by Robert Gray
MONSTER STROMBOLI
When I opened the door and entered the pizza place, I thought I had landed in some snowy dimension. Flour covered everything—the floors, the countertops, even the ceiling!
“Oh … my … Jack.”
“It’s not that bad,” Dad said sheepishly.
“Are you kidding me? What happened?”
“It was hot in here, so I flipped on the fan. I didn’t realize the thing created hurricane winds, and I had an open bag of flour on the table, and—”
“And I don’t want to hear anymore.” I rubbed my hand along the tabletop and sighed at the white coating left on the tips of my fingers. “Where’s the broom?” At least cleaning up would take my mind off my adorable day at school.
I’d been sweeping for about twenty minutes when the bells jingled over the front door. In walked two middle-aged male humans, real suspicious looking.
“Interesting place,” one guy, tall and thin with curly red hair, said to his companion, a dark fellow with a scraggly beard and sunken eyes.
The way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I must’ve looked ridiculous with my makeup smearing, my hair leaning to the left, and my entire body dusted in flour.
“Love the costume,” the red-haired human remarked. “You guys are really working in the whole horror thing.”
“Well, you know, you need a gimmick to succeed these days,” I said with a bright smile.
I sat the customers near the entrance, where only the faintest traces of flour remained. Both men asked for sodas and menus, and I thought maybe Dad and I would at least get that far before we messed things up.
As I walked to the soda machine, I kept my eyes on Dad. He was behind the counter, rolling out a pile of dough. He gave me a wink and flipped the dough into the air. It spun perfectly, seeming to expand and hover at the same time. For a moment, I thought he might actually have a knack for this whole pizza-business stuff, but then the dough began to wobble out of control. Dad made a grab for it, but his hand went through the center, and the dough split in two. Part of it smacked the floor, while the rest blanketed the small sink in the counter.
The humans had seen the whole thing, and their faces scrunched up in disgust as Dad picked up the dirty lump from the floor and began rolling it out again.
“New cook?” the bearded human asked when I returned with their sodas and menus.
I glanced back at Dad as if I had no idea what the human was talking about. “Oh, him? Yeah, he’s new. He just came over from—um—Istancontable. You know, where all the really good pizza guys come from.”
“Hmm. I guess in Istan-whatever, they like their pizza dirty,” the red-haired human commented.
I gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah. It’s a family recipe that’s been passed down for generations … So what can I get you two?”
“Definitely not the pizza,” the bearded human said, shaking his head as he browsed the menu. “How about this cheese and pepperoni stromboli? Is it big enough to share?”
I had no idea what a stromboli even was, so I looked at the menu and saw a picture of a loaf of bread stuffed with—I read—mozzarella, provolone, Parmesan cheese, onions, mushrooms, and pepperoni.
“Oh yeah, it’s big enough for both of you, and two more people.”
“Good; we’re starved.”
I rushed over to the counter with the two menus in my hand.
“What do they want?” Dad asked.
I tapped at the menu. “A cheese and pepperoni stromboli.”
Dad craned his neck to get a better look at the picture in the menu. Then he frowned. “Wouldn’t they rather have pizza?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think they like your secret recipe.”
Dad shrugged. “Their loss. I think this pizza will be my best ever.” He pulled out his owner’s manual from beneath the counter and flipped through the pages. “O—Olive Oil … P—Pizzas … S—Salad … Sandwiches … Sauces—Here we go—Strombolis.”
“And make sure it’s big enough for two.”
“Big e’nuff fa do,” Dad repeated in an adorable accent. “You’sa goddit.”
Twenty minutes later, I started to get worried. My eyes shifted from the clock to my dad to the two humans, who looked ready to eat me if I didn’t feed them soon.
Dad tossed in spices, cheeses, onions, mushrooms, pepperoni, and rolled everything up in a huge lump of dough. Then he hunted through cabinets for even more things to add to the enormous doughy blob covering the counter.
