Or maybe it was just unpopular. Who wants to play a game where there’s no equal shot at winning?
Logging into my Gmail account, I stared at Taylor’s and Casey’s grayed-out screen names. I wondered what they were doing. Were they asleep already?
I shut off my computer, jumped into bed, and burrowed under my red blanket, resting my cheek against the pillow. Even though I had real monsters to worry about, at that moment, starting a new school all alone scared me a lot more. I’d be lucky if I got any sleep at all.
SCENE SIX:
TRAUMATIZING EXPERIENCES
When I came into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, Haylie was playing with Monsterville at the kitchen table. “A monster around every corner, a monster around every corner,” she chanted while Mom tried to set plates and food around her. I swiped a piece of bacon.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Dad said from behind The New Yorker. He subscribed to that back home but never had time to read it. The magazines would pile up in our hallway until Mom complained it was a fire hazard and threw them all out.
“Morning,” I yawned, pulling out a chair. “Can I have some coffee?”
Mom paused, the spatula in her right hand. “You want coffee?”
“Yeah, sure.” Drinking coffee seemed like a grown- up way to mark the first day of seventh grade. You know, to make it a little bit special. Kind of like how Casey and Taylor were probably having lattes from Starbucks right now without me.
Mom shrugged and retrieved the #1 DAD mug from the top shelf. “Cream and sugar?”
“Load ’er up, please,” I said, moving one of Monsterville’s pieces to the starting line. “Haylie, can I play?”
She grinned. She had a bunch of plastic barrettes stuck in her hair and pulled one out, not wincing when a few blonde strands came with it. “This is for you.”
“Wow, thanks.” I clipped it into my bangs. “Does this look good?”
She giggled. It’s so easy to make her laugh.
Mom set my coffee down in front of me and I took a sip. It had more sugar and cream in it than coffee. Delicious.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“A little,” I admitted. “I haven’t had to make new friends since kindergarten.”
My stomach twisted when I thought of Casey and Taylor walking into St. Mary’s without me. Last year, for the first day of school, we bought super ugly lime-green underwear to wear under our uniforms. Our private joke. This year, did they have one without me?
“It’ll be fine,” Dad said. “Just picture everyone naked.” He smiled and turned a page of his magazine, seeming pretty cheery about his own debut. It was his first day of work as a doctor at Chester County Hospital.
Haylie rolled the die. It bounced off the board and clinked against my coffee cup. “Three!” she said. When she moved her piece, she landed on the spider. “Card, please,” she told me, and I obediently picked up a card and read it to her.
Werewolves suffer from bad press
They act with such gentleness!
But if one won’t let you be
Give a piece of finery.
“Sorry, Haylie.” I handed her the card. “Next time.” I rolled the die. “Oh, look. I’m stuck, too.” I’d landed on the Sandman monster.
Seven heads and poison flames,
The hydra never will be tamed
Do you face the hydra’s wrath?
Don’t be scared; stray from its path.
“We need to hurry, Lissa.” Mom stood up with our plates. “I don’t want you to be late.”
Mom dropped Haylie off at nursery school, and then she pulled up in front of Freeburg Consolidated School. “You’ll be great.” She smiled like she meant it.
“Sure.” I unbuckled my seat belt and took a deep breath, letting Mom lean over and kiss me on the forehead before I got out of the car.
Walking down the sidewalk, I pretended I was on my way to accepting an award. Or going on an audition. Sure, it felt like I was about to throw up, but I couldn’t let that show. Confidence, baby!
A flag flapped on the flagpole. I walked past it and pushed open the glass doors.
Inside, kids mingled before the last bell. Some of them were really little.
That gave me a boost. It’s hard to feel intimidated when you walk into a new school and the first thing you see is a seven-year-old by the trophy case, picking his nose.
I found my classroom and smiled automatically at the teacher sitting up front. The welcome letter had said her name was Ms. Green, and that she’d be teaching me every subject. She looked like the type to be cast as the teacher in a boring kids’ show about peer pressure—all round and soft-looking.
