by Bruce Hale
Esme bounced on her toes. “Does the meeting have anything to do with monsters?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Then I’m your girl,” she said. “I know all about them.”
“I’m sure you do,” said Benny. “But we don’t want to hear about your dating life.”
I put a hand on his arm. “Hang on. She helped us find Hanzomon. Maybe she can help with the scorp-lions.”
“Those are the ones with the cute curly tails?” asked Esme.
Benny’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Can we talk?” he asked me.
“Excuse us,” I told Esme.
She waved a hand airily and fiddled with her book-bag strap.
Benny led me a few steps away. “What are you thinking?” he whispered.
“That she can help,” I said.
“But this is our thing,” he said. “We’re the heroes. We’ve got to go it alone.”
“Says who?” I asked. “The hero handbook?”
He counted off on his fingers. “Okay, let’s talk about superheroes. Thor, Hulk, Batman, Spider-Man? All of ’em work alone or with a partner.”
I folded my arms. “And the Avengers and Fantastic Four are both teams.”
“But we’re doing great, just the two of us.”
“Seriously? You believe that?”
He tried for a smile. “Sure. We found out it wasn’t a haunting; we found out who made the scorp-lions. Progress.”
I wagged my head. “But we haven’t gotten rid of the monsters. Look, I’m not saying we should quit, just that we get some help. Mrs. T backed us up before.”
“Yeah, but her?” Benny glared at Esme, who was making some kind of weird beat-box sounds with her lips. “She’s a little too into monsters.”
“So are we,” I said.
“But we want to fight them,” said Benny. “She wants to take them home and feed them a Milk Bone.”
“True.” I spread my hands. “But maybe that’s exactly what we need. A new angle.”
Benny looked at me, then at Esme. He pinched his bottom lip. “Okay,” he said at last. “But don’t blame me if she tries to put the monsters in a stroller and play house.”
I blew out some air in relief. “Deal.”
And wouldn’t you know it? That’s just when the bell decided to ring.
“Come on!” I told Esme, breaking into a sprint for our classroom.
“But what about the monsters?” She hustled along behind us, book bag jouncing.
“Fill you in at recess,” said Benny.
After all the drama I’d experienced lately, I was relieved that Mr. Chu’s lessons were uneventful. We studied the water cycle, we completed our Greek helmets and shields. But even though nobody fell into a coma, our class remained as jittery as a sackful of Super Balls on a trampoline.
Everyone knew something was wrong. Everyone was waiting for disaster.
And the weather didn’t help. It rained all morning, so we had indoor recess in Mr. Chu’s classroom. Benny and I set up some old board game called Operation, and Esme sidled up to us to continue our conversation.
“So?” she said. “Spill.”
“We’re trying to get rid of the scorp-lions,” I said, “but they’re pretty well dug in.” I ran down our efforts so far. When I finished, she steepled her fingers.
“I see your problem right there,” she said.
“We’re just too macho?” said Benny, flexing his biceps.
Esme gave him the kind of smile that says, You’re so not funny, but I’m too polite to mention it. “Kind of,” she said. “You’ve been trying to force them out, right?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “That’s sort of the point.”
She shook her head. “Lure them out instead.”
“How?” said Benny. “By dressing up as a girl monster? We don’t even know if these things are boys, girls, or neither of the above.”
“Ahh.” The light went on in the fridge that was my brain. “Use the carrot, not the stick.”
“Exactly,” said Esme.
Benny slid his chair closer. “Like that Hanzomon guy said? But how do we do that?”
Sensing a presence behind me, I turned my head.
“By getting your friends to lend a hand,” said Tina Green. She pulled up a chair and straddled it. “Now, what’s the plan, and how can I help?”
Come lunchtime, the four of us had our tasks. Of course, Benny and I assigned ourselves one of the toughest—convincing Principal Johnson to do her part.
