How I Met My Monster (9780545510172)

by R. L. Stine

  He shrugged. “I come from a lot of places,” he said. He had a low, growly voice. He spoke slowly, like he was thinking hard about the answer. “My family … we move around a lot.”

  “Well, welcome to Franklin Pierce Middle School,” Mrs. Fielding said. “I’m sure everyone in class will help you feel at home here.” She pointed to the empty seat next to me. “You can take that desk next to Noah.”

  She’s the only person in the world who doesn’t call me Bean.

  Monroe made his way toward the desk. He had a funny, shuffling walk. He slid into the seat next to mine and dropped his backpack on the floor.

  Why does he look familiar? I asked myself again.

  He grinned at me. His two front teeth were crooked and stuck out like Bugs Bunny teeth. He brushed back his dark hair. “Hey, we have the same backpack.”

  I glanced down at my backpack at my feet. “Yeah. Guess so.”

  “I had to search all over for mine,” he said in his growly voice. “Everything is messed up at my place. We just moved into our new apartment this morning.”

  That’s where I saw him!

  “You moved into Sternom House this morning?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “I live there, too,” I said. “I’m Noah Bienstock. Everyone calls me Bean. I saw you and your family this morning.”

  “Hey, yeah? We’re neighbors?”

  Mrs. Fielding told everyone to take out a pencil and some paper. I leaned down and opened my backpack.

  “We move around a lot,” Monroe said. “It’s way tough. New school … new friends. You know. Hey, maybe you can show me where the lunchroom is later.”

  “Yeah. No problem,” I said.

  That reminded me that I didn’t have any lunch money. I glanced down the row of desks and saw Harlan. He had a huge grin on his face. I don’t know why. He was drumming his pencil on his desk and tapping his big feet, annoying everyone around him.

  My stomach growled. I was hungry already. It was going to be a long day. I started to write my name at the top of the paper.

  “Wow. You’re left-handed,” Monroe said. “Me too!” He bumped knuckles with me.

  I liked this guy. He seemed really friendly.

  I’d been thinking about how I needed to get over my shyness and make new friends. Maybe Monroe was the friend I needed.

  When the lunch bell rang, we stashed our backpacks in our lockers. Then I led him downstairs to the lunchroom. He carried an enormous brown lunch bag in one hand. It was almost as big as a shopping bag!

  The room was crowded and noisy as always. Some kids were tossing apples across the tables at each other. One boy got hit in the head. He let out a scream, and the apple war quickly stopped.

  I saw Harlan in the cafeteria line. His tray was stacked high with pizza slices. He was having a great lunch with the lunch money he took from Lissa and me. Harlan shoved the girl ahead of him in line, just because he likes to shove.

  I led Monroe to the table in back where I usually ate. We sat down across from each other. Monroe started to pull out sandwiches and cheese sticks and fruit snacks and other stuff from his giant lunch bag.

  He slid a sandwich over to me, and a carton of juice.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I had lunch money, but …”

  I saw Harlan at the next table. He had pizza sauce all over his fat face. He opened his mouth and let out a disgusting, loud burp. Everyone at his table laughed.

  Lissa stepped up to my table. She nodded to Monroe, then she turned to me. “Roz Hoff loaned me some money. Want to share my lunch?”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “Monroe is sharing his lunch with me.”

  Monroe flashed Lissa a grin. He had chunks of tuna fish stuck to his teeth.

  “Later,” Lissa said. She trotted toward the cafeteria line.

  I turned back to Monroe. He had a sandwich in each hand. He was stuffing them into his mouth, wolfing them down one after the other. He was almost swallowing them whole! He barely chewed them.

  After a while, he saw me staring at him. “My mom always packs a humongous lunch,” he said. “I have a MONSTER appetite.”

  Swim team tryouts were Friday after school. Monroe asked if he could come to the pool and watch. He said he could cheer me on.

  We’d been hanging out together all week. We were getting to be pretty good friends. I told him how tense I was about trying out. But I didn’t tell him about my nightmares.

  I guess I didn’t think I knew him well enough. I didn’t want him to think I was weird. Or maybe I didn’t want him to laugh at me when I said I dreamed about a monster pulling me under the water.