“Oh, you’re the new student!” she called, her face dimpling when she smiled. She adjusted her glasses and consulted a sheet of paper. “Lissa Black.” She gestured around the room, and I saw Adam at a desk in the back. “Pick a seat.”
“Thanks.” I headed for Adam, checking out the other kids on the way.
One guy stood out. He had dark hair and blue eyes and a nose that looked like a creation by a very gifted plastic surgeon. I tried not to stare at him.
I plopped into the desk next to Adam’s and dropped my backpack. “What’s up?”
“I checked the snare this morning,” he murmured. “Still nothing.”
The bell rang. As Ms. Green hoisted herself from her chair, the chatter died down. “Time to take attendance,” she chirped. I glanced at each person as she called names, scouting for potential friends. No one looked too promising, but at least no one had a forked tail or horns.
The cute guy was named Todd Walker. Of course. Todd was definitely a cute-guy name. Just like Zac and Christian. Parents, want to make sure your kid grows up hot? Name him one of those.
“Now, I see a lot of familiar faces around the room, and a few unfamiliar ones,” Ms. Green said when she finished. “Well, just one unfamiliar one. Lissa, will you please come up here and introduce yourself?”
No teacher at St. Mary’s would have embarrassed a new kid like this.
Reluctantly, I stood and walked to the front of the class. I don’t mind public speaking, but I didn’t appreciate being forced to be funny and awesome on command.
“Hi, everyone.” I waved. “I’m Lissa Black. I just moved here.”
Ms. Green touched my shoulder. Her hand was warm and soft. “Why don’t you tell everyone a few things about yourself? Everyone! Lissa comes to us from New York City.” She enunciated each word with as much enthusiasm as if announcing that I’d moved to Freeburg from Mars.
I shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I’m pretty normal.” I paused, about to say something about life in New York.
Then I remembered my audience. These kids wouldn’t appreciate the story of how Taylor and I got in trouble for putting on a street performance in Union Square. Or when Casey and I paid Ian to break-dance in front of the subway, and that homeless guy threw a hot dog at him.
When I didn’t add anything, Ms. Green cleared her throat. “Ah. Well, we look forward to getting to know you. Now everyone, line up. It’s time to visit the library. Ten minutes to find some books, and then everyone head to the computer room, okay?”
We all murmured our assent before pushing toward the door. Todd cut right in front of Adam.
A short blonde girl on Todd’s right shoved him, not hard. “Raised in a barn much?”
“Baaaaaahhh.” Todd didn’t look back.
The blonde girl swiveled to face me. “I’m so lucky. I’ve gotten to go to school with him for seven whole years.” She didn’t seem at all bothered, though.
“I’m sure he’s good for something. Like science experiments.”
The girl laughed. “Yes! We can use him to test makeup. You hold him down, and I’ll get the lipstick.”
She had a great laugh—almost musical. It went with her big brown eyes and huge curls. In a movie, she’d be the main character’s adorable sidekick. Thoughtful and supportive. Specia
lizing in one-liners. Hmmm.
“I’m Candice,” she said, which was helpful since I’d already forgotten her name from attendance.
“Lissa.”
“Welcome to Freeburg.”
We filed into the tiny library and scattered like cockroaches. I browsed through the books and grabbed The Very Hungry Caterpillar and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie for Haylie. We had them at home, but they were packed away somewhere. I headed for the checkout counter.
The librarian had long brown hair and looked about Mom’s age. “You’re new here?” She smiled at me. Her bottom front teeth were crooked.
“Yeah, we just moved.”
“Oh, really? From where?”
“From New York. Upper East Side.”
“Wow, Freeburg must be a change for you. Lots more open spaces.”
You mean blank spaces, I thought silently.
“You like it so far?” she asked.
