The Last Monster

by Ginger Garrett

  Mom must have finished her call, because she was walking toward us now, a big smile on her face. Today had been a really good day for her.

  Olympias stood and loomed over me, blocking out my mother and the sun. In her shadow, the cold crept back over my body.

  “Aristotle—and Xeno and the rest of his students—believed that the search for truth was a good thing. But you know, Sofia, what happens when people see the truth. How kind are people to those who are weak or different? Knowing the truth about the world, about ourselves, will never lead to peace. Xeno wants you to seek the truth, but he never explained what truth costs.”

  Frowning, I tried to catch a glimpse of my mom. Olympias smiled at my nervousness.

  “I’m not evil, Sofia, and I am not your enemy. But I have made one last monster who will take everything you hold dear and smash it to bits, piece by piece, until you realize that what I offer the world is far better than truth.”

  When I got home, I locked my window and didn’t take the book out from under the bed. It glowed once, briefly, but I looked away, pretending not to see it. Two weeks ago, I hadn’t even believed in monsters. Now I did, but Olympias wanted to challenge everything else I believed.

  Mom had dumped some laundry on my bed, so I got to work separating the pile.

  Talking to Olympias had made me sick to my stomach, like that feeling you get when you realize too late that an assignment is due. When I opened the Bestiary, I hadn’t known that anyone from the ancient past was going to come looking for me, especially someone like her.

  I found a pair of socks and rolled them together. I hated wearing one sock; it made my phantom foot cold.

  Grabbing a shirt, I replayed everything Olympias had said, and one thing stuck with me, a thought that lodged itself in my brain as unwelcome as a seed caught in my teeth: What does truth cost?

  I knew part of the answer: the price of truth was pain. Billy had said that too. Even I avoided it sometimes. That didn’t make me a bad person. It just meant that I really loved my mom and I guess I loved Alexis too. I loved her enough to refuse to tell her the truth about why we couldn’t be friends yet. I did want to be friends once I was stronger and she didn’t have to worry about me. When I could be happy to see her running with someone new, I’d know it was time. Right now, it would be a lie.

  And Alexis knew when I was lying. Sometimes she laughed at me for it and sometimes it made her mad. Alexis was like salt. She usually made everything better, but if her words touched on some wound I was trying to ignore, they stung like crazy. She was never mean; she was just always right.

  I opened my dresser drawer and tucked my underwear inside. The socks went in next; then I’d hang the shirts and be done.

  Why were relationships so complicated?

  I grabbed a hanger and started the last little bit of my chore.

  Was I happier now without a best friend? Could I be happy without any friends at all? I wouldn’t have to worry about making mistakes and hurting people. I used to be completely alone at school. Maybe I had been happier then, even if I didn’t think so at the time. Grabbing a shirt to hang up, I flinched at the memory of the day it all started.

  In first grade, my mom bought a shirt for me at a garage sale for a quarter. I loved it. It had a lion made out of gold glitter, but everywhere I went, I left specks of glitter behind. When I wore it to school, Candy pretended that the glitter was germs, and all the girls took big steps to avoid touching me and the glitter germs. I kept my head down all day so no one would see the tears brimming in my eyes, and tried to avoid calling attention to myself.

  Mom washed my shirt that night and hung it back in my closet, but I had vowed to never wear it again. Being the odd girl out, even for just a day, had been the most painful thing I’d ever experienced.

  In the wash, the glitter got all over my other clothes. For months after that, Candy would point to a speck of glitter on me, and then everyone would talk to each other behind hands cupped at their mouths. Of course, glitter was used everywhere in elementary school, so I never escaped the teasing.

  I eventually just learned to keep to myself. But if it sucked not having friends, at least I didn’t have to worry all the time about hurting someone’s feelings, or getting hurt either.

  The last shirt was hung and I could finally sit on my bed.

  So maybe truth hurt, but what hurt worse: being hurt by the truth or by someone you loved? It was the kind of question a philosopher would ask. I grinned a little and made a note to tell Xeno.

