Monster vs. Boy, page 6
“Where are you going?” Pop’s voice came from behind him, making Dawz jump.
“Atlas’s place, remember? We always practice baking on Sundays.” Less than a week until the Bakers’ Brawl, and baking felt like the most normal thing Dawz could do after seeing a monster last night.
“I should drive you.” Pop reached for the keys on the hook beside the front door.
“I can bike. You stay here.”
“But—”
“I’m fine,” Dawz said, even though he wasn’t. He really wasn’t.
“Are you sure?” Pop followed him onto the front porch, still with that look on his face. Dawz couldn’t tell if he was concerned or disgusted, and he wasn’t going to ask.
“I’m sure.”
“All right.” Pop hugged him, but it was an uneasy one. “Call as soon as you get there.”
“I will.”
* * *
—
When Dawz finally pulled away on his bike, he felt relieved. He swerved around puddles from last night’s rain. He pedaled hard to get up the hill on their road. He turned the corner toward Main Street and Atlas’s place. His legs were tired already. His bike wobbled as he scanned the passing ditches and lawns too. Morning mist hovered in the hollows, making it hard to see if anything was hiding. The sun peeked from behind a cloud, then darted back in, as if it couldn’t decide what to do.
Where was the monster now? Had it run all the way out of town? Had Ronny caught it? If only.
Dawz just wanted to have a day with no monsters in it. He wanted to practice for the Bakers’ Brawl with Atlas. He wanted to find a way to win this year’s contest. He needed a win more than ever.
Chapter 12
Mim woke to the sound of a human voice.
“What the—” the voice said.
She jerked upright, banging the side of her head against the top of the cupboard and startling Raar, who had been snuggled against her and the book.
“Who dumped my bowls on the floor?” the voice said.
Raar recovered from the shock first, yawning and stretching with her haunches in the air, leaving a chill where she’d warmed Mim. She sniffed Mim’s book with interest, but how could they make a book work with a human so close? When Raar nudged the cupboard door open with her nose, Mim grabbed for her.
“Not safe,” Mim hissed.
But Raar squirmed free and pushed open the door. Daylight beamed in, stinging Mim’s eyes and filling them with tears.
“Sparkle!” scolded the voice. “Did you make this mess?”
“Raar,” Mim’s friend answered. Why would she even raar at this human? Was Sparkle her name?
Mim cowered in the cupboard, worrying for Raar or Sparkle or whatever she’d named herself. What if this human hurt her?
She had to rescue her friend.
* * *
—
Mim wiped her eyes clear and squinted into the light. From her hunched position inside the cupboard, she could see her friend padding around the silver bowls, then weaving between the thick human legs. Foolish fur beast! Humans cannot be trusted!
Mim worried the legs might attack Raar-Sparkle. She tucked her book, pillow, and sock into a corner for safekeeping. She squirmed her way out of the cupboard—it felt smaller than before—finally jerking free.
She tumbled onto the hard floor and into a beam of sunlight, smoke snorting from her nostrils. Then she bumped into the human legs with her nail-claws. The tips pierced skin in a way that repulsed Mim, but it also felt right because Raar-Sparkle needed her. Instantly, several satisfying dot-shaped welts appeared on the human’s leg.
“Ow, Sparkle! Keep your claws to yourself!” the human exclaimed. She didn’t seem to notice Mim’s puff of smoke, which floated toward her.
Mim shielded her eyes and scuttled backward. The woman was wide, tall, and stupid—another human who couldn’t see her—and Mim decided being invisible to most humans wasn’t so bad. As the woman reached a hand down, down, down toward Raar-Sparkle, Mim lunged forward and batted it away with one horn, then readied herself for defense.
“What was that?” The woman pulled her hand back and studied the space where Mim stood.
Mim didn’t move, although she wanted to run and hide.
The woman tilted her head and wrinkled her eyebrows. She had a pile of black hair and a moldy scent that screamed danger. Couldn’t Raar-Sparkle smell it?