“I guess so.” I struggled to think of a compliment for the Land of Nothing. Or Nothin’, if you went by the locals. “It’s … safer. My mother says we can keep our doors unlocked and not worry about it.”
Her face darkened. “I wouldn’t do that. Especially at night. Because—”
“Hey there, Lisa.” I hadn’t even heard Todd sneak up behind me.
“Lissa,” I snapped, turning. For a cute guy, he sure was annoying. “Like Melissa. Not that difficult.”
“So can I call you Melissa then? I don’t think Lissa’s a real name.”
“Tell that to my parents.”
“You want me to meet your parents? I’m not sure if I’m ready for that. We just met, Melinda.”
“Whatever.” Picking up my books, I smiled at the librarian. “I don’t want to block the line. Thanks.”
I nodded at Todd as I sailed past him. Hopefully he’d get tired of his wrong-name-game soon.
The rest of the day was uneventful.
No, that isn’t an accurate way of putting it. It was depressing. According to my information packet, we weren’t going anywhere fun for field trips. The cafeteria menu didn’t include snack food, like hot pretzels with cheese. I’d already read the book they assigned us in Literature, and I hated that book.
Then, during PE, I discovered that the gym doubled as the auditorium. A dinky little stage was built into one of the walls in between the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms.
That was the first time I really felt like crying since arriving in Freeburg. Back at St. Mary’s, our auditorium was a stand-alone building with real theater seats. I tried to imagine my play coming alive onstage at this gym. I couldn’t.
When the day was over, Mom was parked outside the glass front doors of the school. “Well? How was it?”
I threw my backpack into the car and slid in. “Everything I thought it would be.” I looked out the window instead of at her.
“Oh, give me more. You must have something interesting to share.”
“Nope.” I was still staring out the window as we passed the community center. A white sign advertised a fish fry on September fourth. It was stupid, but that sign ticked me off. A fish fry? That was the most exciting thing going on in Freeburg?
“Nothing at all?” Mom prodded. I felt her eyes on me.
“Maybe if you find the lack of things interesting. Like a drama club. Not that I thought this hick school would have one.”
Mom moved her sunglasses to the top of her head and looked at me. “Lissa …”
“What?”
“You know what. I didn’t raise you to insult other people.”
I slouched and stared out the window again.
We drove the rest of the way home in icy silence. I hated this. Mom and I have always gotten along. But not lately. Another side effect of this place.
“I’m going for a hike,” I told her as soon as the car stopped in the driveway. “Bye.” I slammed the car door, hard, leaving my backpack.
“Lissa—” Mom began, but I pretended not to hear her. I skirted by Haylie’s new plastic playhouse and disappeared through the trees.
The woods felt alive. Up ahead, a woodpecker was going nuts, drilling into a tree. And a bobwhite kept calling, over and over again—wheet! wheet! Adam had taught me some birdcalls, but that was the only one I remembered.
I bent to pick up a long stick. I needed a weapon in case I ran into the Sasquatch. It would be like the whack-a-mole game—bop it on the head and run like crazy. But, honestly, at this point I doubted the Sasquatch would show up. He’d probably looked around Freeburg and decided it was too boring to terrorize.
Marching quickly, pushing back branches and stepping over roots, I forgot about my argument with Mom. Instead, I focused on not tripping and on keeping hyper-focused in case another creature showed up.
I finally spotted the crumbling brick cabin Adam had shown me. Pushing aside a branch with the stick, I rounded the cabin, scanning the area.
I glanced at the tree where Adam had set up the snare and realized something was dangling there. Something alive! It thrashed and twisted, and I couldn’t get a good look at it from so far away.
I dropped the walking stick, a scream catching in my throat. What was I supposed I do? Run for Adam or take a closer look at this thing?
Even though my knees were shaking and my breath was coming in gasps, I couldn’t resist. I picked up the stick again and tapped it against the brick cabin. “Hey!”
As I got closer, the creature twisted to look at me. “Help me!” it pleaded.
I lowered the stick. “Huh?”
