by Robert Gray
So, I told them everything. What else could I do? I told them that my mom, dad, and brother are monsters, and that the reason we’re here is because of an organization called The Source. I even told them what happened to McDougal.
“And that’s why we need your help here. My dad is, well, pretending to be something he’s not.”
Carly Beth and her mom stared at each other. Their mouths opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. From the dullness in their gazes, I could tell they were working out the finer details of how to get rid of us—who to call, and which stores carried the most pitchforks and torches.
When I couldn’t take the wait any longer, I asked, “And …?”
A sly grin formed on Carly Beth’s face. “When do we start?”
The bell above the door jingled and four hungry-looking men strolled in.
“How about right now,” I said.
Carly Beth and her mom took to the pizza business so naturally I figured it had to be a human trait that somehow skipped us monsters. We sat together at a table while Mrs. Reynolds tossed out idea after idea on how to run the restaurant better.
“For starters,” Mrs. Reynolds said, “you can’t charge eight dollars and ninety-five cents for food that costs twenty dollars to make. And you can’t give every table a hundred napkins and toss out the ones they didn’t use. And you don’t throw away the ketchup bottles after a table leaves. You refill them at the end of the night. Same with the salt and pepper shakers.”
Carly Beth’s mom had all these great ideas. It was amazing! I thought. If Dad were here, I think he would’ve agreed that we knew nothing about running a pizza business.
“Are you sure you’ve never worked in a place like this?” I asked.
“I was a waitress back in college. Turns out it’s like riding a bike,” Mrs. Reynolds said with a grin.
I didn’t know what riding a bike had to do with the pizza place, but I kept my mouth shut. Mrs. Reynolds was a smart lady, and if she thought waitressing and bike riding were similar, then who was I to argue?
The cleanup that evening took no time at all, and when we finished, something dawned on me. I went to the back office and hunted through Dad’s paperwork.
“Have you ever seen this before?” I asked Mrs. Reynolds, handing over the business card.
She glanced at it, then dug into her purse and pulled out an identical card. “Sure. Everyone at the newspaper company has them.”
Great! The best clue we had turned out to be another dead end.
When I got home, I found Mom busying herself by cleaning the house with fierce determination. I could tell by the way she rushed the broom around the floor that she missed Dad a lot.
“House looks good,” I said. But that wasn’t true. The house looked more boring than ever.
I went through my evening routine, first taking a shower, then brushing my teeth and hair. I put on some soft cotton pajamas and slid into bed.
Mom poked her head in to say goodnight and, seeing my clothes tossed around the floor, said, “I spent all day cleaning this house. Can you at least pick up after yourself? You’re as bad as your brother and father.”
“You know I do it to keep you on your toes,” I said.
“You do it for the same reason your father and brother do it. To drive me sane. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” And as she left, she added, “But I’d love you even more if you cleaned up your clothes.”
“Fine,” I mumbled. I threw off my sheets and picked up the pants and shirt and trudged toward the hamper next to my dresser.
“Huh?” I noticed something glitter out of the corner of my eye.
“How …?”
I gaped at the object on my dresser. It was real all right. Dad had brought them home before, so I knew what they looked like. It didn’t make sense how or why someone would leave it here, though, especially now that they were illegal.
I slid the portal key aside, unfolded the piece of paper beneath, and read:
MEAT US AT CHERRYRIGE SEMATERY TOOMOROW AT MIDNITE. KUM ALONE. TEL NOBUDDY.
TWENTY-TWO
VOLUNTEERS WANTED
The morning announcements sent my entire homeroom class into a hooting and applauding frenzy. The annual Halloween Bash would take place in the school gymnasium on Friday night, October 30th. Carly Beth and I smiled at each other. We were the only ones who knew how and why McDougal had changed his mind.
The announcements concluded with a reminder to signup for the Halloween Bash Organizing Committee this afternoon.
“We should join,” Carly Beth suggested.
Back in Gravesville, I would’ve been all over anything that had to do with Halloween parties, but here? With everything else going on? “I’d like to, but I have too many other things to deal with.”
Carly Beth checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. “Look, Eve, after what you told me last night about your family and where you’re from and all that … You’re the expert in all things spooky. You have to do this. It’ll be the best Halloween Bash ever.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “If I’m helping with the Halloween Bash and working at the pizza place, I won’t be able to focus on The Source.”
“What if we hired some other kids to work at the pizza place? You could spend more time looking for The Source, and you’d have plenty of time to help with the Bash.”
“But who can I trust? I can’t let my secret keep slipping out. We are supposed to be here undercover, you know?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll work out the details.”
The day had started out great, but fell apart by lunch. To be more specific, it fell apart exactly when Stacey and her minions, Jasper and Becca, entered the cafeteria. They carried their own brand of superiority in the way they swaggered in, as if they were better than everyone else in every single way possible.
Stacey shot a wicked glance at Carly Beth and me but turned to gushy smiles when Warren walked up to her. She gave him a long kiss, which made me cringe. She was taunting me, dangling Warren in front of me like a spoiled werewolf with a new chew toy. I didn’t care. She could have Warren. I didn’t like him. At least not in that way, or so I tried to convince myself.