“They don’t look happy. Go ask them if they want another drink,” Dad whispered.
“I’ve given them three sodas each. I think they’ll burst if I give them another one.”
Dad flipped through the owner’s manual to see what he should do. “It says for the unsatisfied human customer, we should give him or her a meal on the house. Darn it! We aren’t at our house. Wait! It also says to try something called garlic knots.”
Dad found a bag of garlic knots in the fridge and heated them up in the microwave. “Here,” he said, handing me the plate. “Bring these over to them.”
“Uh, these were on our house.” I dropped the plate onto the table and hurried away.
The humans’ mouths gnashed and smacked and tore into the garlic things. Then the men licked their fingers, grunted, and devoured some more.
“Delicious,” the red-haired man declared with a lump of dough stored in his cheek. He gave me a thumbs up, which I returned, and then passed on to Dad.
I smelled something tantalizing coming from the oven—the meat and cheeses, the toasting bread based in oil, the seasonings. My mouth began to water, which was odd because I’d never eaten human food before. I always assumed it tasted like the kibble we feed Wolf.
Dad opened the oven and used a large wooden tray attached to a stick to pull out the stromboli.
The thing was bigger than me! And it took two trays and both of us to carry the steaming mass to the table. The two humans readied their forks and knives into attack position when they saw it.
“That’s the biggest stromboli!—” the red-haired human couldn’t finish forming the words. He gazed at the meal with eyes the size of platters, his gaping smile widening.
“Wait a sec. How much is this gonna cost us?” the other human asked.
Dad grabbed a menu. “Eight dollars and ninety-five cents.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Dad shook his head. He seemed as confused as me when they high-fived each other.
We watched as the humans studied their prey, trying to decide where to attack. The bearded human dove in first, opening a gash in what appeared to be the belly of the beast.
His eyes glazed over as he swallowed. “Oh, man, this tastes amazing.”
Dad was proud of us, I could tell. And I had to admit, I was proud of us, too. But unfortunately, we didn’t get to enjoy the moment for long.
The bell over the front door rang. Four humans, a family by the looks, entered. The bell rang again. Two more humans, a boy and a girl about my age … Three more, all girls around nineteen … Six, all in dirty work clothes … Two more … And finally, twelve small human boys rushed in wearing blue and gray uniforms that read ROYALS across their chests. They certainly didn’t look all that royal to me.
The customers marveled at the monster stromboli. And, of course, every single one of them wanted the same thing.
“I think we need to hire more help,” I said and gulped. “A lot more help.”
ELEVEN
SOMETHING FOUND AND SOMETHING LOST
It took four hours before the pizza place finally emptied out. Everywhere I turned, I saw plates and circles of pepperoni and cheese and sauce and spilled drinks and fallen silverware and piles upon piles of crumbs, and—are you kidding me? How did these miscreants manage to get sauce on the ceiling?
I could barely move. Another step and I was sure my sore feet would burst right through my shoes. When I tried to turn my head, it felt like someone had st
uck a spike in my neck.
Dad rubbed his face, leaving a colorful trail of sauce and flour on his cheeks. He looked exhausted, too, and I thought—hoped!—that he would see how ridiculous this whole move was and decide to take us back home.
He grabbed two brooms from the utility closet and handed one to me.
“Do you still think coming here was a good idea?” I asked.
Dad pushed the broom around the floor, not cleaning so much as smearing the mess. “I thought … I think this is the best thing for us. We need to give this place a chance. At least until we discover who The Source is.”
“But this is torture,” I groaned. “We’ve been reduced to goblins. Worse! Trolls.”
“I know, Eve. I know. But … What is that?” He reached down, fishing through a pile of fried onions and pepperoni, and brushed off what appeared to be a business card.
“What’s up?”
He stared fearfully at whatever he had in his hands.
“Dad? What gives?”
I peeked over his arm and saw the words on the card: THE SOURCE.