  Which was more painful, truth or love?

  I inhaled sharply because I had this weird thought.

  What if they were the same thing?

  Monday, March 3

  Mom’s alarm clock buzzed without end. She was already downstairs and refused to come up to turn it off.

  She was pretty mad when I finally made it into the kitchen. I was moving slowly since I was tired; plus I couldn’t find a head scarf or bandana to match my outfit and it had taken me forever to get dressed. I wasn’t sure what the rule was for matching. I only knew nail polish should match on both fingertips and toes, and not to wear white bras after Labor Day or something. I made a mental note to read a fashion magazine and figure this stuff out once and for all.

  Mom was stuffing papers from the table into her briefcase and tried to grab one that fluttered away. She quickly read it before she stuffed it in her bag. “Sofia, when were you going to mention this?”

  I could tell it was from school by the logo at the top. My brain raced to think of what else I had recently neglected to tell her.

  “The school dance?” she said. “In sixth grade, you told me that more than anything, you wanted to go and dance with a cute boy.”

  “No one asked me in sixth grade,” I reminded her.

  “So?”

  “No one asked me this year either.” I faked a big bright smile. “Maybe life really is getting back to normal.”

  At lunch, I loaded up my tray with double the amount of cookies and a little bitty salad. Mom was making me eat plenty of vegetables at home. A lunch lady grabbed one of the cookies and put an apple in its place, giving me a wink. “We all want to keep you healthy, dear.”

  I walked outside to our butterfly garden, a big area in the middle of the school with a bunch of picnic tables. All the plants had been chosen by the Science Club to attract butterflies, and when it was butterfly season and the place was filled with dozens of them, it was amazing. Right now everything was dead.

  I spied Alexis sitting alone at a table. I used to always sit next to Alexis on her right, because she’s a leftie. My body moved toward her by instinct, seeing her with no one on her right. That was my place, ever since the beginning of sixth grade last year.

  I pulled back, reminding myself that our friendship was a tangled mess and I couldn’t unravel it in one day. Even if I wanted to, I would need time and space to concentrate and get my words right. I had to make sure she didn’t feel guilty, and I needed to be strong enough to be happy for her that she still had her leg, her hair, and her whole life.

  Happy, happy, happy, I said under my breath. So much happiness. Like stabbing a fork in your eye.

  Maybe someday she would understand that I had to do it this way because I loved her. Tears blurred my vision and I blinked hard to clear them. I just wasn’t ready yet.

  The track team flooded outside as I stood there, and a loud-mouthed brunette grabbed the seat to Alexis’s right. My spot was gone. Alexis sat with her back to me, so she hadn’t seen me hesitating. I hung my head and moved toward an empty table.

  I lowered myself with a soft groan, my butt sore from the hard plastic chairs in class. Why did they make desks and chairs so cold and hard? Were they afraid we might start to actually enjoy learning?

  Above me, the sky was ice blue with thick white clouds. A sliver of the moon was visible, a pale shimmer beyond the clouds.

  “It’s a waxing crescent,” Billy said, setting his tray across from
mine. “ ‘Waxing’ means ‘growing.’ ” I noticed he took a package of carrots from his tray and stuffed them in his pocket. “I looked it up. But no more snow in the forecast. I think winter is almost over.”

  People were starting to claim the tables all around us. There was no place I could sit without pretending I wanted to join someone’s clique.

  I opened my milk and took a sip, not looking at Billy. His knee grazed mine under the table. The butterflies I was longing for suddenly appeared in my stomach. I shifted to the right to avoid touching him in case he didn’t want to touch me again.

  “I looked for you all morning,” he said, unfolding his napkin and setting it on his lap. “We never had a chance to catch up last week. You should give me your number.”

  I had never given my number to a guy. My mind went blank, like the blue screen of death on a computer. What was my number? I had no idea.

