Monster vs. Boy, page 17
A monster that Luiza would add to her map of monster sightings.
A monster that Officer Rashmi was guarding since townsfolk and tourists were a little too curious.
A monster that needed his help to figure out this world they shared.
“Do you know what Pizza of Extreme Greatness I think we should make first?” Dawz paused.
“Peppermint and hot pepper,” they both said.
“Jayla has great ideas.” Dawz could hear her chattering to Pop through the open screen door. “Only I wonder if we should add caramel drizzle.”
“Let’s try it.” Atlas got out the measuring cups. “I can’t believe we get to bake for Mim. I wonder what flavors she’ll like best. Hey, I guess we’re real cryptozoologists now.”
“We’re more than that,” Dawz said. “We’re cryptozoologists who bake.”
Dawz and Atlas prepped two pizzas. They topped the second one with tomato sauce, baked-beans, and grated cheese.
As the kitchen filled with savory smells, Dawz turned to Atlas and asked, “If you were a flavor, what would you be?”
Atlas gave him a look that said Weird question. But he scratched his chin, then said, “That’s a hard one. Maybe caramel?”
Dawz nodded. “You can always count on caramel to make a dish better.”
“Yup. What would you be?”
“I’m one of those strange ice-cream flavors—the kind you don’t know you like until you try it.”
Atlas elbowed him. “You’re peppermint-and-hot-pepper ice cream.”
“Exactly.”
“Tomorrow would have been the Bakers’ Brawl. I wonder what the judges would have thought of these pizzas.” Atlas peered in the oven window, and Dawz did too.
Inside, the crusts were golden. The cheese was bubbling. “Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Dawz said. “These pizzas are first-rate. We should make them again.”
Atlas laughed. “We haven’t even tasted them.”
“Doesn’t matter. Maybe the point of the Bakers’ Brawl is to experiment with weird and wonderful recipes to figure out what people, and monsters, like to eat.”
Atlas nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe winning doesn’t matter so much.”
“Right.”
They did their special handshake then.
“There’s always next year,” Atlas said.
They sang the Bakers’ Brawl song just as loud as they could.
Chapter 38
Mim climbed down from her tree nest, fitting easily between branches.
It was a nest where she’d spent a watchful night and day tucked into her high-up nook—too high for humans to reach.
A nest that she’d built herself—cozy with leaves and twigs as well as her rescued books and her monster book.
A nest in a solid tree in the green space of this town filled with so many humans and one monster.
On the grass below her nest, four grown-ups had gathered, and even more humans stared up at her from the edges of the green space. Mim felt wary of them all but also hungry. Her boy had promised her pizza, which Mim had learned was food.
Mim wanted to taste this pizza. She wanted to fill up the hungry space inside her.
She landed on the grass with a plop, then sniffed the air, wondering what pizza might smell like. After she’d shrunk, her insides had insisted she eat. When she licked the sticky-sweet goo off her fur and scales, it had satisfied her insides in a tail-flapping way, although it didn’t taste as good as when she’d eaten tomatoes. Now her insides wanted to eat again, which Mim didn’t mind because it was better to get strength from food than from her boy. Would she like pizza?
Around Mim, the four humans watched but kept their distance, including the shouting woman, who’d named herself Officer. Mim had learned that all humans named themselves, and it could be hard to learn many names at once. Officer wore blue clothes with a badge shaped like a scale, and so did the others. Together, they’d been watching Mim since she’d built her tree nest. Well, Mim kept an eye on Officer and her watching ones too.
Mim trotted away from them, and they followed, never getting too close. Other grown-ups and kids trailed too, but Officer and her watchers seemed to be keeping them back. Good. Maybe these watchers would be useful.
Mim hurried across the green space, then down the not-wide street. Her growling insides said that she needed this pizza more than she needed to worry about her trail of humans. And she thought pizza would be better with a friend.
She slowed as she approached Raar-Sparkle’s high-up nest. With the watchers still watching, Mim stood in the not-wide street and raared up the steep stairs, hoping her friend would appear. She called and called, until the door finally opened, and out came Raar-Sparkle and the large woman Mim had scratched. Mim had learned she called herself Thea.
