Monster vs. Boy, page 5
Meanwhile, Ronny leaned down to Dawz and Atlas.
“I wasn’t trying to scare you lads,” he said.
“We’re not scared,” Dawz lied.
“I’m just saying that some creatures are monsters, and Morsh seems to be sitting in a place where that happens more often than not.”
“Why?” asked Jayla.
Ronny shrugged. “Maybe we’re closer to the crust of the spirit world, where different types of creatures get tangled together on the way into life. I don’t know, but I’m just telling you that I promise to keep an eye out for this monster. Chances are it’ll be looking for a new place to nest. And when I hear about it, I’ll root it out.”
“I can help,” Jayla said.
Atlas gave her a playful shove that meant Let Ronny take care of it.
“You could report any sightings,” Ronny suggested.
“Thanks.” Dawz felt better with Ronny on the case. At least he believed him. Not like Thea, who didn’t understand that Dawz was telling the truth. But he didn’t like the idea of Morsh sitting close to the spirit world. What was that supposed to mean? He tried not to think about it. “What do you do with the creatures, once you catch them?”
“I’m a catch-and-release guy.” Ronny stuck his thumbs in his belt loops. “I drive them into the forest and set them up in a new place.”
“Even monsters?” Jayla asked.
“Even monsters need a place to live. Just maybe not in your brother’s closet, huh?” Ronny grinned wide enough to show his crooked teeth.
“Do they ever come back?” Dawz asked. “After you release them?”
“Not if I take them far enough. And don’t you worry. I’ll make sure this monster doesn’t bother you again.”
Dawz liked the way Ronny’s grin spread across his face and into his eyes. Maybe Ronny or Officer Rashmi would be able to find this monster. “Maybe it should be locked up,” he suggested.
Ronny studied Dawz, and his grin faded. “If it’s that bad, I may need to.”
* * *
—
Soon Pop was shaking hands with Officer Rashmi, then Ronny was handing Pop a bill. “Thanks for everything,” Pop said. “Come by sometime, and I’ll make you a meal.”
“Sure thing,” Ronny said. “Call if you need anything else.”
“Come on, Jordy,” said Thea, who still called Atlas by his real name. “Get your bike and let’s go home.”
“But it’s a sleepover—”
“We’ve had enough excitement for tonight.”
“That’s for sure.” Pop tugged Jayla and Dawz closer.
Jayla pulled away but Dawz tucked in. How was he ever going to fall asleep tonight? He missed Atlas already.
Atlas and Thea cycled away. Ronny rattled off in his van, followed by Officer Rashmi in her car. Even though Pop was right beside Dawz, the shadows tucked closer too.
Chapter 10
Mim ran, hugging her book, pillow, and sock with one arm and pumping with the other, pressing off with her hooves, carrying herself away from the horrible boy, feeling the wide world whooshing by in waves that threatened to drown her.
Waves of buildings—too many to count.
Waves of smells—human and not.
Waves of light—blasting from high-up poles, the front of cars, and buildings, always buildings. She knew buildings had closets in them, but her feet wouldn’t stop running long enough to find one.
Mim gulped one breath after another, but she couldn’t get enough air. She sensed the horrible boy at her back, although she couldn’t see him anywhere when she turned around.
Her hooves clomped on the hard road, each step jarring her teeth, her head, her bones until a rattle filled her. Tat-a-tat-a-tat!
Then, from nowhere, a human appeared in her path, along with a fur beast that Mim thought might be a friend because he wagged his tail—right before he yipped and yapped at her. Loud. With pointed teeth.
Mim squealed, accidentally dropping her book, pillow, and sock. Dog. She remembered the word dog, but fur beast seemed like a better name.
“Shush!” The human yanked at a rope attached around the fur beast’s neck. “It’s only an old pillow. Nothing to bark at.”
Nothing! Mim was not nothing. She panted and hissed as the human and barking fur beast passed, then she collected her things and ran on, veering onto the grass. Her hooves sank with each step. Into a ditch. Splashing through water. Between two buildings. Into the comfort of shadows.