This wasn’t the Sasquatch. It was a skinny, hairless thing less than half my size, with long pointy ears and a snout.
How many monsters did my woods have?
“I’m so glad you came,” it burbled in a squeaky voice. “I’ve been stuck up here for a long, long time. And my ankle hurts, and my leg’s asleep—and—and—” It hiccupped, and then started sobbing. Snot ran from its nose.
“Um. Uh…” My eyes moved to its body. The creature wore a ratty pair of shorts.
Now what? In monster movies, this was Step One of three:
Step One: Monster begs Girl for help.
Step Two: Girl feels sorry for Monster and frees it.
Step Three: Monster eats Girl.
I knew the steps. But as I stood there looking into the creature’s brown, sad eyes, I felt really bad for it. It was just so pathetic.
“I’ll be right back,” I found myself saying. “Promise.”
“No!” it shrieked, crying harder. “Don’t leave me!”
“I have to. I need to find something to cut you down.”
The monster reached a gnarled hand toward me. “Hurry. Please.”
I tore away as fast as I could, not slowing when thorns snagged my jeans. My heart was beating so fast I could actually hear it—thud, thud, thud—vibrating in my throat.
This is what they mean when they say “my heart was in my mouth,” I thought stupidly as I flew out of the woods.
Adam was in his driveway, standing in the bed of his dad’s pickup truck, hoisting big lumpy bags of grain down to Upchuck.
My feet kicked up gravel from the road. “Adam!” I screamed. “Adam, I need you!”
“What’s up, Lissa?” Adam asked, grunting. He hoisted a bag into Upchuck’s waiting arms. Upchuck took off in the direction of the barn, casting a look over his shoulder.
“I just came from the … place.” I lowered my voice when Adam’s dad emerged from the barn. “And … we … got something!”
Adam’s eyes widened. He kneeled to grab the last bag of feed, tossing it to his dad. “There. All done. Gotta go, Dad. Emergency.” He hopped down from the truck and sprinted with me toward the woods.
“Wait!” I cried before we hit the trees. “Do you have your Swiss Army knife?”
Adam shook his head like I’d said something really dumb. “Lissa. I’m a Boy Scout.”
Tearing through the woods, we heard the creature before we could see it—sniffli
ng and crying and carrying on.
“You’ve done it this time,” he was mumbling to himself as we rounded the corner of the brick cabin. “You can’t do anything right.”
“Holy—” Adam stopped dead, his mouth falling open.
The thing twisted around to see us. “You came back! I can’t believe it! Just like you promised!”
Adam looked at me. “You talked to it?”
“Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “Do you blame me? Look at it!”
The creature’s face was purple from dangling upside down. A puddle of tears and snot had pooled beneath it, drowning the bluebells growing there.
“Please let me down,” the monster pleaded. “It hurts!”
I tugged on Adam’s sleeve. “Maybe we can get it down and then tie it up?”
“Anything!” the creature cried. “I won’t run away. I promise!”
“Oh, yeah?” Adam asked in a tough voice. “And how do we know you’re not lying?”
The monster blinked at us. “My leg hurts,” it said softly.
I stepped forward. A hundred monster movies had taught me to do the exact opposite of what I was about to do.
“Let it down, Adam. We can tie it to the tree.”
Adam dug in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife. He shifted it from one hand to the other. “I don’t know …”
“Oh, come on. You’re like seven feet tall. You’re telling me you can’t handle this puny little thing?”
Adam bristled. “Of course I can. But what if this ‘puny little thing’ bites?”
The creature shook its head. “I won’t! I promise! I promise!”
“And nothing else funny, either,” I warned.
The monster sniffled. Adam stepped forward, bracing the monster with one hand while he sawed through the rope with the other. The rope gave and the monster dropped into Adam’s arms. Quickly, Adam bound it against the tree.
“Wow,” Adam said, rubbing his mouth. “This is really happening.”
Monsterville Page 5