Nana and the Vampires: The Nana Files, #1

By Cyndy Green

The summer before seventh grade Cindy and her best friend Becky want to practice their cheers, ride their bikes and avoid their nemesis, Lizzy. When the house next door gets new tenants, curiosity leads both girls into an adventure they did not count on. They soon discover there is something different about the new neighbors. Cindy decides she is living next door to a family of vampires!
If you enjoy books by Beverly Cleary or James Patterson's Middle School stories, you might like Nana and the Vampires. This is a fun story without strong language, graphic violence or gore, suitable for ages 10 and up.
Can two small town girls be friends with a mysterious, cute boy who might also be a vampire? Cindy is willing to try, but Becky is not so sure. Is it really safe to hang out with vampires?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cyndy Green
• Release date: Sep 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386836094

Book preview

NANA AND THE VAMPIRES

By Cyndy Green

COPYRIGHT © 2014 BY CYNDY GREEN

All Rights Reserved.

Dedicated to the 12 little reasons I started telling stories, my grandchildren.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One: NEW NEIGHBORS

Chapter Two: SPYING

Chapter Three: THE VAMPIRE AND THE MONSTERS

Chapter Four: SECRETS AND CONFESSIONS

Chapter Five: GRANNY MASON’S PLAN

Epilogue

Prologue

W hen I was about your age, I lived next door to a family of vampires, Nana said.

The grandkids had piled on Nana's big king sized bed and snuggled together for one of their favorite things...story time! Her announcement of being neighbors with a vampire family made them gasp.

A family? Like a mom vampire and a dad vampire and a kid vampire? Aaron asked.

"That is a family, Elijah said to Aaron, and then he looked at his grandma. You know vampires can't have kids, Nana." Elijah was a vampire expert.

How do you know? Skylar asked, Maybe they adopted.

Seriously? Elijah asked. He shook his head and looked back at Nana. Can vampires adopt kids?

Well, I don't know, Nana said thoughtfully, I suppose if they got a good lawyer and had plenty of money they could, but this kid wasn't adopted.

How can vampires live in a reg'lar house? Braden asked. They gots to live in the dark so they don't, like, sparkle and stuff. Braden was only six and was not a vampire expert.

Were they nice ones or...? Heaven asked. She liked the nice ones, the young, sparkly, vampires in love kind. She definitely did not like the other kind of vampires, you know, the ones that suck blood and stuff.

Did you live in Transylvania when you were a kid? Skylar asked. She secretly hoped that her grandmother had spent her childhood in some country very, very far away. She was not a fan of vampires, sparkly or otherwise.

I lived in a small town not too far from here, Nana explained, "Our house was on the very last street at the edge of town. An old abandoned fire station was across the street from us, and a small cemetery on the left side of us. On the other side, right outside my bedroom window, was their house." She raised her eyebrows and looked at each of them.

Heaven and Skylar leaned closer to each other and pulled their blankets up to their chins. Their little cousin Emerson, the youngest of them, stopped pushing his toy car over their legs and looked at Nana with interest.

I like fire trucks, he said brightly. Nana pulled him onto her lap and pushed his ginger colored hair off his forehead then gave him a kiss.

I know you do sugar, she told him.

I bet they used to stay in the cemetery, Ethan said. He held up one finger in a 'hold on a minute' gesture and then added, and, um, then when there was a full moon, they comed out of the coffins and moved into that house. Ethan's favorite story was always one to which he added his own twist.

No, Ethan, Elijah said impatiently, let Nana tell it.

Yeah, come on Nana! Aaron cheered. They all agreed and with a few nervous giggles (mostly from the girls) they settled down to hear about Nana and the Vampires.

Chapter One: NEW NEIGHBORS

It was the last day of school and the final bell had rung. I grabbed my bag full of everything I had cleaned out of my locker and raced out the front double doors of Bremen Elementary. I liked school okay, but I liked summer better! No more math, no more history and no more Lizzy Hurley! I had big plans to spend the summer riding my bike, practicing my cheerleading skills, and (hopefully) growing boobs.

Cindy, wait up! my best friend Becky called. I paused on the curb and looked back for her. Becky Mason was short for her age, (twelve, same as me) and had more freckles than anyone else in sixth grade. Her strawberry blonde hair was gloriously curly and of course, Becky hated it. She kept it pulled back in a ponytail with a dozen or more hairpins framing her face. Wild curly wisps still swirled around her head unhindered.

Hey, Becks, got everything? I asked. She struggled with a paper sack full to overflowing with all the drawings, pictures cut from magazines, and never-turned-in homework from the last year.

I left some pictures in my locker for whoever gets it next year. You know, ‘Welcome to sixth grade, stop being a dork and get some cool clothes like these’, Becky huffed. Her sack was almost as big as she was, and looked heavy. Let me dump this at my house and I’ll walk with you.

Ok. We trudged along, both loaded down with the accumulated locker-debris that would soon become under-the-bed flotsam and closet floor jetsam in our respective rooms.

Becky and I had been best friends since first grade. I fell on the playground on that first day of school, skinned my knee and cried like a baby. (It was so embarrassing) Becky held my hand and walked with me to the nurse’s office. She had lemon drops in her pocket and shared with me while my knee was cleaned and a band-aide applied. We had been inseparable ever since. Becky had never brought up the fact that I cried at school, and I thought that was very cool.

The Mason house was a two-story white frame house with a deep front porch and a large shade tree in the yard. Becky shared the house with her parents and two younger brothers. We called her brothers Monster One and Monster Two. They were third grade twins from hell! We never got any privacy at Becky’s, so she usually came to my house. Becky's mom was nice. I think she lived in the kitchen because I don't remember seeing her in any other room of their house. Whenever Becky and I would come in, she would be making us a snack. She worried that Becky was too thin and wouldn't grow if she wasn't constantly consuming carrots, apples and peanut butter sandwiches! Becky got her curly hair from her mom but Mrs. Mason always wore a scarf over hers.

Hi Mrs. Mason, I said cheerfully as we walked into her kitchen.

Hello, Cindy. Last day of school, huh? Are you ready for summer? she asked. She handed each of us a small plate with a peanut butter sandwich and half an apple. Like all parents she had an uncanny ability to always ask dumb questions with obvious answers.

Yes, ma'am, I replied anyway. Becky and I sat at the round Formica table in the middle of the kitchen and obediently began to eat our after school snack. Mrs. Mason poured two tumblers of milk, and turned to bring them to the table. She paused, tilted her head slightly as if listening to something on a frequency that only she could hear, and then set our drinks on the table.

You boys get off of there right now, she yelled suddenly, looking at the ceiling expectantly. She pursed her lips and put both hands on her hips. I mean it!

Alright, Monster One yelled down the stairs, Gosh, don't burst a vessel, mom.

We could hear some laughing and hurried steps followed by a slamming door. 

Mrs. Mason knew what the twins were up to at every second when they were in the house. She was gifted that way. Once they were outside though, her powers were greatly diminished and they could get off with everything! I always wondered if it was something in the paint that Mr. Mason used to repaint their house every few years.

Mr. Mason, well... he was okay I guess. I don't think I had ever seen his face. When I would spend the night with Becky her dad would usually be asleep in his recliner with a newspaper over his face. In the morning he would be at the breakfast table with what I am assuming was the same newspaper held open in front of him. He said things like, That's nice, honey and Pass the butter. Becky