So far, only the horrible boy and the nasty fur beast had seen her, although everyone seemed to be able to see her pillow. She didn’t want to be seen by either creature, yet to be unseen by others made her feel like she didn’t exist. But she did. She did.
Couldn’t she feel her legs begging to stop running?
Couldn’t she feel her chest burning with each breath?
Couldn’t she hear the roar of the wide, wide world?
* * *
—
When her legs said, No more, and her chest said, I can’t, Mim stopped and the world stilled too.
She stood in a not-wide street, breathless and glancing around and above her. The street had settled between a row of unlit buildings on one side and a fence that kept out tall trees and more buildings on the other side. No humans in sight. No lights on poles.
But she needed a nest. A small one. Where could she find small?
Mim squeezed into a sliver of space between a brick wall and a large metal bin that smelled of human food and rot, metal foil and soiled cardboard. It wasn’t a comforting smell like dust and dry floorboards, but it didn’t smell like boy either. The space was nicely narrow although too high up to a sky that was star-filled and terrifyingly huge.
She clutched her book, pillow, and sock, and tried to catch her breath. She hoped she wouldn’t grow up to the sky like a skinny tree.
Mim needed smaller. Much smaller.
* * *
—
“Raar,” said a new fur beast.
Mim jolted upright, nail-claws out.
The fur beast stood on four legs a short distance away. While Mim trembled, the fur beast mewed, raared, and sniffed at her a few times before turning in a circle, exposing her back to attack. Then the fur beast sat down, curled her skinny tail around herself, and licked one paw thoroughly clean.
What mischief is this?
The fur beast was orange with white stripes and golden eyes that locked onto Mim, clearly seeing her. As Mim worried, the beast cleaned both front paws, then her ears, finally releasing her eye-lock on Mim.
Mim’s arms and hands tired from holding her nail-claws ready, and she slowly lowered them. This fur beast was grooming. Mim used to rub her scales against the brick wall in her closet to clean off dust balls. Grooming meant the fur beast was comfortable.
“Raar,” said the fur beast once again and then once more, and Mim decided to name her Raar. Maybe it was the fur beast’s name for herself.
Then Raar stood, and Mim stiffened. Raar walked right up to Mim, nudged the pillow out of the way, and rubbed against Mim’s legs. A rumble as loud as a car began deep inside Raar, and Mim wondered at it, wishing she could rumble too, gentle yet fierce. How did Raar make that rumble sound?
Mim reached out, slow and careful.
She touched the fur beast, marveling how the rumble traveled through Raar’s silky fur and into the palm of her own hand. She stroked the fur—softer than soft, silkier than the wiry tufts between Mim’s horns—and Raar rumbled louder. Mim thought about the other nasty fur beast with the pointed teeth. He wasn’t a friend.
Was Raar a friend?
Yes. Mim smiled. This must be a friend.
A friend who might be able to make a book work.
* * *
—
Raar rumbled and rumbled. Mim stroked her, wondering why fur beasts could see her and humans couldn’t—other than the horrible boy. Just thinking about him made Mim shudder. She hoped she never saw him again.
Mim wiggled her book out from under the pillow, where it had fallen. Raar stopped rumbling. The book had pictures of pleasantly fearsome creatures on the cover—she liked the one with tentacles best. Mim thought of the story friends she’d left behind in the horrible boy’s room. Never again would Mim hear the boy’s grown-up make a book work. If she wanted story friends to come out and play, she would have to do it herself, with her new friend.
Mim opened her book. Raar stood up and wandered away.
“Friend?” Mim called. She hadn’t spoken in a while, so her voice wasn’t sure how to work.
Raar disappeared around the corner of the bin.
“Friend!” Mim shouted.
She couldn’t lose her. Not so soon. Not now.
Mim shoved her book and her sock into her pillowcase beside her pillow. She couldn’t lose them either, especially her book. Then she slung her pillowcase of things over her back and followed Raar.