“The Source was here? But who? So many humans came in tonight.”
“I better call the office and let them know,” Dad said.
And then I thought of the murders back in Gravesville, how the killers left the same business card after each visit. What if the card was a warning that we’re next?
The thought must’ve made me feel extra emotional, because I noticed my fairy-heart necklace glowing again.
When we got home, I asked Dad if he could carry me into the house. You know, for old time’s sake. It seemed he had enough energy to laugh, but not much more than that.
“How was your first day at school, sweetheart?” Mom asked as I entered the house. “They loved you, didn’t they? It’s because I know style. You can thank me for making you look so good today.”
“Thanks, Mom,” was all I managed as I shuffled past her toward my room.
“What’s wrong with her?” I heard Mom ask Dad.
I didn’t stick around to listen to their conversation, but when I entered my bedroom, I heard Mom scream. Guess she just got the good news. That should keep her busy. I love Mom and all, but she didn’t understand space, and she got all angry when I avoided telling her about every single second of my life. Besides, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings about the clothes, and the way I felt right now, I think I would’ve blurted out things I didn’t mean.
After about a minute, Sam barged in.
“Are you ready to go to the graveyard? I saw the fog seeping in before. I bet it’s a perfect time to try the spell.”
“I’m too tired today, Sam. Maybe tomorrow.”
“But you promised. You said as soon as we got here you’d try to raise the dead.” His skin oozed a clear, syrupy liquid around the cheeks and forehead and nose. His version of crying.
I felt bad, don’t get me wrong. Being cooped up in this house all day would drive anyone sane, but I was way too tired to deal with him right now.
“Tomorrow. I promise.”
“Please, Eve, I’ve never been away from a graveyard this long,” he said, wiping gooey strings from his face. Then he started hopping and growling, and his scales got all ruddy. I ignored him once my fairy heart necklace lit up—just like it had at school and at the pizza place. I unclasped the necklace and placed it on the nightstand. The glowing stones dimmed immediately, and I was more convinced than ever that the necklace could somehow sense my emotions.
“I’m getting into the shower. We’ll go tomorrow. I promise.”
“Tomorrow,” I heard Sam mumble as I entered my bathroom.
I set the shower to scalding hot and jumped out of my clothes—which smelled of musky makeup and hair gels and sweat and cheese and sauce and meats—and tossed them in the trash. I wouldn’t need them anymore anyway. Tomorrow, I planned to go to school as myself.
The shower felt so relaxing, and I watched as the gels in my hair and the makeup on my face funneled down the drain in gray-blue strings, along with every bit of my miserable day.
I could’ve stayed in the shower all night, but eventually I got out, because as much as I enjoyed the hot water massaging my skin, I needed sleep. I threw on some soft cotton pajamas and ran a brush through my hair, deciding I’d go to bed with wet hair.
While I brushed my teeth, I heard glass shatter.
“Sam? Is that you? Stop playing games.” But no one responded.
I thought about the business card and panic set in. The Source had followed me home! They were going to kill me!
I locked the bathroom door and searched around for a weapon. I found a hairbrush, a towel, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a bottle of shampoo, and a bar of soap. Great! I could clean them to death. I grabbed the shampoo, remembering I had gotten the stuff in my eyes once and it burned adorably. It would have to do.
Armed with my squeeze bottle of Cemetery Flowers shampoo, I carefully unlocked and opened the door.
“Hello?” No response. I inched my way out of the bathroom with the shampoo bottle pointed like a gun.
My jack-o’-lantern lamp, which had been on the nightstand before I got into the shower, lay in pieces on the floor. I noticed the open window, too. I couldn’t remember if I had left it open, but I was fairly certain I hadn’t. The curtains fluttered, tempting me to look out, but fear overpowered temptation. Someone could be waiting there to pull me out the window.