Raar-Sparkle trotted down to Mim with Thea behind her. Thea held a rope that was attached to Raar-Sparkle’s neck. It looked like a trap. It had to be a trap.
When Raar-Sparkle got close enough, Mim tore at the rope until it broke, freeing her friend.
“Raar,” said Raar-Sparkle, rumbling against Mim’s furry legs.
“You broke her leash!” Thea frowned. She had a few lovely scales on her arm and leg, although they were much smaller than the ones on Mim’s boy.
“I freed my friend,” Mim explained. Thea didn’t seem to understand, but her scales made her seem like she might become a friend one day.
* * *
—
Raar-Sparkle rode on Mim’s shoulders all the way to her boy’s nest, followed by the trail of humans. This time, Mim approached the building from the back, which felt safer than walking in the front again. Officer and Thea followed, but the others did not.
In the grassy space out back, Mim spied the boy’s girl and the grown-up sitting on a blanket. Mim had learned they were called Jayla and Pop. They spoke Mim’s name and waved.
Mim liked hearing her own name.
She flapped her tail and headed closer. Although Jayla had once thrown dust and goo, she also understood about books. Now she held a book, although she wasn’t reading at anyone. Instead, she was using a stick to make black marks in straight lines across an empty page. As Mim watched, she also used the stick to make a picture. Mim was fascinated and a little scared. How powerful to make a book!
“What are you writing?” Thea asked.
“My monster report!” Jayla tilted the book toward Mim. “Writing is how you make a book.”
“Writing.” Mim tried out the word, and Jayla smiled at her.
“I’ll show you my writing, but first I need your help. Can you tell me what makes a good nest?”
“A good nest needs to be tight and small,” Mim said.
“Uh-huh.” Jayla did the writing.
“And it needs to be shaded and hidden,” Mim continued. “It’s better with books. And a friend.” Raar-Sparkle jumped off Mim’s shoulder and wove between the four of them.
“I’m your friend,” Jayla announced, still writing.
“You can count on me too,” Pop said.
Were they friends? Maybe. Mim sat on the grass to watch Jayla do more writing. And she petted Raar-Sparkle, who settled in her lap.
Soon, the man with the stick, who no longer had a stick, wandered into the grassy space. Mim had learned he called himself Ronny. “Nice to see you again, Mim.” He extended his hand.
Mim sniffed it. What was she supposed to do with it?
“It’s a greeting.” Ronny smiled. “You shake hands.”
How odd. Mim shook a hand at Ronny.
Everyone but Mim laughed.
Humans were strange creatures. Mim wondered if she’d ever understand them.
Then Mim’s boy came out of his nest along with the larger boy, who had named himself Atlas. They were carrying flat pans that smelled like food. They wore aprons that had once been in Mim’s closet nest, and she could smell the faint whiff of dry floorboards on them. Pretty purple scales still decorated her boy’s face—they hadn’t grown, but they hadn’t shrunk either. Others stared at the scales too, and she suspected they were admiring them. Maybe that was why so many humans watched Mim, since her scales were equally fine and she had even more of them.
The boys set the pans on the blanket.
“We made two pizzas for you to taste.” Her boy picked up a slice from each pan and held them out.
“Pizza?” Mim poked at one, then the other. She was still trying to figure out her boy. He wouldn’t give her something foul to eat, would he? Something that hurt her insides?
“You bet it’s pizza!” He grinned. “This one is peppermint and hot peppers…” He raised one piece.
“And the other is baked beans with tomato sauce!” Atlas said.
“Tomato?” Mim sniffed at the tomato one.
“Interesting.” Atlas nudged her boy. “She likes tomatoes?”
“These pizzas look spectacular!” Pop picked up a piece and took a bite. “Mmm,” he said with his mouth full. “The combo of peppermint and hot peppers is brilliant. And is that caramel drizzle?”
“Yes. Thanks to Jayla for the peppermint-and-pepper idea.” Mim’s boy smiled.
“You know it!” Jayla looked up from her writing.