* * *
—
The orange-and-white fur beast walked down the middle of the not-wide street. Mim slinked from shadow to shadow, wary of threats.
When Raar ducked into a doorway, Mim followed. Raar circled around and around, raaring and glancing at the door as if she wanted to go into the building.
Mim smelled for any signs of humans beyond the door, but she could only catch a sugary scent with a pleasant tang. She worried if the building would be safe, but she trusted Raar.
Mim turned the knob. The door didn’t open. She poked at the lock, but it was too small to fit her newly grown nail-claw.
Raar growled in her throat and padded to a pile of boxes. Mim wondered if one of those would make a good nest for them both, but Raar climbed the boxes to a high-up window that was slightly open.
Clever friend!
Raar nudged the window open with her nose and stepped onto the ledge, pausing only to give Mim a look that said Are you coming, friend?
“Yes, I am!” Mim hurried up the pile of boxes, which wobbled under her weight. But Mim knew boxes as well as she knew her closet, and soon she’d squeezed onto the ledge next to Raar, who pawed at a screen that blocked them, pushing it inward with an expert swipe.
The sugary tang grew stronger. It was a friendly scent that reminded Mim of home. She caught the faint odor of humans too, but none nearby.
Raar entered the building first, and Mim pulled her pillowcase full of things after her.
* * *
—
Raar didn’t explore the room. She headed for a cushion on the floor by the door to the not-wide street. Beside it sat a water bowl and another bowl with nasty-smelling meat in it. Raar began to eat steadily.
A nest! Raar had brought Mim to her nest. What an honor. What luck.
* * *
—
Even though Raar’s nest was too open, Mim sat on the cushion. It smelled like Raar, and her fur was on it.
It was a good nest, but not for Mim. She glanced around, quickly finding a cupboard she could open. It was near Raar’s nest, and delightfully small. Mim emptied the cupboard. Large silver bowls clanged onto the floor. Then she climbed inside and tugged her pillowcase full of things after her.
“Raar?” she called.
She hoped Raar would nest in the cupboard too, but she understood if Raar preferred her cushion nest. Everyone needed to nest in their own way.
Mim pulled out her book in case Raar joined her. If only they could make the book work soon. Mim wanted to learn how to create story friends, but she also wanted the power to tame dangerous creatures she might meet in this wide world. Mim clutched her book and rested her head on her pillow, suddenly exhausted. The sugary-tang scent of her new nest felt comforting. This nest was the right size, without much extra space. She was certain it would keep her from growing.
Mim listened to Raar crunching her food. She missed the sound of the horrible boy murmuring in his sleep and how she could startle him awake by crashing books. Still, this nest had to be better than her closet nest. Also, this nest had Raar, and Mim couldn’t wait to try the book together.
Chapter 11
Dawz woke to the sound of a monster screaming. It took him a while to realize that the scream was coming from his own throat.
His legs were tangled in his blanket. Sweat drenched his sheets. Light from the streetlamp chased nighttime shadows into the corners of his bedroom. A lump rose from the floor, making Dawz sit up and press against his headboard, until he realized that it was Atlas’s empty sleeping bag.
A dream lurked, confusing him. Monsters had been coming to get him. Dawz glanced at his clock—3:12 a.m.—and tried to breathe slowly, just as the door to his bedroom burst open and Pop barreled into the center of the room. He wore polka-dot pajama shorts and a T-shirt, and he brandished a silver pancake flipper like a weapon.
“Where is it? Are you okay?” Pop’s eyes were wide and darting from Dawz to the shadows, and his skinny arm shook.
Panic swamped Dawz. “It came back?” His voice came out rough, his throat sore from screaming. “Where is it? Do you see it?”
He picked up the lightsaber that he’d left beside his bed and switched it on. It bathed his room in cool blue light. He didn’t feel a prickle at the edge of his left eye, so he wasn’t sure where to aim. He swung the saber back and forth, but that only made shadows lurch around his bed.
