Monsterville

by Sarah S. Reida

  “Whatcha doing up so late?” I asked, sitting next to her and pulling my legs up underneath me. “Drawing a masterpiece?”

  Haylie looked up and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Trying to get them right,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “The monsters.”

  “From the game?” I glanced at the box. Where did it fit in with Monster and Down Below?

  Maybe it was just a game owned by some batty old lady. Maybe, since Aunt Lucy believed in supernatural stuff—which had allowed Monster to crawl out from under her bed—someone had bought her the game. And that was all there was to it. The game was just a red herring in this twisted mystery.

  Haylie picked up a fat purple crayon. “My new friend says monsters are real.”

  I smiled. “Oh, yeah? You made a new friend in preschool today?”

  Haylie shook her head. “When I was drawer-ing. He wanted to borrow my crayons. And I said, ‘I need all of them.’”

  I looked at the packs of markers and crayons spread out all over the bed. “Haylie, you should always share. Otherwise, why would other kids share with you later?”

  “That’s what he said! He said if I gave him my crayons, he’d bring me flowers.”

  Ha, ha. My little sister was only four, and already dudes were bringing her flowers. She’d be unstoppable by the time she reached high school.

  “So then what happened?” I asked, playing with her hair. Its softness reminded me of corn silk. Absentmindedly, I braided it, then dropped it and combed through it with my fingers.

  “I gave him ten crayons.” Haylie scribbled on the poster board. “Blue, pink, green, blue, um—pink, red … for ten flowers …” She trailed off, yawning.

  “For ten flowers? That’s a pretty good deal.”

  “I know.” Haylie smiled happily. Then she yawned again, so wide I could see her tonsils.

  “All right, Hails. Time for bed.”

  Haylie helped me put her poster board and crayons away in her little plastic desk. I tucked her under the covers and shut off the light.

  “Good night, Haylie,” I whispered from the door. But she was already asleep.

  SCENE THREE:

  DRESS REHEARSAL

  The next day, Adam and I met up early to hang out with Monster. It was like preparing for camp—I emptied my backpack and filled it with food and books and other stuff to entertain us. And, of course, Dad’s handheld camera. Adam carried three fold-up lawn chairs.

  For now, I’d just focus on getting footage of Monster—experiment with different camera angles, try some dialogue I’d been working on. I liked the idea of ad-libbing part of the script. That can turn out awesome. Like in Raiders of the Lost Ark, where Indiana Jones flat out shoots the guy he’s sword fighting. It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. It was supposed to be a long drawn-out sword fight where Indiana Jones wins in the end, but Harrison Ford got food poisoning and was like, “enough of this—I’ve got a gun—bang!”

  “Monster, we’re here!” I hollered when we got to the brick cabin. “You asleep?” I unfolded one of the lawn chairs and placed it near the Queen Anne’s lace and bluebells. They were everywhere.

  Monster bounded out of the cabin. “Nope! I’m awake! And hungry!” He eyed our backpacks.

  Adam sighed. “Monster, you need to learn to control your appetite.” But he unzipped his backpack and dumped the contents on the ground. “Just don’t eat it all at once.”

  Monster sat down and pawed through the pile. He tore open a package of Pop-Tarts and ate them in two seconds. Then he opened a can of soda and drank it in one gulp.

  I unzipped my own backpack and pulled out the camera. “You guys ready?”

  “What’s that for?” Monster asked, one long finger brushing against the lens.

  “To film you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because later we can watch the video of you turning into different kinds of monsters. And you can pick which one you want to be. Based on what’s scariest.”

  Monster’s eyes widened. “Like a movie? Like Finding Nemo?”

  Adam and I exchanged a glance. A chill traveled up my spine, despite the warm September day. “How do you know what Finding Nemo is?” I asked Monster.

  “I don’t … know.” Monster wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Are you sure? What’s it about?” I prodded.

  “There’s the orange fish that gets lost. And the funny blue fish who talks a lot.” Then Monster sucked in his lips like he’d said too much.

