Eighth Grade Bites by Heather Brewer

hold of him.
    It was Mike Brennan who broke the silence. He howled with laughter and stepped away from Tom to pat Vlad on the back. Vlad managed a smile but kept his eyes on Tom. It’s hard to celebrate when your face is about to be mashed to a pulp.
    Henry’s laughter followed Mike’s, and soon the entire room was howling—all but Tom, Bill, and Meredith. Carrie rushed into Vlad’s arms and planted an unexpected, enthusiastic kiss on his lips. Over her shoulder, Vlad watched as Tom pleaded with Meredith to stay. His begging had apparently fallen on deaf ears, as Meredith yanked her hand away and disappeared out the gym door.
    Vlad pulled away from Carrie and took two steps toward the door, but it was too late. Meredith was gone.
    Â 
    Vlad waited until the next day to tell Henry all about his experience with the book and his theories about the strange note left by his father. “What if somebody killed him and Mom and the answers are somewhere in my old house?”
    Henry was less than enthusiastic. “Vlad, your parents died three years ago. It was an accident. A horrible, awful accident. Do you really think your dad would’ve had the foresight to leave you cryptic notes? He probably wrote that for someone else.” He was sitting on the edge of Vlad’s bed, glancing carefully toward the closed door.
    Vlad ran his thumb over the cover of the book. The glyph flickered in response.
    â€œI’m not saying we shouldn’t check it out,” Henry went on. “Who knows? We might find something. But the odds of your dad knowing he was going to die and that you’d be alive and in possession of his book . . .” Henry’s eyes dropped to the tome in question. “Well, they’re not good.”
    Vlad placed his palm against the glyph. The locks clicked and opened. “I’m going to my old house to look around. Are you coming or not?”
    Henry was watching him with a look of unease. “Whoa . . . how’d you do that?”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œYour eyes . . .”
    Vlad tilted his head, wondering exactly what Henry was talking about. He was about to ask when Henry said, “Just now, when you touched the book, your eyes changed color. They were . . . kind of . . . purple.”
    Vlad laughed, but stopped when he saw the flicker of fear in Henry’s eyes. “Seriously?”
    At Henry’s nod, Vlad carried the book into the bathroom. He placed his hand on the glyph and watched his reflection. His irises seemed to shift and ripple, like the surface of a pond when broken by a tossed stone. The rippling slowed, then ceased. Vlad’s eyes flashed a shade of lavender.
    Vlad almost dropped the book. “Whoa!”
    Henry was standing behind him. He winced when he saw Vlad’s eyes change again. “That’s freaky.” Henry looked over Vlad’s shoulder at the open book. “I thought you promised Nelly you’d stay away from your old house.”
    â€œI owe it to my dad to break that promise, Henry. I have to look around at least. What if my dad really did know that he was going to die?” Vlad read his father’s note over again and shut the book. He was going to his old house, with or without Henry.

    D’Ablo pulled off his leather gloves and tossed them onto the charred floor of Tomas’s bedroom. “It’s not possible.” He looked around the room. It smelled like ashes; it smelled like death.
    D’Ablo clucked his tongue and closed his eyes. “Where are you, Tomas? You can’t possibly be dead.” When he opened his eyes, he noticed a small panel beside the charred bed. He knelt and brushed away the soot with his fingers.
    The glyph glowed a cool blue.
    A wicked smile crossed D’Ablo’s face. “What’s this?” He pressed his palm against the glyph, and it glowed brighter before the panel opened inward.
    Inside the small compartment were cobwebs, three dead