Suddenly, the ceiling light blazed on, and Dawz squinted, breathing hard. Jayla stood in his doorway, hand on the light switch, her hair messy and her pajamas rumpled.
“Am I too late?” She blinked, then rubbed one eye. “I don’t want to miss the monster again.”
Dawz scanned the room, grateful for the light, grateful he could see no monsters—yet. He jumped out of the bed and checked under it. Nothing. He hurried to the bedroom closet and tugged on the doorknob. Still locked. He turned in a slow circle, examining all corners of his room. Still nothing.
When he was certain the monster had only been in his dream, he turned off his lightsaber, embarrassed that he’d been screaming loud enough to wake even Jayla. It must have been piercing.
“Sorry.” Dawz ducked his head. “I had a bad dream.”
His dream came back to him like a flood springing from the marsh. His closet had become a doorway to the spirit world, spewing out hideous monsters that were twisted parts of humans and beasts for him to battle all by himself. No Atlas. No Pop. No Jayla. He had barricaded the closet door with his bed, dresser, and anything else he could find, but the monsters had burst through, breathing fire that had set his room ablaze, surrounding him in flames that closed in, tighter and tighter.
“Then you’re okay?” Pop’s voice shook, and Dawz glanced at him, then wished he hadn’t. Pop’s face had a guarded, nervous look that made Dawz nervous too.
“Just a dream.” Dawz went back to bed with his lightsaber, willing them to leave his room. He didn’t want Pop to think something was wrong with him. That the wrongness might get too big to handle. That it might ruin everything. Mom had ruined everything. He had to be more like Pop.
“If you’re sure.” Pop turned from Dawz without giving him a hug. He switched off the overhead light and took Jayla by the hand.
“Why do I have to sleep in my own room?” Jayla whined. “Why can’t I sleep here?”
Dawz’s bedroom door clicked shut. The shadows grew. He pulled the blanket over his head and tried to sleep, but it was impossible. He listened to rain batter the roof and worried about the shadows until the morning light began to brighten his room.
A new dream came to haunt him then. Mom had suddenly returned after so many years, driving into Morsh in her same rusted blue car. She collected Dawz and Jayla like leftover luggage, even though Dawz begged her to let him stay. Jayla was excited to go. Pop didn’t object, even though he’d adopted them. He just let Mom drive them away from Morsh, heading back to the city. Trees whizzed by. The town retreated. Dawz felt smaller and smaller as he got farther from Morsh, Pop, and his kitchen.
He woke to blinding sunlight, wondering if Pop would miss him.
* * *
—
Dawz dressed quickly. On the stairs, muffled voices and the nutty scent of oatmeal with maple syrup drifted up from the kitchen. As he entered, he found Jayla, Pop, and Officer Rashmi sitting together at the island.
Pop jumped up with a guilty look on his face. He was already wearing his apron and Bakers’ Brawl hat. “Take my seat,” he said, even though the chair beside Officer Rashmi sat empty.
They must have been talking about him. A sharp pain tightened Dawz’s chest.
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice still rough. He served himself some oatmeal and leaned against the counter to eat it.
The first bite was warm and soothing. Pop really was a kitchen wizard. Even though he was still giving Dawz that guarded, nervous look, Pop’s oatmeal filled Dawz up.
“Any news?” Dawz asked Officer Rashmi, trying to keep his voice casual. She was in uniform, as usual.
She shook her head, swallowing the last of her oatmeal. “I was just saying that we’ve had no sightings yet.”
Yet. Dawz wondered how many other townsfolk received personal case reports over breakfast. He wondered what secrets Pop and Officer Rashmi had shared in this kitchen.
“If we’re lucky, the monster will come back,” Jayla said with her mouth full.
Dawz shook his head, steadily eating his oatmeal while Jayla rambled on about how much she wanted to see a monster. When he was done, he put his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, then stepped into the hall to grab his bike helmet from the closet.
