Some of the myths were true, though. A vampire couldn't be photographed or filmed with a video camera. There's something odd about vampire atoms, which means all that comes out on film is a dark blur. I could still be photographed, but you wouldn't get a clear photo of me, no matter how good the light.

Vampires were friendly with rats and bats. We couldn't turn into them, as some books and films said, but they liked us — they knew from the smell of our blood that we were different from humans — and often cuddled up to us while we were sleeping, or came around looking for scraps of food.

Dogs and cats, for some reason, hated us.

Sunlight would kill a vampire, but not quickly. A vampire could walk around during the day, if he wrapped up in lots of clothes. He'd tan really fast and start to go red within fifteen minutes. Four or five hours of sunlight would kill him.

A stake through the heart would kill us, of course, but so would a bullet or a knife or electricity. We could drown or be crushed to death or catch certain diseases. We were tougher to kill than normal people, but we weren't indestructible.

There was more I had to learn. A lot more. Mr. Crepsley said it would be years before I knew everything and was able to function by myself. He said a half-vampire who didn't know what he was doing would be dead within a couple of months, so I had to stick to him like glue, even if I didn't want to.

When I finished my bagel, I sat and bit my nails for a few hours. There wasn't anything good on TV, but I didn't want to go outside, not without Mr. Crepsley. We were in a small town, and people made me nervous. I kept expecting them to see through me, to know what I was and to come after me with stakes.