“And why in blue blazes would I tell Animal Control to come after school?” she said when we cornered her outside the teachers’ lunchroom. “They’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Because that’ll be their best chance to catch the monsters,” said Benny.
Mrs. Johnson crossed her arms. “Mm-hmm. And you know this how?”
I glanced over at Benny. “We’ve, uh, done some research.”
“Research,” she repeated, eyeing us. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve been disobeying my direct orders?”
“Honest.” Benny raised his palm as if swearing an oath. “We haven’t gone anywhere off-limits since you told us not to.”
Except maybe Mr. Hanzomon’s office, I thought. But I saw no reason to burden her with that knowledge quite yet.
“It’s true,” I said. “Would you please, please tell Animal Control to set up their cages in the hall outside the multipurpose room?”
“After school,” Benny added.
Our principal frowned. “But that’s so close to where we’re holding the science fair. The risk—I don’t know….”
“Please?” said Benny and I together. We gave her the full Bambi-eyes treatment.
Mrs. Johnson fired off the Principal Stare in return, but we didn’t flinch. “I’m not your parents,” she said. “You can’t just beg me until I give in.”
We gazed at her, unblinking.
“I have my students’ safety to consider,” she said.
Benny and I stared some more.
She scowled. “Nothing you say is going to make me forget my responsibility.”
“Everybody will be inside, and the monsters will be outside,” I said. “What could be safer?”
“But I can’t—”
Assuming his most serious expression, Benny said, “Mrs. Johnson, with all due respect, this is our school’s last chance. Animal Control doesn’t know these creatures. We do.”
“And we can keep the school from being shut down,” I said.
The stress of the past few days showed in our principal’s expression and the circles under her eyes. She searched our faces, weighing our words.
“Plus,” I said, “we’ve solved other monster problems before. So really, we’re more experienced at this than Animal Control.”
Mrs. Johnson’s face softened, and for a moment, it wasn’t principal-to-student, it was just person-to-person. “Why?” she asked. “Why on God’s green earth do you rush into something everyone else would rather avoid?”
Several answers came to mind, from the flip (“We need more get-out-of-detention-free passes”) to the mock-deep (“Because it’s there”). In the end, I settled on the truth.
“Sometimes, someone’s just got to step up,” I said. “No matter whether they’re a total hero or a regular person. This is our time.”
Benny jerked a thumb at me. “What he said.”
Eyes unfocused, our principal nodded slowly. Then her gaze sharpened. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’ll make sure Animal Control is there at the right place and time.”
“Great!” said Benny.
“And you two will take all possible safety precautions. You will let the professionals handle the creatures. You will not put yourselves or any other students in danger. Are we clear?”
“As crystal,” I said.
We settled a few details. Before Mrs. Johnson left to call Animal Control, she said, “I’m taking a big risk here. I sincerely hope you know what
you’re doing.”
Benny and I nodded solemnly.
So do we, I thought. So do we.
THE REST OF that afternoon was as pleasant and restful as a stroll through an active volcano. Worries ran in circles through my head. Would Tina and Esme hold up their end of things? Was Esme right about the monsters’ reactions? Would our harebrained scheme actually work? And, oh yeah, would my parents announce their divorce at dinner that night?
To say that I was a bit distracted would be like calling the Revolutionary War a little spat between friends. It didn’t quite cover the subject.
Despite all this, Benny and I did manage to put the finishing touches—except for a last few—on our science-fair project. At long last, the final bell rang.
“Listen up, my fellow scientists,” said Mr. Chu. He was decked out as a mad genius, complete with goggles, Einstein wig, and lab coat. “The hour has come. Everyone who’s participating, I want you to carefully carry your projects to the multipurpose room. Best of luck, and may you blind them with…”
“Science!” everyone shouted.
Mr. Chu beamed. I guessed he really liked that old song.
My classmates collected their poster boards and various project materials. Benny assembled ours, which was pretty skimpy. I gathered up our Greek helmets and shields—made extra thick for better protection.
