Reading the Diaries of Darren Shan

Disclaimer: I don't own Darren Shan, if I did I would be fangirling over the fact that I managed to get John C Reilly in my film. But I don't. Although there's still fangirling happening.

Warning: If you haven't read the whole series, there WILL be spoilers included!

A/N: Like I said, I'm REALLY sorry and I don't even have a good excuse. So what I did is I forced myself to write this, determined to get it done before the year was out. Admitadly it is NOT my best work. Perhaps one day I'll re-do it. But hopefully it'll do, ey?

So. Thank you for putting up with my terrible lateness. Enjoy!

A MAHOOOOSIVE Thank you to anyone who's reviewed/alerted/favourited etc. It made me all smiley.

Chapter 3 – Chapter Two

"Hey, Darren, you all right? You're kinda spacing out there." Evra said, waving his hand in front of my face.

"Yeah I'm cool," I said, "Whose reading next?" I asked.

"I will," Evra volunteered. Annie threw the book at him which he caught at just before it collided with his head, and started to read.

We all settled down and watched as Evra found the right page and began to read from where Annie left off.

We had Mr Dalton again after lunch, for history. We were studying World War II. I wasn't too keen on it, but Steve thought it was great.

"Yeah, probably because all the blood and killing that happened." I said, my voice full of contempt. Surprisingly Steve didn't rise to the bait; he just glared at me from across the room and gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in like a life-line. I raised an eyebrow at my ex-best friend whilst Evra hurried on reading, hoping to avoid a fight between the two former friends.

He loved anything to do with killing and war. He often said he wanted to be a mercenary soldier – one who fights for money – when he grew up. And he meant it!

"Well, I guess that didn't work out too well.." Stever trailed off, looking thoughtful.

We had maths after history, and – incredibly – Mr Dalton for a third time! Our usual maths teacher was off sick, so others had been filling in for him best they could all day.

Steve was in seventh heaven. His favourite teacher, three classes in a row! It was the first time we'd had Mr Dalton for maths, so Steve started showing off, telling him where we were in the book, explaining some of the trickier problems as though speaking to a child. Mr Dalton didn't mind. He was used to Steve and knew exactly how to handle him.

"Imagine if he was here now, then?" I grinned, fantasizing about Mr Dalton getting Steve to...wash his car or something. Why he would have his car, I have no idea...Ooh, I can see it now! The looks on the Vampire's faces when they see an old, battered up car attempting to drive up the mountain with a red-faced Mr Dalton at the wheel, shouting at Steve. That would be great. I was pulled out of my head when something hit me on the head. Hard. Knowing immediately who it was, I smirked and threw the blue bouncy ball back at Annie's head, right on target. I pulled an innocent face, before we both burst into laughter. Of course, Mr Crepsley being the buzz-kill that he was just rolled his eyes and told us to stop laughing so we could get on with the story. And so on Evra went.

Normally Mr Dalton runs a tight ship – his classes are fun but we always come out of them having learned something – but he wasn't very good at maths. He tried hard but we could tell he was in over his head, and while he was busy trying to come to grips with things – his head buried in the maths book, Steve by his side making 'helpful' suggestions

"Pfft, 'helpful suggestions' my arse. You were talking about the logistics of Vampires!" I said, rolling my eyes, earning Steve's ever-present glare to be directed at me.

– the rest of us began to fidget and talk softly to each other and pass notes around.

I sent a note to Alan, asking to see the mysterious piece of paper he'd brought in. he refused at first to pass it around, but I kept sending notes and finally he gave in. Tommy sits just two seats over from him, so he got it first. He opened it up and began studying it. His face lit up while he was reading and his jaw slowly dropped. When he passes it on to me – having read it three times – I soon saw why.

It was a flyer, and advertising pamphlet for some sort of travelling circus. There was a picture of a wolf's head at the top. The wolf had its mouth open and saliva was dripping from its teeth.

Evra and I shuddered, remembering Sam and the Wolf Man's freakish face, just as it was described in the book.

At the bottom there were pictures of a spider and a snake, and they looked vicious too.

"Madam Octa." Mr Crepsley half-smiled, thinking of his beloved, deadly pet spider.

Just beneath the wolf, in big red capital letters were the words:

CIRQUE DU FREAK

Underneath that, in smaller writing:

For one week only – CIRQUE DU FREAK

SEE:

Sive and Seersa – The Twisting Twins!

The Snake Boy!

"Great. 'Snake Boy'. No 'Evra and his fantastic snake'" Evra grumbled, before continuing with the book.

The Wolf Man! Gertha Teeth!

