Monster vs. Boy, page 11
Chapter 22
Dawz pedaled fast so he could beat Pop home. He was sure to get a lecture, so let it happen inside the house, where he’d be confined like a prisoner yet again. But Pop’s truck caught up with him sooner than expected, near the house of that bossy older girl from school. He didn’t want her to see him with his cheek oozing or hear Pop lecturing him.
He kept pedaling past her house and the next two as well. Jayla waved from the passenger seat of the truck. Pop rolled down her window. “Get in right now,” he yelled across her.
“I’ll see you at—”
“Now!”
“We’re going over to Atlas’s place,” Jayla said. “I’ve always wanted to have a playdate there.”
“You’re kidding.” Dawz skidded to a halt next to the sidewalk.
Pop pulled over too. When he got out, his face was holding back a storm. “I know you’re going through a lot, but you need to listen to me. Now, get off your bike so I can put it in the back.” Pop gripped Dawz’s handlebars.
Dawz wanted to tug his bike free, but he resisted. “Why are we going to Atlas’s?” Why was he even allowed to go there?
Pop sighed, and for a moment he looked more tired than angry. “I should be grounding you for running off, but I just got a call for an emergency meeting with the Bakers’ Brawl folks over at the community center, and I don’t trust you to stay in while I’m out.”
Dawz sucked in a breath. “Are they going to cancel?”
Nothing was normal anymore.
Not the Bakers’ Brawl and not Pop, who always used to trust him.
Well, Dawz didn’t trust Pop anymore either.
Pop’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t know yet. But maybe it’s not the safest time to host out-of-towners. Now, give me your bike.”
Dawz’s stomach twisted. Townsfolk like them weren’t safe either, but he still wanted the Bakers’ Brawl to happen. Was that selfish? He got off his bike. “I can put it in.”
Pop lifted it easily. “Get in the truck.”
Dawz had to sit in the back seat behind Pop, while Jayla smiled from the front.
“We’re going to have so much fun at Atlas’s place,” she said.
Pop handed Dawz some disinfectant wipes and bandages. “Clean yourself up on the way. Thea says you and Jayla can stay there while I’m—”
“I have my own bandages.” Dawz took the wipes. “You should take Jayla with you—”
“Hey—” she began.
“—because Atlas and I need to practice our baking in case they don’t cancel the contest.” It was another lie, since Dawz planned to talk monsters with Atlas and sort out what he’d learned.
“I can help with that!” Jayla said.
“Enough, Dawz.” Pop glared at him in the rearview mirror.
“Fine.” Dawz sank into his seat. He was going to have trouble talking to Atlas with Jayla eavesdropping.
As Pop steered the truck away from the curb, Dawz ripped the bandages off his cheek fast, so it would sting less. But it still hurt, and for the first time in ages, he felt a prickle at the edge of his left eye. Could it be? Or was it just the sting from the bandages?
“Wait!” he shouted to Pop, gaping out the window, but he couldn’t see the monster anywhere.
“I’m late already.” Pop drove on. The prickle faded.
“Great,” Dawz muttered. How was he supposed to help find the monster when Pop refused to listen?
* * *
—
A few minutes later, Pop stopped the truck in the alley behind Atlas’s apartment.
“Yay! We’re here!” Jayla singsonged. She opened her door and jumped out.
Dawz sank lower as she hurried around the truck. He’d cleaned and rebandaged his cheek, which had made it ache more. “Does she really have to come?”
“Don’t start that again.” Pop got out, sliding his seat forward so Dawz could too. “And you shouldn’t touch any food in their kitchen. Not until you heal.”
If he healed. Pop had to know it may never happen.
Jayla appeared at his window. “Hurry up!”
Dawz got out, resisting the urge to yell at them both.
“I’ll pick you up as soon as my meeting’s over.” Pop climbed back in.
“Whatever.” Dawz rolled his eyes as he walked away.
Jayla bobbed beside him. “What are we going to bake? I can do the stirring. I’m super fast at it.”