Although she’d never defended for two before, Mim figured she should position herself between Raar-Sparkle and the woman, who was reaching down again. This time, Mim scratched the woman’s bare arm with one sharp nail-claw until blood appeared—sickeningly red, not purple like Mim’s blood was when she’d cut her finger on a sharp floorboard—and she gagged at the sight of it.
The woman gasped and pulled back, a welt appearing already. “No, Sparkle! No scratching!” She pressed her hand against the wound, probably to slow the disgusting blood. Hopefully, she’d leave them alone now.
Then Raar-Sparkle wove around Mim, heading toward the woman.
No! Mim pulled Raar-Sparkle backward by the tail.
Her friend raared louder than ever, just as the woman’s hand reached again. It touched Raar-Sparkle’s head. It opened to grab hold of her neck. And it petted.
What strangeness! Mim plopped backward into a large bowl, breathing hard.
“What’s got into you? Why are you a bad kitty today?” The woman petted and Raar-Sparkle raared. “There, there, you wouldn’t scratch me again, would you? No, you wouldn’t.”
How could Raar-Sparkle like this woman? Were they friends?
* * *
—
Raar-Sparkle let the woman pick her up and cuddle her. Then Mim’s friend began to rumble.
A jagged bolt of lightning sparked between Mim’s hearts. To watch Raar-Sparkle rumble with the woman the way she’d rumbled with Mim! A rumble that could persuade anyone to be a friend, even a human. Mim sagged deeper into the bowl, hoping she hadn’t lost her friend for good.
That couldn’t happen. Could it?
The sunlight beamed relentlessly, lighting up Raar-Sparkle’s fur like fire, and hurting Mim’s eyes more and more. Nest. She needed another nest now. If she found one nearby, then maybe Raar-Sparkle would join her. Maybe Raar-Sparkle would try the book with her.
* * *
—
Mim hauled herself out of the bowl. The room had a long counter with cupboards underneath, where she’d first nested. Opposite it stood a row of gleaming silver appliances that looked too hard to get into. At the far end of the room sat rows of tables and chairs in front of a too-bright window.
She scuttled around the edges of the room, searching the walls for a cubbyhole or closet. The sweet-tangy scent was strongest near the counter. So comforting, so appealing.
Mim inhaled deeply. She followed her snout. But she found no cubbyhole, no closet.
She glanced at Raar-Sparkle, who was still rumbling with the woman instead of Mim. This woman was ruining everything.
“Now, let’s get your breakfast,” the woman said to Raar-Sparkle.
“Raar,” said Raar-Sparkle.
Mim couldn’t watch anymore. She circled back to her cupboard and stuck her head inside. She didn’t want to leave this nest or her new friend, but the woman was a problem and Mim’s back end didn’t fit into her cupboard nest as well as it had last night. She was still growing, and she needed a new small nest, with or without her friend. Reluctantly, she packed her book into her pillowcase, checked her sock and pillow were still safely inside, and backed out of her cupboard.
Goodbye, cupboard nest, she thought. Her pillow held the scent of Raar-Sparkle, and it was bittersweet.
* * *
—
The door to the not-wide street was open now, and someone had moved Raar-Sparkle’s cushion nest outside, along with her water dish.
Near the counter, Raar-Sparkle was pacing around the woman’s feet, raaring loudly. The woman was filling the food dish.
“Just a minute, Sparkle, you impatient one!” the woman scolded again, but Mim could now hear friendship behind the scolding. “Outside with you”—she carried the dish into the not-wide street and set it next to Raar-Sparkle’s cushion nest—“or the health inspector will have something to say about how I run my café!”
Raar-Sparkle darted into the street after the woman. Mim followed, pulling her pillowcase behind her.
“Bring your friends next time,” the woman told Raar-Sparkle. “I have plenty more.”
I’m a friend, Mim thought sadly. But she didn’t want to eat the meat-scented food in Raar-Sparkle’s bowl. And from the way Raar-Sparkle was gulping it down, she doubted her friend would share.
The woman headed toward the building, tripping over Mim.
“What in the world is this old pillow doing here?” she exclaimed.
Mim gripped her pillowcase of things tighter. The woman picked it up, with Mim attached to it.
