Rex held his arms out, as Noddy braced for impact. Then, Rex stepped out of the way. Noddy hit the grass hard, with a great, big OOMPH! There he laid for a full minute, writhing and winded.
"I think I just cracked a rib..." he groaned. "I thought you were gonna catch me."
"I was!" Rex smiled. "But then, I changed my mind."
Mr. Carisol hollers down from the window. "YOU HOOLIGANS BETTER GET BACK INSIDE, OR ELSE!!"
"MAKE US!!" Rex yelled back.
Noddy picked himself up, and staggered away. Rex followed, and Mr. Carisol pulled out his phone.

It just so happened that today was the Junior Teen Olympics, a school-organized event out in the football and soccer fields. There were lunges, the shot-put, the javelin throw, the long jump, and more! Noddy wasn't good at any of them, despite his physique... muscle is very little without skill and training, he suddenly realized.
He turned to Rex. "We should ask around about Vlad-" but Rex was already in line for the long jump.
Noddy watched as it came time for Rex's turn, and with little effort, he cleared most of the sandpit in a single leap. The record-keeping teacher handed Rex a red ribbon, for First Place, and Rex pinned it to his hoodie. He trotted back to Noddy.
"How did you do that?" Noddy asked him.
"I think I grew up in the woods. Or a sewer! A FLAMING sewer. One of the two." Rex proudly displayed his red ribbon to passersby.
"That'd explain why you're so resilient, I guess." Noddy then spotted Vlad in a white t-shirt and shorts, doing laps in the track and field circuit. He was probably keeping that girl nearby, but not here.
Rex nudged Noddy's side. "You can waste your time watching his butt jiggle when he runs, or you can hit the dirt. Throw some iron balls, train up! See how bad his endurance is?"
They watched as Vlad struggled to keep his breath under the hot sun. His sunglasses fell off, and someone else stepped on them. Vlad cursed the careless runner out, but was told to keep running by the gym teacher. He covered his eyes and flailed his other arm as he ran.
So Noddy waited in line for a minute, and tried the Long Jump. His side still hurt, and he only cleared a meter. Still, it felt good. He could tell now that his rib wasn't broken – maybe injured, but he could power through it. So he did the shot-put, and the javelin, each three times. The third time was better for each. Then he went to lift some smaller weights, and then he did his lunges. It hurt, but it made him feel better. He wasn't on fire, exactly, not burning – more like he was crumbling, in the best way possible. He was like a marble statue, being chipped away to reveal a man.
Finally he wound up tired, catching his breath on a bench with Rex and some other kids. Rex, dotted with red and green ribbons, handed him a water bottle. Noddy guzzled it, then spat it out. It tasted like straight rum.
"Where did you get this?!" Noddy cried with a dry throat, holding back tears.
"It was just sitting here." Rex replied.
Vlad walked over, and snatched the bottle. He went to leave, but turned back to Noddy and winked. It sent a chill down Noddy's spine. Then Vlad stormed off.
"We have to follow hi-" Noddy told Rex, but Rex was gone again. This time, he left a note in red marker: 'WE'RE NOT FRIENDS.' Noddy crumpled it up, and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he sighed, and put his head in his hands. Vlad was gone anyway.
That's when he overheard two boys talking. One from somewhere in the Southern United States, and the other from Japan. "Did you hear about who got picked for the Blood Drive?" said the Japanese boy.
"Not really," said the Southerner.
"That new girl, in the red. She didn't wanna go, so Vlad has her holed up somewhere."
"That's terrible."
"As long as it isn't me again. I swear, he's like a midnight snacker – always hungry."
Noddy turned around, and asked them directly: "Do you know where he's keeping her?"
They stared at him, started whistling, and walked off. The kid next to Noddy watched them go... Noddy could tell that he knew something.
"What's your name, buddy?" Noddy asked.
"Uh... it's nothing. I mean, I'm nobody! Don't even look at me!" he floundered.
"Byron! My good friend Byron," Noddy guessed. "I know you."
"Uh, yeah. That's me. We're friends?"
"Of course! Remember at the start of the year, we had Home Ec together?"
"You're... lying. Everyone knows you lie. You're the Rat." Byron turned away.
Noddy dug in, for this story was actually true, exactly when he needed it to be. "Not at all! Remember when you burnt your hand? Who got you the first aid kid when the teacher was out? And Duri patched you up so you could go to the nurse?"
"Oh... oh yeah! That was you?" Byron looked up at him.
Noddy sighed relief. As long as he didn't say any more-
Byron frowned. "Duri said you called me a 'Barn Ward Victim' when I was out of the room."
'Shit,' thought Noddy. He cleared his throat. "Well, buddy, I'm sorry. I was the idiot for saying that, not you. Look, I really need your help. You know what the Blood Drive is, don't you?"