  He placed his plastic fork on the left and spoon on the right, then began scooting the cheese off his mystery slop with his knife. “So anyway, first, don’t let Candy get to you again. And second, I wanted to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, being the new guy sucks, because the girls always chase me and the other guys don’t like it. So I end up alone and just try to keep things interesting until I get kicked out again. But you didn’t chase me, and I thought it was because you were cool. But then I realized, maybe you just don’t like me. Not that I really care, but I’m sorry if you actually hate me and I got it all wrong.”

  “No,” I said. “I like you.”

  He scowled and narrowed his eyes at me.

  “A lot!” I added.

  His face brightened. “That’s what I thought.”

  I felt like an idiot and changed the subject. “Why do you do it?”

  He raised one eyebrow, so I clarified the question. “Why do you want to be the bad kid and get in trouble all the time?”

  He bit his bottom lip, thinking. “I think…I’m trying to make a point.”

  “To who?” I asked.

  He frowned, anger flashing in his eyes. “If you have to ask, then it’s obviously not you.” Shaking his head to dismiss the conversation, he picked up his fork and pointed it at me. “Anyway, we should go to the dance.”

  “What about the goats?” I said, pretending I hadn’t heard him.

  “They already turned me down,” Billy said.

  I struggled not to laugh. “No, I mean, what did you do with them?”

  “The fire department returned them to the owner, and I gave my dad’s intern a twenty for the help. Everyone went home happy.”

  His fork hovered over the salad that he hadn’t even looked at. He was too busy staring at me.

  “It drives me crazy when people get food they know they aren’t going to eat,” I blurted. “Why not just say ‘No, thank you’ to the lunch lady? Why pretend you’re going to eat the salad if you know you’re really going to throw it away?” My voice rose up a little at the end, and I wanted to run for the nearest exit in embarrassment.

  He wiped his mouth with the napkin before answering. “You’re kinda weird.” He took another bite of his meat slop and jabbed his fork back in my direction. “But I admire your sense of justice. I mean, who else would stick up for a defenseless side salad? You’re a vegetable vigilante.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. It’s too bad they don’t make EpiPens for episodes of life-threatening embarrassment.

  “I’d like to take you to the dance,” he said, loading another spoonful of cheesy glob. “If you’re not too busy saving helpless produce.”

  “For one thing, it’s called a dance,” I said. “And I don’t dance.” Why did I sound angry when I was scared? I didn’t mean to. I just needed to cut him off before this got out of control. I had enough problems, like Xeno, Alexis, monsters, and my mom. I didn’t want a new one called Billy and another one called dancing.

  Billy opened his eyes wide, like I was missing something painfully obvious. “No, actually, it’s called a date, and you should try it. You’ve never been very nice to me, and I’m your only boy friend.” He took another bite, then paused. “I am your only boy friend, right?”

  “Yes!” I said. “No!”

  He grinned.

  “I meant no. You’re not my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve never had a boyfriend.” Why did I have to say that? I clenched my fists and considered leaping up from the table, then remembered it wouldn’t be much of a leap. I’d only embarrass myself more if I tried to run.

  “I am a boy and I am your friend, right? Don’t make it complicated. Look, if you’re scared about the dancing, I can teach you a move, if you want,” he said. “I learned it from the Internet. All you have to do is bend over a little at the waist and pretend to write your name in the air with your butt. Boom! You’re dancing.”

  “Stop,” I said. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m not fierce! I’m…” I looked down at my lap. “Do you know what an insurance company once called me?” I asked softly. “A liability.”

  Billy stared at me for a long time. I could feel it by the growing burn in my cheeks.

  “Maybe I understand that better than you know,” he said; then he slapped his palm on the table.

  “You don’t need to learn to dance,” he said, and with the other hand grabbed the edge of my lunch tray. “You need to learn to fight back.”

  “I feel like all I do is fight.”

  “Well, not for the right things, then. Sofia, you may need me more than you realize.”

  I looked up and glared at him. Why did everyone want to make me their pet project?