I continued to search around my room and finished with a peek under my bed. Nothing. But someone had been here. Windows didn’t open, and lamps didn’t fall by themselves. Sure, they did at home, but this was the human world. I stared at my nightstand for a long moment. Something seemed wrong with it. It didn’t appear damaged in any way. It hadn’t moved, as far as I could tell. Then what?
At least I didn’t have on my fairy heart necklace, I thought. Because with the way my emotions stampeded through me, it would’ve lit up the whole neighborhood.
I realized then what bothered me, and it had nothing to do with the nightstand at all, but rather the necklace that used to be on it.
Just the thought of someone sneaking into my room and stealing my necklace made me angry … at least for a little while. Once I started thinking about the card Dad found at Ghoulicious, fear seized me with sharp, icy fangs. What if The Source had been here tonight? And what if next time they decide to do something far worse than steal my necklace.
That was all the motivation I needed to tell my parents what had happened.
“The Source wouldn’t have come here. I’m sure of it,” Dad kept saying as he paced around the living room, rubbing his forehead.
I sat on the couch in the living room with my head in my hands. I was so tired from everything that happened today, I couldn’t think clearly.
Mom, however, seemed ready to detonate at any moment. She took a seat next to me and cradled me in her arms, while her snakes kissed my face with their tongues. “If not The Source, then who, Bill?”
“I don’t know, Maddie—”
“We’re in the middle of nowhere with no help at all. By the time someone gets here from the agency we could be …” She let the thought hang, but some of her snakes rattled, as if bleeping out the bad words.
Dad collapsed into the couch next to us. “I’ll take care of this. Let me make a few Ouija calls. I promise, by tomorrow, everything will be fine.”
Mom huffed and her snakes hissed, but she didn’t say anything else except that I should try to get some sleep. As upset and scared as I was, I had no problem with that.
Before I fell asleep, I heard Mom say that after what happened tonight, we should pack up our things and head home. Even after everything that had happened to me today, I couldn’t help but smile. Mom almost always got her way, which meant soon we’d be on our way home.
TWELVE
FIGHT IN THE CAFETERIA
The next morning—after a long battle with my mom, the sun, and an alarm clock that wouldn’t be pulling
through—I fumbled into a pair of black jeans and a pale blue tee-shirt and stumbled downstairs to the breakfast table. I must’ve stretched and yawned a dozen times before I took a sip of my hot pumpkin.
For whatever reason, Mom seemed bent on fitting in as a human this morning. She wore a frilly pink apron while she cooked up all sorts of strange human foods.
I was about to ask her why she would want to eat that garbage, when she put a plate of it right in front of me.
“What’s the matter, dear?”
“What’s this? Where’s my candy? My doughnuts?—”
She pointed to each thing. “These are called scrambled eggs. This crispy stuff is bacon. And this is toast.”
“What’s that adorable purple goo on the toast?”
“That’s called grape jelly.”
“I can’t eat this,” I whined.
Mom gave me The Look, which, I’m sure, is universal for all creatures. The look that derails any thoughts of you being right and your parents being wrong.
“Just try it. I saw a human making it on the rectangle with moving pictures. It’s called a television, by the way. Turns out we have another one in our bedroom. There’s this channel called Food Zone—”
“Morning, dears,” Dad boomed and kissed Mom on the cheek and hugged me around the shoulders. Mom and Dad acted all gushy and cutesy with each other. Whatever issues they had with each other last night were resolved. I glared at my plate. Not only did my stomach ache at the thought of eating human food, but Mom and Dad had revived their determination to prevent my escape from this insufferable world.
Mom put a big dish of glazed doughnuts drizzled with chocolate syrup in front of Dad, and I stared at it longingly as I picked up a burnt piece of flesh, the thing Mom called bacon, sniffed it—Yak!—and tossed it back on the plate.
“Everything’s been taken care of,” Dad said as he shoved a forkful of chocolaty doughnut into his mouth.
“We’re going home!” I yelled. I almost knocked over my hot pumpkin in my excitement as I leaped to my feet.