Larten Crepsley and His Performing Spider – Madam Octa!

Alexander Ribs! The Bearded Lady! Hans Hands!

Rhamus Twobellies – Worlds Fattest man!

Beneath all that was a address where you could buy tickets and find out where the show was playing. And right at the bottom, just above the pictures of the snake and spider:

NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED!

CERTAIN RESERVATIONS APPLY!

"Cirque du Freak?" I muttered softly to myself. Cirque was French for circus...Circus of Freaks! Was this a freak show? It looked like it.

"Well done for figuring that out all by yourself!" Annie said, a smile on a her face letting me know she was just teasing. This inspired laughter from both Mr Crepsley and Evra. Steve tried to hide his smile. I could tell. But it just ended up with him doing this weird half grimace.

I began reading the flyer again, immersed in the drawings and descriptions of the performers. In fact, I was so immersed I forgot about Mr Dalton. I only remembered him when I realized the room was silent. I looked up, and saw Steve standing alone at the head of the class. He stuck out his tongue at me and grinned. Feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, I stared over my shoulder and there was Mr Dalton, standing behind me, reading the flyer, lips tight.

"What is this?" he snapped, snatching the paper from my hands.

"It's a advert, sir," I answered.

"Smart-arse." Steve sneered. I just ignored him, paying attention to Evra.

"Where'd you get it?" he asked. He looked really angry. I'd never seen him this worked up. "Where'd you get it." he asked again.

I licked my lips nervously. I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't going to drop Alan in the soup – and I knew he wouldn't own up by himself: even Alan's best friends know he's not the bravest in the world – but my mind was stuck in low gear, and I couldn't think of a reasonable lie. Luckily Steve stepped in.

"Oh, the days when you were willing to be nice!" Darren said, dramatically, clutching his hands to his chest, above his heart. Steve sneered at him and said, 'Yeah, whatever'. Lovely boy, isn't he? Oh well. At least it gained smiles from Annie, Evra and even Mr Crepsley!

"Sir, it's mine," he said.

"Yours?" Mr Dalton blinked slowly.

"I found it near the bus stop, sir," Steve said. "Some old guy threw it away. I thought it looked interesting, so I picked it up. I was going to ask you about it later, at the end of class."

"Oh." Mr Dalton tried not to look flattered but I could tell he was. "That's different. Nothing wrong with and inquisitive mind. Sit down Steve." Steve sat. Mr Dalton stuck a bit of blue-tack on the flyer and pinned it to the blackboard.

"Long ago," he said, tapping the flyer, "There used to be real freak shows. Greedy con men crammed malformed people in cages and-"

"Sir, what's malformed mean?" somebody asked.

"Someone who doesn't look ordinary," Mr Dalton said. "A person with three arms or two noses; somebody with no legs; somebody very short or very tall. The con men put these poor people – who were no different to you or me, except in looks – on display and called them freaks. They charged the public to stare at them, and invited them to laugh and tease. They treated the so-called 'freaks' like animals. Paid them little, beat them, dressed them in rags, never allowed them to wash."

"That's cruel sir," Delaina Price - a girl near the front – said.

"Not all 'Freak Shows' are like that." Mr Crepsley said.

"Yes," he agreed. "Freak shows were cruel, monstrous creations. That's why I got angry when I saw this." He tore down the flyer. "they were banned years ago, but every so often you'll hear a rumour that they're still going strong."

"Do you think the Cirque du Freak is a real freak show?" I asked.

"Yes. Yes it is," I answered myself.

Mr Dalton studied the flyer again, then shook his head. "I doubt it," he said. "Probably just a cruel hoax. Still," he added, "If it was real, I hope nobody here would dream of going."

"Oh, no, sir," we all said quickly.

"Oooh, liars!" Annie chuckled.

"Because freak shows were terrible," he said. "they pretended to be like proper circuses but they were cesspits of evil. Anybody who went to one would be just as bad as the people running it."

"You'd have to be real twisted to go to one of those, sir," Steve agreed. And then he looked at me, winked and mouthed the words: "We're going!"

"So, Steve just insulted himself then?" Evra finished off, laughing."

"Why of course," I said, mock-seriously, ignoring Steve's protests. "He loves to insult himself!"

Mr Crepsley took the book from Evra, thinking that maybe throwing insults Steve's way probably wasn't the best thing to do.

-

A/N: So yeah. That's done. Finally..

Now, I hate it when people ask for reviews. So much...Because if you write Fanfiction, it should be for fun.

But I'd appreciate feedback..or..something.

[.]