"Do you know... the story of the Mullos?" Byron began. "It's a slavic legend, about the walking dead. They were disrespected corpses, so now, they walk the earth, giving back the same disrespect. They cause trouble, drink blood, and wreck things, wherever they go."
"Not really," said Noddy. "But I know El Cuco, he's a kidnapper. Has a coconut for a head, or a sack with eye-holes cut out, and he takes children away in a bag." His mom would threaten him with El Cuco many times, but the lazy bastard never showed up. She told it a bit differently, now that he was thinking about it. She said that he never wore a sack on his head at all... but the people do. He walks in with his big bag, and everyone covers their eyes... that way, nobody can say they saw him take a child. If anyone peeks, he'll point at them, and say... 'You're next.' Noddy shivered, just remembering it. It was a story that had made him sleep with his head under the covers for weeks.
Byron spoke up again, a bit deafly. Like his mouth and his ears weren't really communicating. "I don't think this is, um. No. I was saying it's the Mullos. It's a story that, uh... my nanny used to tell it to me. We're not rich, I'm just... special needs."
Noddy nodded along, pretending he couldn't already tell.
Byron side-glanced at him. "All I'm trying to say is, that... people are more dangerous, sometimes, when they're in a group. And if people don't pay attention to them, individually, they get worse together."
"So what exactly is this bad group doing, bud?"
"They're, um... they're... eating. People's. Blood."
"Why the hell would they do that?" Noddy asked, a little astonished. "All that does is make you sick."
Byron looked agitated. "They're just... doing it, okay? I don't think they care if it makes you sick. They just want to do it anyway, because it's bad." He looked worse for wear with every passing second, like the stress was actually killing him.
"Dude, are you okay?" Noddy reached for his shoulder.
"I'm fine, sort of. I'm sick, like... permanently. AIDS. Nobody wants to drink my blood. But the truth is, it's just Vlad's turn again... next week, it'll be someone else, drinking someone else. Look around."
Noddy does, and for the first time, he saw them... blended into the crowd, maybe twenty of them were wearing sunglasses, and their teeth were sharper than normal... just the canines. The rest of the students had little scars on their necks, but not bite marks. More like... dots? The victims looked pale, restless, and exhausted... Noddy had assumed it was from cardio, but they were barely even sweating... just clammy. In fact, aside from fanged kids in shades (and Rex), everyone was doing terribly at the events. Too weak to run, or lift, or throw... Rex collected yet another green Third Place ribbon, while Vlad was adorned in blue; the vampire had somehow earned Second Place in his class in three categories, despite smelling like a pub after midnight. Aside from the two of them, the same six people had all the other red, blue, and green ribbons.
"They don't bite them anymore," Byron continued. "When I went to the nurse's that day, I watched her give needles to Darnell and Yembe. Nobody believes me, either because they're in on it or because I'm not as smart. Because I'm sick, and slow. I'm not even a liar, like you."
"You're plenty smart, Byron. You did the right thing by telling me." Noddy shook his head. "But this is too much. How do I know it's not just some kinky game they play? Love bites, house doctor, and whatever?"
"Look at them. The innocent ones: they're scared." Byron pointed across the field. He was right. If a fanged kid moved, a bitten kid moved away. Always following their lead, needing to leave, but afraid to be seen wanting to go. They weren't dying, but something was being taken from them. Noddy thought of cows, milked mechanically... and chickens in cages, laying infertile eggs. It wasn't harmony, or 'the natural order'... it was called tyranny. That was what the world had decided, and Noddy wondered if perhaps they'd laxed the definition of the world a bit too much... and let it creep to places where it didn't belong. Sure, humans holding dominion over animals was cruel, but was it tyranny, exactly? But then, wouldn't it be if they were human? Maybe it was the opposite, then. That the word had been staved off for too long, and that tyranny was always nearer than it seemed. Then again, you could just use a smaller word, if you wanted. 'What's the small form of tyranny?' he wondered. 'Overlording?' Regardless, while this may not be tyrannical, it was certainly overlording at the very least. Possibly even maldominating. Noddy knew what he had to do... he had to win back his friends, and save the girl. He had to end the so-called 'Blood Drive'. And he knew exactly how to do it. But the sun was setting now, and he'd have to exact his daring plot tomorrow.
Back inside the school, Mr. Carisol was scouring the halls for him, and had even posted a scout outside his dorm... he was forced to room with Rex for the night, who made Noddy sleep on the floor amid trash and torn up pieces of cotton from the futon's mattress. It was still full of someone else's belongings, like a black metal guitar, with popped strings. That would explain the little cuts on Rex's face, which weren't there earlier that day. This kid was an absolute moron, come to think of it. All he had in his head was some kind of animal wisdom, and nothing more. Noddy's sides hurt from the fall, and he was stiff as a board and sore as hell from yesterday's workout. He could barely move at all... still, he was worried sick.