  But as Monroe and I stepped into the school swimming pool, I couldn’t force the horrible dream from my mind.

  My school is very lucky. We have an Olympic-size pool. It’s behind the main building. The walls are blue tile and the ceiling is a giant skylight. There are locker rooms at one end and bleachers on the sides for people to watch the swim meets.

  I took a deep breath. I love the smell of chlorine. Sunlight beamed down over the sparkling blue water. The air felt hot and steamy and made my face prickle.

  A few kids were already in the pool. They were doing warm-up exercises.

  Coach Waller is a huge dude. Really. He always reminds me of a light-haired version of the Hulk. He looks like he should be a wrestling coach. But he teaches math and coaches swimming and tennis.

  He came lumbering over to me as I stepped toward the locker room. “Bean, get changed. The pool is going to be crowded. Someone messed up the schedule. So we’re having boys’ team and girls’ team tryouts at the same time. We’ll swim the width of the pool instead of the length.”

  “This is my friend Monroe,” I said. “He just came to watch.”

  Waller eyed Monroe. “You’re the new kid, right? You don’t swim?”

  Monroe shrugged. “Not very well.”

  Waller pointed to the bleachers across the pool. “Go have a seat, Monroe. Bean, get moving. I want to see what you’ve got. I’m not looking for speed today. Just endurance.”

  Endurance?

  Did that mean he wanted to see how many laps I could swim?

  I felt a tremor of fear. My stomach did a slow flip-flop. My dad taught me to swim. He says I’ve got a really good stroke. But maybe he was just being nice. Maybe I’m not as good as the other guys. Maybe my swimming is totally lame.

  Waller hurried off to talk to some other swimmers. I gazed into the water. Ripples of sunlight made the whole pool seem to be rolling, as if it had waves.

  I saw Lissa in the deep end. She was warming up by swimming slow laps across the width of the pool. I waved to her, but I don’t think she saw me.

  Lissa, you got me into this. I hope it isn’t a total disaster.

  As I stepped into the locker room to change, my nightmare flashed back into my mind. I saw the monster’s dark shadow in the water, sliding toward me. And once again, I pictured the monster deep under the water, pulling me down … down.

  “No!”

  I didn’t realize I had screamed out loud. A couple of guys turned from their lockers to stare at me. I could feel myself blushing.

  At the far end of the room, I saw Harlan. He had a white towel in his hand, and he was snapping it against the back of a small, red-haired kid. The kid was begging Harlan to stop. Harlan just laughed and snapped him again.

  Back out at the pool, I did some stretching exercises. The pool was filling up with swimmers. Voices rang loudly off the tile walls. At one side of the pool, two boys were having a splashing contest. Coach Waller quickly broke it up and told the boys to start practicing their breast stroke.

  He motioned to me. “Bean, go out to the deep end and do some slow laps to warm up. Practice your underwater turns off the wall, okay? I’m going to test you first.”

  I nodded. My stomach flip-flopped again. Why did I have to go first?

  I lowered myself into the water. It was warmer than I expected. They keep the pool
heated pretty high. I floated away from the pool wall.

  Lissa was still doing her practice laps near the deep end. She glided easily with slow, steady strokes. I wished I could be as calm as she was.

  I looked for Monroe in the bleachers. I couldn’t find him. Maybe he got bored and changed his mind about watching.

  I ducked my head under the water. Then I edged between a group of girls and started to swim toward the deep end. I heard some guys laughing. Their laughter echoed off the walls. A whistle blew. The pool grew quieter.

  I began to swim. I felt pretty strong. I kept my head down and tried to keep my stroke steady. I did a lap across the pool, then a lap back.

  My heart beat faster. I raised my swim goggles and searched for Lissa. But she wasn’t there. She must have finished her warm-up.

  I decided to do a few more laps. Moving through the water so easily was helping me get rid of my fear. I was suddenly glad to be tested first. I felt strong and confident.

  I swam a few more strokes, kicking hard. And then a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach made me stop.

  Something down there. Something under the water.