“I always stir.” If he was stirring, he wasn’t touching the food.
“But Pop said you can’t—”
“You’ll watch,” he said.
“I can do more than watch.” Jayla bounced on every step on the way up to Atlas’s place.
* * *
—
As soon as Atlas opened the door, Jayla rushed inside. “Where’s the kitchen?”
Atlas smiled and followed her. He was already wearing his chef’s hat, but Dawz had left his at home, and it felt wrong for Atlas to wear one without him. Dawz trailed them, passing the open door to Atlas’s room and the ominously closed door to his moms’ room.
At the kitchen counter, Jayla inspected the recipe book and ingredients Atlas had set out.
“How are you feeling?” Atlas eyed Dawz’s cheek.
“I’m fine,” Dawz said, suddenly self-conscious. He touched his bandages to check they weren’t oozy, but they were dry. “But Pop said I’m not allowed to touch any food.”
“That makes sense.” Atlas nodded, and Dawz wished his friend hadn’t agreed with Pop. “At school, the janitor disinfected everywhere the monster had been, plus your desk too. And I’ve seen tourists wearing masks and gloves. Everyone is…jumpy.”
“You can say that again,” Dawz grumbled.
Jayla knocked over a bag of spelt flour, and it spilled over her arm and the counter.
“Oops!” She dusted herself off before bounding to the living room couch, where she leaned over the back and peered out the windows. “Wow! You can see all of Main Street from here!”
“Sorry she’s such a pain,” Dawz said.
Atlas wiped the flour into the sink. “She’s not so bad.”
“How’s your mom?”
Another smile crept onto Atlas’s face, which surprised Dawz. “She’s okay, but you can see for yourself.” He strode down the hall and swung open the door to his moms’ room.
Dawz hesitated. The monster had sliced his cheek a day after it had scratched her, so whatever was happening to her would happen to him soon. Maybe he didn’t want to see her. Maybe Atlas’s version of okay wasn’t good enough. But Jayla was already pushing past Dawz, and he didn’t want to refuse Atlas.
As he crossed the threshold into Atlas’s moms’ room, the air felt thinner and the light dimmed because the window faced a brick wall. In the double bed, Thea was sitting up with papers, a cell phone, and an empty plate resting on her blanket. She wore a cheerful yellow robe, and Sparkle lay at her feet, purring loudly.
Thea wasn’t wasting away. Or feverish. Or dying. Her eyes were bright and, if anything, she looked healthy again.
“Dawz! Good to see you. That cheek looks sore.” She made a tsk sound.
“It’s fine,” he lied, even though it hurt most of the time.
“Well, not to worry.” She held out her injured arm for him to see.
Dawz didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t anyway because Jayla scrambled in front of him.
“Where’s your cut?” she said. “I want to see.”
Reluctantly, Dawz peered around Jayla’s pom-pom ponytails to glimpse Thea’s unbandaged arm.
It wasn’t seeping greenish-purple pus. Instead, a greenish-purple scab had formed. Was her arm actually healing?
“Dr. Lin says I can get back to work soon, which is great because I’m getting complaints about how Abdul’s been running my café.” She grinned.
“But how?” Dawz couldn’t believe his eyes.
“My arm started healing this morning. The wound on my leg too. In only a few hours, they’d stopped hurting and scabbed over. I suppose the antibiotics have finally kicked in. Or maybe Dr. Lin’s cream is working.”
“Medicine is cool! Maybe I should become a doctor,” Jayla said. “Although…a pest controller is still cooler.”
Dawz’s head reeled. All along, he’d been terrified that the monster’s toxin would do something terrible to Thea and to him. But now, they could both heal as if nothing had happened?
It changed everything.
“You should be better in time to compete in the Bakers’ Brawl.” Atlas was beaming.
“If they don’t cancel it,” Dawz added. “Pop’s at a meeting right now.”
“Maybe this will change their minds,” Atlas said hopefully.
“We should tell them—” Dawz began.