“Uh, Carlos,” said Mr. Chu, “you do know it’s not a history fair, don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “But if I don’t bring them, we’ll be history.”
Our teacher quirked an eyebrow at that but made no further comment. Overhearing us, Tyler Spork said, “They’re probably doing ‘The Miracle of Papier-Mâché.’” He snickered nastily, until Benny mouthed the words double-dog dare. That made him shut up in a hurry.
I smiled. It was so sweet to have something to hold over Tyler, I thought we might delay his dare until the end of the year.
Amid all the hubbub, Tina edged up to me and slipped a key into my palm. “There you go,” she said. “And if you’re caught, I have no idea how you got it.”
“Thanks, Karate Girl,” I said. “But how did you get it?”
Tina sent me a level look. “I could tell you,” she said. “But then I’d have to kill you.”
I knew she was kidding. Sort of.
Pocketing the key, I joined Benny and the flow of kids heading down the covered hallway. I hadn’t taken three steps before I spotted Esme skulking behind a post.
“Psst,” she hissed.
Rolling my eyes, I went over to her. “It’s no big secret. You could just say, ‘Hey, Carlos.’”
“I know,” she said, “but my way’s more fun. Here.” She handed me two jumbo-sized stuffed toys—a blue bear and a bucktoothed pink rabbit that smelled faintly of mint and lemongrass.
“Um, thanks,” I said. “Friends of yours?”
She glanced both ways, then muttered, “We put the stuff inside ’em. You know, to activate the predator instinct.”
“Ah.” I tucked the toys under my arms. “Well, thanks.”
“Sure you don’t need me to come along?”
I shook my head. “Better not. If this goes sour, we don’t want anyone else getting in trouble.” Besides, I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t try to pet the scorp-lions when they appeared.
Esme wished us luck and dashed back to our room to collect her project.
When we reached the multipurpose room, the place was as hopping as a kangaroo farm at chow time. Kids from all three upper grades milled about, setting up their projects on the tables, chatting with friends, and trash-talking the competition. I saw model volcanoes and lemon batteries, a Mentos-cola geyser and a static-electricity experiment. One project was called “Can Goldfish Do Tricks?” and another, “Garlic: The Silent Killer.”
When it came to science, Monterrosa students had all bases covered.
PTA volunteers and a handful of workers in sky-blue Hanzomon jumpsuits lent a hand here and there. With a start, I realized that the mad billionaire himself was supposed to be one of the judges. My legs went shaky.
“Do you see him anywhere?” I asked Benny as we set up our table.
“Who?” he asked.
“Mr. Hanzomon. If he interferes with us, we’re toast.”
“Don’t worry.” Benny smirked. “Even he’s not loony enough to try anything with witnesses around.”
“You sure?” I twisted my hands. “We’re talking about a guy with a three-headed dog and spider-cats.”
Benny wagged his head, acknowledging my point. “Okay, okay. He’s nutty enough to unleash Armageddon right here, just to see if any ‘heroes arise.’ Satisfied?”
He was joking, but fingers of anxiety tickled along my spine. What if the scientist did step in to help his freaky creations? Or unleash some of the nightmares from his basement lab? People could get hurt. We could get hurt.
I spotted Mrs. Johnson across the room greeting parents and soothing junior scientists. After threading my way through the crowd, I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for her to stop talking. Setting down the stuffed rabbit, I raised my hand.
“What is it, Carlos?” she said. “I’m busier than a gopher on a golf course.”
“It’s about the you-know-whats,” I said.
Excusing herself, the principal pulled me aside. “Has something happened?”
“Not yet,” I said, “but something might.”
“Tell me.”
I pressed my palms together. “Please stick close to Mr. Hanzomon. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
Her forehead crinkled. “Mr. Hanzomon? Our sponsor?”
“Yes, we’re afraid he might get involved if he sees the creatures. We don’t want him inter—uh, we don’t want him getting hurt.”