  “How do you know that?”

  Monster plucked a dandelion from the ground and rubbed it between his fingers, turning the tips yellow. “Maybe Down Below, in the beginning. The other monsters did lots of things to make us feel better. They were very nice,” he said mechanically. Something was off.

  Adam didn’t seem to notice. He leaned closer to Monster. “In the beginning? Beginning of what?”

  Monster reached for a twig and snapped it in half. “Beginning of being a monster.”

  “So you became one?” Adam asked. “You weren’t born one? Do you remember how?”

  That was a question I’d been dying to ask Monster, but it seemed rude, like the time Ann Vater asked Taylor if she believed in God even though her family’s from Ethiopia.

  Monster looked at his bare feet. They were dirty from the ground. “I kind of remember,” he said tentatively.

  “You weren’t hatched?” Adam asked.

  “Nooo …”

  “Well, what’s the first thing you remember?” I asked in the same nice, soft voice I use on Haylie when she’s about to put something gross in her mouth.

  “I remember … a flash of light. And a lot of other goblins. Some of them looked really upset. Then Atticus came and took four of us away.”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “Then what happened?”

  Monster covered his ears. “No! I’m not talking about this anymore.”

  “But, Monster—”

  “No!” he screeched so loud that birds flew out of the trees.

  I put up my hands. “Okay, okay. We don’t have to talk about it. Why don’t we just start practicing?” With a pang, I thought of all the practicing Taylor and Casey were doing for the seventh grade play without me. Not just that—painting the set, hanging out with the crew … I was missing every single second.

  “Turning,” Monster corrected me.

  “Turning?”

  “That’s what we call changing into different kinds of monsters. It has to be really quiet and really still.”

  “Okay,” I said, folding my hands in my lap. I figured if Monster got upset enough, he might not let me film him.

  He headed back inside his little red cabin, and Adam and I settled into our lawn chairs. I felt like we were gearing up to watch one of those goofy off-Broadway plays where the actors wander into the audience.

  A minute crawled by and Monster still hadn’t come outside.

  “Come out, Monster!” Adam called. “We’re ready to be scared!”

  “Yeah, come out, Monster!” I yelled, hoisting the camcorder. “Action!”

  I could hear shuffling footsteps from inside the cabin. Hairy brown paws curled around the doorframe. A long, furry brown face with red eyes and pointy teeth stuck its head out.

  “Grrrrrrrrrr!” Monster’s red eyes flashed.

  “Oh no! A werewolf!” I screamed, trembling so the camcorder would shake. The footage was kind of cheesy, but I’d get better.

  Monster dropped to all fours and loped over to us, bumping my knee with his head. Drool spattered onto my foot.

  “Cut!” I shut off the camera. “Gross, Monster. Did you have to do that?”

  Monster sat on his haunches and grinned, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Gradually, he transformed—the fur disappearing back into his skin, his body shortening and getting skinnier, his ears popping up. Soon he was back to his normal self.

  Well, depending on what you defined as normal.


  “Was that good?” he asked hopefully.

  “Pretty good. I think that one could be really terrifying if you practiced more. Now”—I reached for my backpack and dug through it—“I think you should try a zombie.” I pulled out a comic book and held it out, pointing to a page. “See how they drool on themselves and walk with their arms all sticking out? That’s what you need to do.”

  Monster stared at the page, his forehead knitted.

  Adam stood up and stretched. “Here, I’ll show you.” He dangled his arms in front of him and stumbled forward. “Braaiiiinns.”

  I rolled my eyes. “A little cliché, don’t you think?”

  Adam turned to me, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Brains?”

  “Just because you don’t have one, that doesn’t mean you can take mine.” I laughed at the blank look in Adam’s eyes. “Seriously, that’s a good zombie. Monster, take notes!”

  I stood up and held out my arms, too. “See, you have to drool a little more,” I told Adam. “And make sure you keep that glazed-over expression. That shouldn’t be hard for you.”

  “Brains!” Adam launched himself at me, pushing me face-first into a pile of dead leaves. He sat on me. “Zombie. Win!”

