Monster

It's not Monster, it's me. A book about outer space vampires should have been way more exciting to read than it was. It's me, though. I'm pretty sure.
That said, this one starts off with a bang (several bangs, actually) and then stalls out with a really uncomfortable crush on a really strange guy, some Nam flashbacks, a teenage Hannibal Lector/Clarise Starling jail cell scene and ends up out on the res to speak to a “wise old Indian” stereotype who, from his death bed, is expected to solve a white girl's problem. Which he does. Sigh.
There is a book-on-literal-tape-fan librarian and the most unbelievably horny male best friend who is so friend-zoned he actually has his own zipcode.
Trigger warning: violence to dogs (including naming a dog something as stupid as “Plastic”)
Why this took me so long to get through is beyond me. I just kept putting it down.
I have a bar level set when I read Christopher Pike and this one is above THAT bar. It was definitely better than Slumber Party but not nearly as messed up as Whisper of Death.