Hold on a sec. What was this? Was Stacey yelling at Warren?
I couldn’t make out what she was saying, and Warren acted so calm and polite that the argument seemed very one-sided.
“What gives with her?” Carly Beth asked. “Did her meds run out?”
When the argument ended, Stacey stared right at me. If she were a gorgon, I’d have been petrified. She stormed out of the cafeteria with Jasper and Becca right behind her.
“You should go talk to Warren,” Carly Beth said, pushing me out of my chair. I knew she wouldn’t let up until I went over to him. So I did. The walk to his table felt like a mile, even though he sat only four tables away.
“I don’t know how you … getting my dad to agree to the Halloween Bash,” Warren said.
“It wasn’t hard,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing, ‘cause it sure didn’t sound convincing to me.
Warren gazed at me for a long moment, and everything except the gray in his eyes seemed fuzzy and unimportant as if we were the only ones in this cafeteria, in this school, in this world.
“Stacey asked me to the Bash.”
“Oh? Well, I guess that makes sense. Isn’t she like your girlfriend?”
Warren moaned and rolled his eyes. “She asked me to the dance, and, well, she didn’t like my answer.”
Goosebumps ran down my arms, and my heart banged around in my chest. “Yeah? What was your answer?”
“I told her that the whole me-and-her thing wasn’t working any more. She’s got a real nasty streak, you know?”
I did know, but I kept that particular nugget of information to myself.
Warren locked his eyes onto mine again, his smile so slight, I almost couldn’t see it. Oh, but it was there. Trust
me. I was close enough to his lips to spot that horrible expression.
“I think the part that annoyed Stacey most was when I told her I planned to take someone else to the Bash.”
My body felt weightless, and the storm of emotions inside me threatened to toss me skyward.
But Warren’s alluring eyes anchored me to the ground.
“I told her I wanted to take you, Eve.”
“Uh—Uh—”
“Is that a yes?”
I couldn’t get the words out, so I whipped my head up and down. My head bobbled when I returned the table and sat back next to Carly Beth. It continued to bobble while I told her what happened. In fact, my head didn’t stop bobbling until Carly Beth screamed, “He asked you!” And every conversation in the cafeteria halted as all eyes turned to me.
Carly Beth had spent the rest of the day persuading me to become a volunteer for the Halloween Bash, and when the last bell of the day rang, I followed her to the auditorium to get our job assignments.
“You know,” I said as I tried to keep pace with her, “I never actually agreed to join.”
She gave me a confused smile. “You didn’t. Hmm. I could’ve sworn you said yes … Too late to worry about that now. We’re here.”
I expected the auditorium to be full. In Gravesville we had to beg to be part of anything Halloween, but here, well, here was different. Ten people showed up, and there were a couple of other students wandering around the entrance.
A man—so thin and pale, he looked like he’d been a vampire’s meal—entered and introduced himself as Gary Bungjulio the Guidance Counselor, and preferred everyone just call him “Gary” because Mr. Bungjulio was his father. The other volunteers—a grand total of thirteen—struggled to hold back their laughter. I didn’t find Mr. Bungjulio’s, er, Gary’s joke all that funny, but I didn’t want to look stupid, either, so I forced out a few chuckles.
“Since this is all very last minute,” Gary began, “I figured I’d just yell out the positions, and you can let me know what you want to do, okay? Good.” He slid his finger down a clipboard and called out the various jobs. “Food and drinks … music … theme coordinator—”
Carly Beth tugged on my sleeve and said, “You should so be the theme coordinator.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re like the overseer of everything.”
“—Decorations … plates, napkins and utensils … and cleanup,” Gary finished, then tapped his pen on his teeth. “So, who wants what?”
Carly Beth and I rushed up first. We said at the same time, “Theme coordinator-Music.”
“Slow down, and you are?”
“Eve Hallows.”
“OK, that’s Eve Hallows for theme coordinator. And you?”
“Carly Beth Reynolds.”
“And Carly Beth Reynolds for music.”
Gary handed us each a piece of paper that outlined our responsibilities—that is, it told us what we weren’t allowed to do.
After he handed out all of the positions—the last person sulked at getting the position no one wanted: cleanup—Gary said, “First thing’s first. We need a theme.”
I thought Gary would at least offer some suggestions. Anything would’ve been better than him pointing at me and saying, “Eve is responsible for all theme-related ideas, so unless you plan on burning down the school, I don’t much care. Since I am not paid enough to be here as it is, I’ll be in my office taking a nap. If you need me—and let me stress the word need—that’s where you can find me.”
When Gary left, all eyes zeroed in on me.
“What do I do?” I asked Carly Beth.
“I don’t know. You’re the one that wanted to be theme coordinator.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I sized up the surrounding faces and decided taking charge of this group might be dangerous. “So … Anybody have an idea?”
A scruffy-haired boy flicked his locks from his face to reveal bright red pimples on his forehead. “Yeah. How about we start by introducing each other?”