  “Ugh.” I struggled to get up, but Adam was way too heavy even though I could tell he wasn’t putting all his weight on me. Finally he let me go, pulling me up easily with one hand.

  “You fell down.” He grinned at me while I brushed leaves and dirt off my jeans.

  “Yeah, how’d that happen?” I grumbled, my face burning. I wasn’t sure why. Falling down doesn’t usually embarrass me.

  Monster shifted from one foot to the other. “I think I’m ready to try.” We took our seats. Quietly, I raised the camera and turned it on. “Action!”

  Monster’s body lengthened and widened. Tufts of brown hair sprang from his smooth scalp, and his ears shrank. His eyes sank farther into his head, and his skin tone changed from bluish-white to light green. His long, gnarled fingers became stubbier, the nails moldy and black.

  As he reached for us, chunks of skin fell from his rotten arms. “Braiiinns!” he roared, so loud my hair blew back.

  Adam and I applauded. “Great job!” I told him. “Now, drool on yourself.”

  Monster opened his mouth, but when he did, his jawbone dropped out and hit the ground. It bounced.

  “Oops.” He knelt down and stuck it back where it belonged. Instantly, he changed back into a goblin. I blinked and missed it.

  “Still fantastic,” I said. “That actually looked real. I can’t wait to see your blob.”

  “Blob?”

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat and recited the rhyme on the card:

  “A blob’s truly a disgusting slob

  Like gelatin, a quivering glob.

  You could pass by, but don’t even try

  Only a straight path keeps you alive.”

  Monster looked tired as he picked up a dead leaf with his knobby fingers. “I’ll try that one later. But I did okay for now, right?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded encouragingly. “I totally believed you were a real zombie.”

  “Thank you,” he said. I might as well have told him his hair looked nice.

  Adam and I stayed with Monster until it was time for lunch, taking turns with the camcorder. Monster got some sharp footage of a woodpecker drilling a rotting sycamore tree. But eventually, Adam and I had to leave.

  “We’ll be back tonight,” I said. “And look! We brought you more books! Ones with good pictures.”

  I pulled a stack of Haylie’s favorites out of my backpack. There were Berenstain Bears books, with a few Dr. Seuss ones mixed in.

  Monster reached for one with a bright orange cover. “Thanks.” His lower lip jutted out.

  I hated leaving him. I worried about wild animals, and if his cabin would hold up, and whether he was lonely or scared or hungry.

  Adam and I headed through the woods and popped out in my backyard. Haylie was hanging out near her playhouse, lying on her stomach and scribbling on more poster board.

  “Hey, Haylie,” I called, but she didn’t look up. I shrugged and headed for the kitchen with Adam. We ate a quick lunch and went back outside to tell Haylie to come in.

  I poked my head into her pink house—which was about the size of my bathtub—and found her fast asleep, her chest rising and falling and her cheek tucked into Sammy Squirrel. A blanket was draped over her.

  I smiled. She looked so sweet lying there, like a little angel.

  “Haylie!” I whispered softly, tapping her shoulder. “Time to get up. Mom wants you to come inside. Is that okay?”

  Haylie reached out her arms, and I scooped her up. I staggered under her weight. “Oof! You’re getting heavy.”

  “Am not.” Haylie wrapped her arms around my neck. She smelled like animal crackers and baby powder.

  “Sure, you aren’t. Adam, can you grab her drawing? I don’t want it getting rained on or anything.”

  “Got it.” Adam stuck his head in the playhouse. He inhaled sharply, drawing his head back so fast he banged it on the doorway. “Ouch!”

  “What?”

  “Look in here,” he said tightly.

  I bent to peer through a window. In the corner of the house, in a neat little pile, was a cluster of flowers—bluebells and Queen Anne’s lace and an umbrella plant. My throat constricted and I put Haylie down, gently, on the picnic table.

  “Haylie,” I said sweetly, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. “Those are pretty flowers.”

  She blinked up at me, kicking her legs. “Yes.”