“I already told your pop,” Thea said. “But Atlas wanted to tell you himself.”
“Oh.” Dawz felt left out. Pop knew and didn’t tell him. When did Pop get so good at keeping secrets?
“I know you thought it was your fault my mom got hurt,” Atlas began, “but everything’s okay now.”
“Uh-huh,” Dawz replied, even though he felt far from okay.
“Dr. Lin will help you heal too, and soon we can put this monster business behind us,” Thea said, as if she still believed she’d been scratched by Sparkle. As if he really might be free of this monster one day.
“I’d still like to find a monster for a pet.” Jayla patted Sparkle, who woke up purring.
“Speaking of pets, we’ve officially adopted Sparkle.” Atlas sounded like a proud big brother.
Thea smiled. “Or maybe she adopted us. She’s been good company, and she loves sleeping on my bed. Plus, we couldn’t leave her on the streets. My guess is that she was exposed to whatever animal scratched you, which is how she infected me. Luckily, she has no symptoms, although the vet has been treating her.”
Atlas shot Dawz a look that said My mom may never understand about monsters, and Dawz gave a nod back.
“Wow,” Dawz managed to say. “This is all so…”
“Unbelievable,” Atlas finished.
Dawz nodded again. Exactly. It felt like an impossible dream.
Chapter 23
Mim wobbled into town, clutching her book as if it could hold her up. She kept to a ditch beside the street, wading through more muck and cringing when cars roared by, even though the humans still seemed unable to see her.
Her return journey through forest and marsh had been grueling, but mapping her route back to Dawz the Horrible felt too easy. She wished she couldn’t sense where he was.
She plodded on, crossing the street to head deeper into town. Each step brought her closer to where she didn’t want to go. Closer to eating what she never wanted to eat.
* * *
—
Her hearts continued to ping off-beat to one another, but the right one now thudded a little faster and the left one had become less frantic. Her hunger still raged, but it was fading as she neared Dawz the Horrible. As if he could fuel her just by being close. The idea disgusted her, but maybe it meant she didn’t need to eat him. Just stay close to him. Forever.
The thought made her scales curl. Why was he her fuel? Was there nothing else that could satisfy her insides?
She’d eaten so much that her insides sloshed and lurched. But maybe she hadn’t eaten enough. Or maybe she hadn’t eaten the right things. Maybe there was something in Dawz the Horrible’s town that could fuel her. Something besides him.
* * *
—
Mim continued her route toward Dawz the Horrible because she felt stronger with each step. But she also explored new eats. As she skirted buildings and tromped through gardens, she bit into whatever she found. A tire hanging from a rope tied to a tree. A red plastic bucket. She swallowed a bite of each, plus a gray pebble and a red bug with black spots.
Mim’s insides got heavier. Her hunger still called out.
Her route led to a green space with no buildings. There, humans roamed between tables that were piled high with rich-scented things.
Here, thought Mim. Here, I’ll be able to find my fuel.
Mim crouched and crawled under and between the tables, scurrying around human legs when they got too close. The humans didn’t seem to notice her although they sometimes glanced twice at her book tucked under her arm. Each time that happened, Mim hurried on, hiding under a table or behind a bush till the humans moved away.
At one table, Mim grabbed green leafy stuff, swallowed a crunchy bite, and tossed it aside. It tasted better than the tire or bucket but not by much. Something else?
“You have the best tomatoes at the farmers’ market,” one human said to another. “How much for a large box?”
Mim speared one of the things called tomatoes with a nail-claw and popped it into her mouth. Sweetness exploded as she chewed. She ate another and another. If anything could fuel her, she hoped it would be tomatoes.
Mim took a bite of anything that was close enough to grab. She even bit a hat she found on the ground, which wasn’t as tasty as the tomatoes.
Soon, Mim’s insides began to growl. They began to whine. They grumbled and ached. Mim crawled between some bushes, curled into a ball, and hugged her book against the ache. She rocked back and forth, watching the legs of humans move past her. Her insides rocked too.
