Fang Girl Read Online Free PDF

my bed was askew, and my sheets were as wrinkled as an elephant’s backside. Even the walls were wrong, my movie posters hanging drunkenly at odd angles. The sight made me feel like I was being stabbed in the eyeballs.
    Dad looked utterly bemused. “We haven’t touched it, sweetie.”
    “It never looked like this before! Did you let Zack in here?”
    He backed up, putting his hands into the air. “Honestly, it’s exactly as you left it! I’ll, er, I’ll go see about breakfast, shall I?” He fled downstairs.
    I glared around the room in disgust. It was obvious that someone had messed things up. “I’m going to kill you, little brother,” I muttered. Savagely, I tugged my bedclothes straight, then folded the sheets back with surgical precision. I threw everything from my shelves onto the floor, and started sorting them into categorized piles. Holiday souvenirs and various trinkets went back on first, in straight rows from smallest to largest. Books on the next shelf, arranged first by genre, then by author within genre—but that looked wrong, so I re-sorted them by size. Much better. Next the underwear drawer.
    I was busily rearranging my socks in neat rows ordered by color when it occurred to me that what I was doing was just possibly, slightly, rather unusual.
    I looked around. My room looked as though it had been cleaned by an extreme OCD sufferer who’d been flushing her medication for the past month.
    Okaaaaay.
    I had a pair of black socks in my hand. I stared down into the drawer, seeing the empty space where it should go, next to all the other black socks. The space called out to me, begging me to put the socks there. They wanted to go there. The laws of space and time and the entire universe demanded that they go there.
    My hand trembled. I threw the black socks down amid the row of pink ones, slammed the drawer shut, and leaned against it. After a moment, I moved cautiously away, and sat down on the edge of my bed, knotting my hands together. I started counting.
    I held out until “eight” before leaping off the bed, yanking open the drawer, and moving the black socks into the right place.
    Right. Possibly, I might have a small problem here.
    “Janie?” Zack called from the other side of the closed door. “Dad says breakfast’s ready.”
    “Coming!” With a last disconcerted glance around my unnaturally neat room, I hastily got dressed. My wardrobe was somewhat lacking in leather catsuits or velvet evening wear, so I made do with a pair of black jeans and a black tank top. I reckoned black was always acceptable.
    Zack met me on the landing. “You look very vampiric,” he said brightly.
    “Thanks. You look …” Zack also seemed to have made an attempt at “vampire”—or at least, “vampire’s brother”—from his eclectic wardrobe. In his case, this meant boots with two-inch soles, baggy black trousers mostly made out of zippers, a white shirt with enough ruffles to furnish six brides, a black brocade vest that was probably older than the two of us combined, and a pair of heavy brass goggles pushed high up on his forehead. “You look very you,” I concluded. We started down the stairs together. “Listen, has there been anyone lurking around here during the day? I think there are guys after me.”
    “Vampire hunters? Awesome!” He deflated at my glare. “Um, no. Haven’t seen anyone, and Dad and I were here all day—I called in sick to school. Mum went to work.”
    “Work? She went to work the day after I rose from the dead ?”
    “It was important,” Mum said, coming out of the living room. “We needed research materials.” Her eyes were bloodshot, but she regarded me critically. “Why do you look so funereal?”
    “Mum, I’m a vampire. I have to be Goth now.”
    She gave me her familiar disapproving, why-must-you-always-follow-the-herd look. “If the other vampiresturn out to be man-eating killers, will you do that too?”
    Yep, I’d only been animate again for