“So heavy!” the woman remarked.
It’s mine, Mim thought, but she released it, only to scramble after it as the woman lifted it higher and dumped it near Raar-Sparkle’s cushion nest, right in a beam of sunlight.
“For your friends,” the woman said. Then she went back inside.
Mim was relieved the woman was gone. She scurried to pick up her pillowcase of things, hating how the sunlight heated her skin. She retreated to a shadow to confirm her book and sock were safe inside. Then she explained to Raar-Sparkle that she needed to find a new nest, but Raar-Sparkle didn’t seem to listen. Instead, her friend gulped the last of her food, then sauntered to her cushion nest, turned in a circle three times, lay down, and shut her eyes.
“Friend?” Mim ventured into the sunlight to poke Raar-Sparkle.
She opened one eye and shut it again.
“Friend!” Mim’s voice trembled.
The sunlight pricked Mim’s eyes. She needed shade. She needed small. But her new friend seemed to need the woman’s food and this cushion nest in the sun.
With her head heavy, Mim picked up her pillowcase and turned from Raar-Sparkle.
“Goodbye, friend.” Mim’s nostrils flared. She scooted into the shade of the fence and sniffed the air, wondering which way to go.
A boy appeared at one end of the not-wide street, riding a bike. Mim pressed herself against a fence, instantly tense.
Please don’t let it be him. She peeked out.
But it was.
The horrible boy was riding down the not-wide street toward her.
Mim couldn’t believe it. Why was he here? Was he following her? She tucked behind a thorny plant, then squeezed between two fence boards. Maybe he would pass by. Please, she begged, let him pass by.
Chapter 13
When Dawz biked past the corner where the Bear Beast statue stood, he pedaled faster. It always made him anxious, but today he felt more jittery than usual.
The Bear Beast snarled from one of the Four Corners at the center of Morsh, with its back to the large town park and community center that hosted the Bakers’ Brawl each year. Shops perched on the other three corners, and the streets were lined with even more stores. Most were closed on Sunday mornings, but not Thea’s Café. Atlas and his moms lived above it, with the entrance to their apartment up a set of stairs in the alley.
As he turned into the alley, still biking hard, Dawz’s legs were wet spaghetti pushing through jelly. He cycled past the back of the Morsh General Store, with a wooden fence and backyards opposite it. As he got closer to Atlas’s, an uncomfortable prickle made him tense. He didn’t know how the prickle worked or why it always happened at the edge of his left eye, but he knew he trusted it. Hadn’t it warned him about the monster in his closet?
He pedaled slower, scanning side to side for any signs of the monster.
His bike wobbled. He hit a water-filled pothole hard. But he saw no monsters.
The prickle continued as he parked his bike next to the stairs to Atlas’s place. The stray cat that Thea fed lay sprawled on a nearby cushion. She meowed and raared when she saw Dawz, leaping up to rub against the legs of his jeans.
“Hey, Sparkle.” He patted her, mostly for his own comfort because the prickle still wasn’t fading.
She purred against his legs as he scanned for places a monster might hide. The weedy bushes against the fence? Not enough cover. The pile of old cardboard boxes, damp from the rain? Yes.
He kicked at the bottom box. Sparkle yowled. The pile tumbled.
Dawz jumped back, ready to run if the monster sprang free.
Nothing appeared.
Sparkle retreated to her pillow. Dawz kicked one box and then another. They sounded empty. But he couldn’t be sure.
He stomped on one box until it flattened and split. That was better. Then another. Another.
“Dawz?” Atlas watched curiously from his stairs.
Dawz realized he was sweating and breathing hard, but at least the prickle was finally fading to a tingle. He tried to think of a way to joke about the mess around him, but he blurted out, “They were in my way.”
Atlas grunted, low and slow, in a way that meant If you say so.
Dawz’s cheeks heated up. “I’ll clean up.” He lifted a ripped box, avoiding Atlas’s gaze.
“I’ll help.” Atlas tromped down the stairs, each foot landing with a thud.
* * *
—
They leaned the shredded boxes against the wall.