Then they grumbled bigger. And bigger. They grumbled so much that the things Mim had eaten burst up from her insides and out of her mouth, narrowly missing her precious book and tumbling onto the dirt under the bushes.
Mim wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gaped at what had come out of her. Pieces of tire and bucket. The pebble. Stinky marsh water. Chewed tomatoes. Even the bite of lace-up shoe she’d eaten long ago. She could see marks from her teeth on it.
Mim hugged her middle. Her insides had spoken. They’d rejected all she’d eaten. Now they felt empty. And they still asked to be filled.
Mim had no choice. She had to get closer to Dawz the Horrible. Perhaps she could rest near him, gathering strength from him until she grew powerful enough to tame him somehow.
She shuddered at the thought of touching him again. But when she got her strength back, she might have to.
Mim picked up her book. The fearsome creatures on the cover and inside the book felt like her only friends. They’d traveled so far with her—from nest to nest—never abandoning her. Mim crawled out from between the bushes. She wobbled away from the scented things and the gathered humans, using her instincts to turn toward Dawz the Horrible. He was even farther into town. She resumed her steady, tired gait toward him.
Soon, she recognized the building where her garden nest had been, and Dawz the Horrible’s scent invaded her nostrils.
So close! But where?
Mim trundled on, following his scent through several yards with gardens. Then, for a terrifying moment, she glimpsed the horrible boy beyond a fence. She glared as he stood beside a truck, talking to his grown-up. Those skinny arms and legs. How could this boy hold such power? Her left heart tugged toward him, wanting more fuel. She had to get closer.
But Dawz the Horrible got into the truck with his grown-up, and it sped off before Mim could get to him.
That boy! So tricky.
Mim followed the truck and the scent of Dawz the Horrible, keeping a tight hold on her book. She wished his smell didn’t feel like home in the most twisted way. Eventually, she came to the not-wide street and the large metal bin where she’d first met Raar-Sparkle.
Was Dawz the Horrible at her cupboard nest? He’d better not hurt her friend. Even though Mim was exhausted, and even though Raar-Sparkle had rumbled with Dawz the Horrible, Mim would fight him for her friend.
The stink of Dawz the Horrible grew more intense. She followed it to a tall staircase. It was in the same building as her cupboard nest, but above it.
Mim leaned against the railing to catch her breath, wishing the stairs weren’t so high. She climbed one step. And the next. Each step closer to Dawz the Horrible. Each step fueled by his terrible, unexplainable power.
Chapter 24
Dawz checked his bandage in Atlas’s bathroom before they started baking. By the time he was done, Jayla was sitting on the kitchen counter discussing toppings for the Pizza of Extreme Greatness.
“How about peppermint and pepper?” She swung her legs, banging her heels into the drawers on each swing. “It’s fun to say.” She picked up a bunch of peppermint leaves and a shaker of pepper and chanted, “Peppermint and pepper, peppermint and pepper.”
“Interesting idea. Or maybe peppermint and hot peppers?” Atlas said, adjusting his chef’s hat.
“That’s not as fun to say.”
“We don’t pick ingredients by what’s fun to say.” Dawz joined them. “And you better get off the counter.” Pop never let her do that at home. Unsanitary, he said. Like Dawz’s cheek.
Would it really heal? Oh, he wanted it to.
“Hi, Dawz.” Jayla waved at him without moving off the counter. “Atlas said I could stir the flour and yeast together.”
“That’s my job.” Dawz knew he sounded like a little kid, and it made him even angrier.
“But Pop said—”
“Pop’s not here, is he?”
“We’re not stirring anything yet.” Atlas glanced between them like he was trying to figure out how to make them get along.
“Yeah, we’re not.” Dawz tried to make his voice calmer. “Why don’t you read to Thea? Didn’t you bring a book—”
“I could read her my school report about how to catch a monster!” Jayla’s eyes lit up. “It’s in my bag. I wrote lots about traps, and I started writing about how to spot a monster.”