  “Where did you get those pretty flowers?”

  “I told you.” Haylie raised her little shoulders. “From my friend.”

  “Does your friend have a name?”

  Haylie pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not yet. So right now I call him Monster.”

  I closed my eyes. Monster had shown himself to Haylie. Didn’t he know how dangerous that could be? What if Mom looked out the back window and spotted him?

  Adam looked as upset as I felt. His face was pinched, and he kept running his hands through his hair. “Haylie, you can’t tell anyone about Monster. Do you understand?”

  “Why not? He’s my friend.”

  I thought quickly. “Yes, but he’s a secret friend. Kind of like Clive, remember?”

  Clive was Haylie’s imaginary friend back when she was three. Don’t ask me where she got that name. It was all, “Clive doesn’t like that show,” and “Clive needs chocolate,” and “Clive says it’s scary at night without two lights on.” Then, one day, Haylie announced that Clive had moved to Pittsburgh, and that was the end of him.

  “But with Monster,” I told Haylie, “people can see him if you’re not careful. So you need to make sure that people don’t. Otherwise they might take him away.”

  Haylie’s eyes got so big I felt terrible for scaring her, even if it was necessary. “Okay,” she said in a small voice.

  I smiled at her. “Now, come on.” I picked her up again and carried her toward the house.

  As we climbed the stairs to the back deck, I stole a glance over my shoulder. It might have been my imagination, but I swore I saw something move at the edge of the woods. Something that was light blue, and short, with pointy ears.

  Something that was in big trouble.

  SCENE FOUR:

  MONSTER DISCIPLINE

  Adam had to help his dad with the yard, leaving me to discipline our new pet. I charged through the woods, getting madder every time a branch smacked me or a bush scratched me. Seriously, how dumb could he be?

  “Monster!” I screamed when I got to his building. I stormed in.

  “Eeek!” Monster leapt onto his mattress in the corner and tossed a blanket over his head. I grabbed a corner and tugged it off. Monster put his hands over his eyes.

  “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t do anything!”

  “Oh, yeah? Then how come you’re acting scared of
me?”

  “Because you’re acting mad.” Monster kept his hands over his eyes. He trembled, fat tears splashing the mattress.

  I sighed. “Monster, uncover your eyes. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “But you’re mad!”

  “Yeah. Because you did something really stupid. You showed yourself to my sister. What if she was the kind of kid who cries and tattles?”

  Monster lowered his hands. He looked annoyed. “Haylie would never tell on me. She’s my friend.”

  “Well, yeah. But you didn’t know that, did you?”

  “No.”

  “See?”

  “But she didn’t.” Monster hopped across his bed and pulled something out from underneath it gingerly. “And look what she made me.”

  It was the poster board Haylie had been coloring on, covered in blobs and scribbles.

  “Wow. That’s … colorful.”

  “I know! Isn’t it pretty? It took her hours and hours. Plus she gave me her crayons.” He looked triumphant.

  “That’s right,” I remembered. “Ten crayons for ten flowers.”

  “Yup.” Monster traced a long finger around a shape on the picture. “She gave me all the good colors.”

  I cracked a smile. “That sounds like Haylie.” Then I shook my head. “No! You’re distracting me. I’m trying to lecture you.” I squatted down to be eye level with him. “Monster, you’re lucky that Haylie didn’t rat you out. But I’m telling you, letting people know about you is dangerous. You need to stay here, okay?”

  Monster flopped onto his bed. “But it’s boring here! And Haylie gave me crayons.”

  “Well, you can use them here. Right?”

  Monster’s lower lip jutted out. “It’s not as fun, though. And Haylie said she’d bring coloring books next time. And Oreos.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. “Monster, you’re giving me a headache.”

  “I’m sorry,” Monster said, putting his chin in his hands. “But I’m lonely.”

  I sat down next to him, putting an arm around his bony shoulders. “You won’t be lonely forever. Adam and I will help you figure out what kind of monster you should be, and then you can go back Down Below to be with your friends.”