In a whirlwind, I shook hands, bumped fists, threw out my name, and tried to remember everyone else’s. A couple of the volunteers started coming up with theme ideas, but no one seemed to like them. I didn’t dare give out any of my ideas, for fear they would be too strange for these humans. So I sat back and listened, and, it turned out, we all had similar tastes on Halloween. After a while, I started to get comfortable with the group, and my mind began churning up all sorts of themes.
“I got it!” I said. “The Dance Macabre!”
Everyone looked at me as if a second head had sprouted from my shoulder, which, by the way, happened to a cousin of mine after a bad experiment at my uncle’s lab. Poor thing needed a whole new wardrobe. Anyway …
“You know? The dance of the dead?”
More blank stares. Not good.
But then one boy asked, “Isn’t that a picture of dancing skeletons?”
Another girl added, “Yeah, I think I heard about it in history class. It’s like this festival that says death connects every living thing together.”
I saw all of their faces light up, and they started nodding and smiling to one another.
Carly Beth nudged me. “This is exactly why I told you to be theme coordinator.”
“Whatever,” I said, but I had a big grin on my face.
Everyone started coming to me for approval. Lori, Seth, and Rowan drew sketches of some ideas they had. They wanted my opinion. Justin asked how he should build the entranceway. Katie thought orange and black should be the color scheme, but wanted to know what I thought. And the strangest part of all? They cared what I had to say.
I never thought it could happen. For the first time since I arrived in the human world, I felt I belonged. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. I even forgot, at least for a while, about The Source, the portal key, and my visit to the graveyard.
Unfortunately, my problems hadn’t forgotten about me.
TWENTY-THREE
CHERRYRIGE SEMATERY
By the time Mrs. Reynolds picked us up from school, I was beat. All that energy I had at the gymnasium had dispersed like the last breath of smoke from a snuffed candle flame, and the thought of working all night at Ghoulicious made my muscles groan.
Carly Beth, however, seemed charged by lightning. She was talking so fast I couldn’t keep up. She went on about Steve and Lucy and then at some point switched topics to the pizza place. How or when it happened I wasn’t sure, perhaps during the elaborate fantasy I created, which involved an endless sea of soft pillows.
“So what do you think?” Carly Beth asked.
I didn’t want to tell her that I hadn’t been paying attention, so I said, “Sounds like a great idea.”
“I thought you’d agree.”
We opened the door to the pizza place, and there I saw Steve and Lucy dressed in green aprons and serving food.
“Because I kind of asked them already.”
I didn’t know whether to be happy or mad at Carly Beth. I mean, on the one hand, she solved my problem of trying to juggle too many things at once, but on the other hand, she might’ve given away my secret.
“Griff is awesome,” Steve said. “Did you see how he flips a pizza? I mean that’s like CGI stuff!”
Check that—she definitely gave away my secret.
“Yeah, I’ve seen,” I said as I glared at Carly Beth.
Carly Beth shrugged. “You needed help. You didn’t say anything about good help.”
“Hey,” Steve started, but even he couldn’t get behind the idea that he was good help, so he went back to his original thought pattern. “You could totally charge admission. I can see the billboard now: COME SEE THE INVISIBLE MAN.”
“You can’t see an invisible man,” Lucy said, walking up behind Steve with a tray of steaming pizza. “Hence the invisible part.”
Steve thought this over for a moment then snapped his fingers. “That gives me a better idea. We could start
a whole line of invisible merchandise. And the best part is we don’t need stuff to sell, because it’s invisible, get it?”
“Do you think these ideas up all by yourself?” Lucy asked. “He’s been scheming all afternoon. I’m glad you guys showed up. I can’t take him any more.”
“She’s just jealous because she’s not working the noodle.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Lucy said and shook her head as she delivered the tray of pizza to a family of five.
With the four of us waiting on tables—well, three; Steve spent most of the time trying to convince Griff that he needed a manager—work breezed by. I didn’t even mind cleaning up at the end of the night, especially when Steve turned to begging, offering an 80-20 split of the profits in Griff’s favor. Steve hadn’t realized he’d been talking to a wall, though, and Carly Beth, Lucy, and I busted out laughing when a rag “magically” wiped down a table behind Steve.
Once we finished tidying the place up, Carly Beth and I said our goodbyes to Steve and Lucy and locked up behind them. I waited for Mrs. Reynolds to go into the back office to do whatever paperwork needed to be done and then told Carly Beth that she should sit down, because I needed to show her something.
I pulled from my pocket a piece of folded notebook paper and placed it at the center of the table.
Carly Beth gave me a curious glance. “What is it?”
I unfolded the note and handed it to her. “It says I’m not supposed to tell anyone. But I’m a fourteen-year-old girl. Who do they think they’re kidding?”
When Carly Beth finished reading, she noticed the key sitting on the table. She inspected the smooth teeth and the carved tombstone on the handle.
“It’s called a portal key,” I said. “Someone must’ve used it to come over from my world.”
“Do you think it’s a clue?” Carly Beth asked.
“Those keys are illegal. They were banned when the murders started. I’d bet anything The Source used this key to get to Gravesville.”