“Don’t worry.” She patted my shoulder. “I’ll protect him.”
Not quite what I meant, but at least she’d keep an eye on the guy.
The principal looked down at my two huge stuffed toys. “Aren’t you a little old for lovies?”
My cheeks went warm. “It’s…for our project.”
At that moment, voices rose at the big double doors. Mrs. Johnson spun. “Ah, speak of the devil.”
Truer words were never spoken. For there, surrounded by blue-suited flunkies and PTA well-wishers, was the mad king of mad scientists himself, Haruki Hanzomon. Calling a greeting, Mrs. Johnson headed his way.
Just by chance, our eyes met. His gaze burned into mine like hot coals on balsa wood. His index finger tapped at the corner of one eye—I’m watching you—and then he turned to meet the principal.
A shiver rippled through me. I hated that I didn’t know what the billionaire might do, but it was too late to turn back now. Sucking it up, I hustled over to Benny.
“They’re about to start,” I said. “Come on.”
“At last.” He beat his chest. “This dude is ready to kick some scorp-lion tail.”
I passed him the rabbit toy. “And here’s what you’ll do it with.”
Benny cocked his head. “Right. Because nothing says superhero like a three-foot-tall pink bunny.”
Hefting the blue bear, I looped a length of twine around its neck. Benny did the same with his bunny. We donned our Greek helmets and shields, and brought along a can of soda, just for insurance.
“Hero time,” I said.
Benny and I turned and strode out the side door, dragging our giant stuffed animals behind us. I knew we must look totally ridiculous.
“Hey, look, it’s—” Tyler began. But with one glare from us, he shut up.
A smile tugged at my lips. That was me: a tough guy with a teddy bear.
Outside, the hallways were deserted, like a Wild West town before the big showdown. Through the chain-link fence, Benny and I spotted the Animal Control team pulling gear from their truck. I patted my pocket and felt the key.
Everything was ready. But were we?
The closer we drew to the mechanical room, the faster my heart be
at. In just a few minutes, we’d either be school heroes or in a deep coma.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” I asked.
“Me? Nah.” Benny blinked rapidly. “You?”
I swallowed. “Chill as a cucumber sandwich.”
We marched right up to the room, and I fitted Tina’s key into the lock. “Here goes nothing,” I said.
And then I opened the door.
CREAKING LIKE A coffin lid, the mechanical room’s door swung open onto darkness. The stink of a million litter boxes on a hot day rushed out, hitting us full force.
“Oh, man,” gasped Benny. “That’s all kinds of nasty.”
I fanned the air. “It’s okay, I wasn’t using my nose anyway.”
It smelled like the scorp-lions had really made themselves at home. Switching on the fluorescent lights, we stepped into the room.
Everything seemed pretty much the same as on our last visit, but a whole lot stenchier. I tried breathing through my mouth. Nerves stretched taut, Benny and I crept down the aisle beside the boilers, holding up our shields and stuffed toys, and scanning for danger.
Nothing behind the first boiler. Or the second.
Then we passed the third tank, and a wave of goose pimples swept my body. For there, lapping at two saucers of milk, were the four scorp-lions. Eight cat eyes turned our way. Four scorpion tails rose in threat. One of the monsters rumbled.
“Where’d they get the milk?” said Benny.
“I’m guessing Tina.”
He cleared his throat. “Sweet of her.”
“The sweetest.” I licked dry lips. “But now we’ve got to draw them away from it without ticking them off.”
“Piece of cake,” said Benny.
Buzzing with adrenaline, I took a couple of steps toward the monsters. They growled and crouched lower. I froze.
“Is it my imagination,” I said, “or have they grown?”
“Oh yeah,” said Benny. “They’re bigger.”
Since we’d last seen them, the larger two monsters had swelled from the size of a pit bull to that of a Doberman. The smaller two were now as big as the others had been before. Singly, they could cause serious damage. Together? They were practically unstoppable.