires, too. Try sucking on it a little."
Doug sucked on the cross. It tasted like fork. "Nothing."
Jay crossed the cross off his list, then they repeated the whole process again with a Star of David.
"Nope," said Doug.
Jay tossed a pile of rice at Doug’s feet. Doug looked at the rice, then back at Jay. "What? Do I eat it?"
"How many grains are there?" Jay asked.
"I don’t know — I’m not autistic, I’m a vampire."
"But you don’t care? Some sources say if you toss grain on the ground in front of a vampire, he has to stop whatever he’s doing and count it."
"These ‘sources’ wouldn’t all be Wikipedia, would they?"
"Mmmmm," Jay hummed, "mostly no. In fact — you know something? Remember when Vampire Hunters mentioned that thing about vampires having to be invited in? I remembered today where I’d heard it before. It’s in that Cody Southern vampire movie that’s always on cable. Love Bites."
"I don’t remember that."
"No, it’s true. I wasn’t sure either, but you can watch the whole thing online. And you know what else? Practically all the good vampires turn normal at the end because they kill the head vampire."