  It wasn’t a hunch. I knew it.

  I knew there was something dark and ugly down below.

  I bobbed on the surface, breathing hard. My arms … my legs … they froze.

  Water splashed my face. I struggled to slow my racing heart.

  Not my imagination … I’m not dreaming this….

  I had to look down. I had to see it. I had to prove to myself that I wasn’t crazy. My fear was real — because the creature in the water was real.

  I lowered my head and peered down into the blue-green ripples of water.

  Yes! I saw something move. A flash of black.

  A shadow sliding through the water. Gliding like a huge manta ray. Like a winged bat. A big dark blot deep in the water … moving forward rapidly … coming for me.

  The monster was coming for me. Ready to grab me and pull me down.

  I saw it. I saw its inky shadow.

  My nightmare has come true!

  Gasping, shivering, I raised my head. And my shrill scream of terror echoed off the high pool walls.

  It grabbed me.

  I felt its cold tentacle as it wrapped around my neck.

  My scream cut off. My breath cut off.

  I tugged hard. Blindly, I struggled to free myself from its grasp.

  But it was stronger than me. It tightened around my neck and started to pull me.

  I thrashed the water. Tried to kick at it. But I was helpless in its grasp.

  And then I heard its voice in my ear: “Dude — stop fighting me.”

  Huh?

  I turned my head — and saw Harlan. Harlan had his arm around my shoulder. He was pulling me toward the shallow end.

  “Stop fighting me, you jerk!” he cried. “I’m rescuing you. What’s your problem?”

  My body went limp. I let out a long whoosh of air. I could see kids watching, alarmed looks on their faces, as Harlan dragged me across the pool. A group of girls huddled together, pointing at me, all talking at once.

  I knew my life was ruined. I was doomed. Totally doomed.

  From now on, people would talk about my panic attack. For the rest of my life, people would see me and remember how I had screamed like a baby in the school swimming pool. How I froze in terror and had to be pulled to safety by the worst person in the world — Harlan Egman.

  “Just kill me now,” I told Harlan. “Please. Let me drown right here. I’m begging you.”

  He unwrapped his arm from my shoulders and helped me stand in the shallow end. “Hey, I just saved your life, moron!” He slapped me hard on the shoulder. “Do you know why?”

  “Because you believe human life is sacred?”

  That made him roar with laughter. “No. Because now you’ll be buying me lunch forever!”

  He laughed again and pushed me up the ladder and out of the pool. I stood dripping on the pool edge. Everyone still stared.

  Coach Waller came rumbling toward me. “Bean? What was that all about?” he demanded.

  Before I could answer, Harlan came up behind me. He grabbed the sides of my swim trunks in both hands — and tugged them down to my ankles!

  Will I ever forget the sound of the screams and the laughter as I stood there totally naked?

  What’s your guess?

  Somehow I survived the rest of the day. At dinner, when Mom and Dad asked how the swim team tryout went, I lowered my head and mumbled into my mashed potatoes.

  “Can’t hear you, Bean,” Dad said.

  I mumbled again.

  “Guess it didn’t go well,” Mom said.

  “Guess it didn’t,” I said. I could feel myself blushing again. I started to blush every time I thought about standing there in front of everyone with my swim trunks down at my ankles.

  Monday morning, I met Monroe outside our building, and we walked to school. Monroe talked about the science assignment.

  At the end of the block, I stopped. “Did you see what Harlan did to me at the pool on Friday?” I said.

  Monroe shook his head. “No. I had to leave.”

  I squinted at him. “You had to leave?”

  “I got a text from my mom, and I had to go home. What happened at the pool? Did you make the team?”

  “I made the Embarrassed-For-Life team,” I told him. I explained what happened.

  “Wow,” Monroe said. “Wow.”

  “After I pulled my trunks up, Coach Waller asked me to stay and try out,” I said. “But I couldn’t. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.”

  Monroe groaned. “Did the coach punish Harlan?”

  “No. Waller had his back turned. He didn’t see Harlan do it.” I sighed. “I really thought I saw a shadow moving in the water. It wasn’t just a panic attack. I’ve got monsters on the brain. I have to find a way to get over it.”

