to be asleep and a couple edged closer and closer, until they were only a few feet away.
When they were as close as they would probably come, I leaped up and shouted, "Boo!"and they went running away like wildfire. One fell head over heels and rolled away down the mouth of the burrow.
That totally cheered me up.
I found a grocery store in the afternoon and bought some meat and vegetables. I made a fire when I got back to the church, then grabbed the pots and pans bag from underneath Mr. Crepsley's pew. I looked through the contents until I found what I was looking for. It was a small pot. I carefully laid it upside down on the floor, then pressed the metal bulge on the top.
The pot mushroomed out in size, as folded-in panels opened up. Within five seconds it had become a full-sized pot, which I filled with water and stuck on the fire.
All the pots and pans in the bag were like this. Mr.
Crepsley got them from a woman called Evanna a long time ago. They weighed the same as ordinary cook-ware, but because they could fold up small, they were easier to carry around.
I made a stew like Mr. Crepsley had taught me. He thought everybody should know how to cook.
I took leftover pieces of the carrots and cabbage outside and dropped them by the rabbit burrow.
Mr. Crepsley was surprised to find dinner - which was breakfast from his point of view - waiting for him when he awoke. He sniffed the fumes from the bubbling pot and licked his lips.
"I could get used to this."He smiled, then yawned, stretched, and ran a hand through the short crop of orange hair on his head. Then he scratched the long scar running down the left side of his face. It was a familiar routine of his.
I'd always wanted to ask how he got his scar, but I never had. One night, when I was feeling brave, I would.
There were no tables, so we ate off our laps. I got two of the folded-up plates out of the bag, popped them open, and grabbed knives and forks. I served the food and we ate.
Toward the end, Mr. Crepsley wiped around his mouth with a white napkin and coughed awkwardly.
"The stew is very nice,"he complimented me.
"Thank you,"I replied.
"I... um... that is..."He sighed. "I never was very good at being subtle,"he said, "so I will come right out and say it: What went wrong yesterday? Why were you so upset?"
I stared at my almost empty plate, not sure if I wanted to answer or not. Then, all of a sudden, I blurted out the whole story. I hardly took a breath between the start and the finish.
Mr. Crepsley listened carefully. When I was done, he thought about it for a minute or two before speaking.
"It is something you must get used to,"he said. "It is a fact of life that we are stronger than humans, faster and tougher. If you play with them, they will be hurt."
"I didn't mean to hurt him,"I said. "It was an accident."
Mr. Crepsley shrugged. "Listen, Darren, there is no way you can stop this from happening again, not if you interact with humans. No matter how hard you try to be normal, you are not. There will always be accidents waiting to happen."
"What you're saying is, I can't have friends anymore, right?"I nodded sadly. "I'd figured that out by myself. That's why I was so sad. I was getting used to the idea of never being able to go back home to see my old friends, but it was just yesterday that I realized I'd never be able to make new ones, either. I'm stuck with you. I can't have any other friends, can I?"
He rubbed his scar and pursed his lips. "That is not true,"he said. "You can have friends. You just have to be careful. You -"
"That's not good enough!"I cried. "You said it yourself; there will always be an accident waiting to happen. Even shaking hands is dangerous. I could cut their wrists open with my nails!"
I shook my head slowly. "No,"I said firmly. "I won't put people's lives in danger. I'm too dangerous to have friends anymore. Besides, it's not like I can make a true friend."
"Why not?"he asked.
"True friends don't keep secrets from one another. I could never tell a human that I was a vampire. I'd always have to lie and pretend to be someone I'm not. I'd