  “I’ll teach you. Let’s start with your lunch.” He pushed my tray a couple of inches to the left. I didn’t know if he meant to do it or not, but that was still my weak side. It just took time, the doctors said, to relearn balance and counterweight, and all those daily exercises I was supposed to do at home were going to help.

  I didn’t move. I hadn’t been doing the daily exercises.

  “Come on, stop me,” he said, pushing my tray a couple of inches more. “Make me sorry I messed with you.”

  The tray was getting dangerously close to the edge of the table. His eyes locked with mine and chills went through my whole body, even my prosthesis, I swear. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him really badly or just slap him repeatedly.

  Bit by bit, he pushed my tray farther off the edge. I kept my arms folded, trying not to watch. It made me crazy. When it tilted at last, I refused to look, but then, at the last possible second, I lunged.

  My lunch splattered all over the ground. I slowly sat back in defeat.

  “Too late,” he said, and shook his head. He sounded disappointed. “I’ll get you a new one. One cookie, an apple, and some wilted lettuce that you’re going to eat just on principle, right?”

  Everyone stared at me as he left and I got busy picking up the tray.

  Sneaking a glance in his direction, I saw Billy swing the door open, but before he went into the cafeteria, he reached into his pocket and bent down.

  Looking back down, I reached for a clump of lettuce. A new Sperry loafer stepped on it and I looked up.

  “What is his deal?” Candy stood over me, glaring at Billy’s back as he disappeared.

  I motioned for her to move as I finished scooping up the remainders of my lunch and she watched.

  “He’s cute but psycho,” Candy sighed. “I called him and he didn’t even call me back, can you believe that? He told Natalie he already had a girlfriend, even though the only girl he ever talks to is you, so I know that’s a lie.”

  I stood, keeping the tray between us for extra space. She must have applied her perfume like she was crop dusting.

  “Anyway,” she said, stroking her hair absentmindedly with one manicured hand, “if we’re going to work on our plan, we have to start right away. I’m assuming you’re going to the dance, so I’ll go dress shopping with you. My aunt owns a great boutique at the ma
ll.”

  More help I didn’t want, though I realized that the only way to stop her was by confessing that we were broke. I took a deep breath.

  Candy grabbed my arm. “I know what you’re thinking, but here comes the best part. She wanted me to tell you that if you let a photographer take your picture for the newspaper, you’ll get the dress for free.”

  “Ice cream!” Alexis stood up at her table, her voice easily carrying across the small courtyard. “Who’s in?” None of her tablemates raised their hands. Only Alexis would want ice cream on a chilly day.

  “Hello?” Candy said, sounding exasperated with me.

  I turned my attention back to her. How could I possibly tell her everything wrong with that idea? When Candy saw a camera, her whole face lit up. When I saw a camera, I tried to shrink my body inward and turn my face away.

  Candy and I lived in parallel universes and it was just too hard to explain mine.

  “We’re going Thursday,” she said. “My mom’s signing us out early, but your mom has to send in a permission slip.”

  Alexis stood and turned around, catching me talking with Candy. Her face darkened.

  “You’re so lucky,” Candy said, resting her hand on my forearm. “My aunt doesn’t give just anybody a free dress.”

  Alexis rolled her eyes and stomped off toward the cafeteria.

  I jerked my arm away. “I never agreed to this!”

  Candy gasped, like I had just spit on a kitten. “I’m offering you my help, and a free dress from the best store in town. How does that make me the bad guy?” Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, like this was hard on her. I wanted to scream.

  “Do you know the definition of insanity, Sofia?” She gestured to my outfit. “It’s doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. We have to upgrade you. The first step is getting you a fabulous dress for the dance. People will remember it for weeks. That’ll buy us some time to work on your other…choices.” She made a face like she was trying to avoid looking directly at my clothes.

  Natalie bounced up, pulling on Candy’s arm. “Isabel just walked in!” she hissed in Candy’s ear. “Let’s go ignore her.”