  We crossed the street. Two girls on bikes rolled by. They started to laugh. I wondered if they were laughing about me.

  “This guy Harlan is a bad dude,” Monroe said.

  “Yes. He is a —” I stopped. I saw the big jerk thundering across a lawn, waving to us. “Oh, no. Here he comes.”

  We stopped and watched him. His backpack flapped on his back. His big shoes thudded loudly on the ground.

  I grabbed Monroe’s arm. “Listen. Do whatever he says. Really. Don’t argue with him or try to fight him. I’m serious. He really will hurt you.”

  Monroe pulled away from me. “Forget that,” he said in a low voice. “You hold his arms — and I’ll bite his throat.”

  I gasped. “Huh? What did you say?”

  “Just kidding,” Monroe whispered. His hair had fallen over his eyes. He brushed it back. He had a strange expression on his face. I couldn’t tell if it was anger — or fear. “It was a joke, Bean.”

  “Well, don’t joke with Harlan,” I warned. “He doesn’t get jokes. Be careful. Do whatever he says.”

  Harlan bumped up against me, breathing hard. I stumbled back a few steps. He had big drops of sweat rolling down his forehead. His eyes slid from me to Monroe.

  “Hey, new kid,” he snarled at Monroe. “Think you’re tough?”

  “No,” Monroe answered softly.

  Harlan snapped his fingers over Monroe’s nose. “Think you’re tough as me?”

  “No,” Monroe replied. His nose turned bright red. “I don’t think I’m tough.”

  “Did Beany Boy tell you how I de-pantsed him yesterday?”

  Monroe nodded. “Yes. He told me.”

  Harlan snapped Monroe’s nose again.

  “Oww.” Monroe rubbed his sore nose.

  “That’s a big lunch bag you got there,” Harlan said. He squeezed Monroe’s lunch with a big paw.

  “Yeah, kinda,” Monroe said.

  Harlan grinned. “Since you’re a new kid, I’m gonna give you a break.”

  “A break?”

  “Yeah. I�
�ll let you give me your whole lunch.”

  Monroe’s mouth dropped open. “That’s a break?”

  “Yeah,” Harlan replied. “I know I’m too nice, but I can’t help it. Hand it over.” Harlan stuck out his hand, waiting for Monroe to give him the lunch bag.

  But Monroe pulled back. He raised his eyes and stared hard at Harlan. Monroe’s whole body tensed, and he gritted his teeth.

  Oh, no. Please, no. What’s he going to do? Monroe, please don’t try to fight Harlan.

  “Okay. Here,” Monroe said. He stuck his lunch bag into Harlan’s outstretched hand.

  I let out a sigh of relief. I was sure Monroe was about to do something crazy. And fighting Harlan is crazy.

  Harlan tossed the bag in the air and then caught it in both hands. Then he took his thumbs and smeared both lenses on my glasses. Then he spun away and ran off laughing. What a pig.

  I turned back to Monroe. His face was bright red and he was panting like an animal. Both of his hands were balled into tight fists.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. It was trembling. His whole body was trembling.

  “Calm down,” I said. “Take a breath. There is nothing we can do about Harlan.”

  Monroe’s color slowly returned to normal. But he was still panting.

  “He’s a monster,” I said. “He’s giving me bad dreams. Really.”

  Monroe squinted at me. “You have nightmares about Harlan?”

  “About a monster,” I said. “I think the monster is Harlan. Lissa says if I ever stood up to Harlan, the dreams would stop. But … I’m too afraid.”

  A car horn honked as a black Volvo rolled by. Some kids waved at us from the backseat. We started walking again. It was a cloudy gray morning. The air felt damp and hot.

  “I think I’ll run ahead,” Monroe said. “Sometimes it helps me calm down if I run.”

  Before I could reply, he took off. He leaned way forward and ran as if he were charging at something. He rocketed across the street without looking for traffic and kept going.

  I trotted behind him. I didn’t feel like running that hard. Halfway down the block, our school came into view.

  Suddenly, the clouds parted and a beam of sunlight washed down, so surprising and bright, I had to shut my eyes.