Soon, everyone was eating pizza—even Raar-Sparkle wanted a few bites—so Mim decided it must be safe. Besides, the tomato one smelled like it wanted to be eaten.
Mim reached for a piece of the tomato pizza. Cautiously, she nibbled it. Her mouth exploded with deliciousness. Warm and spicy. Crispy and chewy. Wonderful tomatoey goodness.
“What do you think?” her boy asked.
Mim took another bite and another. How wonderful to taste tomato again. How delicious to have it fill her insides. They felt cozier already. Satisfied with no grumbling or growling.
“Pizza is a kind of magic,” Mim announced. “Like books.” They both fed her but in different ways. She wasn’t sure how they did it, but she was grateful.
Her boy beamed at her like he was full of pizza too.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Next time, you can taste our Waffles of Extreme Greatness.”
“Do they have tomato?”
“They could.” Her boy laughed.
“Mim would make a good Bakers’ Brawl judge,” Atlas said, and everyone but Mim laughed again.
“There.” Jayla shut her book. “My report is done—for now. I added a section on how to make friends with a monster.”
“And how to help them find a good nest,” Pop said.
“Yes!” Jayla held out the book to Mim. “You can read it. It’s called Monster Report.”
A new book about monsters! Mim’s nostrils flared as she inhaled the scent of paper, wax, and Jayla. She reached for the book, for its words. In her lap, Raar-Sparkle rumbled, louder than a roar and gentler than a tickle.
Mim opened the Monster Report and studied the squiggly black marks and pictures. “How marvelous to make a book.”
“I can teach you.” Jayla held out her writing stick.
Mim shook her head. She would like to learn this thing called writing, but for now, sharing a book at others was enough. As she flipped the pages and studied the pictures of monsters, words entered her mind and asked to be spoken, like a crowd of friends talking at once.
“You will listen,” she told her boy and the others.
Her boy lowered his pizza. Once they’d all tucked closer, Mim opened her mouth. She let her words slither and leap into the circle they’d made. Her scales shivered. Her fur rustled. The magic of her words filled them all up.
Acknowledgments
Like Mim and Dawz, I adore books. I also adore the people who make books and the people who help them do it. This book came into being through the support of many people. I truly enjoy a Community of Extreme Greatness.
I’m grateful to the Ontario Arts Council for generously providing financial support during the writing of this book.
I’m grateful for those who read the manuscript in its early stages, including my writing partners and friends Paige Krossing, Patricia McCowan, Mary Jane Nirdlinger, Karen Rankin, and Erin Thomas. You are wise, insightful readers.
I’m grateful for the community I found at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. You lift me up by sharing your words, your wisdom, and your writing journeys. In particular, I’m grateful for my class—the Writers Without Borders—and my critique group, the Goodnight Noises. You keep me steady and focused. I’m also grateful for my VCFA faculty advisors and workshop leaders during my MFA, including William Alexander, Martha Brockenbrough, Alan Cumyn, David Macinnis Gill, A. M. Jenkins, Jane Kurtz, Liz Garton Scanlon, Martine Leavitt, Cynthia Leitich Smith, and Linda Urban. You continue to inspire me every day to write deep truth with compassion and authenticity.
I’m honored to work with an Agent of Extreme Greatness. Thank you, Ginger Knowlton, for seeing the potential in this manuscript, for finding the ideal home for it, and for encouraging me every step of the way. I’m grateful for you, James Farrell, and the whole Curtis Brown team.
I’m equally honored to work with an Editor of Extreme Greatness. Alexandra McKenzie, you are thoughtful, playful, and insightful. I appreciate how you listen, dive deep, and challenge me. Mim and Dawz are better characters because of you. I’m grateful for you, copyeditor Jackie Dever, and the talented Charlesbridge Publishing team, including editor Julie Bliven, designer Cathleen Schaad, production manager Mira Kennedy, and the entire publicity and sales/marketing crew. A special shout-out to Markia Jenai for the stunning cover and adorable chapter icons.
And finally, I’m grateful to my family, who understands about my monsters and who welcomes them to our table. Where else would they eat Pizzas of Extreme Greatness? I adore you all.
Karen Krossing, Monster vs. Boy