When they were done, Atlas asked, “What should we bake?” They needed to practice different dishes for the Bakers’ Brawl because no one knew which Food of Extreme Greatness the judges might ask for.
“Uh, Pizza of Extreme Greatness?” The prickle had left Dawz distracted and uncomfortable. As if the monster might be lurking at the edge of his vision, but he couldn’t turn his head fast enough to see it.
Atlas licked his lips. “We can eat it for lunch. Let’s get a few ingredients from the café, then we can make it upstairs.”
“Okay. But I have to call Pop. He’s worried because of the…” He didn’t want to finish his sentence. Instead, he followed Atlas inside, where he caught a whiff of stale smoke. Had the monster been here? Was that why he’d felt the prickle? Was the monster visiting Dawz’s favorite places?
It unsettled him. He was at the center of a storm he couldn’t escape.
“A bloody monster in a kid’s closet!” a customer was saying to Thea at the checkout counter. He was a tourist in hiking gear with an English accent and a blond mustache. “That’s what the news report said. I heard an interview with a pest-control bloke.”
“He’s talking about Ronny!” Atlas elbowed Dawz, who shrank slightly. He hoped Ronny hadn’t mentioned him by name. He didn’t want to be known as the boy who’d released a monster. But Ronny wouldn’t do that, would he?
“I heard that report too,” said Luiza from her usual seat near the window. Luiza had brown skin and lively eyes, and her silver hair caught the morning sunlight. Like always, she’d pinned a button to her shirt that read: Ask Me About Morsh Monsters. Thea complained about Luiza’s monster stories when she wasn’t there, but she could hardly kick a former town councilor out of the café, especially one who entertained the tourists and had the community center named after her.
“Did he find the monster?” Hope crept into Dawz.
“Not yet, but the whole town’s on alert.” Luiza leaned forward, her eyes shining. “We haven’t had a monster since—”
“Now, that’s enough.” Thea cut off Luiza’s story, like usual. She passed a steamy latte and an oversized muffin to the tourist. “It could have been a large alley cat. We have plenty of those. Why, last night, one darn cat got inside again, and I had to clean the mess she left!”
“What did she do?” Dawz worried it might’ve been worse than a cat.
“Knocked all my bowls onto the floor and made herself a home in my cupboard!” She shook her head and smiled.
Dawz didn’t smile.
A cupboard was a lot like a closet.
The tourist looked alarmed. He pointed at Thea’s arm. “Did she scratch you? That looks infected.”
“Yes, she—oh!” Thea clamped a hand on her arm, but Dawz had already glimpsed a nasty cut. “It wasn’t that bad before!”
“How did it happen?” Dawz’s stomach lurched. He’d never seen a cut ooze greenish-purple pus before.
“On your leg too!” Atlas stepped toward her, and Dawz saw more dots of pus on her calf.
She waved Atlas away like it was no big deal. “I’ll just take care of these. That cat!” She pushed past them, heading for the stairs to the basement. “Jordy, take over for a minute?”
Atlas stepped to the checkout counter as if Thea’s scratch meant nothing. “That’ll be nine dollars and ninety-five cents, please.”
Dawz leaned against the industrial fridge and gripped the handle like it was a lifeline. Was the monster poisonous?
He sank into a swamp of guilt. He was responsible for Thea’s injury. He’d caused it by releasing a monster from his closet. Now he had to tell Atlas and Thea that she probably had a monster scratch. He had to make her see a doctor. But what would they think of him?
“…but my friend could see it. It came from his closet,” Atlas was proudly telling the tourist and Luiza, who were eagerly devouring the news. “He’s like a real cryptozoologist. I wish I could be—”
“Atlas, shut up!” Dawz meant to nudge Atlas, but he elbowed him hard instead.
Atlas reeled back. The tourist and Luiza stared.
“Sorry!” Dawz wanted to take it back, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t wipe the injured look from his friend’s face. He couldn’t stop the guilt from pulling him under. He couldn’t prevent Luiza from blabbering that the monster had come from Dawz’s closet. “I just didn’t want to tell everyone!”
